Dumb Dog

(AI-Generated)

Jacob’s life was a patchwork of false starts and fleeting hopes. At twenty-four, he was still adrift, a young gay man trying to carve out a place in a world that seemed to push back at every turn. His jobs never lasted, either too dull or too demanding, and his dating life was a string of awkward encounters that fizzled before they began. His small apartment in the aging complex on the edge of town was his only constant, a cramped sanctuary that came with its own burdens. Rent was a monthly battle, and the man who collected it, Stuart Gawne, was a force of nature Jacob could neither escape nor ignore.

Mr. Gawne was the landlord from hell. At forty-five, he ruled the complex with an iron fist, his temper as sharp as his hazel eyes. He was strict, demanding rent on the precise day it was due, and his deep voice, laced with a thick Scottish accent, could cut through walls.

“You think I’m running a bloody hotel, lad?” he’d snap, pounding on Jacob’s door if payment was even an hour late. “Pay up, or you’re out.” His irritability was legendary among the tenants, his condescending tone a weapon he wielded freely.

But for reasons Jacob couldn’t fathom, Mr. Gawne seemed to harbor a particular resentment toward him. Random inspections were a ritual, the landlord barging into Jacob’s apartment with a scowl, citing vague complaints about noise or clutter. Once, he’d leaned in close, his stubble glinting in the light, and accused Jacob of disturbing the building with loud sexual hookups. “I’ve got tenants complaining about your… escapades,” he’d said, his voice dripping with disdain.

Jacob’s face had burned as he stammered a defense. “I haven’t had anyone over in years, Mr. Gawne. I swear.” It was true. His bed had been empty for over two years, his love life reduced to fleeting fantasies. The accusation stung, not just for its falsehood but because it came from the man who haunted his thoughts day and night.

Reporting Mr. Gawne for harassment was the logical move, but Jacob couldn’t bring himself to do it. The truth, buried deep beneath his frustration, was that he was hopelessly attracted to the older man. Stuart Gawne was a study in rugged perfection. Tall and lean, he kept his body honed with daily morning jogs and calisthenics, his frame a blend of muscle and sinew. Dark hair blanketed his chest and arms, a stark contrast to his pale skin, and his short brown hair, streaked with gray, framed a face that was unfairly handsome. His salt-and-pepper stubble sharpened the intensity of his hazel eyes, which seemed to see right through Jacob. That Scottish accent, rich and commanding, sent shivers down his spine, even when it was laced with venom. Every barked order, every curt word, only deepened Jacob’s inexplicable crush.

He’d lie awake at night, his mind spinning vivid fantasies. He’d imagine Mr. Gawne finishing his morning jog, sweat gleaming on his hairy chest, bounding up the stairs to Jacob’s apartment. In these dreams, the landlord would kick open the door, his deep voice growling Jacob’s name as he pinned him to the couch, taking him with a ferocity that left Jacob breathless. Jacob would run his hands over that furry body, feeling the heat of his skin, the flex of his muscles, the scratch of his stubble. But reality was crueler. Those nights ended with Jacob alone, stroking himself to the image of Mr. Gawne, guilt and longing twisting in his gut.

—

It was a Saturday afternoon when the chaos began. Jacob was sprawled on his couch, halfheartedly scrolling through job listings, when he overheard Mr. Gawne’s voice in the hallway, sharp with irritation. “A bloody raccoon in the storage space? Are you kidding me?”

A tenant had reported the intrusion, and Mr. Gawne, never one to trust others with his domain, stormed off to investigate. Jacob peeked through his window, watching the landlord stride toward the basement entrance, his broad shoulders tense under a fitted polo.

Down in the underground storage, the air was cool and musty, the dim lights casting long shadows. Mr. Gawne moved with purpose, his flashlight slicing through the darkness as he navigated the maze of locked units. A faint scurrying drew him to one door, secured with heavy chains. Muttering curses, he retrieved a bolt cutter from his toolbox and snapped the lock, shoving the door open.

The unit was a cluttered trove of oddities: old trunks, dusty stage props, a sequined cape draped over a crate. He stepped inside, his boots crunching on the concrete, and nearly tripped over a box. His hand shot out, grabbing a velvet cover to steady himself, and it slipped to the floor.

Beneath it stood a large, ornate mirror, its golden frame gleaming in the flashlight’s beam. Mr. Gawne straightened, expecting to see his own reflection: the chiseled jaw, the hairy chest, the man he’d sculpted through years of discipline. But the face staring back wasn’t his. It was old, weathered, with sagging skin and watery eyes. He gasped, stumbling back, his heart pounding. 

“What the hell is this?” he muttered, his accent thick with shock. 

He reached out, fingers brushing the mirror’s surface, and a pulse of light flared through the room. When his vision cleared, he looked down, horror seizing him. His hands were gnarled, his body frail. He screamed, a weak, reedy sound, and bolted from the unit, leaving the mirror behind.

Jacob’s POV

I woke from a nap, my head fuzzy and my body heavy with the weight of another aimless day. The afternoon sun slanted through my apartment window, and a commotion outside pulled me to my feet. I leaned against the glass, squinting at the scene below. A police car sat in the lot, its lights flashing lazily. Two officers stood by an old man, frail and wild-eyed, who was shouting and waving his arms. His voice carried faintly, frantic words about a “magic mirror” in the storage space and how he wasn’t who he appeared to be.

“I’m Stuart Gawne!” he cried, his voice cracking. “I’m the landlord! That’s not my body!” The cops exchanged weary glances, one scribbling notes while the other tried to calm him, clearly thinking he was out of his mind.

I pressed my face closer to the window, curiosity sparking. A magic mirror? Down in the storage? It sounded like nonsense, but the old man’s desperation was palpable. I grabbed my sneakers, slipped them on, and crept downstairs, avoiding the chaos outside.

The entrance to the underground storage was unguarded, and I slipped inside, the cool, musty air enveloping me. My footsteps echoed as I ventured deeper, passing rows of locked units, their metal doors glinting dully. Then I saw it: one unit with its door ajar, a bolt cutter lying on the floor like a discarded clue. My pulse quickened, and I stepped inside, my breath catching.

The unit was a hoard of strange relics: crates stuffed with sequined costumes, a top hat perched on a shelf, a wand that looked like it belonged in a magic show. I froze, a memory clicking into place. This was Old Man Kessler’s unit. He’d been a retired magician, a quirky tenant who’d vanished three years ago. The story was whispered among the residents. Kessler had been caught on a security camera entering the storage area, but he never came out. A college jock had emerged minutes later, claiming he hadn’t seen the old man. The police found nothing, and the case went cold. As I scanned the room, a chill ran through me. That old man outside, the one claiming to be Mr. Gawne… he looked eerily like Kessler. But that couldn’t be right, could it?

I moved deeper, my foot catching on a crate. I stumbled, catching myself on a box, and when I straightened, my heart stopped. There, in the dim light, stood Stuart Gawne. His tall, muscular frame filled the space, his hazel eyes locked on mine, intense and unyielding. I froze, my throat tightening, and raised a hand in a shaky wave.

“Uh, Mr. Gawne? What are you doing here?” I stammered, but he mirrored me exactly, his hand lifting in sync.

Confused, I lowered my arm, and he did the same. I took a step back; he followed. I bent to pick up a crate, and he mimicked me, his movements fluid, precise. My eyes caught the golden frame, ornate and gleaming, and it hit me. This was a mirror. But why was it showing him?

I stepped closer, my breath shallow. “This doesn’t make sense,” I muttered, touching my cheek. His reflection copied me, his fingers brushing that salt-and-pepper stubble. I stuck out my tongue, winked, and there he was, the stoic landlord, smirking playfully. My crush roared to life, a heat spreading through me.

“Holy shit,” I whispered, testing it further. I tugged off my T-shirt, tossing it aside, and watched, jaw dropping, as his reflection peeled off his polo, revealing that perfect, hairy chest. Dark curls spread across his pecs, trailing down to sculpted abs, and I stood there, awestruck, my fantasies unfolding in real time.

“What are you?” I said, circling the mirror. I ran my hands over my chest, and he did the same, his rugged fingers gliding over that furry expanse. I tugged at the air, pretending to pluck at chest hair, and seeing him mirror it sent a jolt through me. My cock twitched, desire flooding my veins. 

“This is insane,” I breathed, but I couldn’t stop. I slid a hand down, grabbing my crotch, and watched him grip his own, his jeans bulging. I shoved my sweatpants down, kicking them away, and he shed his jeans, standing in boxers that hugged his thick thighs. My own cock was average, forgettable, but in the mirror, his was a masterpiece: long, curved, nestled in a dark bush of hair. My mouth watered, my body burning.

