Asnir's Chamber

I typically shy away from celebrities, but an exception had to be made

“What, did you really think that I was going to say yes to that?”

When Benedict had been invited over to speak to discuss some plot details, he didn’t expect to have been so blind-sided by the actor’s requests. At first it had been minor issues, but then the actor went into wanting to reformat the entire cast, bringing his own part from a supporting role to a lead. Benedict had been in the game for almost 30 years, becoming a well-known and well-respected producer. That often meant people followed his lead and bent to his will–not the other way around.

To be fair though, the conversation had started off a little rocky. 

“Hey, can we make this meeting quick?” Benedict had started, closing the door. “I got dinner with the wife and kids in an hour and a half. And if I’m late for something not work-related again, I might be the one served on the platter.”

Benedict wasn’t exactly friends with the actor. On set, the actor was rude, cocky, and had a noticeable temper if things weren’t delivered on time. But that was typical of most actors, thinking they were big hotshots because they had fans that would go to any length for them. But Benedict sensed there was something different about this particular one. Although he was about 15 years younger than the producer, the actor always wanted to prove he was in charge like some alpha male. 

“Fine,” the actor replied. “I’ll start with the small things and work our way up.”

And they did, little details that Benedict either shot down or explained how and why they would never work. Actors rarely get to work freely with the script: that’s what the writers were for. And in terms of the other points made, those were responsibilities of the director.

“Producers provide money, Penn,” Benjamin sighed. He lounged back into the seat he’d been reclining in, his larger frame filling out the entire cushion. “Shouldn’t you know this by now?”

“Yes,” Penn replied. “Don’t you get what I’m trying to say?”

Benedict ran a hand through his thinning scalp. He was beginning to think he was losing more hair from this particular actor than his own kids. “So you want me to blackmail? Hold off funding so you can move up to a higher billing?”

“I deserve it,” Penn affirmed, leaning in. Benedict felt his own anger bubbling within. This prick thought he could get away with anything because he was handsome. He didn’t even try to make an argument for committing such a moral crime, a LITERAL crime. No, it was because he “deserved it”.

Benedict shot back, but it only brought a coy smile to the actor’s face.

“No, I didn’t expect you to say yes right away.”

Benedict watched as Penn rearranged himself, bringing a leg up from his manspreading position to rest a foot on his knee. The actor seemed confident, too confident.

“Do you understand who you’re messing with?” Benedict snarled. He wasn’t about to become ensnared by some B-Lister. “There’s a reason I’m on top, boy. I’m not some bootlicker who will follow your every command.”

Penn’s eyes took a sudden dark sheen. Benedict suddenly felt weightless as he became captured by the actor’s glare. 

“Not yet.”

Everything stopped. Time ceased to exist. It was almost like all the life had been taken out of the room the two men were sitting in. Benedict couldn’t move. He couldn’t drum his fingers hastily across his thigh, he couldn’t itch the part of his back that his thicker arm could never reach anyway. He couldn’t even think about moving. But it appeared that although everything else was still, the actor wasn’t.

“I don’t like your attitude, Benedict,” Penn spat. “And frankly, I don’t like you.”

Benedict wanted to curse him, respond with a threat nastier than one he’d ever given. But whatever held him in place kept him there. 

“Producers are supposed to want money, success, all of the cinematic financial glory.” The actor then slowly arose from his seat. “They rely on actors like me to bring that all in. Guarantee it even.”

He made his way around the coffee table, placing himself right in front of the older man. Benedict could have kicked the smug actor without even having to sit upright. He could’ve punched the man’s undersized package–or at least he would’ve made it that way. But no, he was still frozen.

“But see, I can’t help you if you don’t help me. So let’s change that.”

Benedict screamed inside his head, doing his best to fight against whatever was holding him back but to no avail. 

Penn licked his lips cockily before continuing, “What did you say earlier? You weren’t some ‘bootlicker who’d follow my every command’?” The actor shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe that’s what you should be then,” he finished with an innocent smile.

Instantly, the light sensation that had enveloped Benedict’s body sparked, causing a wave of energy to disperse across his body. It felt like someone had shocked him on every single available inch of skin. His exterior tingled with electricity, and his insides had their own little ecstatic party as well. Yet although every part of Benedict’s being felt like it was moving, he still had yet to do so.

The older male was helpless as the actor’s entrancement went underway. Being able to stand at an impressive 6’3, the helpless producer was brought down a few notches to a more suitable 5’10. The fat was drained away at once, revealing muscles that had not seen daylight in many years. Benedict’s frame lost its heftier nature to be replaced by a more standard athletic build. Firm pecs, a decent set of abs, sturdy legs to support a less-structured base. Benedict was going under a twunkification. And honestly, he couldn’t complain.

He couldn’t display it, but Benedict was surprised at how much he was tolerating the transformations. Dare he say appreciating them. Penn was giving him a healthier, more muscular body. He had biceps that were visible underneath his suit jacket, and a jaw (rather than two or three). His wife was surely going to enjoy his new look. But Benedict didn’t understand, why was the actor improving his body?

Suddenly, Benedict felt another flash of buoyancy embrace his system. Then another, then another. It was like how lights moved across a car while driving through a tunnel. But what he didn’t realize was each wave was erasing a year of his life. 51, 50, 49. Wrinkle after wrinkle was washed away. 42, 41, 40. Gray hairs recolored themselves as more grew in. 33, 32, 31. A decent amount of muscular tissue grew back onto his softened bones. And when it was finished, Benedict somehow knew he had turned 28 just a few months back. But he didn’t understand how; he had two kids that were in their twenties.

But that didn’t make sense? He’d been seeing a woman now for a while and he was thinking about getting married. But kids? Yeah, no. That would have to wait a couple of more years. Sure, he was getting a little older than the traditional childbearing age, but he’d been going steady with this girl and wasn’t quite ready to be… fully committed. Plus, the wedding process and the pregnancy would at least put the possibility of babies for another two years or so.

Yet Benedict still felt like that was actually much farther out. He had to be rational: this was the first time he’d been seeing a girl steady for over four months. The bachelor had spent his 20s as such–a bachelor. Benedict had flings every now and then as most up-and-coming producers do. With actresses, assistants, and once even a director. But all the women knew he wasn’t ready to set anything in stone. And even now, did he really want to create a solid long-term relationship with this chick?

If he was able to, Benedict would have shaken his head out of disgust. Long-term relationship? He would never do that. Benedict was all in it for the pussy and the boobs. Ok, and the occasional dick. He liked having sex whenever he could with whomever he could. If people wanted to please him, then by golly why should he be stopping them? Benedict was at that perfect age between being too young and naïve and being too old to attract all ages. Benedict was experienced and knew how to get what he wanted. He was in charge.

Well, in the studio that was. Sure, he was an otter, but he was typically the bottom for his male relationships. He’d always had a thing for men older than him, more adept than him. He liked the way they treated him, both as a producer and as a one-night stand. Or two-night stand. Or multiple-night stand. It just felt so good to Benedict knowing he was pleasing them with his producer’s notes and blowjobs. It was comforting being a big guy in the studio but being able to lie back and let someone else take charge in the bedroom.

Or anywhere really. Benedict was extremely submissive, especially to older men. No matter how many years separated them, any age gap proved for the other to have more knowledge, experience, and superiority. And Benedict was happy to oblige to any of their requests if it meant a chance of pleasuring them. A few extra lines for a chance of getting a kiss? Sure thing! Removing another actor so they could get more screen time and in return he’d get a load out of their girthy cock? By all means! Promoting the actor from a supporting role to a main billing for a chance of having the actor call Benedict over to his personal residence to worship his feet for an hour? Of course!

Knowing the producer was near, the actor leaned forward and grabbed the other man’s hard-rock dick. He was glad he’d shrunk it down from its previous size, helping further establish the producer’s new place on the ladder.

“So what do you say, Benny?” Penn sneered. “Do you want to obey my every word?”

Benedict couldn’t speak, but in his mind he screamed a triumphant “YES.”

“Are you begging to be my loyal servant?”

“YES.”

Penn chuckled, fondling the pouch. “Will you serve me like the king I am?”

“Yes, Mr. Badgely!” the producer exclaimed aloud as a rush of ecstasy flew across his body. Except this time, it all centered down into one spot, causing him to cum right into his running shorts. The actor rubbed the access across the producer’s blue tank

“So eager, are we?” the actor grinned. “A boy like you can never hold his load when he’s excited.”

“You’re right, Mr. Badgely,” Bennet blushed, running a hand through his thick, shorter trim.

Mr. Badgely stood and returned to his former seat. “Let’s get to what I promised if you got me that mainbilling, bootlicker.”

Bennet arose immediately, the twunk rushing over to his spot on the ground. The producer always obliged to all of Mr. Badgely’s needs, but when he’d asked Bennet for a larger role with the promise of being able to worship his godly feet, he immediately got to work. It had been difficult, but the sight of those godly soles descending upon his face made everything worth it.

Jax was about to have his very first one-night stand, and it was going to be with two pornstars. 

Just an hour ago Jax had been flaunting his twinky physique at the clubs. With a group of his friends, he had been making waves along one of the city’s most prominent strips. This was mainly due to his flirtatious attitude and newfound sense of freedom, after having been dumped by his boyfriend only a week before. The two had been going at it for almost a year, but after six days of grieving Jax was ready to be reborn. With a glittery crop top and tight black jeans, Jax was to have fun.

The night had luckily provided him with what he needed. Jax’s typical shy, romantic personality was ditched after a few shots of tequila, instead adopting a more flamboyant, slutty nature. Jax rubbed his body against any male figure he could, no matter how attractive. He was feeling easy and sleazy, a look that suited his 5’5 lithe frame quite well. His friends even commented on it, encouraging him to embrace his more feral side. And they were the ones who encouraged him to go home with Malik and Martin.

The pair had bumped into him on the dancefloor. Jax had first started grinding his perky bum up against Malik, the shorter and tanner of the two. Martin approached shortly after, sandwiching Jax in between their bodies. Both well over six feet, Jax melted into himself, the pure walls of masculine meat like heaven. His own meat, a solid 4 inches, displayed his ecstasy. He quivered as he realized the two massive sausages poking at either end of his exposed torso were not even hard yet.

“How about you come home vith us,” Martin requested in a slightly accented English.

“Yes,” Malik agreed, his English notably rougher. “Ve give you good time.”

After a confirming nod with his friends, Jax left with the pair. They rented a house that even in the night appeared desperate for some renovations. Jax’s heart was pounding as he entered the home, trying his best to disregard the unkempt space. The place reeked of sour food and musky men, each floor painted with an array of unwashed clothes and unknown stains. And he would not even try to discuss their intellects–Jax was not that picky but he at least wanted a guy who could hold a conversation. Yet he reminded himself that he was here for one good time, not a relationship of many.

“Let’s see vat ve are vorking vith,” Malik chuckled, helping Jax remove his small shirt. His pale, beautifully thin torso often led others to assume he was years younger than his actual age of 22.

“Ah yes,” Martin began rubbing one of his thick mitts along Jax’s bare skin, examining him. He had removed his own shirt to reveal two sculpted pecs and a muscular build gifted by the gods. “Zis vill do nicely.”

Malik smiled, “I agree, big money.” Malik’s own revealed torso was just as marvelous.

“This is insane,” Jax replied giddily. “You two are built like pornstars.”

The pair looked at each other before laughing, “Zat is because ve are.”

Jax gulped, “Really? What site do you guys work for?”

“StraightShot” Malik said. “Have you heard of it?”

Jax nodded slowly. He had never actually seen any videos from the site, but he was familiar with the name. He remembered thinking it was clever, assuming it to be some joke on forceful ejaculation.

Martin noted the concern in Jax’s face. “Do not vorry, ve are both clean.”

“Yes, very clean,” Malik added. “Very talented too.”

Jax began to feel the downward slide of his adrenaline, the logic and doubt he had tried so desperately to force back seeping in. 

“If you are vorried, ve can give you aid for fun.” Malik suddenly voiced, extending a hand slowly to cup Jax’s bulge. Instantly, his softening cock began expanding once again.

“‘Aid’?” Jax questioned.

“It is vat producers give if we have off day, are nervous,” Martin answered. “Vould you like some?”

Before he could answer, Malik dug the hand fondling Jax's dick up and into his skinny jeans, his rough calluses completely rubbing erotically against Jax's skin. Jax moaned a little in response, rolling back his eyes as Martin opened a drawer beneath the sink in front of them. Inside was a stack of syringes, each filled with a hazy white liquid.

“W…wait,” the sight momentarily broke Jax out of his glazed state. “What is that?”

“Do not fear,” Malik cooed, tightening his grip on Jax’s shoulder and dick. Martin's giant hand landed on Jax’s shoulder, their combined strength suspending him.

“Guys?” Jax’s voice cracked nervously. “What is going on?!”

“Just relax,” Martin notched the cap off of a syringe. “Zis vill take one second.”

“No, wait, I don’t consent-!”

In a flurry of action, Malik yanked Jax’s dick out of the tight jeans while ripping down his jeans with the other hand. With Jax held still, Martin jabbed the syringe into Jax's hard dick and slowly released the milky liquid. The pain was incredible, paralyzing Jax until the last drop had entered his system. Once he was finished, Martin slowly removed the needle and tossed the syringe aside. The pair then released Jax, watching carefully as he collected himself.

“What the…” Jax started slowly. “What did you do to me? What was that?”

“Zat vas ze Straight Shot,” Malik answered. 

“The what?”

“Ze Straight Shot,” Martin over-emphasized each word dramatically as if Jax did not understand what they were literally saying. 

Jax backed out of the bathroom naked and in disbelief, the two carefully following. The muscles Jax had previously wished to be wrapped up and tangled in were now frightening to his eyes. “What does that mean?”

Malik and Martin did not know how exactly to respond, and luckily, they did not have to. With a groan, Jax felt his dick stiffen up again. Unlike before however, his boner was more intense, more demanding. It was so stiff and rigid that Jax could have sworn it was bigger. It globbed out a spurt of precum, and to Jax’s shock, his dick grew. The previous 4 inches had plumped up into to 5.

“What the-” but Jax did not finish his statement. He groaned again as another drop oozed out of his head. Only this time, the growth did not only come from his dick. Slowly, his bones creaked and extended as his height was altered. His legs were stretched out, torso lengthened, and even his midsection was vertically pulled. More precum began pulling out, only fueling Jax’s ascent until he reached Martin’s height, a glorious 6’5.

Jax’s height was not the only thing affected by the steady trickling leaking from his current 6-incher. Across his body, Jax’s skin began to inflate, as if filling with cotton. At first, Jax thought it could be some temporary allergic reaction, but after some painful recognition he realized it was quite the opposite.

Jax's thin frame was bulking out with muscle rapidly. It was granting him biceps the size of footballs and quadriceps the size of watermelons. Calves with steel tendons, triceps carved by intricate valleys, gigantic hands built for cupping gigantic pouches. Even his buttocks had discovered a new harder, tighter curve. In the back of Jax’s mind, he reckoned it would be harder to bottom now.

Another groan showcased Jax’s new voice: a deeper, gruffer tone. It made him sound much older, his vocal color introducing him as a more experienced person. Through the agony of his transformation, Jax realized his voice was not the only thing that aged. His body proportioned itself differently–a more even distribution of his muscle mass, tighter skin, a sharper jaw that was covered quickly by a luxurious beard. 

Body hair instantly followed, dusting Jax’s pecs, pits, and coating his legs all the way down to his new monstrous Size 15 feet. The skin around his face grew a little taut, plumping out his longer nose and larger brow. With one hand on his 7-inch pump, Jax ran his other giant mitt through his taller, lusher quiff, just barely feeling the new age lines upon his forehead. No one would ever assume he was younger than 22 again.

“You are almost zere, brother,” Martin cheered.

“Yes, so very close,” Malik encouraged. “Ze viewers will love zis, love you.”

“‘Ze viewers’?” Jax questioned, his rich bass now also tainted with their same accent. “Vat you mean by zis?”

Jax followed Malik’s and Martin’s eyes, discovering a phone had been propped up onto a stand to his right the entire time. Its screen mirrored himself back. His entirely new, muscular, naked frame was currently gracing the audience of their livestream. And according to StraightShot's numbers, the audience had just hit four digits.

“I am being live streamed?”

“And later, your video vill be published on our channel,” Martin grinned. 

Malik added, “You vill join our content house.”

“But vat if-'' Jax grunted, thrusting his hips forward. “Vat if I don’t want zis? I liked being tvink!”

“‘Tvink’?” Malik questioned, as if Jax had just spoken a foreign language. Jax stared at Martin for help, but was met with the same dumbfounded expression. That was what he was, or at least what he had been. Any gay man should have known what a twink was.

Jax blinked. Even through the pain, the unwanted ecstasy, and the fear, he now began to fully grasp the scene before him. StraightShot was not some pun on ejaculation, it was a literal conversion drug. And the signs had been there all along. Malik and Martin's continuously soft cocks, their inspection of his body, their unfamiliarity with queer terms.

“Does zat mean…” Jax moaned, his 8-inch dick throbbing and quivering. “...you two…you two are straight?”

The pair chuckled, with Martin replying, “And you vill be too.”

Jax’s heart skipped a beat, the rush of despair clouding his judgment. He did not even recognize his guard faltering, lowering just enough for the ecstasy to completely override his system.

“Oh god,” Jax tried to protest in agony, but he had already lost. Both of his hands were working him towards release, one pumping his long, girthy cock and the other cupping the succulent, drooping sac that had already removed all of its former homosexual occupants. Jax held himself for just a moment before releasing his head back, the pleasure overpowering his will. 

"ICH KOMME!" The roar was that of a mighty manly beast, accompanied by hot, sticky cum. After a few labored breaths, the new man settled back into reality.

The young, romantic, little gayboy Jax was gone, now splattered across the room and even partially onto the phone in front of him. Malik, Martin, and their subscribers were now presented with Maximillian. Bolstering 32 years, 200 pounds of pure muscle, and 9 inches of pure heterosexual meat, the newest member of Malik’s and Martin’s content page was bound to rack up views and money.

Maximilian’s memory of his past and transformation had been erased, along with a notable chunk of his intelligence. Now lacking the certain motor skills he had once looked for in a partner, he simply began to flex for his fans in front of the camera, still covered in sweat and the afterglow.

“Hey,” Malik whispered eventually, breaking Maximilian out of his mindless haze. “Time to sign off.”

“Vat?” Maximilian growled. “Zey love me.”

Martin winked, “Zink of ze slutty babes zat vill love you more.”

To the delight of his viewers, Maximilian’s massive dick instantly sprung up. To their dismay however, he grabbed a pair of tight black undies and covered his package. Flexing one last time, he confirmed his departure quickly with the pair before addressing his audience.

“It is time to go,” Maximilian remarked matter-of-factually. “I’ve got to StraightShot into some chicks!”

Round of applause to @mrrharper

I dumped my uniform and bag into the locker, my partner John doing likewise beside me. After a graveyard shift, the two of us had decided to hit the gym bright and early in the morning before sleeping through our day off. John and I had been partners since we had first joined the police force. As officers, we had done a lot together; rode together, drank together, laughed together. One time we were even in a foursome together with two chicks we had picked up at a bar.

Now in our early thirties though, we had begun to take life a little more seriously. Start choosing wisely, acting responsibly. Working out had been my idea, and after six months it had already shown some results. Both of us were average height and had gained some pudge over the years, but now we both had notable definition. I could not help but flex a little in the mirror, impressed by the beginnings of my triceps.

“Looking fire, broski!”

My eyes shifted over to one of the three football jocks who sauntered into the locker room. I was immediately annoyed by the trio of obnoxious meatheads, and I could tell John was as well.

“Have you been coming here for long?” the first asked. “We haven’t seen you around.”

“We come when we can,” I replied. “Working for the law gives us busy schedules.”

“Woah…so are you guys like, officers or something?” the second guffawed.

“Officers, yeah.” John was irked.

“Huhuhuh…cool bruh!” the third jock inserted. “You two should totally join us!”

Before we could respond, the first jock piped back in, “Yeah dudes! We could have a great sesh between the five of us. Brock here is stellar at arms, and Duke is the best at working those legs and glutes.”

“Jalen’s a pro with chest,” the second jock, Brock, finished. “And you two officer bros, what are you good at?”

I grunted, “Knowing how to refuse an offer.”

It took Brock and Duke, the third jock, a second to process what I had implied, their mental capacities obviously slower than the average male. Jalen was a little faster however, putting on a dumb smile. 

“Your loss bros, but totally understandable,” he shrugged. “In case it wasn’t obvious, we’re on the football team at the local college, so let us know if you need any workout tips or exercises.”

I barely nodded my head, offering a blunt, “Ok, thanks.” John and I then made our way past the bulky jocks, the three of them each larger than either of us. I took a breath as soon as we exited their collective earshot.

“Three cocky dicks,” I snorted. “No better way to start the morning.”

