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Anyway, just thought I'd let ya know about that guy, Mister Dude. Maybe you'll find out what happened to his friend?

A good man is hard to find.

So is a good job. I should know. I'm a recruiter. Yep, it's me who's blowing up your email and calling your phone and messaging your LinkedIn. Let me see here…

Riley Ward, 20 years old, class president of his high school, double majoring in philosophy and economics, 4.0 unweighted GPA.

Riley was the kind of promising young man who should've been able to get any job. Maybe 50, hell, 15 years ago, he would have. Now, the job market's stacked against just about everyone. Smart, serious guys like Riley have it tough: They're just not good enough anymore.

Now hiring: Lifeguard. No experience necessary.

If you can't find the right job for the guy, maybe you make the right guy for the job?

Most employers aren't interested in hiring brainiacs. So maybe, Riley got a little…dumber. His mind was always racing, and he spoke too fast for any interviewer to keep up with. But throw in an umm and like and yeah and so, and he was so much easier to understand.

And less stuck up.

Too many people think this job or that job is beneath them. Trust me, I see it all the time. Riley wanted a summer internship, something he could pad his resume with or mention at his graduation.

But in this economy?

Most people would kill for a warehouse gig, or even the chance to fold t-shirts at the mall. But the dumber he got, the more…appreciative he became:

Oh shit, lifeguardin'? Sign me up, brah! That shit's gotta be awesome, like chillin' on the beach half-naked, hahahaha…

That's the attitude you need in today's market. A willingness to do anything…and be anyone.

From there, it wasn't hard to point Riley to the nearest gym, to get him to pump and flex and grow his bro muscles. He cut class to work out, skipped study sessions to admire himself, and ditched his friends to spend more time becoming the perfect candidate.

Uh, like…my name…it should be…umm…Rye, brah? On…the uh…what's it…called? Not…like…Riley.

Sometimes, Riley Rye sends me photos while he's at work. I can't tell whether he thinks I'm his boss or his boyfriend.

Honestly, he probably doesn't think at all.

And I consider that a job well done.

You're Invited.

A picture wouldn't do you justice. No, that's not me trying to be coy.

I mean it.

We all know what a good bro looks like. He can come from any corner of the earth, but as long as he's got that perfect athletic build, those big, dumb eyes, and that snapback on his head? He's a bro.

Sure, I want you to have abs and obliques that could cut glass, and pillow pecs that I can lie my head on, and a bubble butt that bounces with every step you take. And yeah, I'd like to see you in a too-tight tank top with a chain across your chest, and in shorts that don't leave much to the imagination.

But that's not enough for me.

It's easy to make someone a bro, but I prefer what comes next. I love every second of that steamy, sexy, silly bro-moerotic romance. And it starts with two words:

"Thank you."

Let me hear you say it.

That's right, bro.

And thank you, too. I'm so glad you want this, so glad you'll let me change you and shape you into anything I want you to be: gym partner, friend, roommate, lover, fuck buddy.

Whatever I need, whenever I need it, I know you'll be there.

I want to come home to your legs spread wide on the couch, still drenched in sweat from the gym.

I want to watch your muscles grow with every weight you lift, getting excited after a good pump.

I want so much. I want you, bro.

Do you want me?

Builder / Buildee: Buildee

Name: Marcus

Age: 28

Ethnicity: White (but could become a nice tan!)

Height / Build: 5'7"

Sexuality: I'm bi, but I'd like it if my Build-a-Bro could be fully gay. Just like, really into guys. Wouldn't mind starting out as straight.

Restrictions / Preferences: Could be that I get changed by a frathouse full of bro's, or perhaps I'm molded by a twunk who wants a beefcake bf and gets a little (read: a lot) more than he bargained for.

Additional Notes: (Personality, physicality, voice, style, etc.): Okay, this one's kind of a big one. Because I'd kind of like The Works on this one. I want him to be big and jocky, but kind of tender. Carefree and funloving, dishing out bro's and dude's left and right in that deep, baritone voice. Total meathead who's kinda horny all the time, but has massive big brother energy. He's always there for you even if he's a little slow, ready to wrap you up in his arms or give you a quick pep talk. "'Sup, lil' dude. Hahah, yeah, I was just flexin' my guns for those guys. You uh, you okay, lil' bro? You look kinda sad. C'mere, I'm gonna give you a hug!" He's huge, bordering on 7 foot, and seems to subtly warp reality around him to be always summer. Eats nothing but garbage, basically anything he wants, and still maintains a perfect, hunky bod. Practically allergic to wearing anything other than sportswear or jockstraps. A scruffy mop of hair and a bit of stubble for extra charm.

Dear Buildee Marcus: It’s time to be built! Please head to your assigned Workshop (view directions below) and check in with an Associate. 

The notification pops up on your phone, stopping you mid-swipe as you check out another babe. She wouldn’t go for you — not yet, anyway. But after Build-A-Bro? With a new six-pack and a couple of extra inches, anything’s possible. Even if it means you have to fuck a dude…

Yeah, there is that. 

Sure, you might have to dick down some guy. But if you get to walk away with a 10-inch cock, who’s the winner in that situation? (Hint: It’s the dude with the firehouse!) I mean, there are plenty of straight men in porn, so it’s not like it’s that weird — or whatever. Anyway…

You grab your keys, your wallet, and jump into the car. The directions take you across town, through the local college campus. The sidewalk’s mobbed with students and parents and resident advisors and volunteers, all loaded down with overstuffed duffel bags and huge suitcases and cardboard boxes that look like they’re about to burst. Judging by the enormous Greek letters, a couple of frats and sororities have already set themselves up on the quad. 

Build-A-Bro used to be the only thing at the mall. Or it was. In the past few months, it’s been joined by a GNC, a boba tea cafe, a shoe store, and even a place that sells some workout gear. 

Dear Buildee Marcus: It’s time to be built! Please head to your assigned Workshop (view directions below) and check in with an Associate. Your Builder will be Jesse.

Shouldn’t this kid be on campus or something?

You shrug. He does seem pretty clean-cut. Best case scenario, he’s just looking for a gym bro. Worst-case scenario? Well, you end up with a nice cock…

You hustle inside. There’s just one guy in the store — not even an employee. His back’s to you, but look at the picture on your phone. That’s gotta be him. 

“Hey…I’m Marcus. You must be Jesse?” He whips around. His eyes are a little puffy, his cheeks a little wet. “Oh, shit. You okay?”

“Yeah,” he sniffles. “Thanks. Umm…are we supposed to…be, y’know?”

“Oh. Oh. I don’t know? I don’t really think there are a lot of rules around this thing.” You gesture to the room around. “I was just hoping for —” You stop yourself. “Well, anyway, I don’t think it matters. But…uh…isn’t there supposed to be, like, an employee here?”

Jesse shrugs. “Beats me. This is kinda, umm…awkward,” he pauses. “I just really need a boyfriend right now. I need this to be okay.”

“Yeah?” Looks like we’re going with option number two. “No offense, man, I don’t know if I really need to hear that. I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with, y’know, that.”

“You sound just like them!” 

“Like who, dude?”

“Those Delta Phi guys! The whole summer, they’re telling me how good a recruit I’d be, and how they’ll save me a room, and how they can’t wait to see me on campus. And then today? Nothing. It’s like I didn’t even exist. And of course, they won’t admit it, but I know why.”

“Okay…why?”

“Oh, please! Isn’t it obvious?”

“You’re gay, yeah. But I wouldn’t have thought it unless you, like, said something. And you kinda did, so...”

“They’re a frat!” Jesse’s voice cracks as it echoes through the empty store, tears trickling down his face. He wipes his eyes, but the flood keeps coming. “And they think, they know I’m a...And now, I have nowhere to live! My family doesn’t even know I’m here. Oh, God…”

Silence. 

You shuffle over to Jesse. Jesus Christ, this kid’s a wreck. “Hey…it’ll be alright.” You try patting him on the shoulder. “Will it make you feel better if you, uh…changed me? I was kinda counting on it…I got a date this weekend. Or, uh, I’m trying to get one.” You scratch the back of your neck. Hopefully.

That’s enough to shake him back to the present. You both glance around the deserted Build-A-Bro. Your eyes lock, and then land beneath a sign: BUILD ME. 

“Do you think any of this shit works? Or is it just, like, kinky?”

“I guess there’s only one way to find out,” Jesse says. There’s some trial and error with whatever this pump thing is before you’ve got your lips around the nozzle. Jesse’s got his on the handle. He squeezes. And squeezes. And squeezes. 

The liquid shoots down the hose, past your lips, down your throat, and into your stomach. It’s sweet and salty and musky, like a birthday cake glazed in sweat and cum. It makes you gag.

It makes you want more.

And there’s more — so much more you could cry. It’s filling every part of you, pushing against your skin like a goddamn human water balloon. Sinew and tissue snap, bones pop. 

And you don’t feel a thing. Just pure pleasure. 

The pressure’s not letting up. You feel it in your head, pushing against your skull. Neurons flash, memories made and remade until they fit whatever — whoever — you’re becoming.

You can hear your bros’ laughter, the sound of weights clanking in the gym. You can taste that protein shake — goddamn, that shit’s good! You can feel your hand on your cock as you stroke and stroke and finally release. You can smell your own musk after spending hours working out. And you can see the way Jesse’s looking at you, wanting you. When did he get so…cute?

It feels good to be a bro…Jesse wants you to be a bro.

He’s still squeezing the handle, still shaping you with every drop you drink. Hair sprouts from a jawline so sharp it could cut glass. Your whole body strains against its fabric prison. Seams split, buttons pop, then — *RRRIIIPPP!*

You finally get a look at yourself: your bouncing pecs, your bulging biceps, your glorious glutes. You’re a goddamn masterpiece. Your cock’s already leaking, and it’s not the only thing that’s gained a few inches, or even a foot. You’re towering over Jesse, looking at him through lazy, blissed-out eyes. Your thoughts slow, consumed by the idea of what people will call you:

Meathead. Himbo. Jock. Stud. Fuck buddy.

Your cock spurts at that last one.

Bro. Gym bro. Big bro. Older bro.

Your brain — or what’s left of it — likes that idea. That’s all you really need to do. All you really need to be now. For Jesse. For you. For everyone. 

Bro. 

“Oh. My. Gosh!” Jesse squeals, hanging up the hose with a metallic thump. How do you feel, Marcus?” He rushes over, hands running over every inch of you. 

“Hey…bro…,” you moan. “Feeling…good.”

Still no employees, but you’ve made quite a mess of the place. TOUCH ME, DRESS ME, NAME ME, call the signs. Jesse shakes his head. He drapes your massive arm across his shoulder, leading you to the bins full of clothing.

Jesse’s practically glowing, and you’re in your own afterglow. He pulls a tanktop over your head, a jockstrap up your legs, trying his damndest to get all of you decent. It’s not easy — there’s so much more of you now. 

Somehow, you get to the car. Somehow, you fit inside the car. You sit back, kick your feet up, and get ready for Jesses to take you…uh…wherever.