I gripped my cock, stroking slowly, my eyes glued to his reflection. “You’re so fucking hot,” I murmured, and he matched me, his hand pumping that gorgeous member, his hairy legs spread wide. One hand roamed his chest, tugging at fur, while drool glistened on his stubbled chin. It was everything I’d dreamed of, every late-night fantasy brought to life. “Yeah, just like that,” I said, my voice thick with lust.

I stepped closer, desperate to see his face, to catch every detail of that flushed, orgasmic expression. His cock pulsed in his hand, thick and veined, and the sight pushed me over the edge. “Stuart,” I moaned, my voice breaking as I came, cum splattering the mirror’s surface. His reflection erupted too, load after load coating the glass, his face red and rapturous, a vision I’d only imagined in my darkest moments.

Panting, I leaned forward, my hand pressing against the mirror for support. The moment my skin touched the surface, the glass pulsed, glowing with an otherworldly light. A blinding flash exploded through the room, and I staggered back, shielding my eyes. When the light faded, I lowered my arm and froze. My own face stared back from the mirror, my scrawny frame, my plain features. Disappointment stabbed at me.

“Guess all good things end,” I muttered, but my voice stopped me cold. It was deep, resonant, laced with a Scottish accent. 

“No fucking way,” I said, and looked down. A hairy chest, sculpted and broad, stretched beneath my gaze. My hands, now strong and veined, led to that curved, perfect cock. I ran my fingers over my face, feeling stubble, and swore again. The shock was too much, and my new cock twitched, firing another load across the cum-streaked mirror.

I was Stuart Gawne. His body, his musk, his everything. “This is real,” I said, scratching my stubble, inhaling the rich scent of my armpits. “I’m him.” I grinned, my hazel eyes gleaming in the dim light.

On the floor lay his polo, his jeans, and I rifled through the pockets, finding his keys, wallet, and smartphone. A fancy watch on my wrist showed only twenty minutes had passed. But the police would be here soon, led by that old man who was probably the real Stuart Gawne. I wasn’t giving this up.

“You’re mine now,” I said to my reflection, a mischievous grin plastered on my new handsome face.

End of POV

Five minutes later, the old man, still insisting he was Stuart Gawne, dragged the two policemen down to the underground storage area. His frail hands trembled with desperation, his voice thin and frantic as he pleaded his case. 

“It’s here, I swear,” he panted, his watery eyes darting between the officers. “The mirror stole my body! I’m Stuart Gawne, not this… this husk!”

The policemen followed, their patience fraying, one muttering under his breath about wasting time on a lunatic. The old man led them to the unlocked unit, his steps unsteady as he reached for the velvet cover draped over what he believed was his salvation. “You’ll see,” he said, his voice cracking with hope. “It’s right here.”

He yanked the cover down, and his face crumpled, a choked gasp escaping him. The mirror was shattered, its golden frame surrounding a pile of jagged shards that glittered on the concrete. The bolt cutter lay nearby, its blades glinting accusingly, clearly the tool used to destroy the artifact. The old man staggered back, his hands shaking as he pointed at the wreckage.

“It was here,” he stammered, his voice breaking. “It… it took me! I was me, and now I’m… this!” He clutched at his sagging face, tears streaming down his wrinkled cheeks. The officers exchanged looks, their expressions hardening. This man was delusional, possibly dangerous, and the broken mirror only confirmed their suspicions of vandalism.

“Sir, you need to calm down,” the older officer said, his tone firm but tired. “You’re not making any sense.”

“It makes perfect sense!” the old man cried, his voice rising to a wail. “That mirror swapped me! I’m Stuart Gawne! I own this building! You have to believe me!”

Before the younger officer could respond, a deep voice cut through the silence, smooth and confident with a thick Scottish accent. “Gentlemen, everything alright down here?”

They turned to see a man standing in the doorway, his presence commanding the dim space. Tall, muscular, and undeniably handsome, he strode forward, his fitted polo hugging a hairy chest, his hazel eyes warm but authoritative. His salt-and-pepper stubble gleamed under the flickering lights, and his short brown hair was neatly tousled. He extended a hand, his grip strong as he shook theirs.

“Stuart Gawne, landlord of this complex,” he said, his smile disarming, his accent rolling off his tongue like a warm invitation. “What’s the trouble?”

The younger officer blushed, caught off guard by the man’s charisma, and fumbled with his notebook. “Uh, we got a call about a disturbance, Mr. Gawne. This… gentleman claims there’s some kind of magic mirror down here. Says he’s you.”

Jacob, now fully inhabiting Stuart Gawne’s body, raised an eyebrow, his expression a perfect blend of concern and amusement. “Is that so?” he said, glancing at the old man with a pitying shake of his head. “Poor bastard’s been causing trouble for a while now.”

The old man’s eyes widened, horror dawning as he saw his own body standing there, alive and smug. “That’s me!” he screamed, lunging at Jacob with surprising strength for his frail frame. “You thief! Give me my body back!” His gnarled hands clawed at the air, but the police reacted swiftly, grabbing his arms and pulling him back. The younger officer snapped handcuffs on his wrists, and the old man thrashed, spitting incoherent pleas. “I’m Stuart Gawne! He’s a fake! The mirror… it swapped us! You have to listen!”

“Enough of that,” the older officer said, his voice sharp as he tightened his grip. “You’re only making this worse for yourself.”

Jacob stepped forward, his posture relaxed but commanding, his accent rich and convincing. “Thank you, officers,” he said, crossing his arms, his biceps flexing under the polo. “This old bastard’s been stalking me for months. Obsessed, you know? Kept saying he wanted my life, my face. Broke into the storage and smashed that mirror, as you can see.” He gestured at the wreckage, his tone steady, authoritative. “I’ve been meaning to report him, but I didn’t think he’d go this far.”

The older officer nodded, scribbling in his notebook. “Sounds like breaking and entering, harassment as well. You want to press charges, Mr. Gawne?”

“Aye, I do,” Jacob said, his hazel eyes narrowing as he glanced at the old man, who was now sobbing quietly. “He’s been a menace. Scaring my tenants, causing trouble. I’d like a restraining order too, keep him away from this building and me for good.”

The younger officer hesitated, glancing at the old man, whose rants had dissolved into incoherent mumbles. “He keeps saying he’s you, sir. You sure you don’t know him? Maybe an old relative or something?”

Jacob chuckled, the sound deep and warm, disarming the officer’s doubt. “Do I look like I’m related to that? No, officer, he’s just a sad old man with a fixation. I’ve seen him lurking around, watching me. Gives me the creeps, to be honest.”

The older officer sighed, closing his notebook. “Alright, Mr. Gawne. We’ll take him in, process the charges. You’ll need to come by the station later to give a formal statement.”

“Happy to,” Jacob said, flashing a smile that made the younger officer blush again. “Appreciate you handling this so quickly.”

As the police hauled the old man out, his cries echoed through the basement, growing fainter until they were gone. Jacob stood alone in the storage unit, the shattered mirror at his feet, his new body thrumming with a mix of triumph and exhilaration. He ran a hand over his stubbled jaw, feeling the scratch of it, and inhaled deeply, the musky scent of his new skin filling his lungs. 

“You’re mine now, Stuart,” he murmured, his accent natural, as if he’d been born with it. He grabbed the bolt cutter, tucked it under his arm, and headed upstairs, his heavy boots echoing with purpose.

—

The landlord’s apartment was on the top floor, a corner unit with wide windows and a view of the city’s edge. Jacob unlocked the door with his new keys, the click of the lock sending a thrill through him. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, and stood still for a moment, taking it all in. The space was masculine and orderly, with dark wood furniture, a leather couch, and a faint scent of musk that matched his own. It was Stuart’s world, and now it was his. He wandered through, trailing his fingers over the surfaces, each touch grounding him in this new reality. A shelf held whiskey bottles, their labels worn from use. A framed photo showed Stuart with a group of friends, all laughing, his arm slung around a man Jacob didn’t recognize. A diploma on the wall bore Stuart’s name, a testament to a life Jacob now owned.

“Bloody hell, this is real,” he said, his voice deep and rich, the Scottish accent rolling effortlessly. He opened the closet, finding rows of clothes that fit his new frame perfectly: polos, jeans, a leather jacket that he slipped on, admiring how it hugged his broad shoulders. He caught his reflection in a hallway mirror, his hazel eyes gleaming, his stubble glinting in the light. “Look at you,” he said, grinning. “Stuart Gawne, you handsome bastard.”

The bedroom called to him, and he stepped inside, the air thick with that familiar musk. He threw himself onto the bed, burying his face in the sheets. They smelled of him, deep and earthy, and he inhaled deeply, his body stirring. 

“Fuck, you smell good,” he said, his voice low and husky.