John mockingly agreed. Our workout was brutal, our bodies already tired due to our unusual sleep schedule. This, along with the occasional stare from one of the jocks, only encouraged us to work harder. Nothing was spared from our exercises, we utilized machines that hit multiple areas at once. Arms and chest, legs and back, abs and quads. At the end, we hit the treadmills for a thirty minute run, sneering back at the trio while they stood in front of one of the many mirrors and flexed their pumped arms, taking pictures for social media.

Eventually, we were back in the locker room cleaning up, both expecting the jocks to ambush us again. Fortunately, the lumbering footballers never arrived. John had joked they were probably still drooling over their own muscles in the mirror, and I had replied better they were drooling on themselves then us. I did not want their narcissistic, dim-witted reek all over me, and neither did my partner. We both opted to skip showers; we could take them back at our respective apartments before crashing into our own, cool beds.

As we left the locker rooms and headed towards the exit, we were immediately swarmed by our unwanted acquaintances. 

“You know, bros,” Jalen swung a beefy, sweaty arm around both of us. Brock paced behind me, and Duke followed suit with John. “We never caught your names? We’d like to thank you for your service, officers, whatever it is you do."

His tone was a little menacing, but I knew he would not try to pull something in broad daylight. “Darren,” I responded. “and John.”

Jalen grinned, moving his arms to pat the back of our necks. I felt a little sting at his touch, almost like an electric shock.

“Now c’mon bros, how about you come join us at the frat house where we can properly use your services.”

John frowned, and I retorted with, “I think you boys have had your fun.”

Brock chuckled, “Fun’s not even started broski.”

Duke’s response was even deeper and dumber, “Huhuhuh...dudes aren’t even ready.”

We had finally made it outside, the sun just beginning to rise over the horizon. I noticed our squad cars parked up front, we would be out of this mess in just a moment.

“Alright, this is our stop,” I exclaimed, making sure the three got my message. Suddenly, a piercing jolt was sent across my spine, traveling all the way from my brain to my toes.

“Our stop is actually over there, officers.” Jalen pointed to the two trucks past their cruisers. “Darren, you can come with me and Brock, Duke here is gonna take John.”

Robotically, my body followed Jalen’s command, tracing behind the first two jocks to their obnoxiously big vehicle. Although I could not turn my head, I could tell John’s body was following the orders as well.

“Disengage Operation Mode, security bypass JALEN, sleep.”

— —

“Engage 25% Operation Mode, security bypass JALEN, wake.”

My eyes fluttered open. I was standing in an empty room, not rigid but not slouching either. To my right, I could sense my partner’s presence, familiar with John’s aura. We were still in our dirty gym gear, although our body odor was nothing compared to the three jocks standing proudly before us. Through the windows behind them, I assumed it to still be some time in the morning, but that was the only piece of the situation that I could try to fathom.

“Bet you’ve never had a mind control chip implanted, have you, officers?”

I tried to respond with something snarky, but my mouth wouldn’t let me.

“We were just trying to be friendly, help some bros out, but you two insulted our kindness.” Jalen stepped a little closer, even from a distance I could feel his large, masculine presence. “Maybe next time you won’t mess with the son of a government-funded millionaire.”

Jalen pointed his fingers at his two goons. Brock and Duke each stepped forward, crossing the distance between them and John and I. They removed our shirts, and although I could see or move my feet, I realized my shoes had already been taken too.

“My dad gifted me some leftover mind-control chips he had built for the military, said I could use them if I ever needed them. Something along the lines of "accessing the nervous system" and "reprogramming capabilities". Didn't matter to me bros, it was all nerd-speak. I just needed the commands.”

If I could have, I would have gulped. Jalen stepped closer as the other jocks discarded our clothes.

“MC 1001, 50% Operation Mode.”

Suddenly, the feeling was restored throughout my body. I did not bother with attempting an escape, recognizing my body was still glued to the floor. When I turned to my partner, I realized John had not been released.

“What’s the plan, Jalen?” I spat.

“You were so rude to us back at our gym when you are employed to be of service” Jalen smirked. "The bros and I thought we should remind you of your duty, and what better way then by dispatching you as our new security guards who obey our every wish and command?”

“So what, you’re going to 'reprogram' us?”

“How about you see for yourself?” Jalen then turned to John. “MC 1002, engage Modification Mode, security bypass JALEN.”

“MC 1002, Modification Mode engaged, security bypass confirmed." It may have been John’s mouth that had opened, but I knew it was not him who was speaking.

“Brock,” Jalen invited. “How about you take the first swing?”

Brock laughed and scratched at his crotch, “Get him jacked bro.”

Jalen turned to Duke, “Anything specific you’d like to add?”

To my surprise, Duke did have something to add–a lot to add: “Make them former rugby players bro, cause rugby is for idiots and rugby players should serve football jocks, the real alphas.”

Jalen raised his eyebrows, a bit surprised too. “Works for me. MC 1002, enter in keywords ‘Rugby’ and ‘Jock’ to the personality frame and set both at 88. Raise ‘Muscle’ by 40 base points and remove any post-secondary education from the mainframe.”

Watching the football neanderthal list off a series of programming commands put our situation into a new perspective. My eyes grew with fear as the changes installed into John’s body. It was like watching a horrible balloon inflation, his body contorting as it expanded. John’s once meager chest bloated into two massive pecs supported by two trunks of legs. His arms cartoonishly bulged until they were practically circular, his pits filling with hair as a tattoo wrapped itself around his right bicep. His face thickened too, adopting a square shape along with a wider nose and thicker stubble.

“Keywords ‘Rugby’ and ‘Jock’ successfully installed.” John’s voice was now deeper, gruffer. “‘Muscle’ upgraded, post-secondary education deleted.”

Jalen nodded, “MC 1002, add 10 base points to his age as well.”

“Adding 10 base points to ‘Age’.” To my shock, I helplessly observed my partner grow older beside me. The skin around his body tightened, pulling in to reveal the more delicate details of his veins and tendons. Wrinkles began to develop across his body along with other age marks. It was painful to watch his hairline slowly pull back, his scalp thinning out into a well-maintained crew cut.

“Here’s the fun part,” Jalen mocked, noting my face of terror. "Lower cognitive abilities by 20 base points and independent identity by 30 base points. Install the ‘Security’ package to the mainframe and boost the ‘Obedience’ category to max potential."

Although there were no visible alterations, I could have sworn the light went out behind my partner’s eyes. “All actions executed, please confirm modifications to MC 1002.”

Jalen smirked, making direct eye contact with me. “Confirm MC 1002, disengage Modification Mode, reengage total Operation Mode.”

To my delight, I watched as John’s body reanimated completely, indicating he now had full control over his body. But any hope I had was immediately crushed as soon as he stood at command, dumbly  grinning with his arms crossed over his chest.

“How can I be of service, sir?” John asked Jalen.

“Go do a full sweep of the yard of something, bro.” Jalen tossed John a pair of sunglasses, not even bothering to hand him any other clothes. Apparently his now too-tight joggers were enough. “Oh, and by the way, you go by Hammer now.”

“Hammer…” John processed. “Yes sir, thank you sir.”

I watched as my former partner stomped out of the room, out of our reality.

“Why ‘Hammer’, bro?” Brock piped in from behind me.

“‘Cause he’ll be laying down the law of the land.” Jalen then shifted back to me. “Our other friend here will be ‘Brute’.”

I heard two empty-headed laughs from the two empty-headed jocks behind me.

“He’ll be nothing more than a wall of meat,” Jalen taunted. Before I could insult him back, he instantly shut me up. “MC 1001, engage Modification Mode, security bypass JALEN.”

“MC 1001, Modification Mode engaged, security bypass confirmed." My mouth was out of my control. I tried to fight back, reanimate myself by any means possible.

“Alright Duke, it’s your turn.”

“Same thing as last time, bruh.”

Disappointed, Jalen shifted back to Brock, “Got something else?”

I prayed Brock would not say anything too damaging “Make him huge dude,” he requested, putting me at ease before following up with: “And make him like a butler too.”

Jalen laughed, and if I could have I would have cried.

“Oh MC 1001,” Jalen merrily instructed. “Copy MC 1002’s personality frame and mainframe, and enhance body and clothes proportions to 1.5. ”

“Modifications downloading,” I stated, a sudden sinking emerging in my stomach. In moments, I sprung upwards towards the ceiling, my height soaring above the jocks to an astonishing six and a half feet. Muscles exploded out of my body, bloating me thick with bulk. My arms were plump and my hands meaty. Two juicy pecs larger than my head were now carried by my absolute barrel of a chest, stretched out and taut. My legs were colossal, so dense that I would permanently be forced to take wide, swaggering steps. Even my neck thickened, supporting my newly masculinized skull.

“Copy and paste procedure successful.” My voice was husky, low, deep and booming. “Body and clothes proportions at 1.5.”

“Look at his socks, bro,” I heard Brock snigger behind me. “Whattya think those stompers are?”

“Huhuhuh…I don’t know dude…maybe Size 15?”

“Looks like I missed something,” Jalen appeared disappointed. “MC 1001, reduce reproductive size to 3.”

“Redacting 4 base points from ‘Reproduction’.” I screamed, pleading for this to stop. But no words exited my mouth. Instead, I remained painfully silent as I felt my cock and balls shrivel down within my shorts. 

“Helps with the obedience factor” Jalen stated. “Now, let's lower cognitive abilities by 40 base points and independent identity to 15 base points. Install the ‘Security’ package to the mainframe, boost the ‘Obedience’ category to max potential, and add in keywords ‘Respect’, ‘Humility’, and ‘Subservience’."

I would not give up, I would not cave in. “Please confirm modifications to MC 1002?”

Jalen was finished with his game. “Confirm modifications, disengage Modification Mode, reengage total Operation Mode.”

After a moment, I blinked. My head felt fuzzy, empty, as if some great weight of responsibility had been removed. I dumbly chuckled to myself.

"Feeling good there, bro?” Jalen smiled. “Excited to serve us jocks?"

"Uhhhh, yeah bruh…be of service."

"Well said, Brute."

"Brute?" I smiled lazily. “What can I uh…do bro?”

"First, let’s get you in uniform.” Jalen signaled to Duke, who then tossed a black cap to me. I secured it backwards onto my head proudly.

“Now, clean the frat house from top to bottom. I’m talking dirty laundry in the machine, trash taken out, floors scrubbed–the whole deal. I want this place looking slick before the party starts tonight. Once you’re done with that, you can go patrol the lawn for any feds. Got all that?”

It took a while for me to process everything, but eventually the dumb grin came back to my face.

“Yeah bruh…whatever you need.”

Thanks to @devonpink, who inspired this story

When my son said those words, I thought it had been some kind of joke. The signs had been there all along, but I had managed to twist each and every one with my blissful ignorance. The countless posters of pop divas hanging up in his room were because he thought they were hot, not because he liked their music. His passion for the arts was because he his physical talents were unharnessable, not because he avoided athletics intentionally. I had even convinced myself that the little lisp in his voice had been a defect from birth, not some pseudo-hereditary gene of his sexuality.

Being gay was not exactly the problem, it was its defining nature. Its label feasted on personalities, identities, and ideologies like a parasite. Everything that made someone human became underlined by their unique sexuality. Blending in with the majority was what had kept our family in financial and reputational high regards for decades. But with the burden of being an only child, and my son being my only child, it was wholly my responsibility to create our next generation.

Now, the promise of our legacy was presented to the parasite on a silver platter.

“I’m gay, dad,” my son said while we were having dinner together. I had nearly spat out my water in shock.

“You’re what?” I sputtered.

“Could you really not tell?” he asked.

“But this cannot be,” I clutched my head.

“Don’t be mad, please.”

“I am not mad at you,” I replied honestly. "I am mad at myself; I’ve failed you, failed us.”

His face grew beet red. “You didn’t fail me.”

“But I have,” I muttered. “I was tricked into believing the community and I could both raise you, through boarding school and the holidays. But only I know best. If you would have followed the proper way, molded through traditionalism like my father had me and his father had him, then maybe this would have never happened.”

“Screw this,” he scoffed before storming off to his room. I sighed as I began to clear the table, hearing his typical soft, more feminine music play through the walls. That had been another sign contorted in my own wishful blindness, believing it to be his playlist for ejaculation. Now however, forcefully exposed to the reality of the situation, I began to draft a plan. I could not change the past, but I could at least attempt to alter the future.

The first issue I had to tackle was for my son to want to follow my suggestions. If he was properly influenced, then the other necessary adaptions would progress quicker and more naturally than if they were forced. This would also provide a base layer I could build upon, a desire to fuel results. With the help of my family's fortune, I was able to utilize subconscious messaging hidden in my son’s music. My father had always remarked that there was no price on saving the family. I considered this as such.

I trust my father.

I respect my father.

My father has never failed me.

My father will never fail me.

Tradition has rewarded my family. 

Tradition will reward me.

Thanks to the countless hours he spent directly or indirectly listening to music, my son’s mind began internalizing the messages I had programmed for him. I spent the following weeks minding my own business, waiting patiently for a sign. It came at Thanksgiving, when for the first time ever, my son led the prayer. He even caught me in a hallway a bit later to “apologize for his behavior that night”.

“Which night are you referring to?” I asked.

“When I came out,” he replied. “I should have trusted you at that moment instead of freaking out, and I should have respected you and your opinions. You have never failed me, and I should have recognized that you never intend to.”

I maintained my poise. “Thank you, son. Understand that I am just coming from a viewpoint of tradition.”

“It’s what has rewarded our family,” my son eloquently stated. “Perhaps I should consider if it can reward me.”

My son was then called away by a relative, leaving me to momentarily celebrate. Motivated by this sudden breakthrough, I moved onto the next objective. The physical work would have to come next, altering portions of my son’s mind and body to better suit his future. After some minor readjustments, his music began incorporating new messaging that aligned towards the more traditional images of success.

I was born to be a man.

I am proud to be a man.

Masculinity is what has protected me.

Masculinity is what I should protect.

The majority is who defines success.

The majority is who should define me.

Aided by my son’s slightly adjusted mindset, he slowly became more welcoming to my ideas. With my subtle encouragement along with the continual conditioning, it was less difficult for him to listen to and consider my viewpoint. My son was not only beginning to accept my ideas, but after a while thanking me for them.

With the passing weeks, the results became more visible. After casually mentioning to my son the importance of maintaining physical health, he swiftly secured a gym membership and began making daily visits. After remarking that art lectures were often hosted by exploitative shirkers, my son not only dropped a few of his courses, but eventually lost all interest in that field of academia. I almost wept with joy when he announced that he had switched to a generalized business degree.

“Are you confident that this decision is what you want?” I prodded. “The business world is already filled with many talented men.”

“I was born to be a man,” my son beamed, his voice having dropped an octave since the subliminal messages had begun. “And I know that by following in my family’s footsteps, I can become proud to be one.”

Thanks to his physical and my mental conditioning, my son rapidly began to ascend towards a more sustainable future. His body was started to expand, packing on muscle almost faster than humanly possible. It was as if every week he had to purchase new clothes. His biceps and triceps were now too large for any sleeve, or his thighs had shredded yet another pants seam. The transformation from a lowly nerd to a remarkable jock was incredible. He even managed to gain height, my once measly son now holding a couple of inches over my even six feet.

There were other minor features that embraced this change too. His boyish features almost vanished over the course of a day, leaving behind a jawline sharper than any of our carving knives. His beauty procedures changed, or rather disappeared, as I oversaw his eyebrows become bushier, his general hygiene loosen up. I once overheard one of the butlers complaining over how messy my son had become, and I could not help but grin after investigating the issue myself. The sweat-induced, locker room musk had proudly overridden the previously inhabiting lavender incense.

“Did you visit the barber?” I asked one day.

“Yeah, just needed something fresh, you know?” My son’s former mullet had been sheared down to a more respectable quiff with a modern spin: a lush, messy fringe and smart shaping. “I was thinking about how much embracing masculinity has done for me. I mean I’ve been feeling so much better and I'm super popular now just by being more of a man, or at least what’s manly, if that makes sense.”

I nodded, encouraging him along, “Certainly.”

“So I just thought that like, if manly was looking so good on me, then I should keep going with it. I thought about what most people would think was manly, and I thought that I should go with it.”

If his feet had not expanded out into such a monstrous size, I would have never registered my son leaving the table. While his stomping footfalls left the room, I was internally bounding with joy, thrilled to finally address the final issue. With his expanding masculinity, my son had already made half of the required transition.

Recently, I had registered after passing by his room that his feminine moans had been replaced by more primal grunts during his sexual encounters. I had taken this as indication in a shift in preferred position. This final set of messages would still be the most important for my son to internalize, but it was no longer something I was threatened by.

Success and honor follow my father.

To find my own success and honor, I must follow my father.

My family has protected and preserved tradition.

It is my duty to protect and preserve tradition.

I embody the normal male.

I am a heterosexual male.

My son’s mind was bombarded with the messaging constantly. During every workout, during every assignment, during every time music could be playing, he was being converted. And although the change was not as obvious as the middle months had been, it began to show eventually.

The first thing I noticed was the cupping. My son was now almost always casually fondling with his dick, which has nearly doubled since the process had began. His music taste shifted into the more recognizable, generic chart-topping artists, and his knowledge of fashion and literature were engulfed by sports and automobiles. Even his perspective on heritage reverted until his social media feed became nothing more than the occasional post on family and/or country.

At some point, my son began asking me for advice on the more pressing issues of his life. We discussed his dropping grades and interest in school, and by my suggestion he stopped attending non-mandatory classes. A man was made by his experience, not by his education. He then queried me about where he should work after graduation, and I told him he would be best suited to work beside me.

“You’re so right, bro!” He exclaimed. As time went on, I had noted my son’s decreasing intelligence, both through his grades and day-to-day interactions. But this was not of a concern to me as long as he was still able to fulfill his role. “Seeing how great you are, it makes perfect sense to follow in your footsteps.”

And so he did. As graduation neared, I began to expose him to the inner workings of the company, just in simpler terms. Between the remainder of his classes, the gym, and the occasional social outings, he began to recognize my role in the traditional upkeep. It was not long before he began to recognize and appreciate his own position. And eventually, at the same dinner table, I nearly spat out my water again.

"I’ve been thinking, maybe I should give girls a second try.”

It took a moment for me to recollect myself and approach the topic casually. “You are the definition of masculinity, son. You would have your pick of women.”

“I don’t know. It’s like the more I hear the bros recapping their conquests, the more curious I become.”

My son grew a little flustered, speaking from a place he did not know existed.

“I just can’t stop fantasizing about pumping my dick into some tight, wet pussy. Just wanna hear some big-titted slut beg for my seed and feel her cream on my cock!”

After his outburst, my masculinized son uncharacteristically blushed with embarrassment.

“You should start thinking about what girls you would like to ask out,” I replied calmly, unfazed. “Perhaps consider if you really knew yourself all those weeks ago, or if I knew you all along.”

My son gulped, intimidated. Before all this, he would have objected, provided a counterpoint, and may have even acted out. Now however, thanks to my actions, he had realigned his center of gravity. The parasite had been eradicated: tradition was properly restored.

Less than 24 hours later, I got a text from my son at the gym after his first real conquest of many.

“turns out I'm just another straight bro. railed some chick after this sick pump. guess you were always right, dad.”

Alex desperately hoped his roommate had not heard him the night before. The day before had been just like every other. He woke up in the morning to go to work, ate his typical eggs and toast, clocked in, went out to lunch with some coworkers, clocked out, made dinner and watched some television, drank a glass of water before bed, and then went to his room. But while that last step had typically resulted in falling asleep, Alex had instead found himself extremely horny. 

Alex was not asexual or anything, he was happily gay and dabbled with porn fairly often, but last night was something out of the ordinary. It was like as soon as he closed the door, his average-sized dick sprang into action. Alex had become instantly sexually-aroused, forcing him to grab the box of tissues and his lotion to resolve the matter. 

And when he touched his dick, it was almost like there was an electric spark. Alex soon found himself unable to stop moaning, loudly gasping as he finished himself off. He had always been polite around his roommate, but it was like his mouth and cock were on their own schedule. Once he came, Alex did not even have time to process the issue, having passed out shortly after.

So now, Alex was in the kitchen, pacing awkwardly as he made himself his usual breakfast. When his roommate finally emerged from his room, Alex decided it was best to confront the incident right away.

“Hey, I’m sorry about last night.”

His roommate frowned, “Last night?”

Alex poured himself a glass of milk from the fridge. “When I went to my room, I mean. I was kinda rude.”

“Don't know what you're talking about. bro,” his roommate appeared unbothered. "I didn’t hear anything.”

“Oh.” Alex turned to flip his eggs, embarrassed. “Well, I guess nevermind then.”

“Don’t sweat it,” his roommate replied. “Anyway, I gotta hit the gym.”