Just leave the thinking to him, bro. 

And that’s when you feel the key in your pocket.

Thank you for visiting Build-A-Bro Workshop! We hope you come again soon.

What asshole came up with that? I mean, seriously…

I teach — well, tutor — plenty of people, and not to brag, but I’ve got pretty rave reviews. It’s the kind of reputation that attracts a certain amount of attention from a certain type of person.

Somebody who really, truly, desperately needs help. 

New message from Chase Walker:

bro u gotta tutor me pls im so fuckd if i dont pass this test lol coach is gonna kill me pls bro im beggin u hahaha pls??? Sounds pretty serious! I can meet this afternoon for a quick intro session?  yesssss bro thx!!! lets do it, cant stay 2 long tho got practice :) 

We met in the library, which Chase didn’t really belong in any more than I did in a locker room.

“Wow,” he said. “I don’t realize there’d be, like, so many books here. That’s…crazy.”

“Right, well, tell me about this test?”

“Oh, yeah. So, like, it’s gonna be really hard, and if I fail it and have to get cut from the team, then, like…” 

“Right.”

“So…can you make me smart ‘n shit? Or at least, like, enough to pass this thing?” 

“When’s the exam?”

“Uh, tomorrow, like first thing, 8 a.m.”

“Oh. Oh.”

“What, dude?”

“You’ve got practice tonight, too?”

“Yeah…oh shit, I’m fucked?” His voice echoed. 

“How do you feel about pulling an all-nighter?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time, but, like, to study?”

“You may not have much of a choice.” 

He leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms. “Yeah, I guess…” 

“You can come over to my place. I’ll see you tonight.”

***

“Yo! I’m here, dude. Ready to, like, study…”

Sweat still dappled Chase’s skin, and whatever cheap deodorant he had on didn’t do much to cover the scent he'd worked up in whatever practice for whatever sport he played — it wasn’t my business. 

“Woah…nice place.” The tutoring gigs had been so lucrative that I bought my apartment, one of several carved out of a handsome little house. It was certainly better than slumming it in the dorms. 

“Alright, make yourself comfortable. We’ve got a long night ahead of us, but I’m confident you’ll do fine.” 

“Sure…” Chase kicked off his shoes and dropped his bag by the door. “If you say so.” 

It was slow going, made slower still by his whining: “Why do I need to know any of this shit? I’m too dumb for this.”

“Hey, cut it out — you’re not stupid. You’re just…learning.” 

“Bro…”

“I mean it, Chase. You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.” 

“I don’t wanna know this stuff.” 

“Okay, well, now you are acting a little stupid.” 

Chase let out a gasp. His cheeks reddened a little. 

“You wanna…say that again, bro?”

“You’re…stupid?”

He smiled. “Yeah, dude…I know. Like, I’m just a big, dumb, jock. You really wanna help me, right?” 

I nodded, slowly. 

“Then don’t help me think, bro. Turn my brain off.” 

***

I can’t say exactly what happened — each tutoring session is private, after all. But pass or fail, I’ll see Chase again tomorrow. 

I'm Rich

I'm 5' 4" and blond with glasses

I'm 23, but finally deciding to rush BRO

I tend to fit in with the artistic ones, like the theatre guys, I've done it for 10+ years

I want BRO because I need some bros who just aren't in the theatre department cause it's too cutthroat.

And for any additional info: I love being gay haha. And I love being on stage...though maybe some extra dance ability would help me, I tend to have two left feet

Well, here goes nothing.

You fill out the form and press Send. A second or two later, your phone buzzes. 

‘Sup, RICH! This is BROBot. You’re receiving this message because of your interest in Beta Rho Omega. Your BigBRO is: CAMDEN HOLT. 

Seems sort of high tech for a frat. Wait…Camden Holt? Why’s he sound familiar? 

Your phone buzzes again before you can place his name. It’s from an unknown number.

yo its camden, ur BigBRO!!! cant wait 2 meet u Rich!!! rlly cool 2 have mor bros in BRO, lol!!! u got time 2day??? 😎💪

Hey, Camden! Looking forward to meeting you, too, and yeah, BRO seems really cool! I’ve got class, then a rehearsal this afternoon. Maybe we could get dinner in the dining hall, like 7-ish?

ooo yeah 4got ur in theater, thats cool!!! i got practice after class so that would work!!!

What kind of practice? 

coach wants 2 run sum drills but im gonna be quick so we can meet!!!

Seven o’clock can’t come soon enough. Your lectures last painfully long, each second agonizing. Rehearsals for “Spring Awakening” don’t go any better. You trip over your lines — and yourself. You’ve always been so uncoordinated. The rest of the cast may not have said anything, but they won’t be forgetting it anytime soon. 

The dining hall isn’t exactly lively on a Friday night. Finding a table is no problem, and you pick one overlooking the campus quad, with its big oak trees and old statues and wrought-iron benches. The historic clock tower dings and dongs, its bells ringing out across campus. 

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

A minute passes. And then another. You check your phone. 

Nothing. 

Then, you hear shoes squeaking on cheap linoleum. Someone’s coming, and quickly. In a blur, all 6’3” of Camden Holt’s standing over your table, practice bag slung over his shoulder. He’s sweaty and out of breath, hair pushed back, an apologetic look on his face. The shiny studs in each of his ears gleam under the fluorescent lights, and the scent of sweat, grass, and cheap deodorant wafts over you.

“Yo, you’re Rich, right! I’m so sorry I’m late, bro. Like, really, really sorry. Practice ran super long today. Didn’t mean to make you wait…and sorry if I’m a little, uh, y’know. I skipped the showers and ran straight here…didn’t even change.”

Camden’s still in most of his practice gear: sweat band, compression tee, gloves, pants, knee pads, socks, and cleats. Everything’s soaked through with sweat, the white lycra and spandex practically see through as it clings to his body. Your eyes wander from his flushed face to his still-heaving chest: Wildcats #44. 

Oh. OH. He’s that Camden Holt? Holy shit…

“You mind if I put my stuff down?”

“No, I mean, sure, yeah! Of course,” you blush. What are the chances?

Camden plops his bag on an open seat, settling his frame into one across from you. “So, I’m Camden, but you can call me Cam, Cammy — either’s fine! And, uh, I’m your BigBRO, which means I’m gonna look after you,” he smiles, wiping some sweat from his forehead with a gloved hand. “But…isn’t 23 a little old to rush?”

“Well, I never really got the chance to. And I am here to get my master’s, so…”

“Oh, damn! That’s cool. It’s no problem with me, bro. We’re real inclusive and all that shit, y’know? Like, everybody’s welcome — I know you said something about being into dudes?”

“Yep, that’s right.”

“Yeah, well, so am I! Me and a couple of the guys in BRO are. Most of us, actually,” he laughs. “Anyway, it’s all good!” 

The two of you talk some more. A lot more. About when you realized you were gay, about class, about “Spring Awakening” and theater and football. You only get up when a campus security guard tells you the building’s closing for the night. 

Cam offers you a hug goodbye. You take it. It’s warm and strong — loving.

“You’re gonna fit right in,” he says as you part ways for the night. “Text you in the morning!”

___

Your phone buzzes. You roll over to check it: 2:08 a.m.

bro, can u com over???  Hey, Cam. Can it wait till morning? i dont think ur gonna wanna wait, pledge…ur BigBRO’s waiting…

You bite your lip. Fuck. You throw on a jacket and hurry across campus as fast as you can. The BROs are waiting for you. They let you in, guide you to Cam. He’s still in his gear, half-hard cock straining against his tight pants.

“Hey…”

“Umm, hi…?”

He leans forward, a grin across his face. “I was just thinking about how I could…look out…for you, yeah? Those theater guys sound like assholes, dude. And didn’t you say something somethin about gettin more…uh…coordinated?”

You nod.

“Then how ‘bout you join the team? I’ll put in a word with Coach for you, bro.”

You struggle to speak. It’s so early in the morning, your brain’s just not awake. Or maybe it’s because you don’t have to say anything at all — and your bro knows what’s best.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Cam laughs. “But, we gotta get you geared up first.”

He strips down, tossing his sweatband at you, then his gloves, his cleats, his socks, all one by one until he’s down to his jock, and then totally, gloriously naked. He strokes himself with one hand, using the other to help you put everything on. He’s been wearing it for hours, his sweat and musk and funk seeping into every inch of fabric. It’s on you now — it’s in you. 

“Fuck…dude, you’re looking good...”

The words are enough to make your cock stiff. It’s getting harder to think now. Everything just feels a little…foggy. Lyrics and lines you’d spent hours memorizing simply float away. They’re replaced with carefully practiced plays. You can feel the ball in your hands as you dodge tackles on the way to the endzone, putting one foot in front of the other, perfectly coordinated.

You wouldn’t want to let the team down. You wouldn’t want to let Cam down. 

A hand grabs your chin. You blink. He’s staring down at you.

“You gotta get bigger if you’re gonna fill out this uniform!”

Cum floods your throat, warm and salty. You can feel it making you stronger, bigger, better. Everything fades into darkness...

___

The sun’s up by the time you fully come to. Someone’s changed your gear, too — #43, so close to your best bro, Cammy.

Of course, you can’t go around wearing your uniform all day. Your fellow BROs scrounge together some clothes for you, and you check yourself out in the mirror. Nice. Your phone buzzes. 

‘Sup, RICKY! This is BROBot. Are you ready to receive a LittleBRO? Type YES to reply.

Better get to work. 

Danny was no exception.

The mountain of a man towered over you, brown eyes soft and sweet as you looked over the paper in your hand.

This certifies that you have adopted Danny Garcia from Build-A-Bro of Austin, Texas, February 15, 2026.

It was a belated Valentine's Day present, or something like that. Being alone had its perks, until it didn't. Sure, your apartment was nice and quiet, but it'd be so nice to have someone to come home to, or maybe go to the gym with, or maybe…

Maybe…?

Danny blinked. His tank top (it was more of a crop top, really) showed of his abs. His Longhorns cap was pulled down tight over his head. Whoever built him had taste. Good taste.

"Sup, dude?" He smiled. "You gonna take me home?"

"Yeah…I, I mean, I yes."

The ride back to the apartment was quiet, except for the sounds of Danny adjusting himself. He was so big. His head scraped the roof; his thighs couldn't stay closed; his hand slipped under his waistband, eyes closed, oblivious to the world around him.

"Ungh…fuck…dude. I'm like…so…horny? You ever just gotta…you know?"

"No…uh, not really."

"You're not gonna mind if I just…like…bust one out?" His hand was moving faster now, hips bucking into the seat.

"I mean…yeah?"

"Bro, please?" His eyes opened, pleading. "I'm so fuckin' hard." The tip of his cock peeked above his waistband, already slick with pre. "Bro, like…you gotta let me nut. I'm your bro."

"Danny…you're not…I'm not going to let you cum in my car. The fuck?"

"Ahh…too…ungh…late!"

---

"Look, I don't think you understand. He jerked off. In my car. Can I return him or something? Or swap him? I'd take Logan, even that Ryder guy. Danny's just…too much."