He humped the bed slowly, the silk grazing his hairy chest and thighs, each thrust igniting his senses. His cock, thick and curved, pressed against the fabric, and he let himself go, grinding harder, his breaths coming in short gasps. The pleasure built, raw and overwhelming, and he came, cum soaking the sheets as a guttural groan filled the room. He lay there, panting, his hairy chest heaving, the afterglow wrapping him in a warm haze.

Across the room, a full-length mirror stood against the wall, its surface gleaming in the soft light. Jacob rose, stripping off his clothes until he stood naked, every inch of Stuart’s body exposed. He approached the mirror slowly, his heart pounding with a mix of awe and hesitation. The reflection was Stuart Gawne, every detail perfect: the hairy pecs, the sculpted abs, the thick cock nestled in dark hair. He squeezed his pecs, feeling the muscle flex, and ran a hand over his stubbled jaw, his short hair.

“This is me now,” he said, the Scottish accent rolling out naturally. “Stuart Gawne, in the flesh.”

His fingers drifted lower, fondling his cock and balls, the sensation sending shivers through him. “You’re mine,” he said, his eyes locked on the reflection. “This body, this life, this identity. All mine.”

He reached out, his hand hovering over the mirror’s surface, a flicker of fear tightening his chest. What if it was another trick? What if touching it sent him back to his old, scrawny self? He swallowed, his hazel eyes narrowing with determination.

“No going back,” he said, and pressed his palm against the glass.

The surface was cold, solid, unyielding. The reflection didn’t waver. It was him, hairy, fit, and handsome, forever. An exhilarating grin spread across his face, his stubble stretching, his eyes gleaming with triumph.

“Well, Stuart,” he said, his voice a deep rumble, “looks like I’m you for good.” He stepped back, flexing his arms, watching the muscles ripple in the mirror. “Time to enjoy my new life.”

He turned, grabbing a pair of Stuart’s boxers from a drawer and slipping them on, the fabric hugging his thighs. Tomorrow, he’d head to the office, manage the tenants, maybe even jog through the streets, letting the world see the new Stuart Gawne. For now, he sank back onto the bed, his body heavy with satisfaction, and closed his eyes. This was his, every inch absolute perfection. His body, his life, his reflection.

[A story commissioned by @jamesi2]

James had been seeing the posts from MagicAl1968 all over the TF forums. He’d always just shook his head and ignored them. Some people just got too into the role-playing aspect, which sometimes bummed him out. As fun as it was to close his eyes and pretend he was swapping bodies with a hot middle-aged bear, it kind of ruined the fantasy to finally open his eyes and see his same old skinny, hairless twink frame in the mirror.

James sighed while he clicked through the latest stories, finding nothing in particular to interest him. There was plenty of new material, but it was nerd to jock this, or hot twink to hot bearded twink that. That was all well and good, but James yearned for age progression body swaps, accept no substitutes. He’d realized he was attracted to bears seven years ago, when he was twelve and realized he was rewatching Who Framed Roger Rabbit? over and over again not for Jessica Rabbit, but for Bob Hoskins.

He clicked and clicked, frowning as he nibbled on a stalk of celery. His vegan diet and ascetic avoidance of drugs and alcohol were the reason he’d gotten a full ride scholarship to be on his university’s swim team. As soon as he realized no matter what he ate, he couldn’t gain a pound, he decided he might as well lean in the other direction. But he still yearned to live a life like the characters in the stories he was addicted to reading. Imagine it: Still having muscle, but buried under a hefty layer of hairy flesh. He could imagine patting his furry gut, not giving two shits about how many slices of pizza he was shoving down his gullet. Not having to shave his entire body to be more hydrodynamic. The freedom must be intocixating.

His stomach rumbled. Fuck it. He clicked back to the tab with the post from MagicAl1968. Nobody ever responded to them, probably because the dude seemed a little intense. This post was titled:

this is REAL LIFE, BODY SWAP with MIDDLE-AGED Philly Bear TODAY!!!!!! Live Your Deepest Fantasies!

Story suggested by anonymous user.

I stood outside the door to my apartment. I had been there for a little while, just thinking. I looked down at the glass vial in my hand. Was I really about to do this?

For some context, two years ago, I met my now roommate Dave at a party for grad students. We really hit it off, became close friends, and quickly moved in together to finish our studies. He was charming and hot, really hot. He used to play football in high school, so he's got a strong build, but it's obvious college hit him hard. By the time I had met him, he had become a bit chubby with a small belly from the many frat parties spent chugging beers.

The point is, I had a crush on him, but he was obviously straight. He even got so comfortable with me that he sometimes just walked around the apartment naked. At first I hoped this was because he secretly liked me too, but there's no way. He was just confident in himself and his body, which is why I found it so confusing when he went on ozempic. In the span of one semester he had basically lost all his fat, making him around my size but with a six pack.

I know, you're thinking "why is that a bad thing?" Well I still think he's hot, but it doesn't feel like him, at least the version of him I've come to know over the past two years. He's more quiet and reserved than he was before, his presence feels smaller everywhere he goes. Am I selfish for wanting the old version of him back?

That's why I found myself standing outside my apartment holding a vial of Bearzempic. I saw an ad for it earlier in the week and I couldn't stop thinking about it. A drug meant to make bulking easier, it's perfect.

I sighed before finally opening the door. I hung up my coat and took off my boots before shuffling past the living room to the kitchen. Dave was laying on the couch watching TV, with nothing but a small towel covering his naked body.

"Hey man!" Dave said with a smile. "What's up."

"Oh, just getting back from class." I said, lying through my teeth. "You?"

"Just got out of the shower, I had a nice workout this morning." He said, flexing his arms.

I gave an awkward smile before continuing to the kitchen. I opened the fridge to see Dave's protein shakes portioned out for the next few days. This was my shot, I have to take it. I peeked over to the living room, confirming that Dave was distracted by his show before grabbing the shakes and placing them on the counter. I pulled out the Bearzempic and skimmed through the fine print. "Mix one drop of solution with a drink before a workout. DO NOT DRINK SOLUTION DIRECTLY." it said, so I poured one or two drops in each of his shakes before quickly shoving them back into the fridge.

The rush of adrenaline kept me up all night as I thought about what I had just done, and what Dave would look like as a result. I had no idea how fast or effective the Bearzempic would be, but I planned on keeping a close eye on it.

The next day, I rushed home from class, excited to check up on Dave. He was on the couch as usual, but this time he had a shirt on.

"Hey." I said as I walked in.

"Hey dude, what's going on." He replied.

"Nothing much, you?"

"It's been a rough day actually, my stomach is killing me, I've been bloated all day." He said with a sigh as he patted his stomach.

I hadn't even noticed the small mound hiding under his shirt, he had a small belly growing under there. I didn't expect it to work that fast. It only made me more excited for what would happen in the next couple of days.

I had the same schedule the next day, and I came home eager to see Dave laying on the couch, but he wasn't there. He's usually back from the gym by now, so it was strange that he wasn't sticking to his usual routine of showering and laying on the couch.

I walked over to the kitchen when I heard footsteps coming from Dave's room. I tip-toed over to his room and peered through the door, which he had left slightly open. I couldn't believe what I saw.

It looked like Dave had just gotten home from the gym. As he turned, I watched intently to see the damage. I was shocked to see a big round belly pressed tightly against his shirt. He was even fatter than he was when I met him, I had no idea it would make him that fat, not that I was complaining. I had to stop myself from jerking off right then and there as he took off his shirt and started playing with his belly. Not to mention his overgrown beard, it complimented his seemingly more mature look, though I couldn't quite tell why he looked more mature.

That night, my fantasies ran wild. I imagined him sweeping me off my feet with his big arms and kissing me while his bushy beard tickled my chin. I dreamt of him throwing me on the bed and fucking me, making his gut bounce with every thrust. I wondered what it would be like if he was even fatter.

The next was more of the same, but I struggled to pay attention in class. I couldn't stop myself from daydreaming about Dave, it got so bad that I had to hide my boner under my belt.

When I got home, Dave was nowhere to be seen again. His door was wide open, but he wasn't in there either. This time I heard heavy footsteps in the bathroom. I snuck over and peered through the crack in the door once again. I couldn't have prepared myself for what I saw on the other side.

Dave was unrecognizable from the man he was a few days prior. His belly had grown into a hulking gut the size of a beach ball, his arms and legs were massive, easily multiple times larger than they used to be. His shiny bald head and thick beard made his aging face look even less recognizable. Not to mention the healthy coating of hair that covered the majority of his massive body.

My eyes widened as the beast of a man approached the door and forcefully swung it open.

"You!" He yelled in a gruff voice. "You did this to me!"