Alex watched as his roommate left. Sometimes he was thankful for rooming with someone as carefree as his jockish roommate. Sure, the dude had some hygiene problems and was definitely a walking red flag for any woman. But it also meant issues were always easily resolved, or they never even existed in the first place. Alex quickly finished off his breakfast before heading out the door for work.

Unfortunately, Alex found himself furiously beating off in a bathroom stall as soon as he entered the office. The moment he had stepped on the tram, his dick had sprung up as if reporting for duty. It had been torture for Alex to hold out on his aching cock, the slightest brush sending a wave of ecstasy across his body. He had had to hold a hand over his mouth to stop the onslaught of vocalizations that accompanied these instances.

After a few minutes of jacking off and praying no one would enter the bathroom, Alex sprayed a load all over the stall. He did his best to wipe up every drop of his cum before nonchalantly reporting to his desk. The remainder of Alex’s day passed by smoothly: grabbed a snack at a nearby convenience store, said goodbye to some coworkers, arrived back and had a glass of wine with his roommate, and then retired for the evening. Unfortunately though, something else had other plans in mind.

“Are you kidding me?” Alex grunted, now understanding the drill. Jumping on his bed, he no longer bothered with his manners, just deciding to directly go at it. His libido seemed to be out of control, maybe even so much so that he would have to schedule some kind of appointment. For now though, he had to use a home remedy to address the problem, so Alex pulled up a bookmarked porn clip for him to jerk off too.

“Oh yeah…” Alex moaned. “There we go.” He watched as the two pornstars went at it, his dick hot and heavy with all the attention. Typically, Alex would observe the bottom more, imagining it was him in the scene. But tonight his eyes were drifting towards the top, dreaming about shoving his long, thick cock into a warm, tight…

“Holy-!” Alex shouted as his cock suddenly reached the brink of eruption, making him spasm with a severe euphoric chill. In the pit of his stomach, he knew something was wrong with him. But Alex did not have the slightest clue what could have been arousing him so powerfully and spontaneously. It had also gotten pretty late, so he rationalized the best thing he could do was get some sleep.

Waking up the next morning, Alex was a little lightheaded. He surprisingly did not feel a headache, rather just that some weight had been taken off his mind. Cleaning himself up, Alex made breakfast and grabbed his gear for work. He had almost forgotten his water bottle, but luckily his roommate had caught him at the door. Before he knew it, Alex was back in the office, starting to believe his horny spell had passed.

Taking a swig of his water, Alex began working on some of his assignments. He struggled a bit at first, but eventually started progressing along. 

“Hey Alex?” a female coworker passed by, “Would you mind forwarding me that paper once you’re done with it?”

To Alex’s agonizing terror, his cock became instantly rock hard, creating stiffly pitching his thin suit pants.

“I, uh…” Alex grunted, a massive stain beginning to form at the tip of his tent. “Let me…get back to you on that.”

As soon as his coworker had left, Alex rushed to the nearest restroom with his suit jacket in front of him. Alex desperately tried to resist the arousal, barely making it to a stall, but his body quickly surrendered. With a moan of great sexual agony, Alex blasted through his suit pants and into his jacket, his sticky, white cum instantly staining his clothes.

“Oh god, oh god oh god,” Alex panicked, tying his jacket around his waist in his best attempt to hide his mess. Moving at the fastest speed he could without being inconspicuous, he informed his boss that he had vomited and planned on heading home for the rest of the day. In less than an hour, Alex was back in the safety of his apartment, locking the door to the outside world and finally granting him some privacy.

“Ew,” Alex groaned, his voice slightly deeper than usual. His suit was now ruined, crusty and crunching under his movements as he removed the articles of closing. He had not planned for his roommate to appear from the hallway.

“Woah bro,” his roommate announced, petrifying the stripping Alex. “What happened?”

Alex hesitated, “Taxi um… splashed me, right outside of work.”

The roommate considered this for a moment before accepting it. “Dang, that sucks. Is your suit trashed?”

“Yeah.”

“Heh, that’s why I always wear gym clothes, dude.” His roommate casually flexed, displaying his massive muscles barely hidden by a raggedy tank and some tiny shorts. “You know, now that you aren’t working, you should come join me at the gym.”

“What?” This caught Alex even more off guard.

“Why not bro? There’s no better way to blow off some steam. You can even borrow some of my clothes.”

Alex would have never accepted this offer before, but he was currently dumbfounded as to why. It was hard for him to think of a reason to reject his roommate’s offer. With a dumb smile, Alex accepted his roommate’s offer. His roommate quickly found some of his clothes for Alex to wear, a red tank and yellow shorts that barely covered half of Alex’s thighs.

“Dang…” Alex took a sniff of the clothes. “These are ripe, man.”

His roommate cockily grinned, “The stink makes the man, bro!”

Casually accepting his roommate’s logic, Alex put the clothes on, pleasantly surprised with how well they fit him. He could have sworn he was much smaller than his roommate, having never gone to the gym before, but he almost filled out his roommate’s outfit perfectly. Alex tried to consider if this was even possible, but it simply felt better not to think about it. He now just hoped that after this workout he would be just as muscular as his bro. 

Eventually they were at the gym, brutally exercising each part of their bodies. Arms, legs, chest, even glutes. It was like Alex’s roommate was making up for lost time, covering all the bases at once. And somehow, although Alex could not comprehend why, it was like every part of the workout showed. Upon closer inspection, Alex discovered each of his muscles had become as chiseled and defined as his roommate’s. When they paused to take a drink, Alex observed that their tremendous, broad sizes were almost identical.

“Now, let’s get you on that bench press,” his roommate ordered. Alex followed the instructions, swaggering over and plopping his juicy butthocks onto the bench before lying back. He then heard his roommate’s dumb guffaw.

“What?” Alex asked.

“Looks like you got yourself a classic gym problem, bro.” Alex followed his roommate’s finger to the giant tent in Alex's yellow shorts. “All that testosterone’s gotta go somewhere.”

Alex cursed.

“No sweat dude, it happens to all of us.” His roommate gave a tug at his own heavy nuts before continuing, “Just go back to the locker room and wank it off.”

With a nod, Alex trampled his huge body across this gym, not even bothering to hide his massive dick that swung with each step. When he was finally able to pull down his shorts, he was surprised to see how huge his cock was. Alex could have wrapped both of his meaty paws around his meat if one was not holding his phone with another porn clip. 

For some reason though, the clip was not working for Alex. He could have sworn it was one of his favorites, and his dick was rock hard and quivering for something. Desperate, Alex searched the suggestions provided by the website, scrolling through the other features the topping pornstar was featured in. Eventually, he found one where the pornstar was no longer topping another man, but a woman. His eyes rolled back a little as he clicked on the video, and after some more tugging and grunting brutishly, he busted his nut everywhere.

Alex relished in the afterglow for a moment, not noticing his roommate enter the locker room. The roommate smirked, noticing all the large cum sploodge that had accumulated on the floor.

"Nice one, bro!" his roommate cheered, throwing a sweaty arm around Alex’s shoulder. “How about you and I head out, spend the rest of the day chilling back at our place.”

"Huhuhuh…yeah bro," Alex dullishly agreed. He then flexed his arm and gave his ripe pit a deep sniff, confirming that they had had a good workout. His roommate led the pair back to the car, and before long they were once again in the apartment. While Alex took a piss, not even bothering with aim, his roommate prepared them some protein shakes. Alex then came back and slammed his shake in one go, proudly belching afterwards.

“God, my sister can be such a slut sometimes.” His roommate suddenly, overdramatically sighed. Alex was too dense to register the strange transition. “I mean look at this pic she just posted. She’s practically spreading her legs for every straight guy out there.”

His roommate sent the picture and watched as Alex unlocked his own phone to see the text. Alex’s face immediately lit up, his massive cock instantly went erect. His roommate mischievously watched as Alex stumbled off to his room, his leaking dick leaving a trail behind him. His roommate casually followed and noticed Alex had left his door open. His roommate then propped himself up on the doorway, inspecting as Alex began pumping away to the picture he had sent him.

His roommate had been secretly dosing Alex with conversion drops through his drinks. The sticker on the bottle had promised “One drop a day rids the gay away!”, but specifically warned not to use too quickly. Something about side effects with intelligence, loss of self, and "mimicking as result of close physical contact" or whatever–his roommate had bothered reading on.

Huge thanks to @mrrharper for this outstanding request

SEPTEMBER

“Come in.”

The lieutenant entered my office and quietly shut the door behind him. He was a scrawny little thing, at least by military standards. Could not have been more than 150 pounds wet, and a little under average height. He had been in the military for a good 15 years, having deployed before even getting his GED. The lieutenant had only enlisted for the money and stability. His file noted numerous demerits in the past regarding misconduct on grounds related to uniformity. It was my job to fix that.

“James, please take a seat.”

He did as told and crossed his legs. There were many things we would have to correct in our time together.

“Do you know why you were scheduled for these sessions?”

The lieutenant grumbled. “The commanding officer said I needed some readjustment, said I’ve lost my touch with the military.”

His commanding officer had requested a full restart. “Well, as you know, I’m a psychologist employed through the military. My goal is to get you reacquainted with your patriotism and its abiding standards.”

I started as any respectable doctor would, scoping out the base layer. A foundation would be crucial to the lieutenant's reinstitution. Through our discussion, the lieutenant outlined many personal flaws that were causing the moral cracks of his insubordination. His liberal ideology, his mistrust in religion, his conviction of his own homosexuality. Once he had finished his exasperated moans of existence, I started to get to work.

“It sounds like a lot of your issues are based around this idea of having been wronged by your country."

The lieutenant scoffed, “‘An idea’? America’s given me little money and little respect.”

“Maybe that’s because you’ve never tried trusting your country, James.” I tapped my notepad for evidence. “Every problem you relayed through your account was built around fighting the institution, not following it.”

James tried considering this point, my purposeful choice of words causing him to stagger.

“I have often found that at the root of my clients' problems is trust,” I continued. “I think that will be our first issue we work on together, restoring your trust in this nation and its values.”

I then pulled out a pair of sunglasses from my desk before handing them over to the lieutenant.

“I want you to begin wearing these every time you're on base, James. No matter what you’re doing, who you’re with, I expect these to be on. Doctor’s orders.”

The lieutenant grabbed the sunglasses hesitantly. “Can I ask why?”

“It’s an exercise,” I lied. “I want you to see the world through another perspective. Hopefully, it will help instill the idea of trust. We will discuss your observations the next time we meet.”

I dismissed the lieutenant shortly there after, bemusedly observing as he locked the sunglasses onto his head. No one on the base would ask about them, nor would the lieutenant ever consider removing them. Once the sunglasses were on, they sent their first of many shocks for the conditioning process, informing the wearer that they were not to be removed unless requested by a superior.

Over the course of the next month, the lieutenant’s mind would restructure around unquestionable loyalty to his country. Thanks to the military’s budget and unmonitored use of technology, I was able to program specific visual and electric therapies for my clients. Through the constant bombardment of words and phrases in the lenses accompanied by specific shocks, my clients were conditioned towards the military's standards. Words like “America,” “Patriot,” and “Tradition” would be positively reinforced, “Progression,” “Disobedience,” and “Anti-Government” were among the opposite.

OCTOBER

“I’m not gonna lie, Doctor,” James tapped his sunglasses. “I thought this exercise was a little silly, but I think I’ve actually noticed some differences.”

I smiled politely, acting none the wiser. The changes had already been evident as soon as the lieutenant had stepped foot in my office. Unlike before, he had been excited to come here. Anything to help his country after all.

“By all means, do continue.”

“You were right about a lot of things, actually,” the lieutenant chuckled. “It was like these glasses implanted a new outlook on me. I began to think about what you said and realized so many of my problems did lead back to that mistrust. America is the greatest country on Earth! Why would it wrong me?”

“Has this affected your patriotism at all?” I innocently inquired.

The lieutenant bounced with joy. “Totally! Trust is a two-way street, and if I’m going to trust my great country it has to trust me back.”

“What have you done to earn this trust, James?”

“I’ve started displaying my patriotism as much as I can!” he exclaimed. “I’ve got a huge flag hanging over my cot, been signing up for all the pro-government resource groups at the base, and am even on the preparation committee for the Military Appreciation Day.”

His commanding officer had already reported that last fact to me earlier in the week. With the lieutenant fairly uneducated–he had never finished high school–I knew he would be one of my more approachable clients. Now however, I believed there was the possibility of a complete conversion for the lieutenant, an entire transformation rather than just restoration. 

“Tell me, James, has this recovery of your patriotism helped you discover a stronger sense of belonging?"

The lieutenant hesitated before answering. “I mean, in some ways, yes. But a lot of the guys still see me for certain aspects.” He was referring to his atheism, his androgyny, and his homosexuality. 

I decided to test my influence: “Wouldn’t it be easier if you were more like the other men on base? Identical even?”

The lieutenant bore a confused expression, but after a moment relaxed and softened his gaze.

“Identical to…other men…yeah that sounds nice,” he drawled. The sunglasses had also begun the gradual conditioning of accepting explicit commands. To start, the lieutenant would be easily suggestible, but eventually he would become as programmable as any machine.

“The military is built around uniformity, sameness. Each piece fits together without independent thought. Instead of considering yourself as special, wouldn’t you say you were actually deviant?”

Being early on, it was crucial that I instilled my ideas as if they were the lieutenant’s own. As if they were some deep, low truths that I had just awoken inside him.

“I’m not special…I’m deviant…”

“I think you’re correct, James,” I reaffirmed. “Your next assignment should be to explore the other mens’ perspectives through your glasses. What makes them fit in where you stand out? What do they follow and who do they trust?”

Once the lieutenant had left, I began inserting the additional algorithms into his sunglasses. New trigger words were added: “Masculinity,” “Loyalty,” “Tradition,” and “Common” were all added as positive influencers to have him absorb his surroundings. Shocks would now also enact physical changes, reinforcing the conditioning through visible effects. I did not add any negative influencers–the agoraphobia we had “exposed” would be powerful enough.

NOVEMBER

The man who was placed before me no longer appeared like the lieutenant who had first stepped into my office. Where once a pathetic excuse of a soldier sat, now was a real triumph of a man. Gone was the lanky creature who stood against the military, who had appeared smaller than the incredible beard surrounding the lieutenant's face.

“James, how did you handle the assignment I gave you?”

The lieutenant grunted, “Happy to report it went well, sir.” His voice had dropped an octave since we last spoke. “I’ve integrated much better with the other men.”

I would not have chosen the term “integrated,” rather “conformed.” Physically, the lieutenant had been remodeled into the typical soldier on the base. He now stood taller than my own 6’1, had gained 40 pounds of pure muscle, and been doused in a coat of body hair. His features had become much more masculine: pronounced jaw, furrowed brow, an undeniable bulge in his trousers. I had been pleasantly surprised to find a new demerit in his file earlier, a noise complaint regarding the stomping of his rather large combat boots.

While all the physical changes displayed progress, it did not make for any mental indication.

“In what ways have you better conformed to your fellow soldiers?” I asked, planting the subtle correction.

“I’ve started taking interest in the other soldier’s activities, sir,” the lieutenant answered. “What they do when not in command.”

“Like what?”

“Drinking with the men, listening to their conversations.”

“Do you partake in them?”

“Sometimes, sir,” the lieutenant replied honestly. “Topics of politics and religion, not so much.”

I pretended to scribble down his answer as I altered it aloud. “‘Topics of politics and religion, very much’.”

The lieutenant’s eyes refocused momentarily before fixing back in. “The men are conservative, sir. Tradition is a very powerful influence in their…our life.”

I smiled, “Then you consider yourself conservative too, James?”

“Yes sir,” James nodded confidently. “America is the greatest country in the world, and the Republicans are the only ones that recognize that.”

“They also recognize the importance of religion, as do the rest of the men on the base,” I steered the conversation along. “How do you recognize the importance of religion, James?”

I already knew his answer before he said it. My addition of “how” scripted his response.

“Christianity is the heart of many of the men’s…and my actions.” With more confidence, he continued, “I am attending the weekly services held in our chapel, and with the guidance of my commanding officer hosting a bi-weekly Bible study with some of my fellow soldiers.”

Before I could respond, the lieutenant continued. “It has also given me the opportunity to explore my sexuality's role in religion, sir. I have even been able to discuss it with the other men.”

I blinked, choosing my words carefully. “Are you indicating that there is a place for homosexuality?”

The lieutenant nodded.

“There is no place for homosexuality on this base, Jared.” 

The lieutenant’s eyes glazed over, a headache overcoming him. With the lieutenant still holding onto some mental capacity, I knew the command would not be permanent. It would however provide a solid start, further enforced by another modification to his identity.

"Sir?" the lieutenant struggled to form his words. “I don’t…think I understand.”

"Jared. That's your name.” I knew that he was referring to my full statement, but the lack of acknowledgement would better solidify his truth. “That's what is on the file."

"Jared?" The lieutenant processed, before eventually mumbling in confirmation, “Jared.”

I excused him immediately after, letting his own mind convert itself. Now that he had accepted his new name, it would be much easier to accept his sexuality. To assure this, I added some final words to his positive reinforcement: “Heterosexual,” “Breeder,” and as an added insult, “Normal.” It took me a bit to list all the forms of “Homosexual” in his negative conditioners, which I had amped to the strongest shock setting.

DECEMBER

“Come in.”

The lieutenant entered my office and properly saluted me before taking his seat. He sat confidently, his immense size dominating the space with his legs spread wide apart. He embodied masculinity, the air toxic with his superiority and musk. The lieutenant was now large and in charge, and yet had been reduced to nothing more than another pawn.

“This is our final session, James,” I tested.

“Jared, sir,” he corrected. 

I politely apologized before continuing. “I have been hearing a lot of high remarks from the commanding officer. Apparently you’ve become quite the soldier.”

The lieutenant bore no facial expression. “I follow orders, sir. Follow authority.”

“And what does this mean, Jared,” I pushed.

“Executing directives, obeying commands.”

“And that’s what all the other men do, correct?”

“Yes sir.”

“So you are nothing more than just another soldier?”

“Yes sir.”

“So you are exactly like every other man on this base? One more machine for our great nation?” Each of my words were fast, pointed, cementing themselves permanently into the lieutenant's head.

“Yes sir, exactly like every other man on this base.”  

I leaned back in my chair, relishing in the moment knowing the lieutenant had no idea why. 

“This is my favorite part, Jared.” The lieutenant remained stoic. “It’s a great moment when you realize you want to be whatever your superiors want you to be. Do you know what your commanding officer wanted you to be?”

The lieutenant bowed his head. “No sir.”

I chuckled, “Would you consider yourself a patriot, soldier?”

“I live and breathe America, sir. I proudly serve this country and would proudly die for it.”

“Is masculinity important to you?”

“Masculinity is what defines the man, sir. Size, strength, and control dictate the alpha male.”

“Where do you align politically?” I pondered.

“Red-blooded American through-and-through, sir,” the lieutenant asserted. “Liberals are nothing more than cry-baby, nation-hating snowflakes.”

“And religiously?”

“Die-hard Christian, sir. Anything the Bible says is truth.”

“Uh-huh,” I accepted. “Then may I ask what your thoughts are on homosexuality?”

For the first time, I noticed the faintest expression on the lieutenant's face: hatred. 

“Nevermind,” I backed off. A new demerit had appeared on the lieutenant’s file last week. Apparently, to the commanding officer’s amusement, the lieutenant had accidentally gotten in the habit of yelling out drills with “faggot” rather than “maggot”.

“You know, Jared, I don’t think I ever asked about your romantic life.” I closed his file and stood up, motioning for the door. “Got any women waiting back home for you?”

The lieutenant laughed a little, scratching at his crotch before settling back into rank “No sir, nothing permanent. I’ve spread my seed and thoroughly impregnated a few too many women, so all I’ve got is an onslaught of unwanted kids and child support.”

I gave him a pat on the back and an “At ease, soldier,” dismissing my latest triumph back to his base. With a smirk, I tallied down my latest success and drafted the completion letter for his commanding officer.

JANUARY

It had been a few weeks since I had last seen the lieutenant. I had however heard of his impacts through the glowing reviews from his commanding officer and others at the base. One even sent me a picture of the lieutenant out on the field, still proudly wearing his sunglasses.

I forwarded the picture to my secretary, requesting for it to be printed and framed. They asked if he was my son.

“Like one,” I replied. I then gathered some files and my notepad before calling in my next client.

As directed by @mrrharper

“Endless war will end our world!” Alan shouted. “Stop funding our military!”

Alan was amongst the hundreds of protestors at the courthouse fighting against the proposed budgetary reforms. Schools, roads, transportation, parks, environmental protections agencies–they were all on the line. Through the presented bill, thousands of institutions would be shut down as billions of dollars would be rerouted towards a single entity: the military.