"I understand that, sir."

"Okay…I don't think you do, though."

"Please hold, sir."

How did Build-A-Bro have such shit customer service?

You had wiped down your car as best you could before forcing Danny into the shower, catching a glimpse of him in all his glory. Your phone buzzed.

can u help me get dresed bro??? wat close u want me 2 wer??? Probably not the same shorts you just soaked… y not tho??? Danny, just wait! I'll help you.

What he had in brawn, he sure didn't have in brains. You opened the door to find him admiring himself in the mirror.

"You…want me to get bigger for you, bro? I bet I'd be like…so much hotter if I got bigger, hahaha. Just, like…whatever you want, bro." One hand drifted toward his already rock-hard cock. Back to square one.

"What if I took you to the gym?"

Danny's eyes locked on you, dick still in hand. "Bro?"

"Yeah…it's just down the street. But you would have to, y'know, get dressed?"

"Dude…that's…nice."

---

"You can leave me here, bro!" Danny took in the gym before dashing toward some of the machines. "Be back in an hour?" He turned around.

It'd be nice to have a break from him.

He really was a lot, and Build-A-Bro still hadn't gotten back to you.

Why was he…him? Who made him like…that?

You tried asking him a few questions on the walk over. He didn't remember being anyone else. There was just…Danny. Big, beautiful, bro-y Danny. Hard, horny, hung Danny. Stupid, sexy, sweaty Danny.

You made the drive back to Build-A-Bro, windows down the whole way. The cleaning supplies may have done their job, but the seat still reeked of him: salty, musky, and cologne that was as strong as it was cheap.

Those other guys were gone, but you found an employee easily enough.

"I have concerns about my guy, err…my 'bro.'"

"Sure! What seems to be the problem?"

"Well…Evan," you read the nametag pinned to his bulging pecs, "I don't really know how to describe it. I just…want to understand him. Better, I mean. He's…an interesting guy."

"You wanna know your Bro?"

"Yeah, I would say so." Your phone buzzed again.

feelin bigger!!! got ths dude 2 tak a pic lol!!!

"Right. Why does he do…that?"

Evan nodded. "Well, he is a bro. Your bro."

You're Invited.

Appreciated? Hey, any guy's fine, especially when it's a last-minute thing! But I will admit: Some are finer than others.

And it's no secret that's who you want to be. So, I'd break you down, build you up, and bro you out into…an all-American jock.

No, not football. Baseball.

I'm no sports pro, but I know enough to shape that new body of yours. I'd give you all the muscles you need to run and jump and swing and catch, and a little extra just for fun. (If by fun you mean showing off in the gym, or for me.) And all that new muscle's going to your head, dude. Your confidence borders on cockiness, your self-assuredness on arrogance. You've never lost a game, and you'd rather die than bottom.

That shit's for…uh...ahahaha, yeah…anyway, so Coach was like…

Chicks or dudes, it doesn't matter to you. With a cock like yours, a hole's a hole. Doesn't matter who's on the other end.

And let me tell you, you're going to be pretty busy with that thing, maintaining your barely passing grades by fucking the TA, "celebrating" post-game in the locker room with your best bros, and moaning and groaning for OnlyFans. Are you always hot, always hard, and always horny? Yep, but you wouldn't want to have it any other way.

There's nothing like the feeling of peeling your gear after a game.

You had a game tonight, didn't you? I'm glad you didn't skip it for me.

No, don't worry about showering. Just…come as you are!

"You ready to possess him babe?"

"Oh more than ready baby. Give me a a minute or two to squeeze in and then I'll be all ready for ya!"

I floated out to a different area of the gym and waited for my ghostly boyfriend to take over his new boy toy. We'd been wanting a change and what better place to take over hot new bodies than the gym?

We'd seen this hot hunk lifting weights and knew we had to have him. He was shirtless, muscular, charming, sweaty, and such a himbo. My boyfriend was going to look so good in his skin - I couldn't wait. Heh, maybe I should look for my fleshie now and surprise him.

...

"Alright boy. It's been a few years since I've worn a skin this young, but you'll do nicely. I hope you don't mind an old horn dog inhabiting your body."

I dissipated into a blue fog behind the hunk and slowly began to swirl around him. He was too busy flexing and admiring his body to notice me slowly creeping into every orifice of his body. I started by gently phasing up into his nose and mouth as he took deep sweaty breaths.

"Yeah that's right pretty boy. You like me invading you don't you? I'll put your mind at ease. Let this old man have another shot at life - I promise you won't remember a thing."

I then started to make my way around his athletic shorts and crept into the front of his trousers. I swirled around his neatly trimmed bush and then began to make my way into his dick and around to his ass.

"Oh boy, can't wait till this is all mine. You starting to feel me now boy? I'm invading your body and you have no idea."

All of a sudden the hunk started to feel himself slipping. That was my cue to do some damage control. Before he could even react and scream or alert anyone that anything was wrong, I quickly slid the rest of my ethereal form up into his body and quickly tookover.

"OH YEAH BABY! Whoo! That's the stuff." I groaned in a new, unfamiliar voice. I looked down and then up into the mirror still with my guns flexing and full sweaty body on display.

"Oh man. Would you look at me! Yeah, that's me now." I said excitedly as I began to sniff my armpits and kiss my biceps. "Damn this feels nice. And I'm packing too."

I mean, with a body like this, I can do pretty much anything I wanted. Besides, it wasn't my reputation on the line. This guy was full of himself anyway. I should just roll with it.

I reached down and gripped the hard outline of my new cock and groaned out. It was by this point that I noticed I had a bit of an audience.

"Hey man, you okay?" Another sexy gym-goer asked from a nearby machine, noticing me acting afool of myself.

"Oh, uh, yeah man - bro. That's what you kids say nowadays right? I feel like a new man!" I answered quickly.

"Oh I know the feeling." He responded coyly. "I know it well."

The hairy gym-goer proceeded to grab his dick through his gym shorts and lift up his arms at his machine, putting his full pits out on display.

"Babe?" I grinned excitedly, enjoying the man he now possessed.

"Bro, I don't know what you are talking about. I'm straight, man." He lied as a large smile appeared on his stolen face.

"Oh yeah, me too - bro. Wanna talk about this 'new man feeling' somewhere a little more private?" I flirted back in my new stolen voice, enjoying the sound coming out of my throat.

"Yeah bro. Let's do it." He said as I grabbed his arm and helped him up.

"Mmm, I like these two. I have a feeling we aren't going to leave for a while." I said, smelling the musky scent of my partner's new body.

Stubborn, that is how I will define most American farmers. Take the case of Logan Larson. 32, owners of 5 acres, filled with debt and struggling to meet month’s end. So when our client came with an offer to buy the land, he should have said yes. He would have more than enough money to start somewhere else and have a bit more to spare. But did he take the deal, no! Nothing could convince that man. And that is why they hire me. Our methods are unorthodox, but we are able to persuade anyone to do anything. Do you need a confession?  Done. Do you need them to accept your divorce terms? Easy peasy. Do you need them to accept the sales proposal? Well, that is why I am here. 

I parked my car and walked to Logan’s house. I was immediately greeted by the young farmer. He was clearly annoyed by my presence. I have dealt with so many farmers in the past, so I was ready to move quickly with him. I just pulled my tranquilizer gun and fired it without hesitation. There was no reason to talk with him… people have tried that with no avail. The guy fell into the ground. I quickly went and checked his vitals. Pulse normal, normal breathing. Ready for the procedure. I quickly dragged his body to the house, the place was simple. Not many decorations, except for a couple of hunting trophies. The smell was a bit strong, clearly he has not cleaned the place in a long time. I opened my briefcase and pulled a  pair of Headsets. I know what you are thinking… but no, this was not a body switching device. I will call it more of a puppetry device. My mind will invade Logan’s flesh, I will control his movement and action. I will do what our client needs, while my body stays asleep in this small farm. I looked at the young farmer and then I started the machine. 

It was painless. I just opened my eyes and felt a rush of sensations. A bit of pain in my shoulder, where the tranquilizing dart has hitted. But other than that, this skin felt incredible. Usually, I took over the life of guys in their 60s, so taking over such a young body was a nice change of pace.  I looked at his hands, full of calluses. I flexed a bit his arms, they were extremely big. But I knew that I couldn’t lose time. I needed to complete the mission in a couple of hours.

“Boss, I am in” I said feeling the roughness of my new voice

“Brad, are you puppeteering Logan?” I hear her voice coming from the phone.

“Yes, ready to sign the papers”

“Shit! Mathew didn't call you”

“No! What happened Sarah?”

“There were some legal issues. The contract is not ready”

“Fuck. So what now, are we postponing this”

“Mathew told me that it will only be a couple of days”

“So what I am supposed to do in the meanwhile”

“You know that if we release Logan… it will be almost impossible to get a hold of him”

“So what are you saying? Do I need to stay like him?”

“It will be just two days at most”

“I have never been more than 6 hours in someone else's flesh, Sarah… Boss”

“I know, but do this for us. I promise that you will get well compensated”

I hand the phone. I was clearly frustrated.  For me this was a nightmare. However, I needed to trust my boss and be certain that everything would be fine. I sat in the chair for a couple of hours, just looking at my phone and killing time. Then I have an urge to pee. I went to the bathroom and just released the tension without looking at the big shaft that I now possesed.  Then I washed my hands and for the first time I stared at the mirror. light brown hair, blue eyes, he was without a doubt a good looking guy. I dedicated a moment to feel his face with my fingers. It was curious, the first time I took over someone’s flesh I spent over two hours in the restroom… now, I just don't care. At the end of the day, I will ruin their lives so I always have tried to be completely unattached to who they really are. 

But now, I will be this guy for a couple of days. I grabbed his shirt and slowly pulled it over. I can smell a strong odor. He really needed a nice bath. I start touching my borrowed abs and chest. Something that I have not done in a foreign body in a very long time. In the past I promised myself that I will never surrender by lust. But given the fact that I have so many hours left as Logan… shit! I couldn't control myself. I massage myself, I moan, I let myself enjoy the ride of being this man. 

As night fell, I feared that Logan was going to be able to take control of his flesh when I was asleep. My boss assured me that some agents have done infiltration missions for months, so that I shouldn't be scared.  Still, I was nervous but at the end I was able to relax and, to my surprise, I slept like a baby. 

The next day was a completely new experience. I thought that the best thing was to not raise any suspicion, so I tried to perform Logan’s schedule the best that I could. I went to his gym, and I met with his friends. I heard some comments that I was acting a little bit shyer than usual. Which was understandable, I barely knew what I was doing. However, as the time went on I started to feel more confident. To be honest here, I was having a lot of fun. It was weird, it was all just play pretend. But… somehow this felt, in a strange way, right.