"I... I didn't mean to." I said, failing to come up with an excuse for my actions.

"Oh really?" He questioned as he pulled out the vial of Bearzempic, "then what was this doing in my protein shakes?"

"I...I..." I stuttered.

"That's what I thought." Dave said as he grabbed me by the collar. "Let's see how you like it?"

He lifted me off the ground with his shear strength and poured multiple drops into my mouth. I coughed violently as the bitter liquid coated my tongue.

"You're not supposed to drink it straight!" I yelled.

"You're also supposed to have only one drop. How many did you give me!? 6!?" Dave retorted.

The effects of the Bearzempic showed almost immediately. My stomach churned as a small belly quickly formed under my shirt. It swelled in waves, each wave packing more and more fat into my stomach until my shirt struggled to contain it. My slim waist quickly expanded into soft love handles as my chest grew two thick man tits that press tightly against my shrinking shirt. I could feel my body taking up more and more space in the room as my shoulders broadened and my arms swelled with strength. Even my hands grew thick and manly, each finger growing one by one as both and muscle made them big and strong.

"This feels amazing!" I shouted in an unfamiliar voice.

My pants became tighter and tighter as my ass grew fatter, until my belt snapped in half. I heard the fabric of my pants ripping as my thighs threatened to burst through them.

I started to feel my face grow heavy as fat rounded out my jawline and weighed down my chubby cheeks. I could feel stubble sprouting all over my face, doing a poor job of covering up my thick double chin. And I watched as thick clumps of hair fell from my head, making my hairline thin and recede until barely any hair was left.

I ran to the mirror as my body continued to grow, looking at the man I had become.

I stood there rubbing my man hands over my thick belly, feeling the wiry hairs growing around my thick belly button. I could feel the testosterone coursing through my veins, making my gruff voice even deeper and accelerating the hair growth all over my body.

Some part of me knew this was meant to feel wrong, but it felt so right, it felt so hot. My dick hardened at the thought that my transformation had only just begun.

I let out a deep moan as my hands slid over my swollen nipples.

"God this is fucking hot." My voice shocked me and turned me on at the same time.

"You think this is hot?" Dave asked.

"Fuck yeah I do." I chuckled.

"Is that why you got the Bearzempic?"

"Yeah... I only wanted you to look like you did before losing the weight." I replied.

"Really? I lost the weight because I thought you would like me if I did." He confessed.

"Are you kidding, you looked hot as fuck with a little belly. Why didn't you just tell me you liked me?" I asked as I got closer to him.

"I guess I was worried I would scare you off if you said no." He blushed. "Do I still look hot as fuck with a big belly?"

I brought my hand up to his face, rubbing my calloused fingers through his beard. My hand traveled down his body, sliding past his thick pecs and over his solid ball belly.

"Fuck yeah!" I laughed. "Hotter than ever."

He pulled me in for a kiss, but the moment got interrupted when my clothes started to tear.

"How big do you think I'll grow?" I asked.

"I can't wait to find out!"

Allen was anxious. The last few months had been tough, his old career falling through, trouble finding jobs, people turning him away left and right. He’d decided to turn to long distance trucking as a last-ditch effort to still make something of his life, but it required a hefty investment. Namely, the massive semi-truck he was about to purchase off a trucking veteran he’d met online. The man was claiming to give him a great deal, even though it was still the majority of the cash he had left. 

The sun beat down on Allen as he stood in their agreed on meeting spot, a desolate parking lot at the edge of town. Sweat dripped down his neck as he waited, impatient but with no other options. Finally, after what felt like ages, he felt the pavement rumble as a truck tractor turned into the lot, belching black smoke out the top. It pulled up next to him, absolutely dwarfing Allen next to the bright red paint job, only slightly tarnished. The door flew open and the man he’d only spoken to before online climbed down to the ground. He was a hulking man, a full head taller than Allen and at least 250 pounds, though who knows with how much muscle he appeared to be packing. He had on dirty jeans and a stained wife beater, exposing the forest of hair on his sweat-soaked chest, as well as his shoulders that had their own impressive coat. The man had a thick goatee and wore sunglasses under his trucker hat, hiding the fact that he was sizing up Allen.

“So, Allen, is it? Good to meet ya,” the man stuck out his hand. Allen reached out to shake it, his own hand swallowed up by the size of the trucker’s. “I know she looks a little dinged up but she’s served me well, she’ll get any job done if ya take care of her right.” The man laughed, his gruff voice carrying across the empty lot as he turned to face the tractor.

Allen scrambled to pull out his wallet. “Here’s, uh, what we agreed on,” he said while handing the wad of cash over.

“Ah, good. You know, for what this girl’ll do to ya I should be chargin’ double. Consider it a gesture from one generation to the next.” The man laughed at himself again.

“For what she’ll do to me? Shouldn’t it be what she’ll do for me?” Allen puzzled in his head, before being brought back to the present by a hearty slap on his back.

“Good luck out there Allen,” the man said before dropping the keys into Allen’s hand. He turned and started walking back towards town, his thick shoulder hair glowing in the afternoon sun. 

About two weeks later, Allen was getting ready to take off on his first job. It was a long one to start off, going from Houston all the way up to Boise, and would take the whole week to do. He’d adjusted the cab to remind him a little less of the man he’d bought it from, though despite his best efforts there was a lingering stench of sweat. He’d also been finding that man’s shed body hairs every so often as he cleaned or rearranged things as an ever present reminder. Regardless, this was his life now and it was go time. Allen made sure the trailer was attached properly, threw in the destination to his gps, and released the brakes. The truck jolted as it came to life, smoke billowing from the exhaust as he rolled out of the warehouse lot, making his way towards the interstate. 

He’d gone through enough training to get his CDL, but Allen was still apprehensive driving this huge truck alongside thousands of other cars. His hands were white-knuckled gripping the wheel as he cruised up I-45. Some of the other truckers on the road were encouraging over the radio as they found out he was new, but most just chatted between themselves. Allen cranked the AC after noticing that the entire back of his shirt was soaked. Stress sweat, he thought to himself, Or maybe just the Texas sun. 

The first day, thankfully, was uneventful. His body released hours of pent up tension as he pulled into a rest stop in Amarillo, and after eating a quick dinner he was out like a rock. The space to sleep in his cab was actually fairly roomy, but Allen just could not find a comfortable position. He tossed and turned for hours, waking up drenched in sweat. He stripped off his soaked shirt before trying one more time to rest on the now damp bed. His eyes closed, the only thing his mind drifted to was the burly man whose truck he now slept in. His lingering scent intoxicating, Allen’s mind remembered vividly his thickly stubbled jaw, the dark swirls of hair on his chest, even the scent of stale B.O. mixed with deodorant that poured out of the cabin when he’d arrived. His words echoed in the dream, “for what this girl’ll do to ya.”

The alarm blared sharply at seven on the dot. Allen jolted straight up, banging his head on the low ceiling above. “Damn,” he cursed, remembering that ceiling being higher up when he went to bed. He rolled out of bed, rubbing the bump on his head, not noticing the pool of sweat he’d left behind. The rest of the morning was a blur, and before he knew it he was pulling back onto the highway, feeling the road beneath the wheels fly by. He noticed about an hour into the drive that he needed to adjust the mirrors. Odd, since he’d checked them the day before, but he didn’t think much of it. What he did notice is that he felt less stressed. He was gripping the wheel less tightly, he sat a little more relaxed, and he was more comfortable maneuvering the truck around. Not an expert, but a little better than it had been. 

He paused midday for a quick lunch before continuing on, the endless plains and farms rolling by seemingly forever. Between the dull scenery and the afternoon sun starting to blaze into the cabin, Allen’s eyes began to glaze over as minutes stretched into hours of monotony. He saw the odometer climb ten, fifty, a hundred miles. As the miles continued to pass, he felt a twinge of pain in his hand. Startled, he adjusted his grip and thought nothing more of it. Moments later, it hit again. Allen looked down at his hands, eyes widening as he saw them start to shift, to grow larger. His knuckles grew larger and spread apart as his hands swelled, fingers growing longer and calloused, his grip tightening with a grunt slipping out of his mouth. Unknowingly, his cock twitched as he watched a thick black hair push out of the back of his hand. Another dark hair followed it, with more soon after. They spread quickly, with hairs popping up across the backs of his hands, climbing up his fingers, and carpeting his wrists as they too grew in size. The dark shadow slowly crept up his forearms, his light dusting of hair being swallowed up by the growing forest of darker, denser, thicker hairs.