“The military corrupts! Stop the brainwashing!” Alan spat. He had organized this event under his alias, a popular political blogger on multiple social media outlets. Although his voice was loud and aggravated, Alan's physical appearance was anything but. He wore a baby blue tee and white-washed skinny jeans. 5’7 with bleached hair. All he needed was a rainbow somewhere to perfect his twink look. But he was not here to make that kind of statement. He was at the protest to make another form, something that could gain traction. Peering across the crowd, Alan saw his chance. 

A few of Alan’s fellow protestors were bombarding one of the towering guards with jeers. They scrutinized him, although it appeared none of their words got through the soldier’s heavy artillery padding. In fact, the solider stood proud in his position, dominantly poised with his chest puffed up in pride. Alan approached the guard slowly, noticing he remained perfectly still as the protestors continued to insult him. Without thinking twice, Alan approached and made his move. 

“How about you show us what they’re really funding, dickhead?”

Alan threw a fist at the soldier, putting all his strength behind the movement. Due to the crowds, the soldier did not recognize the motion until it was too late. Alan’s knuckle dove right into the much taller man’s neck, ricocheting into the muscular, masked chin. Instantly, there was a cheer from the crowd at the successful blow, but it was quickly hushed.

“You pathetic cocksucker,” the soldier growled. In a flurry, the once peaceful statue became a merciless brute, swinging down and dragging Alan out of the crowd. Before he knew it, Alan found himself handcuffed with the soldier escorting him off into the enemy’s territory.

“You can’t do this! This is illegal!” Alan cried out. 

“Shut your whiny mouth.” As soon as they were out of public sight, the soldier slapped Alan hard across the face. The warmth of blood soon filled his cheeks where the bruise began to bloom. Alan made sure not to react, but he could not hide the worry in his voice.

“Where are you taking me?”

“The barracks, you fairy prick.”

The soldier brought Alan to a building not too far from the protest lines. He guided them down numerous hallways, Alan losing track before they even made it halfway there. There were checkpoints, various nods, and some curt conversations with other soldiers, but nobody questioned about Alan or the situation. Eventually, Alan was tossed into a small makeshift bedroom, only holding a cot and a pile of unwashed clothes.

“Get undressed,” the soldier demanded.

“Why should I listen to you?”

Alan was met with another forceful assault, this time a punch to his gut.

“Cause I’m First Sergeant, maggot, which means out of the two of us, I’m in charge.”

Alan scoffed. “Is that your name: ‘First Sergeant’?”

“First Sergeant QF24,” the soldier gruffly shot back.

“That’s not a name either,” Alan replied. 

“Been in service so long I don’t need a civilian name.”

Alan wanted to jump on this, make a point about how this was evidence of the dangers of the military, but First Sergeant continued.

“While my identity is real, I assume the one you were about to give me is not. What do you go by, something like that 'AlanActivist' snot?”

Alan blushed, believing that his pseudonym had been cool and unique.

“It’s about time you considered that maybe it is not the military that enforces this ‘identity death’ you all are so worried about, but your own belief system.”

“You can’t be serious,” Alan snarked, surprised at the soldier’s intelligent argument. First Sergeant was however humorless, once again pointing to the pile of discarded clothes.

“Get dressed, degenerate.”

The soldier placed one of his giant, gloved hands behind the twink’s back and pushed him towards the pile. It appeared to Alan as a giant heap of army green and camouflage. Slowly but hesitantly, he began to strip himself of his clothing, hoping to avoid any further hazing. Once down to his underwear, he silently pleaded that he would not have to drop anything else.

“Soldiers go commando, sissy.”

First Sergeant quickly appeared behind Alan before ripping his underwear clean off, exposing the twink’s bare bottom and small package to the world. Alan quickly covered himself up with one hand before leaning down towards the pile. He grimaced, his fear no longer overriding the powerful musk seeping from the military cloth. First Sergeant chuckled at his disgust from behind.

“Aren’t homos supposed to like that kind of thing?” he asked, before grabbing the back of Alan’s head. “Go on, get a better whiff of it!” Amused, First Sergeant plunged Alan’s head into the musky pile of clothes. Alan’s oxygen supply was cut off, forcing him to inhale the overpowering masculine fumes.

“You idiots never consider that being in the military is hard work. It’s not all fun and guns.” First Sergeant smothered Alan’s head further. “‘Bout time you realize what it’s like, standing on the front line all day, hot and sweaty and random strangers berating you for protecting their country, their freedom.”

The military body odor seeped into Alan’s system, numbing his body and clouding his mind. By the time he was pulled away, the naked twink struggled to form a coherent thought.

“Much better,” First Sergeant noted the lopsided smile on the twink’s face. “Now, fit yourself into some tactical gear.”

Without questioning it, Alan followed the soldier’s command. He did not know every single piece of equipment that went into the common soldier’s uniform, nor did he understand the procedure to follow, but somehow Alan managed to get the attire onto his body.

Combat pants, military-grade socks, gore tex boots. Camouflage button-up, hardshell jacket, belt with holster and magazine pouches. Shooting gloves, army print hat, face mask. It took a minute longer for Alan to place every minor piece of tactical protection onto himself, but finally his smaller frame was completely covered, dwarfed by the oversized gear.

“Looking like a real soldier there,” First Sergeant mocked. “Now let’s actually make you one.”

Already covered in the musky clothing, Alan’s intellectual ability had been dulled considerably. But when First Sergeant approached, clutching Alan’s head once more before shoving it into his wet armpit, his brain completely halted. Coming straight from the source, the soldier’s stench wafted past all Alan’s barriers, taking control immediately. Its first instruction was to keep sniffing, its second was to conform.

With a chuckle, First Sergeant watched as Alan’s body began to expand underneath his hold. The shrimpy twink grew inside of the tactical gear, filling it out properly in every direction. Muscular arms filled the sleeves of the jacket, meaty hands stuffing the crevices of the gloves. The vest became as padded on the back as it was in the front, juicy pectorals and rigid abdominals forcefully pushing against the fabric. 

Thicker thighs padded the pants, bloated feet crowded the massive boots. Two muscular buttocks crammed the seat of Alan’s pants. A lantern jaw and cleft chin became prominent underneath the face mask. Buzz cut hidden by the cap, deeper voice waiting to confirm with “Sir, yes sir!” First Sergeant even noticed the prominent padding his new soldier was developing beneath the belt. When he ultimately removed Alan from his hold, the man before him now stood at the same domineering height.

“Good, now just stand still for one moment.”

Even if he wanted to, Alan could not move. The musk was still lingering in his mind, holding him steady as First Sergeant deposited an obnoxious military headset onto Alan’s head. He then plugged the headset into a walkie-talkie before tuning it to an empty channel. A robotic voice began looping into Alan’s ears, along with a few simple tones to open up the receptive pathways in his brain.

“Ready to get back out there?” First Sergeant asked, knowing his fellow soldier could not hear him. With a smirk, he escorted the dumbfounded subordinate out of the room, pacing slowly as Alan absorbed the propaganda. It was simple phrases, nothing too complicated but through repetition effective on the psyche. “Military good,” “pacifism bad”. “Nationalism good,” “multiculturalism bad.” “Masculinity good,” “progressivism bad.” The messages were rudimentary, but deliberate.

Once they stepped back into the open, fresh air, Alan’s consciousness resurfaced. He tried to fight back against the rampant messaging, doing his best to tune out the audios as the First Sergeant led him back to the front line. Alan was being attacked on all fronts: his morals, his identity, his sexuality. Every time he turned away to defend one trait, it was like he lost another. He felt himself dwindling, chipping away.

Before long, the two stood directly in front of the courthouse, mere feet away from their first encounter. First Sergeant loaded the new soldier up, arming the man with a weapon and other items necessary in case of an emergency.

“Let’s see if you’re done cooking yet.” First Sergeant looked directly into his subordinate’s eyes, pleased with their reflective quality. He then removed the headphones.

“Name and rank, soldier?” he saluted. The other man fell into place, mirroring his actions.

“Private Aaron Steel, MH36 sir!”

First Sergeant smiled. The name change was a good sign of transition, but complete removal would have been preffered.

“Ready for the task, soldier? Will you be loyal and obedient to the greatest nation? Follow every instruction in the name of tradition?”

The soldier nodded his head quickly, “Affirmative, sir.”

“Alright then.” First Sergeant replaced the headphones back onto the private’s head, knowing a little more time would do the trick. “Dismissed. Get back to work, private.”

“Sir yes sir!”

First Sergeant strolled back to his command at the front line. The new private monitored the crowd, absorbing his commands as he scanned for any disturbances.

*3K Follower Special*

What? Y’all didn’t think I would notice the landmark? Thank you all so much for your never-ending support.

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The bigger the sac, the better the pack!

— —

“C’mon, it could be fun!”

“Yeah,” Jerry retorted. “It could be extremely dangerous too.”

Jerry and I had been a pretty steady couple for almost two years now. An interconnected friend had introduced the two of us and we’d hit it off like some cheap rom-com. Seriously, it was insane how fast we had fallen for each other. Usually blind dates turn out to be trash, but Jerry was a treasure. A gymnast at 5’8, he was practically the perfect bottom for any man, which was why I originally found it funny that he wanted to invest his time in a vers like me. To be fair, I am fairly attractive with my 6’0 twunky build and blond locks, but I wasn’t as lovely as him. 

Now, just because he was lovely did not mean he was perfect. Certainly after all this time I’d discovered a few of his faults. We’d grown as tight as two peas in a pod, relishing in each other’s company and exchanging basically every secret over our time spent together, including our kinks. Mine ranged from tight spandex to watersports, while it would be generous to say he had a range. Jerry was 100% vanilla, and it wasn’t until I forced him to take a few BDSM tests that he realized truly how sexually safe he was. His ideas of original ideas of sex were as Christian as they came, as least if one ignores that pesky gay factor. TO put it all simply, I was Christian Grey, and he was my very own Anastasia Steele.

I hope I’ve made my use of the past tense fairly obvious up to this point. When we had originally revealed our sexual interests, both of us were content with our different standards, but apparently my kink flexibility had bothered Jerry. A month after our original conversation, I was leading Jerry into our shared room when he uttered that he wanted to try something new. He delicately paced over to a cabinet and opened a drawer, revealing a pair of handcuffs inside it. My eyes immediately lit up, but I took a few breaths to calm myself down. I was extremely elated and aroused, but if Jerry wanted to experiment, I’d have to go slow.

Jerry’s made it a long way since his vanilla-self a few months ago. Since that first encounter, we’ve tried out other forms of bondage, leather, and even diapers. We’d been getting pretty close to some of the much grittier elements, so I decided that it might be a good idea to go big or go home with our next experimentation. Body modifications had always been a fascination of mine, but never a serious thought for Jerry. I didn’t want to push him into anything, but I was planning on enticing him with a deal. If he was willing to get some form of body modification, I would take him on a trip for our 2-year anniversary. One may say it was kind of a douche move and yes, I would agree with you, but I was desperate. So that’s where we were now, Jerry trying to figure out if I was incredibly crafty or pushing my luck.

“I’m really not sure about this,” he mumbled.

“I know,” I replied. “That’s why I added the vacation as a thank you. But if you decline, I’ll still make our anniversary special.”

Jerry played with a spoon in his hands while looking at his açaí bowl emotionlessly. I could tell he was lost inside his head. I thought he was going to reject my proposal until the unexpected happened.

“Where would you intend to go for this trip?”

“Panama Beach.” I tried to hide my eager grin as I felt the mood in the room flip.

“And how long would it be?”

“Four nights.”

“And on what level would I be spoiled?”

“Superfluously.”

He stirred his bowl once more before continuing the interrogation.

“You have a procedure in mind, don’t you.”

“You know me so well,” I coyly responded as I turned my laptop towards him. 

“ScrotamPlus?!” Jerry exclaimed a little too loudly. After sending an acknowledgement of apology to nearby strangers, he shot me a fierce look. “Out of everything, I thought you would have wanted a bigger butt.”

“I thought about it, but I was curious,” I countered. “Plus, this is much easier to remove if something ends poorly.”

“Ah, thanks for mentioning that possibility,” he snarked glumly. “The last thing I would need is a botched scrotox.”

I choked a little on my smoothie, laughing internally at the thought. Jerry continued searching through the website, scrolling his way through different FAQs and procedural tips.

“Is this something you really want?” he finally asked after a few more minutes had passed.

“Only if you want to,” I answered. “I know you want to expand your horizons, and I think this would be a good next step.”

“Silicone injections into my balls?”

“Only if you want to,” I repeated. “I’m not forcing anything.”

Jerry grabbed a fork and started poking at his bowl once more, only this time after a few minutes he raised his head to give me a look of surrender. I’m not gonna lie, it may have been one of the cutest faces he’s ever made for me.

“Fine,” he sighed. “I’ll do it.”

“Yes!” I grinned, leaning over for a kiss in excitement. This was going to be awesome! “We leave on Thursday.”

“That soon?”

“I said this was an anniversary trip didn’t I?”

“And you already have all the reservations made?”

“Yes sir.”

Jerry gave me a comprehending look. “You knew I was going to cave, didn’t you?”

“I know how to get my man what he wants,” I replied, getting up from the table to throw out my trash. Before I left, I quickly added, “to get what I want.”

I heard a string of cuss words follow behind me as I cockily strolled away.

— —

“Alright, are you sure about this?” I asked, the needle in hand.

We had gotten to our hotel about an hour before, landing in the airport around 10 o’clock. It was already pretty dark everywhere, making it hard for us to see any of the sandy beaches and palm trees I had promised. Once we’d made it to our room, we’d ordered pizza and vegged out on our king-sized bed. It had been a pretty relaxing hour for me, but I think it was a little nerve-racking for Jerry. We had originally planned to use ScrotamPlus on our last day, but Jerry asked if we could do the procedure tonight just to get it over with.

The kit didn’t have too many materials–the simplicity of it all actually shocked me. Inside the box laid a pretty short needle, two cartridges filled with the silicone, and a single vial of white liquid. The procedure only required a few short steps. First, I had to prepare the area, sanitizing and removing any hair within the targeted patch. Secondly, I had to pierce the skin and inject one of the two silicone bases. Once that was finished, it was my job to delicately keep the needle in place while I switched out the empty silicone container with the vial. Finally, the whitish fluid would be injected to activate the silicone and the process would be over. Currently, Jerry and I were at the second step.

“Yes,” Jerry said confidently. “I can do this.”

“But do you want to?” I pushed, making sure this was his decision and not mine. He thought it over quickly and nodded an affirmative. With that, I pushed the needle into his skin.

“Oh!” he yelped in surprise. The puncture should have been much more painful, but the ScrotamPlus package had stated its sanitation materials had quite a lot of numbing chemicals. It took me a few moments to get the silicone injected, causing Jerry to laugh.

“Ugh, my balls feel so full,” he grumbled loosely.

Once I had finished with that, I quickly switched out the container with the vial. Just looking at Jerry’s testicles now I could tell there was a difference. They were already a little plumper and (by Jerry’s testimony) heavier. Even some of the usual wrinkles had disappeared due to the bloated mass. 

I slowly pumped the white fluid in, not really understanding why it was needed. According to the package, it was an activation agent, but I didn’t think silicone would need activation. Not only that, but I didn’t really understand the point of the second silicone base. My questions didn’t matter however because as fast as the process had started, the vial was empty and I was removing the needle. I smoothly put the provided bandage in place and brought an eager smile to Jerry.

“Is it over?” he inquired.

“Sure is, baby,” I responded, kissing him before moving under the sheets beside him. “Now, we wait ‘till the morning.”

Jerry, feeling content with how fluidly the procedure had carried out, snuggled up beside me and fell asleep almost instantly. All that pent-up stress must have really worn him out. I soon followed, cupping his heated, hefty sac delightedly before also drifting away.

— —

Waking up, the last thing I expected to feel was alone. I only now realized how massive the bed was with only my body inside of it. After a little tossing and turning, I finally managed to wrangle myself free from the sheets and comforter. Grabbing a stray shirt to cover myself at least partially, I noticed the clock read that it was pretty close to eight in the morning. Looking out the nearby window, I could tell the sun had already started its daily duties. The dining hall wouldn’t open for another hour, so I decided that I would clean up before trying to find Jerry.

After a warm shower and putting on a fresh set of clothes, I wandered out of the bathroom to notice a note taped to the bedside table. It seemed pretty large, which made it surprising that I didn’t see it before. The note itself read:

Morning dude! Woke up kinda early so headed to beach. I be back around 8, but if wake up–come find me! 

Overall, the note didn’t seem like Jerry’s work. The handwriting was a sharp downgrade from Jerry’s usual style, giving a more carefree and symbolic take to the English language. The noticeable grammatical issues were also fairly strange, but I rationalized that all of the quirks were due to Jerry being in a rush. Checking myself one last time in the mirror at the door, I snatched my room key and headed out to find Jerry.

My entire descent through the hotel and out towards the beach was uncharacteristically easy. One would expect to see a resort bustling and lively at almost any hour, but apparently I had hit a barren timeframe. Even in an empty wasteland however, I struggled to find Jerry. Out of the entire empty hotel and beach, I didn’t see my cute little gymnast, let alone another human being. It wasn’t until I went out to the water that I actually found someone.

“Hey!” I shouted, noticing the man from afar. Sitting on a flight of wooden steps that led down to the beach, he seemed like a powerful alpha male. He was wearing a teal tee and a pair of tight, red khaki shorts that were stretched against both of his mighty thighs. His jaw was fairly carved, and I could see two gargantuan feet from still yards away. All in all, he seemed pretty intimidating. Noticing I was calling to him, he quickly responded. 

“Hey, you found me!”

His smile of recognition did not match my look of bewilderment. After a few moments of awkward silence, I finally figured out who I was talking to.

“Jerry?”

“Who else would it be?” His deep baritone voice replied, an incredibly different tone than the Jerry I knew. There were plenty of other differences as well: the much-extended height, the more muscular figure, the hair. Jerry barely had to shave before, but this man was clearly hirsute. Even the hair on his head had grown out a little, along with bushier eyebrows and a full-out beard. His entire stature had shifted too, making him appear much more bulkier with thicker legs and a wider jaw.

Looking a little closer, I realized the clothes Jerry was wearing were my own. The shirt that held so tightly to his upper arms never looked that good on my own, and until now I hadn’t been able to see the front of the shorts.

“Jerry,” I cautiously began. “Your balls.”

They were huge. Literally, there was a gigantic sac cupped inside of the shorts. They were definitely going to be stretched to the extent I wouldn’t be able to wear them again.

“Arre they not incrredible?” I was too busy admiring the hefty pouch that I missed the fact he had rolled his r’s.

“So…” I mumbled, trying to wrap my head around the situation. “Do you…do you think this is all a side effect of the ScrotamPlus?”

“I assume so?” he replied honestly. “I guess biggerr balls means morre testosterrone prroduction, rright?”

“And an accent too?” I noted, finally picking up and acknowledging it.

“What do you mean?” Jerry gave me a quizzical look. I thought about pushing further, but I decided to ignore it. All of these changes were insane but maybe Jerry was right. The website seemed totally legit, and the company was approved by a lot of organizations. Jerry’s nonchalant attitude towards the situation must have made me feel a lot more comfortable than I should have. 

Not only that, but I was beginning to think less with my head. Unsurprisingly, my cock was slowly gaining control of the situation. The completely new man in front of me was blocking out all rational thought. I should have been much, much more concerned over Jerry, but instead I wanted to try the new him out.

“What do you say we head back to our room?” I asked, extending my palm forward and not-so-subtly fondling his pouch. The new weight was surely impressive.

“I don’t think so,” he replied nervously before pushing my hand away. I was caught off guard by the look of distress that had plastered itself across his face. I was also shocked by the amount of force that came out of his hand. It seemed a little more powerful than “get out of my no-no square”, as if there was a deeper meaning behind it.

“Is something wrong?”

“No…no I just…” he stammered, which came off as incredibly odd in his new macho form.

“It’s ok.” I sat down next to him and side-hugged him, trying to soothe him. His new form had an interesting musk that I couldn’t smell until now, almost woodsy. My attempt to console him was rejected however, as I get pushed away and was once again greeted with a disgusted look.

“I’m just not feeling good,” he stated firmly. “I think I want to go out today. Away from the hotel.”

“Alright,” I quickly replied. “We can do whatever you want. There’s a nice mall down by-”

“I want to go alone.”

His words were so strong I felt almost like I had been slapped in the face.

“Alone?”

“Yes, uh…” he tried to rebound, noticing I had taken offense. “You have given me such a great anniverrsarry gift, I feel like mine doesn’t comparre. I want to make it up to you and get you something morre.”

“Oh, honey.” I didn’t try to touch him this time, but yet he still grimaced. “That’s so sweet of you, but you don’t have to do that. You already did something great for me.” I guided my eyes down to his swollen pouch.

“No, I do.” His firm proclamation was emphasized as he stood up, displaying his new height for all to see. He was definitely taller than me now. “I’ll see you laterr tonight with the prresent.”