When my boss told me that the contract would be delayed for at least a week, I was not dissapointed. I embraced my new identity. I loved how defined my arms were. I loved the stares that I received at the bar. I loved the southern drawl coming out of my mouth. Sure, I worked in the fields for a couple of hours, making sure that everything was in order, but I spent most of the time in the house. Trying clothes, making faces in the mirror and having some private moments with my borrowed flesh. Sadly, all good things come to an end. It was very fast. I just drove to the city. Meet with some lawyers and sign the selling contract. My work was done, my boss was happy, but I was not ready to go back to my older self.

“Brad, we have a new contract for you”

“What is it boss?” I said while talking to the phone

“Wait… that voice… are you still puppeteering Logan” 

“Yeah… I wanted to enjoy his flesh for a bit more”

“Brad, that is against protocol”

“Like forcing me to be in flesh for a full week”

“That was an admin error, you will get compensated for that. But now you need to return back to your own flesh”

“I don’t know… this feels right you know”

“You are not being serious”

“Think about it. We have ruined this guy’s life. If we give him his body back, he will suffer. We destroy everything he has built. Maybe it will be good if I stay like this”

“This is not in discussion. Also your body can die.”

“Sarah, I have been pouring water with sugar in my mouth.”

“That is not enough. Nine days have passes… you need to go back before you regret this. Your life is on the line so please… do what is right.”

I hang the phone. Of course what else could I expect from her. I went to the restroom and saw my face. Shit! I look good. Puppeteering Logan had become one of the best experiences in my life. I just felt so comfortable in his skin in a way that I didn't expect that it could be possible. Then I walked to the living room and saw my old flesh. I was not a bad looking guy. I have my own charm, but I lived a lonely life. Now that body seemed alien to me. Going back was a downgrade that I was not certain that I was willing to take. 

I inspected the headset which still was covering my old face. I inspected it for a minute. This was the thing that supposedly allowed me to control this flesh. It linked our bodies in some way, I still didn't understand the technology behind. The only thing that I knew for a fact was that it only had a reach of a thousand miles. It was a long distance, and I never asked what would happen if I crossed that threshold. One possible scenario is that the link would be broken and I would just wake up inside my own flesh. But if that was the case, why did the company always remind us that this was completely outside the rules. No, something else needed to happen. Maybe I will die, maybe Logan will die. I did not know. However, returning to my old self was not an option. I was willing to take the risk. I immediately grab my keys and head to the airport. I was not willing to give this body back. 

“Hi, are you Logan Larson”

“Yes, who are you?”

“My name is Detective Jane… Miller”

“Detective… is everything all right?”

“You were the owner of a farm in southern Texas"

“Yeah. I was”

“And you sell it, correct?”

“Yeah… I sell it… I don't know really what happened”

“What do you mean?”

“I think that I was too drunk. It was like I was out of myself. It was surreal. But fuck, I did it and I don´’t know why. I just thought that I was becoming crazy… I told myself that someone was controlling my actions, I know that is crazy, but that are the lies that I told myself to feel better”

“And why did you move?”

“I couldn't stand to see what I lost. So I took everything and decided to start over somewhere else. You say you are a detective… is there something wrong? Is there something that I can help with?”

“Not really… this is disappointing… but glad to see that you are doing well”

I was confused by her words, at least I tried to act confused as if I didn't know what had happened. I smiled at myself. Sarah cared for my well being and, in an effort to see if I was still alive, she took over the flesh of that police woman. I know it is her in there, her mannerism are so unique. Still, I cannot blow my cover. I have been living as Logan for 3 months and I would never jeopardize my new reality.  

I remember what happened on that day. I was so anxious as the plane approached the thousand mile threshold. It was just a painful sensation, the strongest headache that you can ever feel. It was a miracle that I didn't scream and that no one was the wiser of what I was experiencing. I closed my eyes and I felt an electric sensation traveling through my borrowed flesh. I closed my eyes and felt my memories invading Logan’s brain. That was when I understood how the device worked, it not only allowed me to take control of someone, but it also stopped me from overriding my host. By crossing the threshold, my mind took control of the brain. It destroyed every bit of Logan essence and left me as its only owner. 

Of course, my original self was brain dead… there was no going back, but this felt right. In this skin, I felt realized. In a way, this was destined to happen. The lack of opportunities in life. Being recruited by accident by this shady corporation. the corporate mishaps that make me experience this life for more than necessary. Yeah, now I am starting everything from scratch. But, by looking like this, I am certain that I will be able to achieve whatever I want. 

For some, the Great Shift hit in the middle of winter, where the elements were far from tame. While some toiled in the snow, others prospered in it. Everyone has a unique tale to tell. After all, it is often during the coldest of times, that things really heat up. 

Henley Harper:

What a rush! If you’d told me a year ago, I’d be snowboarding shirtless down a mountain, I would’ve told you to take a nap! Because not in your wildest dreams would you see me doing something like that. After all, a year ago, I was just hefty Henley. The overweight office assistant at a paper making company. People would joke that I’d be the first one to finish the box of doughnuts, even though I only liked the chocolate ones. But people can be cruel. They could see an overweight shy pale guy and make some really rude assumptions. 

But I doubt they’d be making those assumptions anymore, especially after the Great Shift! I heard some real scary stories about how people found them swapped half way around the world and into some hair raised situations. Lucky from me, I managed to keep myself in the U.S. going from Ohio to Nevada. But my swap probably was more surprising than most. Who expects to be racing down a steep hill shirtless, as snow and wind bash against your body? 

Not me! That’s for sure. 

Turns out I ended up in a guy called Hank Jimenez. Social media snow boarder known for doing some crazy stunts, like snowboarding down a steep mountain and flexing the whole time. I mean… I can’t blame him. His Mexican American muscles really do seem made for showing off. Unlike my previous self he was clean shaven, though I could tell right away he shaved… and probably often considering I’ve got some body hair of his already growing back! And he had abs! I went from not being able to see my own feet because of my big belly in the way to having a six pack you could see without even flexing!

Anyway, there I was. Suddenly swapped, going 50 miles an hour down a steep hill. I thought I was dreaming! I had no idea what to do. Part of me was already worrying about joint pain if I took a fall at this speed!  Luckily I learned the fast way that muscle memory stays with your newly shifted body. I managed to maneuver down the hill and instinctually flexed in triumph. 

All the people looking confused as I shredded down the hill certainly couldn’t help looking at me. Many were confused and displaced just like me, so they had no idea what was going on. But when they saw a handsome Latino hunk greeting them at the bottom of the hill by a nice lodge, their confusion was replaced with… well to put it politely “interest”. 

See. I wasn’t the most dateable guy back in my body. No girl ever seemed interested in talking to me… not that I talked to them much either. However, turns out I’m really into guys as Hank. And all those people waiting for me at the bottom of the hill were apparently his fans. All handsome guys! Some big. Some small. Some even with chubbier frames just like I had. And just like me, apparently their new sexualities aligned with their bodies. It took us a whole week of private fun for us to realize the rest of the world even swapped bodies too. 

So how did I spend the snow storm during the great shift? Snowboarding down some awesome Nevada slopes and getting to know my new fan club in a cozy lodge. Wherever the original Hank is, I hope he’s enjoying his new body just as much as I'm enjoying his!

Frank Xuěman:

What was I doing after I swapped? Freezing my fucking balls off!

Whoever had the bright idea to have a bunch of frat guys streaking through town in the snow needs a good whack on the head. It’s because of the that I found myself without a stitch of clothing, in the middle of town, running barefoot through the snow!

I was perfectly content spending my evening with a good book, a warm drink, and more importantly in the privacy of my own home! So waking up as a barechested frat boy running through the snow was an immediate wakeup call to my new situation. I was so confused! I had no way of knowing right away that I wasn’t the only one to have swapped. Instead I thought I was living a live nightmare of sorts. It’s not like the guy I turned into was carrying his phone, ID, or wallet with him. Nothing to explain who I was or tell me that the world was experiencing the same. 

My first goal to figure any of this out was to find clothing.  Now I had no idea what I looked like in the face department, but the body I now had was considerably muscular. So I imagined that I could find help a lot easier than in my average body. Not that I was particularly unattractive… It’s just I was one basic Chinese American guy in my apartment complex of average Asian guys. I’m really not used to standing out. 

However, now was different. As I ran through piles of snow and found myself walking past buildings I noticed just how different this body was to mine. Walking and running took a second to get used to. I was maybe about a foot taller than usual and seeing the world from a new vantage point. And these huge feet I now used had me tripping over myself half the time. Luckily with how strong this guy seemed, I was able to catch myself before doing any real damage. And with my longer arms I even  managed to snag a scarf to cover up the bare minimum on my journey into town.

Lucky for me once I found more buildings, it didn’t take long for me to get help. 

I saw a couple who owned a local bar in town about to close their doors when I waved them down.

Needless to say, they were both surprised see a buff man in the buff waving at them. However, once I explained my situation they surprisingly believed me.

Turns out they were swapped too. The bearded burly man was actually the petite brunette with teal highlights in her hair and vice versa. The couple had apparently swapped and explained to me that the Great Shift had swapped everyone else in the area.

Without any way of knowing who I was without ID or clothing, they agreed to let me stay in the bar to warm up. I was glad they were so kind, and as I shared a few drinks with them we all got to know each other. Turns out they also were fans of the same video games I liked, read a few of the same books I was into, and… like me they were both bisexual.  And like me... they couldn't help but look at my new body when we were inside.

Well once the snow storm outside picked up, we stayed in their bar and adjoining apartment for longer and longer. And well… one thing led to another and it turns out I’m in a throuple now. Me, Melissa, and Clark are adjusting well to the weather and the shift. Clark and I are helping Melissa learn to operate her new male equipment. Melissa and I helped Clark embrace his new feminine form. And together those two helped me accept my new body and my new role in the relationship. 

Now my nights end with me flexing in bed as my two loves of my life kiss my cheeks. So my journey may have started with freezing my balls off, but I think that’s a small price to pay for finding love in my new body. 

Conner Goncalves:

You know I used to have a lot of trouble shoveling snow, but now it’s practically nothing now that I’m doing it everyday. I suppose having a pretty strong body helps too. It’s really helping me appreciate the winter season just a bit more everyday. 

Before I was never a fan of the winter months. I always got so cold every time the sun would set or the wind would blow. I guess that’s to be expected when you were as small and smooth as me. I’m practically a certified twink. Or at least… I was. 

See, as a little Latino guy in his early 20s I wasn’t super… open about my sexuality. I wasn’t exactly closeted, but I was always afraid to really express myself. I had gone on a few dates, but they never amounted to much when they weren’t exactly interested in anything more than pounding my lithe Latin booty. Chad Hectors was the worst. He was so cocky thinking he was god’s gift to man. Just because he hit the gym once a week, had cute dimples, and blond curly hair. 

However, after the Shift things appear to be going in the opposite direction. 

I woke up laying down in the snow, shovel in my hand, and sweating pretty deeply when the Shift hit. I was luckily in a nice little neighborhood and surrounded by equally confused individuals. 