Allen’s breath quickened as he came to his senses. What the hell was happening? He must’ve been seeing things after staring at the road for so long, he thought to himself, rubbing his eyes to try and clear them. But in doing that he could feel the thick hairs on his hand rub against his face, erasing any doubt. Stress was rising; what was he supposed to do? He was barreling down the highway in the middle of nowhere, with a deadline hanging over his head to boot. Those thoughts were cut short when the itch he’d been feeling in his hands returned on his face. Allen had never been able to grow more than some patchy scruff, barely more than peach fuzz, but as he looked in the rear view mirror he could see his jaw darken a shade. His upper lip bristled as stubble pushed out, growing slowly and filling out towards the edge of his lips. Dense hair blossomed around his chin, completing his own goatee before stretching outwards, claiming his jaw under the tight beard that was forming. Though the hair grew dense as it filled in, it stayed short, a thick stubble holding tight to his face.

Allen’s eyes darted between the mirror and the road, speechless at what he could see of his own reflection. Just finish the drive and then you can figure something out, he told himself. As he continued down the road he could occasionally feel the prickles of new hair still popping up on his arms and face, the rate of spread having slowed down but not stopped entirely. Mile after mile, he could tell that the stubble was beginning to creep down his neck. Mile after mile, the bristling of new hairs never quite ceased. The sun began to creep lower in the sky, and after too long of being left with his own thoughts given the situation, the radio crackled to life.

“Breaker, breaker. Got a hell of a wreck northbound, about five miles out. Down to one lane, be careful out there.” The voice cautioned.

“Copy that, thanks for the heads up,” Allen responded, his voice sounding lower than he was used to. Caught off guard by his own words, the familiar sensation returned once again. Beneath his shirt, wispy hairs had started to pop out from around his nipples, at first thin and delicate, but quickly growing darker and thicker. The center of his chest felt it next, with dark hairs sprouting in the slight divot between his unremarkable pecs. The hair stayed close to his skin as it spread, swirling out along the surface of his chest. The patch growing from the center of his chest blended with those emanating from his nipples, forming a full coat that continued to claim more territory. It slowly spread outwards, climbing up towards his collarbone and inching south from his chest as Allen finished up the drive for the day. He pulled off into the rest stop for the night, feeling the prickling from beneath his sweaty t-shirt as hairs started to get caught on the fabric. 

Allen parked the truck and flung open the door, racing to the rest stop bathroom. He stood in front of the dirty mirror, flushed and out of breath, staring at a face that he could only partially recognize as his own. In a panic he pulled off his shirt, exposing his now furry chest to the dim lighting. He was in disbelief. How could something like this even happen? He ran a hand through the hair covering his chest, feeling the wiry strands between his fingers. It felt unnatural, but at the same time it felt good. Really good. Allen’s cock chubbed up slightly in his pants as he continued to rub his hand in circles on his chest. He was caught up in feeling himself when the door to the restroom flew open, another burly trucker walking in. Allen froze. What would this guy think of him standing there, half naked, having some sort of semi-masturbatory moment? The trucker looked up and down at him, eyes lingering for just a moment on his chest, before snorting.

“Give it a few days kid,” he said with a chuckle before turning around and leaving the room. Allen quickly put his shirt back on and returned to his truck for the night; he didn’t need any more incidents like that. But as he sat there in his cab, slowly eating his dinner, the man’s words wouldn’t leave him. In fact, they reminded Allen vaguely of the original trucker he’d bought his rig from. An idea started to form… was the truck doing this to him?

Allen’s alarm blared the next morning, sending him jolting upright directly into the ceiling again. This time he was sure it was lower than yesterday, as he rubbed his head again. Whilst getting ready he couldn’t stop mulling over the possibility that this truck was changing him, turning him into some hairy, masculine trucker. It scared him, but deep down, some part of him was excited, wanted more. He looked in the mirror again but didn’t see anything different from the night before, the same short stubble and chest hair was still there. 

After getting washed up, Allen climbed into the driver’s seat and turned the ignition. The truck roared to life, his new body hair standing on end as chills echoed through his body. He took one hand off the wheel and stuffed it under his shirt, feeling the hair puffed up underneath, before slowly taking off onto the road. Within minutes he was cruising comfortably, finally feeling like he knew what he was doing. The miles flew by, fields and plains turning to foothills and then to mountains as he crossed into the Rockies. With more interesting scenery, Allen didn’t even notice the itch appearing in his groin, nor his instinctual response to scratch at it. It started as just the occasional pulling at his waistband, but before long he was one hand on the wheel and one hand fully in his underwear.

Allen’s cock slowly inflated as he probed around down there with his hand, feeling his clean shaven skin become prickly as long dormant hairs reemerged. Soft strands inched out around the base of his cock, slowly spreading outwards with each mile he traveled. Like a timelapse, the hairs pushed out, growing darker, thicker, expanding across his groin. They curled together as they grew longer and longer, tangling into a real man’s bush for the first time in his life. Allen barely registered as his fingers went from scratching over bristly stubble to combing through a dense jungle, pulling at the thick curls as they thickened. Mile after mile, they kept growing, stretching upwards above his waistband and out onto his thighs, his delicate treasure trail growing darker and widening. 

His cock continued to grow in step, at first just tenting his underwear but now fully stretching it out, pushing nine inches and counting. His shaft grew thicker as small hairs began to climb up its girth, threatening to hide its size further as they spiraled out into the greater mass of hair. A deep groan finally escaped Allen’s lips as in an instant his balls tripled in size, swelling to a massive degree and filling his underwear as his sack stretched to compensate. The thick carpet of hair surged down and over, burying them beneath an impenetrable layer of curls. His brain clouded as his new massive testicles flooded his body with more testosterone than he’d ever had in his life, barely managing to keep his hand on the wheel as his cock pushed out another inch, beginning to leak precum in a dribble that would never cease. His bush continued to push out, hairs growing longer every second as it completely filled out the triangle of his groin with a sea of dark fur.

The rush of hormones quickly took effect on the rest of Allen’s body. His pits tingled as soft shoots of hair trickled out of his bare skin. The soft strands quickly grew longer, thicker, and more lush, as each second more pushed out to join them. Follicles, awoken by the surge of testosterone, pushed out hair after hair, curling and tangling together in the increasingly sweaty space. Allen’s body leaked sweat, fertilizing the growing jungle beneath his arms as sweat-soaked hairs spread like wildfire, claiming more and more of his bare skin. Every tick of the odometer caused his pits to grow more wild, hair billowing outwards. The deepest recesses of his pits were shrouded now by the thickest growth, an intoxicating mass of sweaty, musky fur. The front lines continued to push outwards, with curly hairs exploring up and around his arm, blending into his chest hair to create a seamless pelt from pubes to pits. Allen finally pulled his hand out of his crotch, only to shove it directly in his right pit, feeling the still growing tuft of hair. His cock lurched yet again as he teased the thick strands apart with his fingers, feeling how coarse and wiry each hair was. The cab was beginning to smell, as more and more sweat and stink leaked out of his ripening pits, but Allen hardly noticed at all, eyes glazed over yet glued to the road.

Before he knew it, the sun had started to set and Allen needed to pull off for the night. His highway hypnosis wore off, and he realized he barely recalled any of the drive that day, but he’d made good time. The sun dipped below the horizon when he found a rest stop, pulling the truck into a spot and turning it off with a sigh of relief; it was good to be done for the day. Allen entered the restroom to get cleaned up for the night, head to a urinal, and unzipped his now tight jeans. His eyes went wide as a thick swath of fur erupted from his fly, his cock twice the size it’d been and still leaking precum. He should’ve panicked, his brain wanted to, but the words those other truckers had said to him returned to his mind once again. He was convinced now; this truck was turning him into a hairy, masculine trucker. And if his cock was any evidence, he thought that was kinda hot. Really hot, in fact. 

Reason fell to the wayside as he stood there in the urinal, grabbing his erect cock and stroking it, precum flying all over. He was quickly lost in the pleasure, feeling the thick bush at the base of his cock every time he pumped it, Allen imagined what he was becoming, who he would be at the end of this. The images of the first trucker with his thickly furred chest and hair coated shoulders returned to his mind, and that was it. Allen let out a deep moan as his cock erupted, thick ropes of cum coating the wall as his massive, low hanging balls emptied for the first time. He kept shooting for longer than he’d ever had in the past, the flow of cum slowing but persisting until he was left panting, the last ropes getting caught in his own fur. His body shuddered, waves of pleasure shooting through him as his climax subsided.

With sense returning to his head, Allen looked at what he’d done and panicked. If someone walked in now it’d be over for him. He stuffed his still dripping cock back into his pants and fled the scene back to his cab, slamming the door closed and throwing himself onto his bed. His mind was racing, conflicting thoughts at war in his head as he felt his own body becoming the battleground. Did he really want to become this hairy beast of a man? Did he really have a choice in the matter? Allen laid there on the mattress, unable to truly decide, until the exhaustion caught up with him. His eyes slowly closed, and he passed out with his clothes still on, precum stain growing on his jeans.