“Tonight?” I called as he started to walk off. “Are you sure? What will you be doing all day?”

“You’ll see!” he shouted back. Although Jerry was now a much larger presence, he disappeared much faster than I could have expected. It almost felt like he was trying to get away from me.

— —

Honestly, the rest of the day went by hastily. I felt bad that I didn’t reach out to Jerry once in the morning, afternoon, or evening, but I thought it might be best to leave him alone. He was practically given an entirely new body from the ScrotamPlus, so it made sense that he’d want some time to be with himself. I assumed the new gift story was just to be nice to me, but his uncharacteristic behavior had definitely puzzled me. It wasn’t until around 10 that he texted me to come to our room for a surprise. I had been moping on a barstool for the last hour, so I think the bartender must have been exceptionally delighted to see me leave, especially because I hadn’t ordered a single drink.

Walking into our room, I was greeted by some dimmed lights and closed curtains. Taking my shoes off, I noticed Jerry had left out a what I presumed was a little pregame gift for me in the kitchen. On the dining table sat a tall glass of champagne and a note. Picking up the glass first and taking a few sips, I grabbed the note and read it over.

Funtime now. Drik up than sex.

Once again, the handwriting was completely off, more than last time. This morning’s masterpiece looked like elementary work, but now it was just straight caveman. Not only was Jerry’s writing awful, but his grammar too. I even tried to ignore the spelling, but it was just too funny. It was too insane to be real, so I just chuckled as I drank some more of the champagne. Noticing the door was closed to the bedroom, I was delighted to see a strip of light shining from underneath it. Strutting forward, I gracefully chugged the last of the champagne and swung open the gateway. Before I could catch myself, the empty champagne glass fell to the floor and shattered.

“J-J-Jerry?” The words barely escaped my mouth.

“Geetesh,” the man in front of me corrected. The man who was most definitely not Jerry. The man who was currently sitting on the king-sized bed imprisoning one of my pillows and wearing nothing but a pair of black Calvin Kleins–my Calvin Kleins. The only reason I could tell it was him was because he was wearing the smart watch I had gotten him for our first anniversary, but that argument was assuredly not solid.

“What…what…” I was mentally falling apart, unable to understand the scene in front of me. “How did this happen?”

“How deed vat happen?”

“This!” I blurted out, carefully stepping over the glass and climbing next to him in the bed. Getting closer to him caused me to once again encountered his musk, only this time it was much more potent and had a curryish flavor to it.

“You are…you look…”

“Zo much bedderr,” Geetesh finished. “Dankz do diz.” He brought one of his palms down to cup his inflated sac graciously. And by palms, I mean one of his two meaty, hairy paws. And by his inflated sac, I mean the massive moose knuckle that was being formed by the too-small boxer-briefs–another item of clothing I probably wouldn’t be able to wear again.

“But Jerry-”

“Geetesh.”

“Geetesh,” I decided to play along. “You look totally different! I mean…” I stumbled off as I truly looked over all the changes myself. First off, he was no longer white. Assuming based off of the accent and his new name the body had to have origins in India. Because of this, his body’s features had matched accordingly. Darker and thicker hair, lusciously tanned skin, bulkier body proportions. His monstrous thighs from this morning had somehow grown even larger, and his pecs had also pushed out slightly. I hadn’t seen his torso before but now there was a proudly blooming muscle gut. His biceps and triceps had expanded, his calves and further developed, and even his feet had extended out to what must have been Size 15 at least. I had yet to even mention the further-structured jaw and deeper voice.

“But dey arre good chayngez, हां?”

“हां?” I mimicked back. Not only had his body changed, but it must have affected his mind and personality too. This morning he was just rolling his r’s, but now Jerry had a full on accent–and he could even speak what I assumed was Hindi now too?

“Geetesh,” I started slowly. “You understand that something has gone terribly wrong here, right?” Although the man sitting beside me looked and acted completely different from my boyfriend, I still felt a strong connection and responsibility for him.

“Vat iz vrrong?” he countered innocently. “मुझे अच्छा लगता है.”

“But this isn’t you.”

“Diz iz not Jerrree” he corrected, butchering his former name in the process. “I am Geetesh.”

“But you’re not supposed to be Geetesh.”

“Vy not?”

“Because Geetesh isn’t Jerry! He’s not my boyfriend! He’s not the man I loved.”

“Dat iz rright, men zouldn’t love ohder men.” Geetesh smirked and continued, “And Geetesh iz betterr.”

Ignoring the first part of his argument, I continued with my original complaint.

“Geetesh is not better.”

“Yez he iz,” Geetesh stated firmly. “I’m biggerr, brrownerr, and I have diz huge hairee सैक.”

“What?” I was confused by both his logic and the fact he had slipped out of English once again. As if he was proving a point, he pulled down his underwear to show me his package. The now pure-brown balls hung low, and his dark and hairy cock must have been at least 7 inches long soft. He even had an out-of-control bush that shrouded the entire assortment like a shrine. Before I could examine any further however, Geetesh quickly pulled his underwear back up, looking rather embarrassed to have another man staring at his parts.

“I still don’t understand,” I tried to initiate the conversation once again. “Jerry is my boyfriend! I don’t get why you feel like you can just let him go?”

“Id’z juzt abouht rrace: brrown iz zuperriorr.”

“I…I don’t-”

“Geetesh iz a brreederr,” he resumed. “a brrown brreederr.”

“What kind of answer is that?”

“Brrown brreederrs make darrk babieez.”

Shocked, I decided to pursue the question that had been lingering in the back of my head.

“Are you straight now or something?”

“Alvayz have,” Geetesh puffed up his chest. “And हमेशा रहेगा.”

Sitting on the bed, I felt like I had been hit by a train going at at least 50 miles per hour. I mean, this guy couldn’t have been serious, right? Was Jerry pulling some kind of prank on me to get back at the silicone injection? Jerry would never do something like that, but maybe I had finally pushed his experimentation limits too far. 

Thinking I had lost not only my boyfriend but also my mind, a sudden thought darted to the front of my brain. In a moment of desperation, I hopped off the bed and ran over to the trash can. My running was a little staggered, but I blamed that due to the champagne earlier. Ruffling through the garbage, I snatched what I was looking for and read the details on the back of the empty ScrotamPlus package.

“Made in India!” I shouted aloud, having a eureka moment. “Those stupid injections did this to you…”

I turned to face Geetesh with an excited glee, but I was surprised to find only my pillow on the bed. Before I could even process the question, I felt a pair of thick, rough hands land on my shoulders. They steadied me out carefully; I hadn’t realized I had been swaying.

“Doze grread injectionz imprroved me, and dey vill imprrove you doo.”

It took a few moments for his sentence to translate itself into my head. Suddenly feeling vulnerable, I turned the ScrotamPlus package around in my hands. I unfortunately realized it hadn’t been empty before when I had thrown it out.

“Did youuuu…” my words came out slurred as my eyelids began to droop.

“Drrug you?” Geetesh asked as he delicately guided me forward. 

I cursed the delicious champagne in my head as I was placed carefully onto the bed. With my body now horizontal, I felt Geetesh strip me of all my clothes. Even with my eyes barely open, I could still make out his looks of revulsion as he stripped a male body.

Lying there, I became nervous as to what my future had for me. Was I going to become a mindless slave just like him? A “brown breeder”? I now understood the point of the second silicone base, as I was coming to figure out this had been the company’s plan all along. They must have thought they were so smart with their “2 for 1” plan. Yet, thinking over the procedure one last time, I realized there remained a forgotten element.

“Youu… you can’t go throughh withh thissss.”

Geetesh looked up from his task, a small patch on my balls aching from their recent shave.

“Youu don’t have…” my voice wabbled. “another vial.”

Geetesh gave a cocky grin as he showcased to me the original vial, except now it was full of the same white fluid as before.

“Vat did you dink I vas doing ah day?”

The final pieces finally clicked together in my head. Yes, Geetesh had been avoiding having sex with another man, but that was just a benefit of his main plan: trying to accumulate his resources for the largest deposit possible. 

Mr. Midas was fairly disappointed by his grand opening. Originally, he had thought that a brilliant watchery had been exactly what the city needed, but looking at his numbers, his idea might have been a little off. Midas Touch Horology had only had a small cluster of customers today, with only half of them knowing what the word “horology” actually meant. One of them had been an old friend too, so they probably didn’t even count as a customer. Hopefully, after the everyone tried on their watches, word would spread fast about where to find the best, most successful accessories in town.

— —

“Kaden, bro, where you at?”

“Give me one more minute!” Kaden continued typing on his tablet as he put on some clothes. Last night had been quite a banger, with the Kappa Sigma Alpha boys throwing a wild party. Kaden had definitely drank an obscene amount, as his hangover was still running strong after 7 hours. Unfortunately, just because he was feeling like crap didn’t mean the deadline for his business paper had been shifted, which meant he’d been editing it all day. Sure, it was going to be a piece of trash in the long haul, but at least it would be in on time.

“Stubstad! We’re going to miss the investors meeting!”

“Almost there!”

Kaden fumbled with his dress shirt as he buttoned it up across his broad chest. The tiniest sprouts of chestnut chest hair poked out from the top as he adjusted the collar. His room, which was covered in dirty clothes and smelled like a rotten jockstrap, did not at all convey the same vibe as the young man who was getting into an expensive suit. Kaden had to look dapper for this event, knowing that the frat’s funds depended on it. Plus, if he appeared and acted appropriately, the 22-year-old could score himself a job after graduation. Trying his best to impress, Kaden had even gone out and purchased an expensive watch. It probably wasn’t his best decision, being that he had had the paper to write and barely enough money to pay for it, but Kaden understood that every detail counted.

“That’s weird,” Kaden mumbled to himself as he secured the watch around his wrist. The silver and navy watch read half an hour behind, which seemed strange to Kaden. But, without giving it a second thought, he grabbed the small knob and moved the time forward. As the hour hand spun slowly, Kaden didn’t realize his hangover had suddenly disappeared. Not only that, but his youth had also rapidly vanished as well. The softest tissues began to harden as Kaden’s skin grew tighter. His already pronounced jaw pushed out slightly as a scruffy stubble lightly pushed outwards.

With the hands now halfway across, Kaden’s body took the opportunity to age. His developed six-pack slightly sunk in as some body fat returned. His pecs also dwindled, with the new Kaden not having enough time to keep them at bodybuilder proportions. His biceps and triceps stayed impressive, but his calves and upper thighs became meatier as his future had more experience with sitting. Kaden’s feet also plumped out a size, becoming a little wider to accommodate for the new weight.

As Kaden finished spinning the hands, a coat of chocolatey fur blossomed across his body. His arms, chest, and legs were doused with a layer, covering the previously-hairless areas with forests. His pits and pubes fluffed up while the hair on his head grew a little thinner, pushing itself back to situate on top of his forehead. Finally, Kaden’s sac dropped a smidgen lower, becoming heavier as more mature sperm overtook the once virile jock.

Placing down his tablet, the man grabbed his blazer and put it back on. He hadn’t remembered taking it off–or placing it on the floor–but before he could dwell on it further, a frat boy entered the room.

“Kaden, bro, are you-” the young man stopped short, blinking rapidly. “Mr. Samson, I’m sorry I had no idea you were in here.”

“It is fine, Bryce,” Mr. Samson replied. “And please, call me Keith. Mr. Samson is my father.”

“I see, Keith.” Bryce’s response came out awkward. He knew the man only wanted to be called Keith because he wanted to still feel youthful. It must have been hard for the 28-year-old to see a young, sexy, lively frat boy like himself; Mr. Samson must have missed those years.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Bryce began. “What are you doing in one of our rooms? You know the investors meeting starts in 10 minutes.”

“I am aware,” Mr. Samson answered, scrolling through spreadsheets on his tablet. “I just wanted to survey where funds are going, making sure we are supporting the right causes.”

“Oh.”

“Do you know who’s room this is?” Mr. Samson asked.

“Yes, it’s-” Bryce stuttered for a moment. “Nobody’s. Just an example room at the moment.

“I see.” Mr. Samson looked around the empty space, devoid of almost anything but a bed and a wardrobe. He should’ve known it was too clean for a frat boy. “Well, I’ve got a few more things I have got to map out and then I will join you all downstairs.”

“Sounds good, Mr. Samson. I mean Keith!” Bryce corrected himself before quickly stepping out. Mr. Samson smiled, reminiscing about his fraternity days before continuing to work on his tablet.

— —

“I’m so sorry to have you come out all this way, but unfortunately we cannot offer you the position.”

“Oh…I see.”

Hayden had driven out early this morning thinking he was going to be presented with a job. He’d dressed up in a new suit, tie, and even a watch. Who invites someone out for coffee if they’re giving a rejection?

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Hayden started cautiously. “I was wondering if you could offer me any feedback about my interview process–anything I can improve on for the future.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t have anything to offer, you were excellent.” Hayden rolled his eyes internally as he knew what was coming next. “I’d say the only reason we didn’t hire you was due to your age, which is of course not under your control.”

At 23, Hayden knew it would be difficult to try and get a good job in the city. Fresh out of college, he didn’t have a lot to experience to offer just yet, making his search much more difficult than it should have been. His tall, lanky figure and light, airy tone made him appear even younger than he was. He had the education, but not enough of the hands-on work.

“I guess this is just me,” Hayden’s ears sprung up with excitement. Finally a critique on something that was under his control. “but I noticed your watch was off. It’s not something I would dock you for, but an employer with OCD or something could freak out about it.

“What?” Hayden looked down at his watch, surprised he hadn’t noticed it before. His watch read that it was eleven in the morning when it was actually noon. Embarrassed, Hayden put down the latte he’d been drinking and grabbed the stem, pushing the button to adjust the time. With every press, the minute hand moved towards the next number, adding five minutes, but it also made another change without either of the men noticing.

The first compacted his spine and thickened his bones to a set him properly at 6’3. The second sent his chest ripping through his shirt with hairy, modest pecs replacing Hayden’s skinny nothingness, but the shirt was immediately stitched back up before anything else could be seen. The third created a ripple throughout the lower half of Hayden’s torso, causing his abs to become more pronounced. The fourth massaged the arms, allowing layers of muscle to be added. The fifth extended his shoulder blades out as the mass increased, giving him an impressive wingspan.

Halfway there, the sixth push focused on improving Hayden’s legs by providing monstrous calves and steel-cut quads. The seventh provided his bottom with hard muscle lurking underneath what looked like a jelly-like layer. The eighth caused his feet to rip out of his shoes, Size 13 toes wiggling free as fat sausages before the dress shoes reshaped themselves to a suitable size. The ninth brought a thickness to the neck that hadn’t been there before, providing Hayden with a deeper, huskier tone. The tenth restructured Hayden’s face as his boyhood was wiped away, leaving a strong jaw, big chin, thicker brows, and tighter skin. The eleventh saturated his body with a soft blanket of hair, also adding a nice dark stubble for the beginnings of a beard and moustache. The finishing press tripled the size of Hayden’s cock, letting it slither a little further out of his briefs to make room for his swollen testicles.

“I’m sorry,” Harvey brought his eyes back into focus, lost for a moment. At only 35, he was bewildered he’d already forgot what the two men had been talking about. “I think I spaced out there for a moment. What were we discussing again?”

“You’re all good,” the man replied. “We’re offering you the position. You have exactly what the company is looking for in terms of education and experience. If you are available, we would like you to stop by this afternoon to sign some forms.”

“Well then, how about we finish our drinks and then get to work?” Harvey answered swimmingly, grabbing his cup of espresso to take a celebratory swig.

— —

“Happy Birthday tooooooo…”

Collin groaned as his friends held out the last note.

“You!”

Everyone cheered and applauded, laughing as Collin took a shot. Sure, the middle of the day was probably too early for alcohol, but he thought turning 25 would allow it. One of his friends began cutting the cake and serving slices while his boyfriend cuddled up to him on the couch. The two had been dating for almost a year now, so Collin was surprised to see the gift he’d given.

“Aden!” Collin exclaimed, his mouth stuffed with a piece of cake. “You shouldn’t have!”

“What, it wasn’t that much,” Aden smirked.

“Then tell me this isn’t gold plating,” Collin pointed to the watch’s case.

“What do you care,” a friend piped in. “He’s the boss now, remember.”

Everyone cheered to that, except Collin. The couple had originally met as coworkers, but recently Aden had accepted a promotion recently, putting him above Collin. Collin was happy for his boyfriend, but it felt kind of weird to be (for lack of better words) under his control. He’d never express his feelings to Aden, but Collin just didn’t like Aden moving up the corporate ladder without him. Collin liked to be the one in control in the relationship, so obviously this created an odd dilemma. Not only that, but a lot of the men farther up were old-fashioned, stodgy conservatives, so as irrational as the fear was, Collin was scared those types might gain some sort of influence over his sweet, gentle boyfriend.

The rest of the party was a blast. As everyone had taken the weekday off from work, they were all in the mood to get day-drunk, but after a few hours, everyone had left the house to leave Collin and Aden alone. Deciding to get some fresh air, they strolled around downtown hand-in-hand, simply enjoying each other’s company.

“Hey,” Aden began, swinging up their arms. “I didn’t realize your watch was off.”

“Oh?” Collin looked to see that Aden was right, with the face reading exactly an hour and a half off. Grabbing the dial, he giggled internally at the randomness of his outfit. Sweatshorts and a crop top paired up with a golden watch; it was a little humorous.

“I got it.” Aden gracefully grabbed Collin’s palm and began spinning the hands. As he did so, he didn’t register that the hand he was holding became harder, rougher, and ultimately larger. The lightest of brown hairs quickly became darker and furrier, travelling up Collin’s arm which became more muscular every second.

With Aden’s eyes still fixated on the watch, he didn’t see as his boyfriend suddenly shot up a noticeable amount of inches, surpassing Aden by almost a head. He also couldn’t notice how his boyfriend’s chest puffed up, his crop top changing into a firmer material as it reached down to cover the hardening pecs and muscle gut. A decent amount of fur also plastered itself across his boyfriend’s chest, but it couldn’t be seen due to the salmon-striped button up.

As Aden got closer to the correct time, his friend continued to change. Legs lengthening out and thickening appropriately, expanding from twinky sticks to the trunks of a real man. Hairs sprouted from beneath the hardening skin, but they were promptly covered by the straight, pleated trousers that emerged. Long, sheer socks and pointy, polished oxfords encompassed Aden’s friend’s feet, which grew veiny and fat as they morphed into Size 14’s, a far cry from the previously dainty Size 8.

A darkly-colored tie silently tightened itself around Aden’s coworker’s neck while a plaid blazer materialized upon his broadened shoulders and straightened back. Aden slowly fixed the hands into their proper place as the last of the changes materialized. His jaw, formerly a little pointed and sharp, now spread wide and hung low, giving his face a square, lantern shape. A prominent mustache centered itself onto his coworker’s previously clean-shaven fact. As his features became stockier, his hair brutally slicked itself back, a superfluous amount of grease pulling his hairline back notably. It was much more corporate than the quiff he’d had before, but it was a classic style for a reason. Lastly, a pair of suspenders gripped onto the waistband of the trouser and lifted them up, tightening his coworkers perky bottom into two hard slabs and squeezing the man’s much longer, meatier cock. His balls, which had become tremendously heavier, were now scrunched up into an uncomfortable moose knuckle.

“There you go, Conrad.” Aden smiled as he took a step away. Suddenly, his eyes flashed from glee to alarm.

“Excuse me, faggot?” Conrad sneered, wiping off his wrist as if he’d been infected. “Not only do you sexually violate me, but you call me by my name?”

“I’m so sorry,” Aden stumbled, feeling as if he should fall to the ground on his knees. He knew coming out to his alpha, homophobic boss was a bad idea, but for some reason he just felt like he had to get it off his chest.

“You better be, because you can kiss that promotion goodbye. I have roamed this planet for 43 years and I still am not treated with proper respect.” Conrad began walking off, done with this fairy piece of trash.

“No, Sir, please!” Aden begged, catching up. “I’ll do anything! I promise!”

“Anything?” Conrad sniggered, stopping.

“Yes,” Aden’s eyes lit up with hope. “Anything!”

“Good,” Conrad didn’t turn around but tossed a key behind him. Aden barely caught it. “You are now in charge of doing all my laundry. Ironing, dry cleaning, you name it and it is your job. If I find you doing ANYTHING besides laundry with my clothes, you will be fired before you can even say the word ‘homosexual’. Understand?”

“Yes, Sir.” Aden looked down in defeat.

“Good,” Conrad finally turned around. “I appreciate the honorifics, so in turn I will refer to you as ‘boy’.” And with that, Conrad left his servant, a look of content on his face as he made his way back to the office.

— —

“Dad! This is…wow…it’s just-”

“Think of it as an early graduation present.”