It didn’t take long for us all to realize we had swapped bodies. We did our best to shovel the rest of snow on the roads and walkways, since emergency vehicles were on their way to help out others put into distress by the Shift. Not that I minded. I’d never felt so strong before. Using that shovel to plow snow out of the way got me an amazing pump. It’s an amazing feeling realizing just how muscular you are through a long sleeved shirt, before even having seen your new body. 

A few guys shoveling beside me even paid me a few compliments.

“Looks like you got one of the most jacked guys here.” “A bit easy on the eyes too.” “You single?” 

It felt like heaven! The only thing that was amiss, was feeling unseasonably warm as I worked. 

When the work was done, one of the unshifted guys offered his home to anyone who needed shelter from the cold. I gladly took him up on the offer, both eager to rest and check out my new body.

And I wasn’t disappointed. 

Turns out I was getting so warm outside because this guy is super hairy beneath all those clothes. My arms, legs, chest, and face have a thick coating of dark hair that’s growing more and more by the day. Even my eyebrows are so big and bushy. As a naturally smooth guy with thin eyebrows this entire body screamed hairy sasquatch in the snow. Especially when I felt how big my new hairy feet were. They were almost twice the size of my old feet and those little tufts of hair on each toe made me feel like a hobbit!

I’ll admit, I spent a little too much time in the bathroom that first night just looking at my new body. But can you blame me? I’m such a hottie! Flexing, smiling, and even saying the most unhinged things in my new voice had me hard as a rock. 

You’d think I was living the dream right? I’d wake up, help shovel some snow, get to know my new neighbors, and enjoy my body right? Well, that’s only partly true. Sure helping out my new neighborhood was nice. Same for all the attention! But there was a small problem.

All the guys here kept begging me to top them! They kept wanting me to use my new dick, which admittedly was very large, to fill their new bodies! Only problem is that I’m still firmly a bottom. I have no intention of using my new dick for that. Instead I want my new booty filled with someone as eager to explore it as I am. 

A few days ago, one of my former hook ups Chad Hectors somehow got my new number. Turns out he got shifted into my old body. He’s been sending me hot pictures of my former self shirtless and at the gym. Now he keeps asking me when I’m gonna come back to visit because he wants to fuck me with my old dick!

My boyfriend and I were entering a rough patch. I really loved him, but I just couldn’t keep up with his sex demands - he seemed to want to fuck me all the time, and I just wasn’t into it that much. Sure he was hot, but what I really liked was our emotional connection and that was the most important part of sex for me. We argued before bed, leaving Jack to go to sleep horny “Man, I wish you knew what it was like for me when you don’t put out.” He rolled over and we both went to sleep.

When morning came around, I felt some pressure in my groin, but like, a really good pressure. Then I started to rub myself in my boxers and it felt soooo good. I groaned, but it didn’t sound quite right. I opened my eyes and saw that I was on the wrong side of the bed with myself looking back at me. Fuck that scared me. My boyfriend was equally shocked but once we calmed down, and we checked ourselves out a bit in the mirror, Jack said that I was starting to turn him on and asked if he could fuck me.

I bend over for him as he positions his now smaller cock against my virgin ass. Fuck, this hurts. Looks like he’s struggling to get hard in that body too. “Let’s try it the other way round, shall we?” With that, I use the strength I didn’t know I had to turn around my boyfriend. Like on autopilot, I spit on my hand to lube up his hole and my cock, which seems much longer from the perspective, and prepare to penetrate him. I let out such a long moan as I penetrate his ass - the best feeling ever. As I start moving back and forth I am lost in the feeling of my cock and totally forgot about the swap and my boyfriend below for the time being. Lost entirely in the ecstasy. I look down at my former ass and see a new beauty in it that brings me to climax. “Fuuuuuuck!” I scream out, my voice reverberating as I fill my former ass with cum.

When I pull out, I realise that the whole time I hadn’t really thought about my boyfriend’s pleasure in the whole process, which made me feel a bit guilty. I hope he thinks about me more when we have sex…

The rest of the day I spent as him - we had no other option. I couldn’t help rubbing my crotch all day. And looking other guys’ bulges or perk little asses. Got me super horny all day, which was a totally new experience for me, I couldn’t really think straight a lot of time, and just enjoyed the male form and what it would feel like to fuck them. I was disgusted at myself at first, but it just felt too good so I gave in.

Eventually I went home super horny. When I got home I pinned my boyfriend to the wall and started rubbing my hard cock against his leg, while kissing him and fingering his hole. Then he starts “Hey, wait, I am not really in the mood right now…”

“What, but I am like so horny, I just really want to fuck you right here right now” I reply

“Yeah, well, I guess for you to find out what it’s like for me, I also needed to find out what it was like for you. And how you must feel, and…”

Fuck’s sake, finally he starts opening up about his emotions, and all I can think about is my rock hard dick in my pants and how much I want to fuck him...

For Part 2, click here: https://www.tumblr.com/mulletpermsicantlookaway/791470583810539520/the-lettermans-jacket-part-2

Rick felt a lot better after his talk with Connor. For one, he was stoked that he was going to be able to play football, and with his best bud Dave, too! For another, while he still felt slow, he was finding it easier to concentrate in his classes. Even so, by the time he got to algebra, he felt wiped out. His brain felt like mush, and his entire body felt sore again as if he’d had a heavy workout. He had hoped that the shorts would loosen some as the day went on, but if anything, they felt tighter, and even his shirt was starting to bind.

David was already in his seat as Rick strutted into algebra, and Rick sat down next to him with a goofy smile: “Sorry I missed you at lunch, bro,” he intoned in jock tones. David looked at him, startled. “I couldn’t find you,” Rick continued, “but I sat with this dude Mitch and some of the other jocks. They’re super chill and all, but I missed you, man. Where’d you run off to?” He cuffed his friend lightly on the shoulder.

“What the eff? Do you really think you’re a jock now, or are you messing with me?” David asked. “I know I was kind of mean to you this morning, but seriously, Richie, are you okay? You look kind of – not too bright right now, honestly. Those clothes look even smaller on you than they were this morning, and you smell like you could use a shower. How are you feeling?”

“I feel fine, bro, but yeah, these clothes are fucking tight. Makes it super hard to think. I’ve been fucking slow all day, in fact, thanks to you.” Rick chuckled dumbly. “Yeah, I’m a jock now. I mean, you told me this morning, remember? You told me to be a big, dumb, hairy football player like Connor, didn’t you? But Connor now: Connor’s a solid dude, bro. He’s not dumb. No, not at all.” Rick chuckled again. “He knows what you did. He told me how you messed me up, you know, telling me to be dumb and all. Seriously, that was mean of you, bro. But he’s fixing that. And he’s gonna talk to the coach about playing junior varsity.”

“Football? You mean football? Richie, you’re crazy. And why are you cursing so much?”

“Dude, it’s Rick, okay? Quit calling me Richie. I don’t want to sound like some fucktard dweeb in front of my bros. I told you, Dave: I want one of those jackets. So yeah, Connor’s talking to the coach about getting us on the football team. Won’t that be cool?”

“Us? Us? Okay – Rick – this had better all be a huge prank. It’s bad enough if you want to go and get tackled by a bunch of bulked-up brutes just so you can get a letterman’s jacket, but leave me out of it, okay? I’ve got no intention of playing football. And I am definitely talking to Connor before we go home.”

“Sure, Dave. Connor wants to talk to you, too.”

“I’ll bet he does.”

Connor and the other varsity football players walked in right then, with the teacher right behind them. Connor looked right at Rick and David, a huge smirk on his face. Then the bell rang.

Rick may have been finding it a little easier to concentrate in algebra, but David was finding it harder. David’s mind kept turning over all the astounding things Richard had just said. Richard thought David had made him dumber? How would that even be possible? But Richard was acting a lot different since this morning. It was obvious to David that Richard had been undergoing rapid physical changes, and maybe – maybe – that was natural at their age, but now his entire personality seemed different. It must be an act, David thought, but Richard must really want to play football to put on such an act for Connor – and to keep it up in front of his best friend. Why would he do that? “Maybe so I don’t go to Connor and tell him Richard’s just pretending?” he thought. He shook his head. He really had no idea. But he absolutely had to talk to Connor after class.

As soon as the final bell had rung, David got up, intending to catch Connor before he and his “bros” could head to the locker room or wherever the jocks headed to after school, but Connor forestalled him. He and the other two football players approached Rick and David, saying “Take a little walk with us, bros. We’ve got some things to talk over.”

Connor took the lead, with Rick and David behind him and the other football players flanking them in the rear. David was nervous and showed it, but Rick laughed at him and said, “Relax, bro. I told you: Connor’s a solid dude. You’ve got nothing to be afraid of.” Rick patted him affectionately on the back, but that made David even more nervous. That was not the kind of thing that Richard normally did. It reminded him too much of the way athletes congratulated each other after a goal or a touchdown.

Connor led them into a men’s room down the hall. The hallways were rapidly clearing out now, and the place was almost empty. Connor waited for the last customer to leave, and then his football player friends stood guard at the door. David looked around uneasily, realizing that he had no escape.

Connor began: “Good news, Rick. I talked to the coach, and he’s willing to take you and your bro Dave on the JV team, as long as you start practice Monday. I told him I was mentoring you and you had potential. Now, you’re not gonna let me down, are you, bro?”

“No way, Connor,” said Rick. Turning to David he said, “Isn’t that cool, bro? We’re gonna get to play football together!”

David had had it. Turning to Connor, he said, “What the hell did you do to him? Richie never wanted to play football or another sport before he met you. I don’t even know who he is anymore.”

Connor laughed. “You think I did this? You were the one who had him try on my jacket and my cap. And today you were the one who told him to be a jock. You’re the one who changed him, bro. Really. All I did was help. You gotta understand, Dave, I used to be an annoying little nerd, just like you. But I was lucky; I had a mentor who had the gift. He’s the one who made me a jock. Now I’m just returning the gift, passing it on to you, same as I did to Jake and Josh here,” Connor said, indicating his fellow football players. “You wouldn’t believe what dweebs those two used to be. You’re just lucky I was around to help, because you didn’t have a clue what you were doing. You almost made your best bro here into a drooling moron, telling him to be a big dumb jock. What were you thinking? You’re his best friend: of course he listened to you! Just how dumb do you think jocks are? But I fixed him in time. Rick here should get his brains back – mostly, anyway,” Connor smirked. “But now we’ve got to fix you so you don’t cause any more problems.” Connor paused. “Rick, you know what to do now? You’ve gotta be the one who does it; you’re his friend. It won’t work if I try it; he doesn’t trust me. And to keep him quiet, you’re gonna have to give him everything at once.”

“I don’t know, bro,” Rick said to Connor. “My head’s still all full of shit. It’s so fucking hard to think.”

“Don’t think, bro,” Connor said. “Just do. You’re a jock now. You’ve got this. Just remember how you changed and pass it along to your bud. He wants this as much as you did.”

“Okay, bro,” Rick said, “I’ll give it the old college try. Dave, buddy, come on. It’s time. Connor’s right; you know you want to be a jock. Let me help you.”