Allen jolted upright once again as his alarm went off the next morning. He still felt exhausted; a rough night of sleep plagued with images of those other truckers cursing him with their traits had left him in rough shape that morning. He didn’t even bother taking his time to get ready that morning, he was just ready to be done with this job and move on. Instead he threw on a pair of shorts and a tank top and hopped in the driver's seat, gunning the truck out of the lot as the sun peeked out over the mountains. Desperately trying to put the thoughts of the night before out of his mind, he cranked the music as the final day of his trip began. The odometer of his rig ticked up mile by mile as he grew closer finally to his destination, but the truck wasn’t done with Allen quite yet.

As his foot pressed down on the gas pedal, it cracked and shifted, growing wider as his toes shifted farther apart, pressing against his work boots. His other foot joined in as they stretched longer, pushing up sizes as his boots strained from the new mass. Another mile ticked by as dark, thick hairs pushed out of his toes, slowly creeping out from the skin. Another mile. The hairs crept upwards from his toes, dark strands popping out of the top of his foot like weeds, slowly coating his foot beneath a thick rug. Another mile. The hair continued its march, curling up and around his ankles, thick strands tangling into his sock fibers as they sprouted out of his skin. Another mile. The first black strand popped out from the top of his sock. Another mile. A dozen more thick strands followed suit, and moments later a tidal wave of fur crawled up Allen’s calves. The hairs pushed out longer and longer, growing thick and wiry as they coated his shins, followed by his knees. Another mile. Allen’s thighs itched up a storm as they blossomed into a dense expanse of dark wavy hairs, finally connecting up to the monstrous bush exploding out of his underwear. His legs tingled as the pelt solidified, thickening into one seamless stream of hair from his toes to his crotch, with the hairs constantly pushing out further, growing longer and longer each passing mile.

Allen felt the itching from down below and peered down at his exposed legs, catching fleeting glimpses of the hair taking root as he continued his drive. His cock grew harder and harder each time, and his mind, exasperated, began to cave. Maybe it was okay that he was changing like this. Maybe it was for the best; he already felt more confident driving the truck. And the new hair? He was kinda into it.

He scratched unknowingly at his stubble as the subtle itch spread throughout his body once more. The short hairs coating his face slowly started to push out again. His light stubble quickly turned to a short beard as hairs grew longer and thicker. Skin vanished as the hairs grew out, new follicles filled in between old ones, pumping out hair after hair. Allen continued to scratch at his itchy jaw, fingers slowly running through more and more beard as it pushed out from his face. The hairs started to trickle downwards, poking out across his neck. Stubble spread in a wave, climbing higher on his cheeks and down over his Adam’s apple, threatening to connect with his chest hair just below. It only took a few more miles for that to become reality, as the growth surged into his existing pelt. His chest hair, newly invigorated, bristled to life as the hairs swirled more densely than ever before. The hairs grew wiry, pushing away from the skin of his chest and puffing outwards as they filled in thicker and thicker. The curls hid away any bare skin as they tangled together, his pecs completely coated in fur. What was once the frontiers of this rug began to push out, new wisps popping up across his collarbone and soon enough up and onto his shoulders before darkening and thickening up like the rest. Allen groaned as he felt the hairs pushing against his shirt, the fabric growing tighter every minute as the hairs thickened into a pelt an inch thick, puffing out of every opening.

The sun was slowly arcing across the sky as Allen sped towards Boise. He could feel his body changing the further he went, and for the first time he wasn’t worried about it. A smile peeked out from his bearded face as he stuffed a hand under his shirt, feeling the dense fur that had come in. The wiry, springy hairs twisted around his fingers as he combed through them, causing his cock to leak through his shorts. He didn’t mind anymore; this is what a trucker was. A hairy sweaty, masculine beast. His cock pulsed again at that thought, and he could feel the bristling of hairs begin to spread again.

The sparse dusting of hair on Allen’s shoulders began to thicken up, with new follicles bursting to life and pushing out new hairs. Within minutes his shoulders had grown a coat to rival most men’s chest hair, and they weren’t done. Thick hairs extended down over his triceps, connecting to the dense fur on his forearms that had grown days before. Hairs radiated out from his shoulders across his traps, meeting like waves crashing together upon his neck. His back began to tingle and itch as peach fuzz appeared in patches across the empty expanse. The fuzz quickly thickened up into dark, mature hairs, starting around his shoulder blades. It briefly looked like Allen was sprouting hairy wings as the patches spread, thick hairs igniting the fuzz into a real man’s pelt. He could feel the fur slowly inching its way down his back, creating a solid mat of hair from his neck stretching downwards as it claimed more and more territory. The hairs sprouted out, tangling together as swirls and patterns formed across his back. He barely needed the shirt anymore, with insulating fur on all sides of his torso. Allen felt the hairs thickening, pushing against his shirt and the seat behind more and more as he kept driving.

The sun began to hang low in the sky as Allen entered the final stretch of his drive. He looked down at the odometer, seeing that he’d added over 1,500 miles to it already. He watched as it ticked up another mile, sending chills through his body. The fields around him turned to city outskirts as he closed in on his destination. Another mile ticked by, and Allen’s cock started to tent in his shorts. He didn’t want the drive to end now, he wanted the truck to keep molding him, changing him into a different man. Another mile. He could feel the hair across his body bristling as it filled in at large, new follicles coming to life between the old, linking beard to back to pubes in a seamless pelt. His cock was dripping precum like a faucet, pushing more and more against his already too-tight underwear. Another mile. His beard itched as hairs pushed out, lengthening and thickening. Hairs grew denser, a thick mustache unfurling above his lip, pouring over the edges into an increasingly wild beard. Allen took one hand off the wheel and grabbed his engorged cock below. Another mile. Hair continued to flow from Allen’s face, his beard growing bushy as it pushed out further. Allen pumped his cock, precum gushing over the head and down his shaft, soaking into his thick bush. Another mile. Allen’s hand slid up and down his thick shaft, feeling the soft hairs sprouting from it as more precum poured from the tip. He let out a moan as his pelt continued to fill in, looking nearly like fur at some points. He was nearing the end. 

Allen pulled off the highway and onto smaller streets, approaching the warehouse that he’d been assigned. Another mile ticked by. His body nearly spasmed from pleasure as hair pushed out of him, growing thicker and lusher across his form. His huge balls ached, ready to empty themselves as he continued to stroke. He entered the mostly empty loading zone, maneuvering the massive 40-ton truck with ease. He was an expert at this now. Lined up with his dock, he began to back in the truck. His breathing quickened, pumping his cock faster and faster as hair slithered out from every pore imaginable. He inched back towards the loading dock, brakes squealing, until he came to a stop perfectly, the odometer ticking up one last time. His cock erupted, thick white cum exploding all over him and the cab, getting caught in his newly grown pelt. His hand continued to pump as rope after rope shot out, dripping from his beard and the steering wheel as waves of pleasure shook his body. He could feel every hair, every follicle that had sprouted across him, and it was ecstasy. The sensation of hair rubbing together, curling and tangling and coating his body was unimaginable. The flow of cum gradually came to an end as Allen sat there, panting, finally realizing the truth of those old truckers’ words. He was one of them now. Sweaty. Horny. Hairy. He smiled. Bliss.

Sounds like you're already heading in the right direction — and you're just getting warmed up.

As you keep visiting the gym, wearing your snug-fitting singlet and jockstrap, you'll feel and see every hard-earned contour take its place. With each repetition, lift and bead of falling sweat, you will feel yourself empowered to stay the course. Your workout will transform from routine into a celebration of your new strength, loving the pump, feeling the burn.

You will wear the sweat from pushing your limits as a badge of honour.

Before long, you'll catch glimpses of yourself in the mirrors lining the walls as the adrenaline pumps through your veins. Your gym gear is the uniform you wear as a symbol of the effort you put in every single day. Get ready to unleash your inner beast.

There is no going back now.

-

Photo credit: Mitch Nesbitt (@solbear96)

With the final few pumps from this this Daddy I met on grindr I felt filled with exhilaration. I was moaning and reared my head into my pillow as I let my eyes roll back. I felt the pulsing through my body as I began to cum as well. As I felt the pulses, suddenly my eyes snapped back into place, and instead of receiving I was the one giving. I felt my mouth open in shock as I looked down at my own body smiling back at me with a menacing grin. I looked down and saw the body of the Daddy that was just fucking me.

I couldn't say anything as I was in shock.