Tennyson rolled the watch around in his hands. He’d wanted a new vehicle to use before college, making this gift extremely unexpected. The thing had both an old-fashioned and a brand-spanking new look to it. The black leather strap, silver spring lugs, and batons were obviously all made from expensive materials. Tennyson was still a few months out from ending his senior year of high school, making the watch even more of a complete surprise.

“How did you afford this?” Tennyson asked, concerned over how much money his father had spent.

“It really wasn’t as much as you’d think,” his father chuckled. “I know the owner, so he gave me a generous discount.”

“Wow…just wow.” Still in a slight state of shock, Tennyson grabbed a cup from one of the kitchen cupboards and filled it with tap water. In one go, he shot the whole thing down to his stomach. When he was down, he filled it again before strolling back into the living room. Tennyson took a seat on the armrest of the living room couch. It had a hideous olive color to it, one that he both loved and despised.

“Well?” Tennyson’s dad asked. “Are you going to try it on or what?”

“Oh, right now?” Tennyson questioned, receiving a nod in response. After a little fiddling, Tennyson managed to secure the leather strap around his wrist and tighten it. The case felt as if it was frozen beforehand, sending a cold chill through his hand.

“How does it feel?”

“Great,” Tennyson smiled before noticing something off. “Did you already set the time?”

“No, why?”

“Oh, it’s just two hours late.” Tennyson reached for the button to correct the simple error.

“Wait! Son, don’t tou-”

But Tennyson had already grabbed the knob and began spinning the hands. Instantly, his clothes evaporated into thin air, leaving Tennyson in only his plaid boxers. He should’ve felt the sudden chill that accompanies almost-total nudity, but instead he didn’t notice a thing as he continued turning the dial. His father however, was too stunned at the mistake he’d made to take his eyes away from the scene.

Tennyson’s bones shifted as his spine lengthened, allowing his knees and elbows to snap before popping back into place and leaving him at a new whopping height of 6’4. His arms inflated as meat was packaged into them, followed by abs that appeared on his flat stomach. His pecs and shoulders became rounder and fuller, seeking not to be left behind. The muscles in Tennyson’s legs joined in on the fun, enlarging and bulking to keep up with the rest of him. Tennyson’s father watched anxiously as his son’s body developed into a frightening larger form. 

As Tennyson made it past the first hour, he reached a hand up and scratched in between the valley of his pecs, allowing a light dusting of hair to form. His neck thickened and made way for a pronounced Adam’s apple. While his father watched on, Tennyson’s face changed in an instant. There was nothing boyish or youthful about it any more; Tennyson now sported a square jaw, thick brows, and the beginnings of a stubble. Even his hair style changed, slicking itself back as it lost a little height and definition.

Quickly, the last of the changes took place within Tennyson’s boxers. First, the plaid disappeared as the ends pulled inward, creating a comfortably snug pair of white briefs. His buttocks grew on the armrest, the bubbly feature pushing Tennyson a little higher up. His cock and testicles also became larger and fuller, growing out of teenage mass producers and into mature baby makers. As a final blessing, a pelt of dirty blond hair grew all over Tennyson’s body.

Before Tennyson’s father could admire his son’s physical body any further, a suit emerged from the abyss. His calves and thighs had pants magically appear around them before being drawn taut. Now sporting well-ironed pinstripe charcoal slacks, a pale blue shirt formed over Tennyson’s open chest. It pulled itself down, tucking into his pants as buttons began to form along the front. The sleeves moved, working to swallow Tennyson’s arms and elbows before forming cuffs at the end. A collar popped out of the top and a silk lavender tie slithered out from underneath, knotting itself tightly.

At Tennyson’s feet–which had expanded into a monstrous Size 15–a perfect pair of dress socks enveloped his chunky toes. Then, a pair of black leather oxfords comfortably slipped themselves on before lacing up. With that finished, a pinstripe suit coat magically appeared onto Tennyson’s body as well, making his overall frame look even bulkier than it already did. However, the blazer also looked snug. If his arms were any thicker, they would’ve probably shredded through the coat jacket.

“There we go,” a deeper voice bellowed, the bass throwing Tennyson’s father off guard. The sudden surprise finally woke him out of his daze.

“What do you think of it, Terrence?”

“It makes me realize how old I’m getting,” Terrence quipped, making the two laugh. “At 18 I was excited about getting a car, and now at 42 a watch is an amazing gift.”

“I’m sorry, little brother, I didn’t mean to buy you such a boring gift.”

“Whatever, old man. You’ve still got four years on me,” Terrence taunted back. “But I think it is a rather perfect gift.” Disappointed that he had to return to work, Terrence grabbed his glass from earlier and took a final sip of the strong whiskey, thankful for his caring older brother.

— —

“Huh, this is kinda cool.”

Logan peered down at the small box sitting beside him on the couch, surprised he hadn’t noticed it before. It was covered in blue velvet with a small golden pin on top, the letter “M” engraved carefully into it. Pulling his hand out of his sweatshirt pocket, he gracefully grabbed the box and brought it to his face to investigate. Before opening the box, he peered at the clock across the hotel lobby, noticing his hookup was late.

Logan had originally come to the hotel to meet with someone he’d met online, a bear who wasn’t entirely out of the closet yet. And by entirely, Logan meant the bear had a wife with three kids. This was the first time the two would see each other in person, but it would probably be the last too. Unless the sex was really, really good, there would be no reason to keep the relationship going. Sure, cheating and lying was bad, but more importantly Logan was a spry, 24-year-old twink with a future ahead of him. He didn’t want to be wasting his life with some closeted family man.

Breaking the latch, Logan removed the lid and was surprised to find an expensive watch inside. With a dark, leather strap and obsidian-black crystal, he couldn’t believe someone had just carelessly left it in a hotel lobby. Logan knew what the morally right thing to do was, but that didn’t mean that was the option he was going to take. Stealthily, he shoved the box into the back pocket of his jeans and secured the watch around his wrist. Before he covered it with his sleeve however, he noticed it was off by quite a lot. He’d noticed that the hotel’s clock before had read 4:30, so the watch’s stubborn 2:00 pm was obviously off. Making sure no one noticed, he grabbed the crown and began correcting.

It took him less than 15 seconds to change the time. However–unbeknownst to him, the other hotel occupants, and the security cameras that had easily captured Logan’s act of theft–the digits displayed on the watch weren’t the only things that had changed. The boy who had originally sat at the couch had ascended a few inches, due to a lengthened spine and thickened quads. His buttocks had majorly deflated, becoming hard, cold bricks; a shelf rather than a cushion. His calves had also sharpened, becoming more defined and angular.

Logan’s arms had taken on a unique amount of muscle, one that was only accumulated through years of efficient but lean work. Biceps and triceps that could easily, yet weren’t meant to lift. His arms were formed from traditional masculine duties like lawncare and construction. Logan’s new abs and pecs also didn’t come from working out, but instead daily walks and healthy eating, which had also maximized his feet out to a Size 13. His soft, boyish charm had hardened out with a cleft chin and steel-cutting jaw. His nose had thickened, his brow bloated, and his hair had magically become longer and better styled. A salt-and-pepper stubble, along with the tiniest of gray highlights, had also attached themselves to Logan’s head.

Logan’s pouch also got a major improvement too, gaining both girth and length for the cock and weight for the balls. They all expanded in his pair of white briefs, stretching out the confines obscenely. Wrinkles had also cracked out over Logan’s soft skin, callusing it as it weathered with the years. The outfit Logan originally wore had radically changed, as the new man was now adorning a stylish blue sit. It showed off his figure excellently, the metrosexual looking sexy and stylish. 

As soon as the 15 seconds had passed, an elevator door at the other end of the lobby opened up to reveal a hirsute man. He obviously seemed stressed, looking around anxiously before spotting the couch. He rushed over silently, trying to avoid a scene.

“Logan? I’m Brian from online. Are you here for…you know…” he rambled. He was almost completely taken aback by the man, surprised to see a male of the similar age instead of a young, virile twink. But, this was the meeting spot the two had agreed too. And he wasn’t about to complain, the man was a total stud. He just rationalized that you can never trust online dating.

“Am I here for what?” the man announced, his eyes flickering. “An affair?”

“Yes.” The man tried to keep the conversation low.

“With you? My good Lord, never! Do you even know who I am?”

“So you’re not Logan?”

“My name is Lawrence, sodomite,” Lawrence began, his anger rising. His extremely childish behavior seemed strange coming out of a 54-year-old. “Get out of my territory or I will be reporting you to the staff for harassment.”

“Wait, what?” the man replied confused. “I have no ide-”

“Shut up!” Lawrence shouted, causing passersby to turn. “I never want to see your pansy face in my presence ever again. I cannot even believe you had the audacity, let alone speak to me. Get out! GET OUT!”

The other man scurried away, both embarrassed and on the verge of tears. Logan looked on in silent content, a sly smirk emerging on his face as he watched.

— —

Brayden sat himself down on the bench, unsure of what to do. The 10-year-old had told his friends to meet at the park by noon, except no one had showed up yet. He had been eager to pay a few rounds of freeze tag, but now he was just getting bored. He had begged his parents incessantly to let him come alone, so if nobody showed up he was going to be mad.

Brayden arched his head down to look at the Mickey Mouse watch around his wrist, noticing Mickey’s giant hand still hadn’t moved. He was getting extremely impatient, so much so that he was about to leave until he saw a tiny object sparkle from beneath him. Looking under his seat, he was surprised to find such a rare treasure.

“Woah, cool!” Brayden reached down and grabbed the small watch, surprised he had discovered it. It had an interesting shape, rectangular and plated in a gold-like material. The face was rather boring to look at, nothing to compare to his own, but he was still amazed by the adult watch. Excitedly, he wrapped it around his wrist and tightened it to the max, making it just barely fit. Now investigating it up close, he was surprised to see the time was off. Way off.

“An adult can’t tell time,” he giggled. Looking at his own watch and comparing it to the adult version, he had to move ahead four hours. The task seemed fairly simple enough. He grabbed the button and dialed forward.

The first revolution expanded Brayden’s dick as well as his rear end. Had anyone passed by they would have witnessed the seat of Brayden’s pants inflating on the bench, filling his cargo shorts with muscle. His buttocks ballooned out, perky and firm, with each of his cheeks forcing his boxers further up his legs. His new python of a cock now stuffed the front pouch while his massive adult testicles pushed the superhero underwear to the limit. The boy never once noticed the change, or how his thighs and biceps also expanded to the point of choking his clothes.

The second revolution caused Brayden’s chest to rumble, pushing out of his shirt. The muscles carved themselves fuller and wider, causing his pecs to grow and his nipples to harden the more his twin knockers firmed up. Not to be out done, Brayden’s delts formed into a back worthy of a mountain climber. His arms extended out dramatically, filling in with muscle and forcing the Mickey Mouse watch to break off. Brayden’s jaw grew much bigger, reshaping itself with angular features to allow a coating of peach fuzz before it matured into a full mustache and beard. The rest of his body also gained a generous layer of hair, decorating his pits, pubes, and calves especially. The top of his head however had its contents reduced, pulling back the hairline to create a receding front that only came with wisdom.

The third revolution created the clothes that would create an alpha. His superhero underwear (which was on the brink of destruction) morphed into a pristine pair of white briefs, hoisting themselves up over his belly button to give extra support. A dark pair of pants began to form over the muscular legs. They had an impeccable crease down each leg, all the way to the hems. Brayden’s shirt (which had been recently torn apart) came back together, reforming as something that was worthy of an elite businessman. A starchy material replaced the soft cotton, while a striped tie fastened itself over Brayden’s now prominent Adam’s apple. A blazer materialized on top, followed by a pair of monk-straps which encased the Size 14 toes that had been free in the air.

The fourth rotation made the finishing touches. An extra grey hair here, a small wrinkle there–a few creases on his forehead plus a little extra size to his ears. A wedding ring materialized on his finger before disappearing, a pale mark left behind due to the recentness of the divorce. Reaching down momentarily, Brayden absentmindedly adjusted himself, thinking about how his nice and heavy package gave him a few pretty fine lads. Before he could bring his hand back up to finish, a young woman walked by with wide eyes.

“Brad?”

Brayden looked up, confused. Who was this girl, and who was Brad? He finished the rotation trying to figure what to say, noticing the girl twitch before she continued.

“I mean, Dr. Benton. I had no idea you still taught at the school.”

Dr. Benton looked over the student, embarrassed he hadn’t recognized her right away.

“Clarissa! It’s always good to see a former student.”

“Still teaching in the Business Department after all these years?”

“I just turned 58, I am not that old,” Dr. Benton replied. “But yes, I enjoy the work.”

“Well, I have about 15 minutes before my next seminar, are you free to catch up?”

Checking his watch and deciding it would be best to socialize, Dr. Benton found himself available.

— —

The next day, Mr. Midas felt much more enthusiastic about his business. Apparently, word had spread that a bunch of successful men were now sporting Midas Touch Horology watches, bringing in customers from all around. People had bought gold watches, plated straps, and decorated crystals thinking that the clothes would make the man, and how right they were. 

For my muse, the lovely @sjw-publishings

Avery and Maurice walked into the building, finding the classroom almost immediately. They honestly didn’t know what they were getting into. The couple had been together for almost two years, falling madly in love after their first few dates. It was a classic gay love story: Avery, the polite city boy from Australia and Maurice, the country-grown brute from the Midwest. The 5’5 platinum blond twig and 6’3 brunette corn-fed bull were a classic match for each other. His endearing personality connected to his protecting aura. His bubble butt reeled in his massive package. It was basically a modern fairytale.

Well, at least until a few months ago. Things had been rocky for a bit, and they honestly couldn’t figure out why. It was nothing the two of them were doing as a couple, just personal problems that needed to be solved in order for them to keep working on their relationship. Avery was struggling in college, and Maurice was juggling an unstable career. These issues just created further problems that disoriented the pair. So when Maurice found an opening online for a class the upcoming weekend, the couple decided to put their best feet forward and try it out.

“Are you sure about this?” Maurice asked, his furry palm entwined in his partner’s delicate one. He wore a pair of ripped jeans and a polo his boyfriend had gifted him.

“Are you thinking of backing out?” Avery questioned. He was decked out in designer trousers and a thick turtleneck.

“No,” Maurice replied honestly. “I just don’t want you to feel like you are being forced into anything.”

“Good, because I want us to work again, no matter the cost.”

image submitted by jackingnow for the Summer Season (2015)

Concert Elixer

He grabbed his crotch while holding his drink and gave me a look that he knew was going to piss me off.

“These are mine now. So is your friend Austin, here.” He looked down at himself and took a sip from his cup. “And there is nothing you can do about it.” He got closer to me, knowing that I was turned on by the body in front of me and even more so by the way he was acting inside of my friends body.

“Mmm... boy. Fuckkk... Man I missed being you Jake.” Jake pulled up his tight shirt and slowly ran his hands over his cobblestone abs. Everyone in the gym shared glances at the once-friendly and sociable jock suddenly acting like a narcissistic slut.

His boner now obviously perking up through his spandex pants, Jake started taking pictures of himself in sexual poses.

“Oof. You young boys are always so horny. Hope you don’t mind me staying inside you forever Jakey-boy.” Jake started publicly rubbing his bulge and groaned in a deep-manly voice that wasn’t his own.

“Jake? What the fuck are you doing man?” Jake’s best friend, Tyler, asks coming up to him and placing both hands on his shoulder. He thought he saw a glimmer of blue in Jake’s normally brown eyes.

“Hey bro. Fuck you are hot too. Maybe even hotter than me!” Jake says, biting his lip before embracing Tyler in a kiss. “Mmm, give me your body bro.”

As Tyler struggles to push his best friend away from him, he can feel a cold presence force it’s way out from Jake’s lips and into his own. He waits helplessly as the cold presence begins filling up his insides and Jake let’s go of his friend as the last of it enters his body.

“Tyler? What the fuck? What are you...?” Jake looks down to see his raging boner and tastes Tyler’s saliva all over his mouth. “Bro! What is the matter with you?!”

Tyler looks confused for a moment before a devious grin runs across his face. He glances at himself in the mirror, pleased with what he sees.

“Mmm, you kissed me bro. And I am so glad that you did! I had no idea I was into men until just now!” Tyler says, suddenly getting his own hard on through his baggy gym shorts. “ Bro, I’m so horny. Please let me fuck you.”

A terrified Jake walks away embarassed and humiliated, pushing his friend away from him, as Tyler suddenly starts posing in front of the mirror, similarly to Jake. The same poses, the same hard-on, the same groans and masculine grunts as he flexes his muscles.

“Now, let’s see what we are working with here, Tyler... Mmm, I’ve always liked that name. Very... me! Let’s go shower, I hate working out anyway.”

By: dumberswitch

The two boyfriends stopped by the gym on a rare visit for some light cardio, just to keep the pounds off. After a short while they were ready to call it quits, and thought it might be fun and a bit naughty to take a shower together. 

They didn’t know that the shower had been upgraded into a transformation chamber, but they found out soon enough: as they playfully soaped each other up they were amazed, and increasingly aroused, to feel not just their cocks but their bodies hardening and swelling under each other’s grasp, rippling and bulging with new muscles as they grew stronger and broader and taller, with cocks snaking out to match. 

"You look so hot, babe," Mark told Alex, but when Alex stepped forward to kiss him Mark suddenly pushed him back. "What the fuck, bruh? No homo." That briefly surprised both of them - but then, why should it? They didn’t go in for that queer shit, they both realized, or ‘remembered’ - they had just come in here to jerk off while mirin’ each other’s gains, to let off some steam and some testosterone between lifting sets.

“Sorry, bruh,” Alex muttered, confused by why he had done something so out of character, but both men quickly forgot the incident, and what they had been doing before, and who they had been before, as new memories flowed in. They stood apart and stood with their legs apart as they confidently and leisurely stroked their cocks, minds thickening and slowing to a leisurely dullness as confidence blossomed into arrogance and cockiness. 

Apart from a lingering appreciation of the male form that they assured themselves was entirely aesthetic, not that they knew what that meant anymore - “Sick lats, dude!” “Thanks, bruh, those quads are fire!” they praised back and forth as they looked over each others’ muscles while jerking off - they felt their sexual attractions and fantasies shifting to bouncing tits and dripping pussies, becoming well and truly (more or less) ‘no homo’: “Ain’t gonna have any trouble landing some bitches lookin’ this bitchin’!” “Fuck yeah, bro!”

“Get the Fuck out of there!” I scream at my son, Jason.  

Only I know for a fact it’s not my son in there.  Jason has been acting so strange lately, always touching himself, rating the attractiveness of his gym buds, and staring at my ass and my crotch while licking his lips.  Then, I was absolutely horrified yesterday morning when it all made sense.  I set up a camera in Jason’s room- I know, not the coolest thing to do when it’s a college age boy we’re talking about, but I just knew something was wrong.  My thoughts were that he was getting into drugs and all that poison was making his brain foggy and sexually confused, but the reality was so much worse.  

I watched, jaw dropped, as the elderly gay neighbor, Simon, who lives alone in the house across the street snuck in through Jason’s patio window and crawled onto my son’s sleeping back.  The audio wasn’t very crisp, but he said some sort of weird phrases in something old, maybe Latin, before my son’s back started glowing and Simon began sinking inside him.  I felt like throwing up as I watched my son thrash and groan in apparent agony as Simon kept pushing inside him, making my son feel impossibly full as he eventually disappeared inside my son’s body.  My son’s body convulsed uncontrollably for several moments as Jason fought valiantly; I could make out the words “no!” and “get out of me!” clearly in spite of the fuzzy audio.  He grabbed at every limb of his body, moaning as Simon shifted around inside him before he flipped onto his back, back arched fully and his face contorted in despair before he plummeted back onto his bed, relaxed and staring blankly before he shook his head around a bit and started laughing.

He grabbed at every limb of his body, moaning as Simon shifted around inside him before he flipped onto his back, back arched fully and his face contorted in despair before he plummeted back onto his bed, relaxed and staring blankly before he shook his head around a bit and started laughing.  That must have been Simon… He looked down to see my son’s fit body wearing just boxers and started rubbing my son’s hands all over his body, squirming in delight as he molested my son.  Again, the audio is pretty fuzzy, but I could make out the phrases “hot body” and “you’re my new favorite.”  Jesus, this sicko has done this to other victims.  I almost couldn’t take anymore as Simon’s arousal hardened my son’s cock, making Simon motion Jason’s face into one of ecstasy as he grabbed a hold of Jason’s equipment, by now popped through the flap of his boxers, and started pumping my son as he thrusted Jason’s hips into his grip.  I was spared the heartbreak of seeing my son fully taken advantage of as Simon noticed the camera in the room and got up to switch it off, presumably finishing and dumping a load with my son’s body and who knows what else!.  The son of a bitch deleted the hard copy on the camera, but he didn’t know that it was wi-fi enabled, meaning the stream of video was sent to my hard drive.  And that’s what brought us here to this moment…

“What are you talking about, Dad?” Simon says insidiously convincingly.