David swallowed hard and made a dash for the door. Jake and Josh restrained him effortlessly. Josh said, “I can’t believe I used to be this much of a wimp. Sad! Trust me, bro, you’re gonna be a lot better off as a jock.”

Rick approached David while he continued to struggle against the football players’ iron grip. “Bro, calm down. Stop fighting us. We’re not gonna hurt you. Fuck, bro: I’m your best friend! It really hurts, you know, to think that you don’t trust me.”

“Get away from me! I’m not your bro,” David said.

“But you will be, Dave.” He took his cap off and put it firmly on David’s head. He held onto the brim the way Connor had. David’s struggles increased. “What do you think you’re doing, Dave? Come on. I’m your best bro. I know you want this. I mean, there’s a reason you wanted me to try on Connor’s jacket, right? You were just afraid to try it on yourself. But now I can help you. You don’t need to be afraid. Stop being such a nerd, Dave. You know you want it. You want it just as much as I did. You want it more. Tell me. Tell me you want to be my bro. Come on! I need to hear you say it!”

David faltered: “I – I want to be your bro.” His struggles stopped.

“Almost right, bro,” laughed Rick. “Try again.”

“I want to be your bro, bro.”

“That’s better,” Rick laughed. “Sure, Dave, I’ll make you my bro. But first, you’re gonna make some changes.  Seriously, bro; you’re gonna ditch the greasy nerd hair. Then those zits of yours’ll start to clear up. And the glasses, bro; you won’t need ‘em. Your balls are gonna drop and get heavy. Then that nerd voice of yours is gonna crack and you’re gonna start sounding like your bros. You’ll grow a jock cock to go with your balls, and, believe me, bro: when the blood starts flowing to that thing it’s super hard to think about anything else. You’ll get bigger and hairier and sweatier, and you’ll have to start dressing like a jock, because nothing else will fit. And it won’t matter if you’re smart; no one will take you seriously, because when people look at you, they’ll just see another big, dumb jock. But you won’t care what they think, because all your friends will be jocks, and you’ll only care about what your bros think. So yeah, maybe you’ll act as dumb as those people think you are, and you’ll laugh at them and laugh at yourself, because they have no clue that you really aren’t dumb at all. Got it, bro?” Still grabbing the cap, Rick slowly rotated it backwards and then let go. David staggered, and his eyes rolled back in his head. Jake and Josh lowered him slowly to the floor.

“Rick, bro, that was amazing!” Connor exclaimed. “You nailed it!”

A moment later, Dave’s eyes blinked open, and he looked slowly around, a puzzled expression on his face. “What the hell? Why the fuck am I on the floor of the men’s room? Did I pass out or something?”

Rick said, “Yeah, you passed out, all right. Did you skip lunch, Dave? I looked for you, but I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

“Yeah, bro,” Dave said woozily. “I didn’t eat lunch ‘cause I didn’t want to run into….”

“No wonder you passed out,” Connor interrupted, “your tank’s running on empty. You don’t skip meals when you’re bulking up for football, bro. How do you feel now?”

“Fucking strange,” Dave replied. “My head feels so weird. And my balls feel weird, too, like they’re swollen or something.”

“Look,” said Connor, “I know you’re not all there yet, Dave, but we’ve got to get you and Rick to the coach if you want to sign up for football. He’s not gonna wait, so pull yourself together. Here, let me help you up.”

“Thanks, bro,” said Dave. “What the fuck is wrong with me? Whoa. I can’t see. Everything’s like, super blurry.”

Rick said, “Bro, take off the nerd glasses! You don’t need ‘em.”

Dave took off the glasses and put them in his pocket. He chuckled. “You are so right, bro. I can see a lot better without them.”  Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he said, “Fuck, I should have gotten a haircut. I look like a dweeb. What’s Coach gonna think?”

“Don’t worry,” said Rick. “We’ll stop by Wyler’s on the way home. Maybe the barber that did mine will be working.”

Jake and Josh headed out, promising to see Connor at the football game later that night. Connor escorted Rick and Dave to the coach’s office. After they’d finished with the coach, Connor told Rick, “Before you head off campus, go to the locker room and wait for me. I’ve got some stuff for you, but I need to talk to the coach for a minute.”

Connor went back into the coach’s office. The coach said, “I don’t know, Connor. I hope I’m doing the right thing. That kid Rick seemed ready enough. He’s small, but he looks as though he’s growing fast. His friend Dave, now: that one looks like he weighs eighty or ninety pounds soaking wet. Great attitude, though.”

“I know Dave’s got plenty of room to grow, Coach,” said Connor, “but you can’t expect a freshman to be as big as I am. Trust me. Rick just started a big growth spurt, and his buddy Dave is gonna be right behind him. That’s why I think it’s better to have them both on the team. You can play them off against each other; you know, use them to motivate each other: ‘Look, Dave, see how hard your buddy Rick is working? You don’t want him to get ahead of you, do you? Hey, Rick, look at how big Dave’s biceps are getting. You’re just as strong as he is, aren’t you?’ They’ll always be trying to outdo each other.”

“I see your point,” the coach said drily. “But keep an eye on them, okay? Their attitude is great, but they’ve got squat for experience.”

“Neither did I when I joined the football team, Coach. Don’t worry. You won’t go wrong with those two. Let ‘em play, and they’ll make the varsity squad eventually. They’ve both got as much potential as I did.”

“Okay, son. I’ll trust you, but you’d damn well better be right.”

Connor hurried to the locker room and found Rick looking around curiously and Dave looking dazed. “Rick, I’ve got a couple of things you can wear until you can get some new clothes. And a bigger jockstrap for you, too. You can give the other one to Dave. It should fit him, for a while, at least.” Connor handed Rick the jockstrap and a bundle of clothes. “I almost forgot,” said Connor, “here’s another school baseball cap to go with that stuff”.

“Seriously,” said Rick, “You are a fucking prince, bro. I owe you. These old shorts I’m wearing are crushing my balls!” Rick immediately started stripping off his clothes.

Connor chuckled while Rick stood there naked except for his socks. “I told you you’d be growing a pair of balls and jock cock to go with ‘em. Look at you, bro! For a freshman, you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.” Rick was soon dressed in a pair of roomy sweat shorts with the school logo and a loose T-shirt with “Washington High Athletics” emblazoned on the front and back. Connor put the new cap on Rick’s head. Adjusting it into position and holding the brim, he said, “You’re getting to be a big bro now. You don’t need to worry about wearing a cap every time I see you. But just remember – I gave you the gift. Someday, when you’re an even bigger bro, you might just run into another scrawny freshman who needs it as much as you did. And that’s when you’ll pass it on. You, and Dave, too, you’ll know when you find someone.” Connor let go of the cap. Dave stood there gaping while Rick checked himself out in the mirror.

“How will we know?” Rick asked, finally.

“Dude, I can’t explain it. You’ll just know. Trust me,” said Connor.

“Okay, man, I’ll trust you,” said Rick. Then, turning to Dave, he said, “Your turn’s next, bro,” said Rick to Dave, handing him the jockstrap he’d just taken off. “You’ll be needing this soon.”

“The way my balls hurt, I think I want to try it on now,” Dave said.

“Yeah, Dave,” said Connor, adjusting the cap on Dave’s head, the cap he’d originally given to Rick. “I think you’re about to hit a big growth spurt, bro. You don’t want your buddy Rick too far ahead of you. You might as well try the jockstrap on now. I’m sure Rick got it warmed up for you.”

“I’ll bet,” said Dave. “But I’ll put up with Rick’s skanky ball sweat if it’ll keep my boys from aching, let me tell you bro. I can wash it out later.” Dave stripped off his pants and underwear, put on the used jockstrap and got dressed. “That is way better, bros,” he said.

“Excellent,” said Connor. “But Dave, one thing: when it stops fitting, I want it back, okay? That one’s special.”

Rick smiled. “I guessed right. That was your jockstrap?”

“Yeah,” Connor said, with a wistful and not very jock-like expression on his face. “It was my first one, okay? It’s special, so I want it back.”

“I can’t believe that little thing ever fit a big dude like you,” said Rick.

“Look, I mean, it’s embarrassing, but I told you bros I used to be a scrawny little freshman geek, okay? It fit me back then. But then I hit a big growth spurt, just like the one you bros are going through, and it didn’t fit anymore. That’s why it’s in such good shape.” Connor grinned. “Anyway, later, bros. See you at the football game. Enjoy watching it while you can. Next time, you’ll be down on the field.”

“Yeah, we’ll be there,” said Rick. “No way we’re missing the first game of the season.”

Dave insisted on getting a haircut before they went home, so they texted their parents and let them know they’d be back later than usual. As soon as they got to Wyler’s, Rick spotted the older barber who had given him his haircut a few days before. “You remember me, sir?” he asked.

The barber looked at him a minute, slightly puzzled. “Oh yeah, son. Didn’t I give you a team haircut the other day? It’s still looking pretty sharp, but I had a little trouble recognizing you. You’re growing like a weed, young man. Your voice is changing, too. Didn’t you wear glasses before?”

“Yeah, I did,” said Rick. “Anyway, my best bud Dave here is joining the football team, too. Can you clean him up?”

The barber obliged, and soon Dave was shorn down to stubble and spikes. Rick popped the cap back on Dave’s head and said, “Bro, I think your zits are already starting to clear up.” They walked to Dave’s house, and then Rick headed home from there. When he got home, he approached Tommy and said, “Hey, little bro. You want to go in the backyard and throw the football around for a bit?”

Tommy was fine with that. After they’d played catch for a while, Rick took Tommy back inside, and his mother thanked him for running off some of Tommy’s energy. Tommy said, “Richie’s a jock now!”

Their mother didn’t necessarily take that statement too seriously, until Rick told his parents that he and Dave had both signed up for JV football.

“Oh, Richard,” his mother said, “I don’t know that that’s such a good idea. Are you sure you want to do that?”

“Richard, let’s head upstairs,” his dad said. “It’s time for a shaving lesson.”

His dad presented him with a razor, shaving cream, and some after-shave lotion. Soon Rick’s thickening peach fuzz was swirling down the drain of the main bathroom, along with a small amount of blood. When he was done rinsing, his dad said, “Richard, your mother is having a little trouble dealing with the fact that her boy is becoming a man. I have no objection to your going out for football if that’s what you want, and I think it’s great that David is joining you, but you’ve got to admit it’s a big change for both of you. You can understand why your mother might be freaked out. I’ll talk to her, but Richard, take it easy, okay?

Later, after Rick and Dave had headed off to the football game and Tommy’s parents had put him to bed, Rick’s mother said, “What scares me is that they tell us to watch out if our kids suddenly change peer groups and start hanging out with a different crowd. Richard’s never been interested in sports before. Neither has David, as far as I know. Now suddenly Richard wants to go out for football? It doesn’t make any sense. And football’s dangerous.”