Ryan always dreamed of what the future might hold for him. What path would his life take? How will it affect him? What will he look like? As he lay outside in the sunshine and began to drift off to sleep while reading Great Expectations he began to lucidly dream about his own expectations. Living happily with his wife and family, working in the week and lazing on weekends in the garden.

As he continued to dream his thoughts became all the more realistic. His comfortable life probably won’t be possible until his middle age, after a couple of decades or so moving up the career ladder. By that time it will be harder for him to stay in shape, being at the desk all day, but all his manual work and DIY projects around the family home would stop him from getting too big.

If he was anything like his dad he would probably be bald by then and grey too. While Ryan’s body wasn’t hairy yet, he noticed that his dad’s shoulders and back had started to get hairier as he passed through his 40s and he was bound to follow suit. Not that Ryan minded, it was all part of getting older and you cant fight it. In fact he couldn’t wait till he could grow a beard and look manlier.

Ryan woke up and checked his watch, almost time for dinner. He got up out of the hammock groaning as he swung his hefty frame out. He made his way back into the house to put a shirt on.

Despite the setbacks of his age he was happy with his life. Not many men could boast being able to spend their weekends sunbathing with a book out in the back garden, with a devoted wife who brings her big teddy bear husband cold beers throughout the day. Yep, this is the life he had expected and he wouldn’t change it for the world.

The uncle and bo

So what I’m hearing is you’re skinny and you want be like your uncle only 10x worse. I believe I can make this happen.

You have been living with your uncle for quite sometime and always noticed that he was a little larger than life. He is always giving you gifts and you didnt think anything of it when he gave you a necklace with a blue crystal on it. He had one that was similar as well but his was clear. Here recently you have noticed that he is loosing some weight. He has always been a little muscular but he had a gut. One that made him obese but now that he was shedding some weight you could see that his muscles were starting to pop out more.

But you also notice that you’re changing Too. You have gone from a slender twink to someone that looks to be in his mid 20s. Your slender frame is fading away and one morning you wake up onto to see that your gut is really popping out. But your uncle just seems to keep losing weight.

It’s not longer before you notice that the color of your necklace starts to fade while his starts to turn a light blue color.

By this time I hate to tell you that it’s too late for you to go back. In fact. Your changes are only going to excelerate from here on out. It just seems that the more weight your uncle looses and the younger he continues to look the more you change. Almost as if everything about him being lost is flowing into you. This morning you wake up and find hair on your pillow. It wasn’t much but it definitely seems that your hair was thinning. You look down and see that your body has gotten hairier. You look like you’re in your 30s.

You run to your uncle as your body jiggles with the added weight. You walk into his room seeing him baked for the first time and seeing that he looks much younger. About 35. You demand to know what’s happening and he tells you about a deal he made with a witch. He would serve her if she granted his wish. He wanted to be young and skinny. But all that Hedt needed somewhere to go. You are shocked. You don’t know what to think. It has to be true though right. You try to take the necklace off. That has to stop the transformation. But it’s stuck. Your uncle laughs. “Only I can remove that. And I have no intention of doing that.” Your uncle says that he’s going to the gym. You beg him not to go bevause you know that it’s only going to exfelerste your own change. He pushes you away and you fall hitting your head and pass out. Your uncle doesn’t come back home after that. You find out why real fast. When you wake up you’ve aged more. You’re more of an uncle than he is now for sure. You try to make adjustments. Eat less. Work out more. None of it works. And you keep getting older and fatter. You work in the courage to go to the beach near by to relax in you older body. There is nothing else that you can do. Dealing with the aches and pains of life have really become quite the regular for you to deal with.

You’re sitting your chair. The changes have stopped for a while. You’re playing games on you phone while is rests on the gut that you’ve gotten used to. Suddenly you get a text message. It’s from your uncle !! “Hey bo. “

“Change me back !” You plead with him. The message is read and you see the dots showing that he is typing. What seems like an eternity finally ends when you read a message that causes your heart to sink. “Bo. I’ve made another deal with the witch. I’m sorry”. Your necklace starts to glow a little bit. And your stomach gurgles. Another message comes through. “I wanted to be younger and skinnier. You’ll be feeling the effects shortly”. And then he sends a pic of himself now.

You run to your house. Screaming inside as your breaths come out hard. You get slower. By the time you make it to your house your older by at least a 5 more years. You gained what looks like an additional 40 pounds. Your hair has fallen out and your gut has gotten even hairier. You scream. How much more is he going to take !! You try to take the necklace off but notice that it’s almost completely clear. Showing that your uncle can still take more from you. You look at yourself. Bigger than your uncle ever was. Hairier than you’ve ever been before. All to know that he can always take more. Your phone vibrates. It’s him. He’s typing something again. “One other things bo...”

I met him at a party and told him that I think I am going to hypnotize you and turn you into my personal pet dog. He let out a laugh and said that is a hell of a way to introduce yourself to me and besides that there is no way you can hypnotize me and turn me into a dog. Hypnosis is fake, it is not real. I said in that case why don't you humor me and step into the next room where we can be alone and prove me wrong. He said alright let's go and I'll prove you wrong. We went into the other room where we were alone, and I had him sit in a chair and took out my pocket watch. I told him to watch the pocket watch and listen to my words. He turned out to be a really excellent subject. I deepened his trance for a while to make sure everything I was about to tell would take hold. I woke him up and he asked me when I wagging to start. I told him I just finished, and you are an excellent subject going very deep. He said BULLSHIT you did not do anything and I did not hypnotize him and stood up. I reached behind his ear and started scratching. He leaned into my hand harder purring with pleasure and his right leg raised up in the air scratching the air. When I stopped rubbing behind his ear, he looked disappointed. I then patted him on top of his head saying GOOD BOY and he let out a bark and then said WHAT THE HELL, I am a man not a dog. I said bark and he let out another bark and then put his hands over his mouth with a look of surprise and shock on his face. I told him that it is going to be a slow transformation and it would probably take all night for his transformation to complete. That he will be sending me selfies so I can see how he is doing, I will collect him tomorrow and bring him to my place. I said bark and he did again. We then went back to the party. He looked nervous that he might do something to make everyone laugh at him. I took him a drink and said don't worry everything is going to be fine, here drink this. He leaned his head down and started lapping up the drink like he was taking a drink from a doggy water bowl. When he realized what he was doing he stopped drinking and said he had to get out of here. I said I will pick you up tomorrow GOOD BOY and he let out a bark and left

Wanna see sexy boys turned into toys? Toilets? Dogs? There's a lot more hottness to the world of Transformation and I love it all! Sadly, much of my best stuff is still just Too Hot for Tumblr 😩

I used to post such hot stuff on here before the content ban. And I never stopped making it. Cum and see what I have really been up to 😈 Access to my discord with my full archive of captions is only $1. But for those who wish to take the fantasy further, there is the option to become a part of my collection of transformed objects that exist to support me. We have a really fun discord server with lots of kinky like minded people who have been turned into my clothes, I'm sure you will fit right in...

“Just ahhh… Just a former friend, dad.” You stammer out, blushing a bit at being found out. You can feel your ‘friend’ down there spasming and throbbing in your dad’s big warm hands. Your new cock loves any attention it can get.

“ 'Former’ friend, huh? So, you’re not planning to turn it back?” Your dad flashes you a knowing grin, slowly stroking your cock and keeping it hard.

“Yeah… I think I’m gonna keep it. It’s just my cock now, right dad?” You say with a devious smirk and he nods. Your cock THROBS in desperation, bouncing up and down in your dad’s hand, almost as if it were trying to get away from the crotch it is fused to.

“That’s my boy. Just like I did with your former uncle. You’re gonna be up to my size soon. Maybe you can try out that new cock on your dad’s hole, boy.” He strokes harder, lulling your cock into deep and slow throbs as you think about fucking your dad, the man who made you, taught you everything, trained you how to transform others.

Gramps had had enough of the young man next door to him. The young 20 something has just moved into the neighborhood but he was always loud and seemed like a party was going on all the time. It didn’t make it any better that the young man was his grandson either. He and his grandson were arguing more than ever now and it didn’t get any better when when he let his grandson move in after he lost the house. The disrespect from the young man was too much and gramps decided that he was going to fix it. Using some spells he etched some ancient tunes into his genitals to make the juices churn thick and potent. Then collecting it every night in a jar and when he had enough he started on changing his grandson into a man that was more respectable. The routine was going to start my putting his juices in everything that his grandson ate. Forcing his grandson to age rapidly and become a big bear of a man against his will. Once the process started nothing would be able to stop it. The first couple days went by without any kind of changes happening. His grandson was even still in front of the mirror taking mirror of himself while posting on social media fat shaming anyone that wasnt as fit as him. Gramps just had to be patient. After a week he thought he was going to give up when he heard his grandson screaming from the bathroom. He was finding gray hair. And hair on other parts of his body that he hadn’t seen before. He pretended to try to comfort his the man but was shoaved aside and reminded of how gross and hairy he was. Gramps just couldn’t wait till his grandson seen what was in store for him. Over the next few days it was as if the juice from gramps balls escalated the transformation of the young man. He could not longer be considered young as he was now showing age with grey hair and muscles that were no longer defined. The man looked to be 35 even though he was still the same 25 year old on the inside. Another couple days and that 35 turned to 50.