“Don’t call me Dad.  I know who you are!” I yell as I grab Jason’s shoulders and look directly into his eyes, or rather into the eyes of whoever is hiding behind my son’s.

“Ohhhhhh, Daddy.  I love when you play rough.  Careful though.  You get too rough and I might get so hard this towel will pop off,” Simon says as he walks my son’s body so close to me I can feel his breath against my neck.  “Tell me, would you like that, Daddy?” he says as he grinds my son’s semi-hard cock against the crotch of my jeans.  We both moan as he slides against me, creating a rush of sensation as our respective cocks are rubbed by soft fabrics.  Wait, what the fuck?  No!  

“GET OFF!” I holler as I push Simon away from me.  “I love my son enough that I would beat him half to death if it meant getting you out of him!” I say, raising a locked and loaded fist.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you!”

“And why the fuck not?!”

“I have to leave your son’s body of my own free will.  If you force me out without my absolute desire to leave, your son’s heart will stop.  Just a little FYI” Simon says boisterously as he begins walking my son back over to me, making me retreat into the corner until there is nowhere left to go. 

“If you decide to be a good Daddy this whole weekend, on my way out I’ll make sure your son doesn’t remember ANY of this.  You resist, you seek help, or you just lack enthusiasm, I will make sure the memories of the next few days haunt your son for the rest of his life.  Do we have a deal?”

Feeling so powerless, I just nod my head, refusing to believe that it has come to this. 

“Good, glad we could come to an agreement.” Simon says, ripping off the towel protecting my son’s decency as he lowers himself to his knees. 

“Wait … WHAT’RE YOU DOING?” I exclaim as Simon begins unzipping my pants. 

“I swear, ‘Daddy,’ one moment where you don’t bring the enthusiasm and your precious Jason will remember all of this.  Now shut up and be a man about it!  It’s not like I’m making you suck your own son off…yet.” Simon says before pulling my cock out, making me quiver with disgust.  “Come on, Daddy.  Get hard for me.  Imagine what it’ll feel like when your son’s velvety lips wrap around this meaty cock and begin lapping up and down your steely rod, taking more and more of you in and until your son’s mouth has swallowed your big Daddy cock. And remember … ENTHUSIASM!”

Dear God, I hate myself for this!  But it’s for Jason!  Fighting back tears, I bottle everything up and prepare to put on the show of a lifetime. 

“Yeah, you gonna show Daddy how good your mouth feels?” I grunt at him. 

“Unnnnnnggggg feels so fucking good” I moan as Simon grabs my cock with Jason’s strong hands and begins pumping me, half caught off guard as I hate to admit that my hardening cock is not part of the act. 

“Yeah, Daddy.  That makes your cock feel so good doesn’t it?  Not as good as this!” Simon says before wrapping my son’s lips around my almost fully engorged cock, focusing on the head as he takes it into my son’s mouth and uses his tongue to swirl around and pay extra attention to those nerve endings underneath the head.  I can’t help but moan, especially as he runs my son’s hands up and down my strong torso, finally finding my thick pecs as he grabs and squeezes them with my son’s grip, using his thumbs to flick and massage my nipples.  Simon takes a second to come up for air.

“Yeah, you like that, Daddy?”

Before I can answer he wraps my son’s lips around my cock, only this time pushes forward, making me groan and gasp as I feel my cock gliding along my son’s tongue, eventually traveling back to the farthest reaches of his throat.  I yelp as I feel my son’s mouth compress my bush, meaning he’s swallowed all of my 8 inch cock.  I cringe as I try to remember that this is all an act, but is it?  I mean, I’ve never met a girl who made my cock feel this good!  Especially not Jason’s mother, my bitch of an ex-wife- OH FUCK!!!!!UNGGGGGGG!!!!!! He just started sliding his mouth up and down, making me squirm as I feel my cock rubbing along his wet and warm throat muscles while my son’s tongue wiggles and wildly massages my fully hard dick.  I try to keep some sense of composure, but it’s been so long since I’ve been touched intimately by anyone.  I’m so sorry, Jason, but damn you for having such a hot mouth!  I grab my son’s head, pulling his open mouth onto my cock, thrusting my hips hard and fucking my dick down his pulling throat, surprising Simon I might add.  Oh I don’t know why the fuck I’m doing this, but there seems to be no turning back!!!!

“Fucking take it!” I shout as I thrust into my son’s mouth again, pulling his mouth down and grabbing tightly onto his head, holding him in place while I pile drive my hips against his face, fucking his throat ruthlessly and carelessly.  The sound of my son’s squealing voice sends my repressed dominant nature into overdrive as I hold on and refuse to let go even though I can feel Simon using Jason’s hands to slap my torso and pull at my death grip on my son’s head, signalling that he needs to breathe.  I pull him off my cock long enough for him to take one deep breath before I grab him again and thrust my pulsating cock back down his throat. 

“Ohhhhhhh yeahhhhhhh I’m fucking close!” I yell.  Right after I say that, Simon grabs my nuts, rolling them around, stretching them and squeezing them in my son’s hands, sending me over the edge as I grab my son’s head one more time, thrusting my cock down his throat so far that the loads erupting from my cock travel directly down his esophagus. 

“OHHHHHH MY-AHHHHHHH-FUCCCCCKKKKKK!!!!” I roar as my face contorts with pleasure and my back twitches from the full body orgasm lighting up every nerve in my body.  I ram my cock down my son’s throat one more time before pulling out and keeling over, shivering as I crawl up onto my son’s bed and stare up in a daze.  Simon comes over and lays down next to me, cuddling up close  and lightly stroking my hairy abs as he lays my son’s head down on my powerful chest. 

“Well you impressed me, Daddy.  That was incredible!  Just two more days and then I’ll be on my merry way…Goodnight, Daddy…” he says before drifting off to sleep.

“Goodnight, son…” I say, on the verge of unconsciousness myself and wondering if it’s truly an act what I’m going through or whether a part of me wants Simon to stay in Jason forever.

“Simon, why don’t you stay in Jason awhile longer.”

“I thought you never asked.”

In celebration of reaching 500 subscribers, I thought I'd do a bit of a longer story, even though they don't get as much attention. This was a draft I did last year that kind of got out of hand but I think it ended up turning out pretty well. Thanks again and I hope you enjoy :)

Thanks for the muscles mum! Jordi said as he bent down and kissed his mother Beth on the cheek. Jordi had just won his first bodybuilding competition and was feeling on top of the world. He had blown the competition out of the water with his superior size, symmetry, and conditioning.

But Jordi wasn’t always like this. Growing up he was just like most other boys, with cute, boyish features that mothers like Beth find so adorable. But as other boys his age hit puberty and began to grow into men, Jordi stayed as he was. As he moved through high school, Jordi found himself increasingly socially isolated from his peers and eventually the subject of ridicule and bullying. By the time he had turned 18 during his senior year, he had developed a meek, and submissive personality, not wanting to draw attention to himself for fear of further upsetting his aggressors.

When Jordi started arriving home with bruises on his face, Beth decided enough was enough. She waited until her son was asleep before she crept up to the attic. She crawled over all the piles of junk and boxes of family memorabilia until she found an old wooden box. The box was locked, but the moment she touched it, the heavy metal lock clicked open, revealing an ancient leather-bound book that pulsed with a strange energy. Beth came from a long line of witches, and even though the practice had waned over the years, she was still known to cast the odd spell here and there. The case in point being the love spell she had placed on Jordie's father - although she must have done something wrong in that spell because he left her not long after Jordie’s birth.

The words in the book seemed to shimmer and dance as Beth flicked through the pages. There were spells that would make Jordi grow in height, spells to change his personality, and spells to make him incredibly handsome. But that wasn’t what Beth was after. She still wanted him to be her sweat littleJordi. She just wanted him to be able to stick up for himself a bit more and be comfortable in his own skin. 

Beth continued to flick through the pages until a spell caught her eye. Her understanding of the ancient language of the book was rusty, but the spell appeared to reference boosting one’s inner confidence. She glanced through the complicated spell, and after getting the gist of it, she snuck downstairs. Standing over her son’s sleeping form, she muttered the incantation before sprinkling a small amount of ash in the boy's hair. A slight breeze blew through the room - a sign to Beth that the spell must have worked. She creeped out of the room leaving her boy to his dreams.

The next day at school started as a typical day for Jordi. He spent the day going from class to class, barely talking to anyone and eating his lunch in an inconspicuous place to avoid drawing attention to himself. Eventually, he came to the part of his day he was both dreading and looking forward to - gym class. Thanks to his timetable, his gym class was mostly made out of jocks from the football team. If there was one thing that would ruin your confidence, it was having to watch these paragons of athleticism compete to see who was the top dog. Today was open weights. The jocks spent their time trying to outlift each other, throwing around huge amounts of iron while Jordi quietly did some bodyweight exercises in the corner.

The showers after class were usually a nightmare of taunts and jeers from the jocks, so Jordi had learned to hide away in a toilet cubicle. Eventually, the commotion outside the stall calmed down and the locker room became still. Jordi cracked open the door of the cubical just as he heard the sound of running water begin once again. He peered through the haze of steam into the shower block to see a lone figure against the back wall. Jordi watched from afar, taking in every inch of the figure's colossal physique. Trent was the star linebacker of the football team. While puberty had passed Jordi by, it had hit Trent like a freight train. His massive 6 foot 5 frame easily made him the tallest member on the team by a few inches, causing the coach to request a special higher shower nozzle to be installed just for him. 

The warm water cascaded over his powerful physique. It didn’t seem possible that an 18-year-old could have such mature musculature. His back and lats flared as he reached to soap his solid glutes. Trent turned towards Jordi, his big beefy pecs bouncing as he soaped them, his swollen arms bending and flexing with the gentle movements. While his core lacked the insane definition that some jocks had, it was solid and powerful. Jordi’s gaze dropped down to Trent’s monster cock. Even now in its flaccid state, it had to be at least 8 inches long and as thick as Jordi's wrist.

“I see the little mouse is back again,” a deep baritone voice growled, snapping Jordi back to attention. Trent was staring directly at Jordi with a wide grin on his face. “Well come on then, you know the drill,” he said as he pumped his shaft a few times with one of his large sinewy hands. Jordi wasted no time shucking his gym gear as he entered the showers. As he approached the larger man, Trent’s strokes began to get longer and more sensual as his member began to approach full mast. As a shower rather than a grower, his cock only grew around an inch or so in length but it became impossibly thicker and girthier. 

Jordi reached his hands towards the monster cock in front of him, before he found himself being pushed away. “Beg for it little mouse”, Trent growled as he pushed Jordi to one knee. “Please let me suck your cock”, Jordi pleaded, his eyes locked on the dick in front of him. Smack, Jordi winced as Trent slapped his meaty cock against Jordi’s cheek. “Not good enough little mouse”, Trent berated. Jordi looked up into Trent’s eyes, “Please sir, let me worship your cock”, Jordi said, tears in his eyes as his hand rubbed the stinging red patch on his cheek where the dick had hit him. He looked truly pathetic. Trent smiled and placed his hands on the back of Jordi’s head, guiding the smaller boy towards his waiting cock.

As Jordi’s mouth wrapped its way around his throbbing cock, Trent threw his head back in ecstasy. The little dude was normally a good cock sucker with his tight mouth and soft lips but this time was truly wild. Jordi devoured the cock in front of him, forcing as much of the meat stick into his mouth as he could as it rammed the back of his throat. As he choked and spluttered, he felt a strange feeling grow inside of him. A feeling of confidence. Newly emboldened, he did something he'd never done before. He began to fondle his significantly smaller cock with one of his hands as he pleasured the beast that was towering over him. 

Little did the two men know, the spell was going haywire. The sheer magnitude of the emasculation that Jordi was experiencing, combined with Jordi’s willingness to be dominated in such a fashion was stretching the magic to its limits. If it had been cast by a more experienced witch, it may have held, but the unstable magic eventually burst from the confines that Beth had placed on it. 

The primal force had the single drive - to boost Jordi’s confidence to balance out this perceived humiliation. But as it was only intended to provide a small boost, the spell didn’t have the energy to perform its directive. It rushed through the room looking for a source of energy before it settled on a bountiful source - Trent. The magic flowed through Trent, analysing the very core of his being before it found what it was searching for. The source of Trent’s confidence was his superior masculinity. This was the potent source that the spell needed to complete its mission.

The spell settled in Trent’s balls where it began to strip Trent of his bountiful virility. The mixture of pain and pleasure coursing through his veins was too much for Trent. He let loose a deep growl as he began to cum the biggest load of his life. Jordi choked and gagged as a massive volley of cum shot out of the huge cock inside his mouth. As Trent’s cock continued to spew cum, his balls began to shrink and shrivel. 

As Jordi took volley after volley of Trent's seed, the spell ensured that he also drained Trent of the raw masculinity that made him the titan that he was today. Jordi’s small testicles began to swell in size, sending a cocktail of hormones throughout his body. An inherent sense of confidence began to build inside him as he began to suck the rest of the potent liquid out of Trent’s cock. 

Trent’s testicles continued shrinking to the size of small grapes. The ecstasy that Trent was feeling was too much and the jock blacked out and crashed to the floor. Riding his sudden wave of confidence, Jordi stood up and jacked his small dick a few times, before sending several thick loads of cum all over the unconscious jock. Jordi had never cummed before, and the sheer volume and viscosity of this load surprised him. He looked down at the jock drenched in his seed. “Pathetic”, Jordi said as he spat on the spent athlete before turning to leave the showers.

From that day, Jordi’s life began to change. Just as he finished high school, Jordi began to undergo a huge growth spurt that continued throughout the summer until he started college standing at just over 6’5. Throughout his first year, he packed on a serious amount of mass, his muscles growing thick and strong. Throughout his first year, he packed on a serious amount of mass, his muscles growing thick and strong. He thrived at every physical pursuit he put his mind to, even beating out the senior men.

He garnered a serious amount of attention from his classmates of both sexes, quickly becoming a popular member of the student body. He was invited to all the hottest parties where people clamored to hang out with him, in the vein hope that some of his majesty would rub off on them. He stood head and shoulders above the other guys in his classes, even his fellow jocks who looked up to him in reverence. As such he commanded absolute authority and he always got first dibs on which lucky girl he'd decide to take home. He was even know to bed the girlfriends of those in his crew, sometimes several at once, just to remind the smaller men who was the alpha. When he was done with them, they'd return to their boyfriends wishing that their pricks would stretch them the same way that Jordi's monster had.

In his final year of college, Jordi discovered bodybuilding. His body responded to the more intense workout routine and strict diet by packing on pound after pound of shredded muscle onto his also large frame. His hulking physique commanded attention as no one else in his college could. Those who were lucky enough to spend a night with Jordi recounted stories of animalistic sex drive and tales of limping home the next day after a night riding his legendary cock. 

Shortly after graduation, Jordi was ready to enter his first show. His conditioning and definition were both so insane that the judges practically gave him the win the moment he stepped foot on stage. A few of the other competitors wanted to give up once they saw his phenomenal form, but Jordi pressured them to stay on the stage as their comparatively small physiques further added to the majesty of his own.

Jordi was fizzing after winning the contest. He had kissed his mum goodbye at the contest venue and had climbed into his Jeep. He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, savouring the adrenaline coursing through his veins. The rush he felt from dominating those other bodybuilders who were in the best conditioning of their lives was absolutely intoxicating. And in his hometown no less. His hand slipped into his shorts, massaging the kinks out of his engorged package. It had taken so much self-control to not get a raging hard-on right there on the stage as the lesser men had shied away posing next to his dominating form. He bit his lip and composed himself. A self-worship session would need to wait. 

He started his jeep and drove over to his hometown’s gym. He had never worked out there in his youth, being too weak and feeble to ever dream of setting foot in the door. But now that he was a god among men, he saw it as a personal victory to walk through the doors and let everyone witness the beast he had become.

‘Excuse me, sir, can I please see your membership card?’ a slender man called from behind the sign-in counter as Jordie confidently strode into the gym. Jordi shot a menacing glare at the man, causing him to shrink away as Jordi made his way over to the free weights. Jordi spent the next few hours working out his huge muscles until his body was swollen and drenched with glistening sweat. The other gym patrons had long since left, either to avoid the behemoth's loud grunts as he heaved double the weight they could ever dream of or to furiously masturbate in their cars as they pictured his impressive form. 

At the end of his workout, Jordi made his way into the locker room, where he proceeded to get undressed. His hulking torso seemed to swell even bigger as he peeled off his shirt, his bronzed form on full display like some sort of work of art. He dropped his shorts revealing his monstrous cock and balls as he made his way into the back of the showers, his heavy footsteps thudding on the damp floor and his oversized cock swinging between his bulging quads. 

Jordi turned on the faucet, and a hot stream of water began to pour over his hulking form. He smiled to himself, the facet came up to just below his chin. They really should install higher ones for towering individuals like himself. His calloused hands proceeded to roam his swollen muscles, cleaning the potent sweat and fake tan off his skin. 

Jordi heard someone clearing their throat behind him. “Excuse me, sir, gym facilities are for paying members only,” a high-pitched voice croaked. Jordi turned his head to find the slender employee from earlier. Jordi smiled to himself. He slowly turned the rest of his body towards the smaller man, his big beefy pecs bouncing as he continued to soap them, his swollen arms bending and flexing with the gentle movements. The water cascaded down his brick-like abs, flowing like rivers through each of the deep valleys and ridges that made up his powerful midsection. Jordi noticed the smaller man's gaze travel downwards as he became mesmerised by Jordie’s monster cock. Even now in its flaccid state, it had to be at least 8 inches long and as thick as his wrist.

“I guess you’re the little mouse now Trent,” Jordi rumbled in his deep baritone. Trent’s eyes went wide. It couldn’t be that kid from gym class. Ignoring the behemoth's hulking body, he took a long look at the handsome face of the man in front of him. The bodybuilder could have been the kid's older, hotter brother. The kid that used to make suck him off after practice. He had stronger, more masculine facial features but those dazzling brown eyes were unmistakable.

Trent’s mind went back to that day in the showers when he woke on the floor covered in cum, his nuts shrivelled and tiny. His life had changed that day. It was like his confidence had vanished overnight. The other changes started small. First, his girlfriend dumped him because he couldn't get it up in bed anymore, his normal insatiable sex drive fading. Then the coach said his killer instinct had gone, and he was unceremoniously dumped from the football team. 

Then the shrinking began. Each morning he woke up ever so slightly smaller. No one in his family believed him, instead, they just told him to work out more and lay off the junk food. The lingering magic clouded their memories so that they believed that he had always been at his current height.

By the end of senior year, Trent had lost a couple of inches in height and his hard muscle had become soft with fat. It even got worse when he started college. He ended up dropping out at the end of his first year after he had shrunk over a foot in height and his body was bulging with soft fat. Worst of all, his once legendary package has shrivelled down to a pencil-thin prick that matched his raisin-sized balls.

Eventually, after hitting rock bottom and returning to his hometown, he managed to salvage his life somewhat. He joined his local gym and managed to fight his genetics to lose most of his flab. There were still stubborn pockets of fat in his cheeks and butt that he couldn’t seem to shift and he never managed to put on any muscle, but it was a vast improvement over his time in college. He even managed to get a job at the gym as a weight loss coach. His life had improved, but gone was the titan that he was a few short years ago, and in his place was a twink of a man. And now, somehow he was staring up at the life he should have had. 

“Jordi?” the little man stammered. “In the flesh,” the big man said as he continued to massage his swollen muscles. Trent was mesmerised by the grace and tenderness of the brute's movements as he caressed his muscles in large, arching motions, his fingers dancing along the ridges and peaks of his bulging form. Jordi caught him staring. “Yeah, I changed a bit since you last saw me”, Jordi explained as he kneaded his heavy pecs, “most people can’t get enough of the new and improved me”. The titan began to trace his fingers down his rock-hard abs. “You know I won my pro-card today - and I’ve only been bodybuilding for about a year”. “It’s like my genetics are perfectly programmed for putting on pound after pound of clean muscle at an insane rate”. Jordi put his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest, giving him an impressive v-taper. 

“But how? You were so small during gym class, how did you…” Trent paused mid-sentence as everything clicked in his mind. Jordi had somehow taken everything from him. His muscles. His height. His manhood. With tears in his eyes, Trent darted across the showers and started clawing at the larger man. “Give it back, give me back my body” Trent wailed with tears in his eyes, his small fists completely ineffective against the solid core of the mammoth in front of him. Jordi sniggered. His former bully couldn’t even reach past the bottom row of his abs. 

Trent felt something poke him in the chest. He looked down to see Jordi’s colossal cock was level with his chest. And it was fully erect. Trent was mesmerised by the sheer size of the monster appendage. 

Seeing the smaller man’s reaction to his fuck stick, Jordi reached down with one of his calloused hands and gently pulled back his foreskin exposing it’s thick mushroom head. The air was instantly filled with a pungent aroma of sweat and musk that seemed to pour out of his exposed glands. 