His dad said, “I get your point. I would be worried, too if Richard had suddenly dropped David as a friend, or if he started to hang around with kids who got in trouble or did drugs or whatever. But boys their age wanting to go out for sports is perfectly normal. And sure, maybe there’s some peer pressure behind it. They’re at a new school, and they’re trying to fit in. I don’t think it’s a bad sign that an older kid in one of their classes encouraged them to try out. Look at it this way: Richard’s not doing this alone, and it’s a great chance for those two to meet other guys their own age at school. Plus, they’ll be part of a team with a coach keeping an eye on them. They shouldn’t be able to get into any real trouble. If anything, there’ll be pressure on both of them to stay out of trouble so that they can stay on the team. I know it’s a big change, honey, but it’s not a bad thing. Not at all.”

“All the same,” said his mother, “I think it’s scary how quickly Richard has been changing. I made an appointment with his doctor to have him checked out.”

“That’s a great idea,” said his dad. “The doctor can let us know if there’s anything really wrong.”

Dave shouted himself hoarse at the game. He complained more than once to Rick over the weekend that his voice hadn’t recovered. By Sunday, he was texting Rick that he sounded as though he had a cold. Rick texted back, “u sure ur voice isn’t changing?”

“Over a weekend?” Dave asked.

“Dude, mine changed practically overnight.”

“Maybe ur rite”.

By Monday when they headed to school, there was no more doubt. Dave’s voice hadn’t quite settled yet, but it was changing fast. His zits were starting to clear up, too, just as dark fuzz was starting to shadow his lips and cheeks.

Later that week, Rick had to endure the humiliation of a full examination by his pediatrician. It turned out to be worth it, though; the doctor gave a glowing report to his mother: “Richard is a healthy young man. Very healthy, in fact, and growing fast. I don’t see any reason for him not to participate in athletics. He’ll benefit from the physical activity. One thing I will point out, though. Richard is, well, there’s no way to put this delicately, Richard is very well endowed for someone his age. It’s absolutely critical that he wear athletic supporters or at least supportive underwear when engaging in any sports. There’s nothing wrong with him wearing boxer shorts if he wants to, but not when playing football.”

Going to practice, learning how to put on their uniforms and protective gear correctly, playing in football games, and hanging out with their teammates and other jocks quickly reinforced Rick and Dave’s physical and mental changes. As the days and weeks passed by, they resembled their teammates more and more. They looked like jocks. They dressed like jocks. They sounded like jocks. They acted like jocks. Rick and Dave’s rooms, formerly neat and organized, grew messy and developed lingering odors of sweat and cheap body spray. Practice uniforms, cleats, jockstraps, and compression gear were strewn everywhere, and posters of athletes decorated the walls.

They talked like jocks, too. Rick’s father took him aside for a talk: “Richard, as you know, I have no problem with you playing football and hanging out with your friends. But I’m your father, not your bro, okay? And that goes quadruple for your mother. I mean it: no more calling your mom ‘dude’, and especially not ‘bro’. It freaks her out, okay? You don’t want to give your mother a bad time.”

“Okay, dude – I mean dad,” Rick chuckled.

“Very funny. I mean it, mister. Don’t think that you’ve gotten so big that I can’t show you who’s boss. I’m sure your coach and your teachers don’t let you get away with calling them ‘dude’. Have I made myself clear? Have I?”

“Yes, sir,” said Rick sullenly.

“That’s better. Now that we’ve cleared the air, I wanted to let you know how proud I am of you, son. I mean that. But life will be better for all of us around here if you take it easy on your mom.”

No one would call Rick or Dave scrawny now. They were still a long way from the size and bulk of an older jock like Connor, but their growth spurts and hours spent in the weight room had changed the former pipsqueak nerds into buff bros. Their hands had grown meaty and rough with calluses from handling barbells and footballs.

When it came to their schoolwork, the situation was – complicated. As Connor had promised, Rick got his brains back, mostly, and Dave had never lost his. Of course, they didn’t want to come off as brains, especially in front of their bros, but their bros weren’t the problem. If they got A’s on a test or an assignment, even their teachers were surprised, as if something wasn’t right with the universe. Jocks were expected to win games. No one expected them to be smart. Rick and Dave soon discovered that there was no point in working for an A. Everyone assumed that the teacher had gone easy on them because they were on the football team – or worse: that they’d bribed or bullied some nerd into doing their work. It became easier and easier to just go along with people’s lowered expectations. Internally seething at being treated like morons, their personalities became cocky and aggressive. They channeled all their efforts into their athletic pursuits, where at least their achievements were rewarded, and they soon came to despise nerds and brains as being a plague on the universe.

All Rick and Dave cared about at school now was playing sports, hanging out with their bros, and earning their varsity letters. When football season ended, Rick, who was getting tall, went out for basketball. Dave, who was shorter and becoming stocky, went out for wrestling. At home, Tommy eagerly emulated his big bro and started to get into sports himself. Rick returned the favor by making sure Tommy got plenty of activity outside throwing and catching balls, running, and tackling. In spring, when Rick and Dave had both gone out for baseball, Rick gave his little brother a nice leather catcher’s mitt for his birthday. Tommy now wanted to be football player or a baseball player when he grew up.

When they finally earned their letterman jackets, Rick and Dave were stoked to see that their bro Connor had come back from college to be there for the ceremony. Playing college football hadn’t made Connor any smaller; he looked as big as some of the pros. Connor was glad to see Rick and Dave, too. He was proud of his part in their transformations, but he hardly recognized them at first. Rick, a handsome young athlete with a lean, muscular build, was now taller than Connor himself. But the real shocker for Connor was Dave. The once slight nerd had morphed into a rough-voiced beefy lineman with a square head, solid neck, barrel chest, and massive thighs.

“Dave, damn, dude, you got thick! How much you weigh now, bro?” said Connor, slapping him in the middle of his broad back above his bulging glutes.

Swaggering proudly out of the gym after the ceremony, Rick and Dave were shooting the breeze with Connor, catching up on his college football career. Rick spotted their team’s geeky freshman water boy looking at Rick’s letterman jacket with an expression of envy and awe that Rick still dimly remembered. “Hey, little dude,” he said to the water boy, a friendly grin on his chiseled face. “You want to try my jacket on? See how you’d look?”

“Really?” squeaked the water boy. “You’d let me do that?”

“Sure, I would. Remind me what your name is again, bro.”

“Bradley” he breathed, looking both thrilled and terrified.

“Here ya go, Brad. Try this on for size.”

Rick took off his jacket and slung it over Bradley’s fragile frame. The heavy jacket looked likely to break Bradley in half, but his eyes shone with delight. “This is so cool!” he said. “Thank you so much! I’d give anything to be able to wear one of these.”

The genie told me it wasn't supposed to hurt but I have the worst migraine right now. I think i used my wishes to turn me into a tall popular jock? I dont really remember huhuhu... fuck why can't I think... man I'm horny as hell, this big ass dick needs something to fuck. You down bro? Ur ass is looking pretty tight bro, let me stretch you out pleassseee. Promise I can make you feel good huhuhuhu..

I have this weird power I think, I noticed it when I turned 18. My friends, the people I interact with on a daily basis, change. The less desirable things change. Some changes are small, some are more intense. I think it depends on how close I am to them. I've been staying over at my roommate Patrick's house for fall break. Patrick has always been an attractive guy, tall, muscular, charismatic, and of course I amplified it after we became closer. But when I met his dad he was the complete opposite. I could see the charm, he is a very charismatic- but physically he looked completely different. He carried more weight, a little slobish, patchy beard. Howeverz over the week he's been changing rapidly. In a way I've never seen before. The extra fat evaporated, replaced by thick muscle, his face more handsome, his patchy beard filling out. I think that this has been having a sort of butterfly effect on Patrick. I'm essentially rewritting reality and changing his DNA. He's been waking up taller too, just that much more attractive, brighter eyes, smaller waist, another row of abs, and let me tell you- being in a house with two hyper masculine attractive men for a week isn't easy for someone has horny as me.

You're the one that made me this way twig. I think you're fucking disgusting but you're the only one that can get me hard. I saw you're little computer project, making me all fucking buff and shit, smell all musky and rank. You love that shit don't you? Fuck I hate even talking to you like this, I know you like it, I know it get's your little dick all hard hearing my deep ass voice tell you that I hate you. But I do genuinely hate you. I used to be a fucking wiz- full ride scholarship, all that shit, but now all you let me do now is go to the gym and fuck you. Girls can't even get me hard anymore it's fucking lame. Now come over here so I can release these balls, you've been blue balling me for too long.

Hey everyone! This is part of a story trade with @axeeglitter. Highly recommend you check out some of their stuff. This story is a combination of inanimate and jock tf. Enjoy!

Conner couldn’t even begin to understand what happened. His mind a jumbled mess of thoughts and emotions- trying desperately to understand his new reality. His body unable to move despite him desperately wanting to. He could feel a rough hand press against what had been his face. Forcing it up against the hardening member of his tormentor.

“God, this always feels good.” He could hear Coach Phillips’ voice echo around him.

The pleasure was certainly intense. And Conner could barely string together a thought. But he could remember bits and pieces of what happened. The young twink was worried about his football star boyfriend. Liam was always busy around this time of year- football practice took up most of his time. But ever since Coach Phillips took over, it was far worse. And sure there were pros. He loved the way his boyfriend’s thick arms felt around him. And Liam’s increased sex drive wasn’t something Conner complained about. But the young twink also noticed other changes. Liam was usually warm and kind, but now he was somewhat robotic. Eat, practice, eat, workout, bed. Other aspects of his life like school and dates were pushed aside.

“Coach... please... don’t...” Conner could hear Liam’s voice. He sounded so scared; straining to get his words out. And Conner wanted to hug and comfort his boyfriend. But he couldn’t. The reality of his new situation slowly dawning on him. 

He only wanted to help. When Liam missed another planned date, Conner finally went to confront him. He went to the football team’s weight room, where he found his boyfriend working out. And no matter how he tried to get Liam’s attention, his boyfriend was in a trance-like state. It then happened so quickly. Coach Phillips appeared, led both of them back to his office, and then... He could remember his arms wrapping around coach’s waist, the man’s cock deep in his throat. He remembers his body shifting and deflating. His face flattening and cupping coach’s cock. And then... and then... Conner could feel Coach’s dick start to throb and he knew what was coming. And in that moment, the fabric of Conner’s new body was saturated in Coach Phillips’ seed.

“Fuck... that felt good...” Coach Phillips moaned, his cock softening, “You know Liam, your boyfriend makes a great jockstrap.” Conner felt a hand smear the cum into his new fabric body, his thoughts fogging over, “Oh is that a tear? I told you, I needed focus and no distractions. Now, get back to your work out.”

“Yes coach.” Came Liam’s defeated and robotic voice. No resistance left in his hypnotized little brain. His mind caving after witnessing the love of his life turned into a mere undergarment.  

Conner could hear the door to the office close as Liam left. The pleasure of the last few minutes was dissipating now, and the horror of his situation began to dawn on him. He was a jockstrap. Coach Phillips’ jockstrap. The musky smell emanating from the coach’s thick cock and cum were unbearable.