His abs were long gone and he immediately called his doctor. He went to se the man and was told that he couldn’t explain it. He was for all in tense and purposes a 50 year old man on the outside but still the same 25 year old man on the inside. Gramps loved this so much and couldn’t help but feel more and more attracted to the man as he aged. He walked in one time and found his grandson taking pics of himself. He looked like he was actually enjoying the changed the longer that they took place.

Gramps was ready for the final change. He wanted his grandson OLD. He wanted him to suffer through everything that he had ever made fun of him for. In the last time of dosing his grandson he put everything last drop of his changing juices into a drink for his grandson and watched him drink every last drop. The next morning was a fiasco. His grandson was in the midst of crying and having a break down. He had aged. More so than ever before. No longer youthful in any aspect. He had been aged up to 70 years. But still the same 25 year old on the inside. Only he would never be able to change his outside appearance again. He was massive. And hairy. He had a huge gut covered in thick white hair and raspy voice to match. And a mustache that made him look older that adorned his upper lip. All the while his grandpa seemed to have gotten younger.

He looked over at his grandpa and felt an urge he had nerve felt before. One of last. And with that he knew that regardless of the old man he was on the outside he was still the young stallion on the inside and he was gonnna get gramps. He was gonna have the only man that he could with now. Only he didn’t know that gramps felt the same way about him.

It was then that I became aware of the feeling of a body kneeling above my own. I could feel his hairy balls and large floppy member resting on my chest. Not exactly what a straight guy wants to wake up to. And did he just call me dad?

When the fog cleared out of my eyes I was shocked to see my own body was the one on top of me.

“Who are you?? Why do you look like me?!” I screamed out. But there was a frog in my throat or something. I didn’t sound right at all.

“Oh,” said the man climbing off of me, “I guess you wouldn’t recognize me like this. It’s me, Jimmy!”

“Impossible, Jimmy is my son!” I said climbing out of bed. My arms were smaller and smoother. I ran to the bedroom mirror to confirm that I was, in fact, in Jimmy’s body. And that probably meant that the imposter was Jimmy in my body. “How did this happen?? How did you do this??”

“I didn’t do anything,” said Jimmy, who was now pawing his new body while we looked in the mirror together. “Remember, we had that fight yesterday because I wanted to wear tighty whities? You told me that you wouldn’t buy them for me because ‘no real man wears ‘fag underwear’,’ And then I told you that you have no idea what it’s like to be me, and you said—.”

“—that I wish you knew what it was like to be me,” I finished Jimmy’s thought. It was my own damned wish that had trapped me in my son’s body.

“Aww, don’t be sad dad,” said Jimmy, “you’re young now, even if you’re stuck with this little thing.” Jimmy grabbed my new smaller penis and balls. They fit easily into one of his big calloused hands.

I know that yesterday I was straight man with a powerful 50 year old body. But I don’t know if it was the fact of being helplessly trapped in a less masculine body, or being man handled by my own son, but for whatever reason I was turned on. It was humiliating getting an erection at my son’s own hand. Jimmy was toying with his own new tool while he messed with mine.

“I guess I’m the dad now,” Jimmy said, smirking at me.

“Y-Yes dad,” I responded. Jimmy taking control was turning me on. I had been stripped of all my power. My muscles, my body hair, my big fat sausage and heavy balls. And even my position of authority as the father had been taken by my son.

“I think you need a punishment for how you behaved yesterday. I think a fitting punishment is for us to go back to the store and get you those tighty whities that you refused to get me,” said Jimmy authoritatively.

Spot:

This is my owner Josh, he’s a smart guy! He’s a scientist and an inventor.

Which I really didn’t know that much about until the accident happened…

But I’m working on it!

You see I’m a dog. Or I’m normally a dog… that was until I accidentally ran into a room while Josh trying out this new device he made.

In my defense I thought it was going to hurt him!! So I ran in to rescue…

Turns out that device transfer’s brain waves. So when I ran into Josh— him and I crashed into the machine. Somehow it went to max capacity and then start smoking.

It took me a sec to realize what had happened. I thought my brain shift as I started to have bigger thoughts.

I look down at my new hands— I was so confused and suddenly became scared. That’s when I saw Josh in my dog body. He was just as freaked out.

It’s been a big adjustment for the both of us. What helps is that I have a lot of Josh’s smarts and some of his memories—

I at least understand how to do something when it’s presented in front of me. Josh’s brain is kind of like a big puzzle and I’m trying to put the pieces back together.

The first couple of days was really, just trying to figure out all the basics like how to shower, what to eat, and even how to use the bathroom like a human.

But now two months in, I’m starting to feel comfortable being him. I can communicate like any other human and feel confident in his skin. It helps that Josh’s helped me out so much. Even though he can’t talk he’s really good at gesturing and showing me what to do.

I’ve told him almost everyday that we’re going to fix this! It’s just taking me so long to figure out how to rebuild his machine but I know it’s all in this genius head of his… I just have to unlock it.

It’s also about making time to figure it out. I still have to do Josh’s job at the lab and if I’m being honest— I’ve started to pick up on his social life as well.

I’ve told myself that it’s more just so things won’t be weird for him when he returns back to his body. But to be honest, I love doing fun human things!

And he seems pretty cool with it!

I’ll go out on the weekends and meet up with his buddies at a bar. He knows I’m not doing anything crazy with his body.

What I’m surprised by is how cool he is with my privacy when I need to uhhh— release.

It’s so strange and yet I find other males my age to be so attractive. I know Josh had guys around but I never really understood.

I really enjoy jerking off. I’ll try to do it in ways where I know I have full privacy— in the shower or when he’s napping in the other room.

But sometimes I’ll lay around in bed trying to hide my obvious boner— especially in the mornings!

We even have a code word which is ‘go for a run’, I’ll let him outside and run around in the woods.

It gives me enough time to lay back and stroke my dick. Gosh, it feels awful to claim such ownership of it but I do love it… that beginning small drizzle of cum that leaks out… how it feels gradually speeding up and tightening my grip…

That rush right when I cum… my toes curl up… I moan softly… and then the climax! Woof!

Although… i’ve been having a lot of fun. I really need to figure this out. 

Five months in and I think I finally did it! It’s bitter sweet but this is my owner’s body at the end of the day—

I get home from work and call Josh’s name. He comes running down the hallway—

“Josh! I did it! We can swap back now! Follow me!”

We both rush out to his car and I turn on the machine.

“Okay! Here we go!!!,” I say as I hit the button.

“Wait a minute… what the hell??? I should have human feet! These aren’t even Josh’s feet!,” I say with a new distinctive voice.

I look around the room— wait a minute… IM AT THE GUY NEXT DOOR’S PLACE!

I rush out of the house and dash down the street! It’s so hard because I don’t even have shoes on!!!

“JOSH!!!! JOSH!!! I’m scream out!!”

That’s when I hear in the close distance,“Spot!! Come back buddy!!!”

It’s Josh… I see him right by his car!

“Josh there’s been a mistake! It’s me! Spot!,” I say slowing down…

Josh’s eyes are wide and I’m trying to catch my breath.

“SPOT?!?”

“Where’s my body?,” I ask him.

“He ran away… I thought it was you… he ran so fast… I knew I couldn’t keep up…”

“Oh no! We have to find him!”

That night Josh and I searched for hours. The worst part is that the machine is fried again… even if we do find him it’s going to take time.

We searched for hours and even left up dog posters…

But then another 2 months passed…

And I’ve taken on a new life… unless Zach ever comes back for his body. I feel terrible but what else can I do?

Josh was the one who had to help me move on.

But the hardest thing to admit is… I feel very at home in this body. Josh’s body never felt completely right.

And we are kinda closer than ever. I know it’s weird but we are no longer the same dynamic.

Instead, we’re dating! Surprise!

And it’s amazing and yet I feel selfish. But then I get home from my job and Josh is waiting on me.

We kiss and he makes a stupid dog pun. Then I tell him to fuck off and I suck his sexy dick. It’s really perfect.

So I guess this is me. The guy who once a dog but now I’m a man!

“Holly shit!”

“What?”

Josh is standing at the door and he’s speechless… I peak around the corner and see a dog. My old dog body.

We make eye contact and he grrrrr’s at me.