Trent found himself salivating. He opened his mouth and slowly moved his head towards the monstrous appendage in front of him. As his tongue was just about to make contact, Trent felt himself be pushed backwards as Jordi pressed him to the floor with one of his huge size 15 feet. “I want you to beg for it little mouse,” Jordi growled at the pathetic excuse for a man in front of him. Trent looked up at the titan towering above him, marvelling at how the water was cascading down the ridges and valleys of the man's musculature. “Please let me suck your cock!” he pleaded as he pulled himself to his knees. Smack! Trent’s cheek stung as Jordi’s meaty cock smacked him across his face. “Not good enough,” Jordi said, his deep voice laden with venom. 

Trent looked up at the man with wide eyes filled with tears and a thick red mark on his cheek. How the tables had turned. He mumbled something under his breath. “What was that runt?” Jordi roared, fire in his eyes. “I said, I’m glad you took my muscles!'' Trent squeaked, “ You took them from me and used them to become so much more. They were wasted on me. I would have never been able to get to the size you are. The definition you have. The god you are”. Tears were streaming down Trent's face as he kneaded Jordies colossal thighs with his small hands. “Please, let me worship you like the alpha you are,” Trent said, pleading to the large man. 

A low chuckle rumbled in Jordi's chest. “You see little mouse, that’s the difference between a true alpha like me, and the wanna-be’s like you used to be,” Jordi said as flexed his powerful forearms, watching the thick chords of dance underneath the surface of his paper-thin skin. “Pretenders let people worship them,” the larger man said, his gaze beering deep into Trent’s soul. Real alpha’s make them worship. With that, Jordi grabbed the back of Trent’s head with both hands and forced him down onto his cock. 

Trent’s small mouth was stretched to its limits to accommodate the sheer size of the mushroom head. Jordi began to force more of his shaft into Trent’s waiting mouth. The titan battered the smaller man’s mouth for what seemed like hours, as Trent's eyes became red and his face bruised from the battering. But throughout, Trent's tongue explored every nook and cranny of the cock that was being jackhammered into his mouth. One of Trent's hands massaged Jordi's oversized balls, while the other massaged any muscle it could get his hands on from Jordi's colossal quads to his diamond-cut abs. Eventually, he settled on using both hands to stimulate the sizable length of shaft that he simply couldn't fit into his mouth. Anything to better please the god in front of him. 

With a roar, Jordi forced the head of his cock down Jordi's throat and began to cum rope after rope of thick cum straight down his gullet. Trent greedily guzzled down as much as he could until the volume being released began to leak out of the sides of his mouth and he was practically drowning in Jordi’s potent seed.

Jordi pulled his colossal member out of Trent’s mouth, causing the smaller man to cough and splutter as he tried to catch his breath. Some small part of Trent wanted him to look up and see Jordi passed out on the ground, as if he had somehow managed to suck his manhood back out of the titan’s cock. But as he slipped his hand into his cum soaked shorts, he found his all too familiar raisin-sized testicles. Instead, he looked up to see Trent still towering above him, a terrifying look of lust in his eyes, and his cock still rock hard as it oozed cum. As if in a trance, Trent turned away from the hulking man. He slowly pulled down his gym shorts, and bent over, offering his perky twink butt to the hulking titan.

Wild with lust, Jordi picked Trent up and lowered him down on his waiting cock. Trent wailed as the huge member pushed up against his virgin hole. Jordi grunted as he tried to push his way inside but he was just too huge. The remnants of the spell cast all of those years ago flared to life one last time, once again surging around the room. They flowed into Trent, changing him one last time. Jordi felt Trent’s hole relax ever so slightly. It was still an incredibly tight fit, but he managed to force his way inside. Jordi moaned as inch after inch of his cock forced it's way inside of Trent's perky bubble butt. It was so incredibly tight that it seemed like his ass was perfectly made to take his massive dick and provide him with as much pleasure as possible. 

Its mission fulfilled, the magic finally dissipated and faded, leaving only Trent’s high-pitched moans and Jordi’s deep rumbling grunts as Jordi bred his former tormentor like the pathetic little mouse he was. 

All of those case files were classified, so I'm not sure how you got yours hand on Private Rogers's file. Perhaps you're a pesky journalist? Or maybe another soldier just looking for one of their missing friends? Doesn't really matter now. But since you're so curious....

------

Case File: Lance Corporal Daniel (Danny) O'Malley

Recruitment Report

Subject: L/Cpl Daniel "Danny Boy" O'Malley, USMC

Age: 22

Background: Third-generation Irish-American. Joined Marines at 19, served 3 years. Known for stubborn pride, devotion to country, and strict adherence to command.

Psych Profile: High stress tolerance, strong survival instincts, adaptable. Holds traditional views on masculinity and loyalty. Strong Catholic faith.

Selection Rationale: Exceptional mental resilience during enhanced interrogation training simulations.

___

"Why me?" Danny asked when presented with the offer.

"Because you're the best," Col. Hawkins replied smoothly. "We need someone who won't crack under pressure. Someone who understands duty."

"Even if it means becoming…something else?" Danny pressed.

"Think of it as playing dress-up. Except instead of pretending to be a cowboy or superhero…" Hawkins paused for effect. "You'll be saving lives. Protecting America."

___

Operation Phoenix Integration Procedure for L/Cpl Daniel O'Malley

0000 - Initiation of Procedure. L/Cpl Daniel "Danny Boy" O'Malley, age 22, United States Marine Corps, settled into the designated recliner chair. Headphones were adjusted securely over his ears by medical personnel. Colonels Hawkins and Thorne stood vigilantly on either side, observing the impending transformation. Dr. Singh, the lead scientist, held a syringe containing the specialized anesthetic, ready to administer once given the signal.

0019 - Memory Integration Commencement. With a nod from Colonel Hawkins, Dr. Singh injected the anesthetic into L/Cpl O'Malley's arm. As the drug took effect, a pre-recorded audio sequence began playing through the headphones. The audio immersion transported L/Cpl O'Malley's consciousness into a vivid virtual reality, providing him with the background necessary for the mission.

The memory implant focused on instilling key aspects of Ammar al-Rashid's background to facilitate seamless infiltration and included but was not limited to:

Native fluency in Arabic, allowing Danny to communicate effortlessly with locals and blend in as a native speaker. This linguistic skill was deemed crucial for gleaning valuable intelligence.

Intimate knowledge of Middle Eastern customs, etiquette, and social norms, enabling Danny to navigate the complex cultural landscape and earn the trust of his surroundings.

Detailed recall of growing up in Baghdad, complete with specific childhood memories tied to the city, lending authenticity to his assumed identity.

0042 - Physical Integration Commencement. Upon completion of the memory integration phase, the subject was carefully positioned on a specialized examination table. The Ammar body-suit was meticulously applied to L/Cpl O'Malley's anatomy until complete physical integration had occurred. L/Cpl O'Malley responded well to the suit's application, with seamless integration of the suit to his flesh. All vital signs are stable and within expected parameters.

0053 - L/Cpl O'Malley was taken to the recovery room.

---

"Holy Christ!" Danny bolted upright, clutching at his chest. Flesh. Real, hot, sweaty flesh stretched taut over massive, quivering pectorals. His fingertips ran through the dense forest of wiry hair curling across his upper body. Startled, he jerked his hands away, then forced himself to trace the coarse hairs with tentative fingers.

"Sweet mother…"

Danny slid off the mattress, knees buckling momentarily as unfamiliar muscle groups engaged. The hardwood floor cooled his soles when he took tentative steps. His body moved differently than he remembered - taller, broader, heavier. Dark olive skin glowed under the harsh fluorescents overhead. Long black lashes fanned across cheeks already roughening with beard stubble.

"Ammar al-Rashid..." Danny whispered, the name feeling right, "That's... me..."

"Integration went flawlessly, L/Cpl O'Malley's. Or should I say, Ammar al-Rashid?" Colonel Hawkins said, breaking Danny's trance.

"Yeah..." Danny chuckled nervously, "When do I start, Colonel?"

-----

Day 1 - Status: ON TRACK

Target Subject: L/Cpl Daniel O'Malley assigned as Ammar al-Rashid [ middel eastern Oil magnate Sheikh Khalid bin Zayed's personal security]

Observations: Ammar blended seamlessly into palace routines, earning Sheikh Khalid's trust. Demonstrated flawless execution of basic protocols: patrols, vehicle checks, threat assessment drills. Subject demonstrates flawless Arabic fluency, knowledge of local customs. Maintains cool professional demeanor during patrol shifts. Shows appropriate deference to staff.

Comms Note (brief): -Base: static …Status check, Over. -Ammar/Daniel: clear This is Raven 6, copy? Over. -Base: Affirmative, Raven 6. How's your acclimation going? Any issues with acclimation? Over. -Ammar/Daniel: chuckles Just getting my sea legs, boss. But hey, ain't nothing a jarhead can't handle. Over. -Base: And the target? Over. -Ammar/Daniel: Trust level between me and the target is increasing rapidly. Khalid invited me to join him in private quarters tonight. Says he wants to discuss personal matters. Over and out.

-----

Day 8 - Status: ANOMALY NOTED

Target Subject: L/Cpl Danny Boy O'Malley assigned as Ammar al-Rashid [Middle Eastern oil magnate Sheikh Khalid bin Zayed's personal security]

Target Subject: L/Cpl Daniel O'Malley assigned as Ammar al-Rashid [Middle Eastern oil magnate Sheikh Khalid bin Zayed's personal security]

Observations: L/Cpl O'Malley spent considerable time alone in his quarters, examining his transformed body intently. Running hands over chest and abdomen, seeming entranced by the new physique. Showed signs of arousal while touching himself privately. Concerning rumors circulating among palace staff suggest a romantic relationship between Ammar and Sheikh Khalid, fueled by frequent private meetings and glances exchanged between the two men. L/Cpl O'Malley does not appear aware or concerned by this.

Comms Note (brief): -Base: static …Raven 6, sitrep, over? -Ammar/Daniel: clear Salam 'aleikum, my friends. Ammar here. Things are… progressing. -Base: Static …Concern noted, Raven 6. Stick to standard comm protocol. Over. -Ammar/Daniel: Sigh Yes, of course. Sorry about that. It's just… pauses Sometimes I forget. Forget who I really am. voice drops Ammar feels so…real. So natural. Over. -Base: Stay grounded in your true identity. Your training. Isolate the Ammar persona when off-duty. Focus on gathering intel on Sheikh Khalid and his operations. That's your primary objective. Over. -Ammar/Daniel: I... I just... something isn't... nevermind. Over and out.

-----

Day 10 - Status: POSSIBLE COMPROMISE

Target Subject: L/Cpl Daniel O'Malley assigned as Ammar al-Rashid [Middle Eastern oil magnate Sheikh Khalid bin Zayed's personal security]

Observations: L/Cpl O'Malley's behavior indicates the mind-wipe procedure may have accelerated, eroding his original identity. Caught multiple times in a daze, staring at his reflection and tracing the contours of his new body. When addressed as Danny, appeared confused and distressed, insisting he was Ammar. Rumors of a sexual relationship with Sheikh Khalid intensifying. Palace staff whisper that Ammar has become the Sheikh's newest favorite. L/Cpl O'Malley gives no indication of recognizing the severity of this development or its impact on his mission parameters.

Comms Note (brief): -Base: …Raven 6, respond. Over. -Ammar/Daniel: muffled sobbing I…I don't know what's happening to me. Everything's so confusing. sniffles Ammar feels real. Too real. I can't remember… whimpers Khalid…he makes me feel things I never…I shouldn't… Static. -Base: Static Raven 6? Come in Raven 6. Over. -Ammar/Daniel: shaky voice I…I am…Lance Corporal…Daniel…O'Malley… I am… Communication Ends Abruptly.

-----

Day 15 - FINAL STATUS UPDATE

Target Subject: L/Cpl Daniel O'Malley assigned as Ammar al-Rashid [Middle Eastern oil magnate Sheikh Khalid bin Zayed's personal security]

Observations: All attempts to re-establish contact with L/Cpl O'Malley have failed. No further communication from L/Cpl O'Malley has been received since the last distressed transmission on Day 10. Intel gathered from other sources indicates that L/Cpl O'Malley's original identity and mission parameters have likely been completely overwritten by the Ammar persona. Ammar carries out his duties as bodyguard with perfect dedication, showing no awareness of or interest in his past life as a U.S. Marine. His Arabic is now flawless and he navigates Middle Eastern customs and culture effortlessly as if he had never been anyone different.

-----

Outcome/Conclusion Report - Operation Phoenix Subject: L/Cpl Danny "Danny Boy" O'Malley

Conclusion: Mission Failure. The infiltration of L/Cpl Daniel O'Malley as Ammar al-Rashid ended in catastrophe due to unforeseen complications related to the experimental Memory Integration Technology. Despite initial successful retention of dual identities, L/Cpl O'Malley's original personality and memories were inexorably overwritten over a 15-day period, culminating in a complete loss of his true identity and full psychological immersion into the Ammar persona. This total personality replacement deviated significantly from projected outcomes and highlights critical flaws in the current iteration of memory manipulation techniques.

With L/Cpl O'Malley's complete absorption into the Ammar persona, the opportunity to gather intelligence on Sheikh Khalid and his operations has likely been lost. The subject is now functioning as a devoted servant to the Sheikh rather than an undercover agent.

Final Status: L/Cpl Danny O'Malley is effectively lost, replaced by Ammar al-Rashid. He functions seamlessly as Sheikh Khalid's devoted bodyguard and apparent lover, showing no recollection of his U.S. Marine background or initial mission objectives. All previous personality traits, preferences, and autonomy are effectively suppressed or erased. Attempts to re-establish contact or reintroduce his original identity have been unsuccessful.

It is worth noting that L/Cpl Danny O'Malley seems to have found a sense of purpose and belonging in his new life.

------

Narco was your average kid in school, at least in appearance, but he was more intelligent and had excellent social skills when it came to talking to people which came from his knowledge of people psychology.

However, he also wasn’t a normal person for he had a special ability that allow him to enter the body of another person.

He discovered this one day when there was a jock named Kevin who picked on him and would make fun of him a lot because he was superior to him in intelligence rather than physical skills.

One day, when they were the last people in the locker room, Kevin took Narco clothes and hid them he was in the shower.

When Narco came out looking for his clothes, Kevin said,

“I have your clothes right here, hehe”, said the jock.

Give me my stuff, said Narco aggressively.

Why don’t you come and get it, said Kevin.

Narco charged at the bully in an attempt to get his bag, but the jock moved out the way, causing him to ram into a locker right behind him.

Knowing that Narco was shorter than him placed it above the locker.

If you want your stuff, maybe you can go outside and get a ladder, said the jock laughing.

Adding to the insult, he snatched Narco towel off him, leaving him exposed and open to anyone who would see him.

As the jock walked away, Narco humiliated and infuriated charged at him again, this time the bully jock was off guard and fail to the ground with Narco on his back.

While on the ground, Narco begin to merge with the bully jock body, the bully feeling sensation started panicking,

What’s going on, what are you doing to me, this is weird, said the jock as he felt Narco going into his body and very being.

The jock tried to resist, but it was futile.

Narco seeing what was happening begin to realize he was entering the jock and curious, he positioned his body despite his size comparison to the buff jock to align with his body.

His 17 year old teen cock into the much more season teen muscular ass sent shock wave of pain and ecstasy that the bully found it hard to focus on removing Narco.

After a short struggle, Narco managed to get into the Kevin’s body.

He felt his Goliath muscles and ass. His massive pecs and quads along with a special package that was large between them.

As he adjusted to the massive weight change of 220 from a lean 140 pounds he made his way to the mirror.

As he look in the mirror, he continued to explore his body, really excited about the strength and power that the bully jock body possessed. The excitement showed when the already large junk became erect and not able to contain himself began to touch it which sent a wave of pleasure in his body causing him to explore the sensation even more saying,

To be fair, after all the stress we had a moment ago, this could release some stem, hehe, said Narco in the jock deep voice giggling.

As he continued to rub and stroke the large cock, he tried to also resist falling from the amount of testosterone and euphoria going through the jock body still adjusting.

After a few minutes, he shot the jocks load which came out so fast that all of it didn’t just hit the ground, but his hands, abs and nearly coated the whole mirror.

Narco even used the jock own fingers to get a scoop of the sticky syrup and licked it with his own mouth saying,

Mmmh, I guess this body produces good quality cum after all, hehe, said Narco with a light hearted laugh.

However, due to the body in a much more relaxed state from the post nut along with inexperience of using this possession ability, once the load was completed releasing from the powerful jock, Narco was ejected from the body.

The bully jock still recovering from the possession as well as the post nut clarity, which caused him to forget he was ever possessed. From afar, Narco hid in the stalls, watching to see what the jock does next. The jock coming to his full senses and drooling from his mouth realized that he was coated in cum as well as the mirror and floor.

What the fuck man, said Kevin in shock of all the mess he was in the middle of,

“Shit, I was saving that energy to fuck some pussy tonight, but I guess I blacked out again looking at my reflection, haha, said the bully jock looking at the cum all around him.

Yea, this guy is dumb with a capital D, thought Narco.

Oh well, guess I better take a shower, said Kevin as he prepared to get his bar of soap.

Narco then reflects over what has transpired saying,

Man that was incredible, I never had that much fun in my life.

I wonder if I can do that again. Damn, it’s risky but all risk “cum” with danger, haha, said Narco.

Narco paid attention and waited as the jock got into the shower. Once the jock finally started taking a shower, he made his move to see the jock rinse and lather the soap around his chest and underarms, waiting a few seconds for him to get lost in the process.

After a fair minute, he then slowly by steadily made his way to the shower curtain, as the jock had the water pour down his hair to his face.

Fear and excitement brewed in Narco as he stood 3 feet away from him, only blocked by the curtain.

Not able to take the suspense, he jump at the jock who despite being more superior in physically, was at a disadvantage due to being wet and caught off guard.

Landing on top of the jock perfectly grabbing his chest to cling, he begins to phase right through in near alignment as Narco chest and face as though to give an intimate kiss enter the jock’s body.

Because the transition was so smooth it offered little resistance as before. As the jocks eyes open again, it was no longer him, but Narco in full control.

See that wasn’t so hard was it, said Narco as he proceeded to shower the body, exploring it again as before. As he couldn’t help the rush of testosterone and horniness again, Narco said,

“You shouldn’t have dropped the soap”,

as he blew his load in the shower in copious amounts. Despite the water running, you could literally see it go down the drain more than the water. For a moment, Narco thought it might clog it, it was so much cum.

“That’s a dangerously high amount of testosterone in this jock, I guess this is why he can’t control his emotions.”

“I guess I also don’t have to worry about steroids since his junk is well over the normal expectations.”

“He may have failed 9th grade three times and cheated a lot on class work, but props to this guy for being a natural athlete, haha”,said Narco.

Wanting to explore the life of the jock, he couldn’t wait to indulge in the popularity.

Conveniently, the jocks and other popular kids were invited to a party at another jocks house to celebrate the end of the season. He would’ve had to worry about classes and family wondering where he’s at, but he already had been a week early on his week class assignment and his parents were too busy with work to even notice he was in his room.

While at the party, he was actually conversating and laughing with the jocks though he had to make sure he stayed somewhat true to the jocks normal personality.

But one person caught his interest and his name was Jack who was there with his girlfriend. Unlike everyone around him that seemed close, he stood out among them since he didn’t act foolish or talk much.

Wanting to know him more, he approached him and said,

Hey, how’s it going Jack, having a good time, said Narco(in Kevin body).

Oh hey Kevin, yea everything is good, I’m actually about to leave for the night, said Jack.

Leave, is something wrong, said Kevin.

Nothing, you know how it is for me, I’m always busy, hehe.

I’ll see you in school tomorrow, said Jack as him and his girlfriend left.

This moment left a impact on Narco who is used outlandish jocks, but not one so goal oriented and mysterious as him which was new for someone like Narco who usually figured out people almost instantly.

Narco desired to have Jack, not like a friend but as a prized possession that went above anything else.

From then on, he planned continually how he would make Jack see him as Savior.

So for the next few days, he stalked Jack using his possession power at other times to gather information on Jack in order to gain knowledge on his psychology through his action, even crossing personal boundaries like possessing his parents having a little fun as his dad who being a single parent had insight on his son personality.

After 3 weeks, Narco content with this, put his final plan into motion, possessing the jock Kevin again to have an affair with Jack’s girlfriend, which was quite easy since she was always in need of attention from guys while Jack was often busy.

This eventually caused Jack’s girlfriend to break up with him, to ensure no one comforts him or give him any means of support, he had used Kevin’s body again to spread a rumor that made Jack so depressed and ashamed that he wouldn’t enter school with something to cover his face and head to not be noticed.

This is when Narco would make his way to introduce himself personally when all things were going wrong in Jack’s life to appear as a Savior to him.