“Don’t worry about him. I’ll take care of him.” Coach Phillips said, “He’ll be so much easier to keep under my thumb with you out of the way.” Conner wanted to cry- frustrated he couldn’t save his boyfriend from this, “Honestly, I’d be more concerned for yourself.” Coach chuckled, “After all, we’ve got plenty of time together.”

He wasn’t lying. Day after day, Conner would experience the same routine. Coach would wake up with a fierce morning wood that pressed unbearably into Conner’s fabric face. He’d quickly unload and go for a jog, his sweat and musk permeating deeply into Conner’s body. Afterwards, he’d drive to campus where he’d lift weights and continue pouring sweat into his jockstrap.

“Hey Liam.” He could hear Coach Phillips say, “Your boyfriend is awfully comfortable.” He’d mock. Liam would only nod, his mind completely broken- just another drone on coach’s football team.

And this cycle would continue. Days would turn into weeks and weeks into months. Conner’s mind was slowly deteriorating. If he wasn’t being worn, he’d be thrown into a pile with other smelly jockstraps. Unwashed and abused. Resisting the realization that not being worn was far worse for his mental state. After a few days of sitting in the pile, Conner began to miss coach’s cock. He missed the feeling of the warm sweat and musk. And to his horror, he came to realize he was accepting his new existence. Crave it actually. What else was left for him anyway? When Coach Phillips eventually did put him back on, Conner was gone. Just a jockstrap, thirsty for coach’s cum and sweat. And he couldn’t be happier.

It was perhaps a few weeks later when coach removed the jockstrap. Coach Phillips grinned as he threw it to the ground in his office and mumbled a few words. And suddenly, fabric became flesh. Bones hardened into existence, muscles expanding into a godly physique, veins pulsed with blood, and the former jockstrap looked up at Coach Phillips with curiosity. The new man slowly moved muscular limbs that had been frozen for at least a year. He felt his warm, tanned skin. His squeezed his thick pecs. He ran a hand through his short blond hair. Part of him confused- wasn’t he a jockstrap? And before that, wasn’t he a twink? Coach’s essence had molded the former twink into the perfect specimen of masculinity- his new perfect football player.

“Conner.” Coach Phillips said.

“Conner?” Conner’s deep voice echoed throughout the office, “Coach.” He couldn’t help but stare at coach’s semi-hard member. Drool pooling in the corner of his mouth. He already was missing it.

“I think someone would like to see you.”

And Conner turned to see a man he vaguely recognized walk into the office. He knew this man was important to him. But he didn’t recognize the massive pecs and arms, gleaming with sweat from an intense workout, nor the cocky grin and vacant eyes on his chiseled face- features that the old Liam never possessed. Now just a product of at least a year of coach’s unrelenting hypnosis. But in Liam’s vacant eyes, Conner could see a sudden spark of recognition.

“This is Conner, our new teammate.” Coach Phillips says, “I’d like you to give him a tour. You have the whole place to yourself.”

“Yes coach.” Liam’s now cocky, deep voice echoed through the room. He was nothing more than coach’s himbo football drone now.

And as Liam led Conner around the weight room, the two would bump into one another. Taking every possible opportunity to feel each other’s muscles. And finally, after a year of separation, Liam pulled Conner into a deep and loving kiss. The two squeezing each other’s pecs and running their hands passionately through each other’s hair. Their tongues did battle as the two boyfriends quickly made up for lost time, uncaring that it was in the middle of the workout room. And when Liam finally topped Conner for the first time in a year, the two lovers howled in passion.

“I love you, babe.” Liam said, his eyes still vacant, “I’m so glad you’re on the team.”

“I love you too.” Conner’s equally vacant eyes stared into Liam’s.

The two were nothing more than coach’s drones. Muscular men, both of whom were beasts on the field. But despite their broken minds and utter devotion to their master, the two had one another. The remnants of an old life guiding them and an unexplainable feeling saying they needed to enjoy this time while it lasted. Both unsure what would happen when the season ended and master had no further use for the pair of sweaty, meaty football jocks.

Aiden wasn't normally the type of person who believed in superstitions, but life had been rough lately, and he could really use the break. His roommate was-- well, no, that wasn't fair. He'd realized over the course of the semester that he was a gay man, and so the athletic roommate who had been assigned to him at the start of the year had changed from 'chill guy, nothing in common' to 'object of his wanking fantasies' over these past few months. It wasn't Tom's fault, but having to spend so much time in close proximity to the man was pure agony. His smile stabbed at his very heart, and Aiden was incapable of saying no to those eyes of his. The way he had a habit of walking around wearing nothing but a bathrobe didn't help, either.

He'd been able to hand wave away most of his awkward behaviors under the guise of a conservative upbringing (which was true, after all) but at a certain point, Tom was sure to start getting suspicious. The man wasn't outright hateful, but it was pretty clear from some of his idle chatter that Tom didn't feel comfortable around gay men. He'd complain about some bear who had hit on him at the bar, or about the flamboyant twink at the gym who kept pausing mid-workout to take selfies. Tom might not become outright hostile, but there was no way their relaxed cohabitation could ever remain the same. He looked outside his bedroom window, where the local news had promised he could see some of the Geminid meteor showers if there hadn't been clouds in the way. He waited until 11:11 to maximize his odds before making a wish.

"I wish my roommate could love and accept me for who I am," he whispered.

His reverie was interrupted by the sound of muffled screams coming from Tom's room. It wasn't uncommon given how thin the dorm room walls were, but they sounded less like angry League of Legends noises and more like panic? Aiden didn't have much time to further reflect-- Tom flung open his door, breathing heavily as he glanced around the room. "Hey, you!" he said, once he noticed Aiden sitting at his desk. "Are you normal? Or did it only happen to me?" Aiden raised an eyebrow in response. "Was it only me? Dude, I-- I'm not me. This isn't… I don't know who you think I am, but this isn't my body."

Aiden stood up, trying to decide if Tom had concussed himself, or he was just playing some sort of weird prank on him. "Tom, are you… doing okay?"

"No, dude!" he yelled. "I'm not doing okay because I'm not Tom! My name is Sanjay. I was just sitting in my room, and then suddenly I'm in a dark room, laying in a bed that's not mine. And I thought maybe… I dunno, maybe everyone switched? But if you're still you, maybe just me and this guy have… oh. Oh wow," he said, seeming to notice his new abs for the first time. Sanjay ran his hand across his new chest, feeling the bumps and curves of Tom's hard work. "I… there are definitely worse bodies to be stuck in," he said, giving his right arm a test flex. He pulled open the waistband of his boxer briefs before suddenly darting his eyes back at Aiden. "Shit, I'm so sorry. I kind of lost myself there for a moment. Here I am groping this guy's body right in front of you. Tom, you said? Is there, uhh… is there a bathroom nearby?" Aiden couldn't help but laugh at the sight-- the cheeks of Tom's body were flush with embarrassment, and the man was starting to tent in his pants. "There wasn't a mirror in his room, so I don't actually know what my new face looks like."

"Ah. Well, the only bathroom is the community one for the whole floor, so it's not going to be very private," Aiden said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I mean, it would let you see your face, but like… if you're gonna check out your new, ahh… the rest of your body, the shower stalls don't… people would hear you," he mumbled.

Sanjay managed to become even more embarrassed. "Right. Yes, my new… the thought had crossed my mind," he said, absentmindedly adjusting the manhood that was now forming a noticeable bulge. "I am so sorry, this must be so crazy. Your roommate starts yelling about body swaps and now he's standing in front of you and groping himself. You probably still think Tom is pranking you. Fuck, dude." He paused, biting his lip. "Hey, weird question. Can I use your phone? For the camera, I mean. Now that I'm aware I don't know what my face looks like, I'm kinda freaking out a bit."

Aiden hesitated, before unlocking his phone and handing it over to the stranger who claimed that he wasn't Tom. "Holy shit," Sanjay said, rubbing his fingers along his jaw. "I'm fucking gorgeous. I… fuck, dude. Just look at this body! I hope you know you're the only reason I'm not buck naked and fingering this bussy like it owes me money. Sorry for all of the noises I'm gonna make back in that other bedroom." Aiden blinked in disbelief, but Sanjay didn't seem to notice. "Oh, here's your phone back, before I forget," he said, tossing it onto Aiden's bed.

"Umm, thanks," Aiden said, still not quite sure what to think of this interaction. It was exactly the sort of weird Theatre Kid prank he and his friends would have played on each other back in High School. But this was Tom, the guy who didn't have a creative bone in his (admittedly well-muscled) body. Had someone put him up to this? "Are you, uhhh… are you gonna be okay in there?"

He replied by cupping his pecs and giving them a firm squeeze. "Trust me, dude. I'm going to be more than okay. You know what's wild, though? Before all of this happened, I was thinking to myself-- man, I wish I had a cute boyfriend who could love me for who I am, and not just my inheritance or my family connections. Now I'm gonna have to make sure I can find someone who loves me for who I am, and not just this sick fuckin' bod."

"Wait, you made a wish too?" Aiden said. Sanjay cocked an eyebrow in his direction. "Before you started screaming, I had made a wish of my own. I make wishes all the time, but that's not… none of them are this strong!" he insisted, seeing the curious look on Sanjay's face. "I don't even remember what I wished for. The phrasing, I mean. I wanted Tom to stop being such a homophobic asshole, and… oh. Oh, right," he said, feeling himself start to blush. "I said that I wanted him to accept me. And… ummm. And to love me."

Sanjay let out a short peal of laughter. "I mean, the new Tom definitely accepts you. I'm gay as hell! Love, though, it's a bit too soon for that. You're pretty cute, though. Help me blend into my new life, and we can go on a few dates. What d'you think, dude? Like, I don't want to guarantee a relationship, but if the fuckin' cosmos swapped my body to be your boyfriend, I should at least give it a trial run, you know?"

Aiden could feel his brain starting to blue screen. Tom would never joke about something like this. But the alternative, the thought that Tom had swapped bodies with this random stranger-- one who was willing to date him, no less-- was simply unbelievable. "You… are you serious?" he said. "But what about the real Tom? Shouldn't we be trying to reverse this?"

"Fuck that!" Sanjay said, flexing his biceps. "Dude, I'm the real Tom now, because there's no way I am giving this up. Hell, for all we know, old Tom wished for a lot of money and that's why now he's in my body. And he can have it, sounds like he'll get along great with my parents if he was bad enough for you to be wishing to change him. I'm sure the cosmos wouldn't have swapped our bodies unless everyone came out ahead. Stars are for wishing, dude. There's no monkey's paw bullshit involved."

The man had a point, Aiden had to admit. None of the folklore around wishes ever involved consequences. Maybe sometimes you had to work towards a happily ever after, but the wish itself was always genuine. "I mean… okay, yes. But, I still feel a bit guilty without knowing what happened to the real Tom. Or, the old Tom, I guess. Is he going to be okay in your life? Stars are for wishing, but like… if you're gonna argue fiction tropes, body swaps are supposed to be reversed."

Sanjay grabbed the waistband of his boxer briefs and flung them to the ground. "If you reverse this body swap, you'll never get to suck this dick."