Quentin and his buddy Drake had always placed bets on the games when it came to their two teams facing off against each other. And usually it was money bets. They never went over $100 if their team lost to the other. This had been going on for several years.
This year, Drake had decided to take their friendly wagers on the games to a different level. He wanted to experience bragging rights when his team won. Drake's team was the Los Angeles Rams. They were the San Francisco 49ers biggest rival. He thought of a new addition to their bet.
"I propose we bet something different on this weekend's game. One that includes major bragging rights at the expense of the loser." Drake proposed, waiting to see if Quentin would be interested in a change.
"So if we aren't betting money, what are you proposing, we bet? What should the winner get if he wins?" Quentin asked with a curious look on his face.
"This time, the winner truly gets bragging rights." Drake paused as he pulled out his TF Shrink Ray device to show it to Quentin. "The winner gets to turn the loser into anything displaying the winning teams name for a week. The winner out of the two of us really gets to show bragging rights."
Quentin thought about it. It really intrigued him. He had been wanting a good pair of 48ers shorts to wear to the gym. This was one way to get a pair without paying for one. "I actually love your idea. I need a pair of 49ers shorts for the gym." He laughed.
"My Rams will win, and you will be a nice Rams shirt for me to wear all week." Drake countered back as both shook hands on the agreement.
On the weekend, Drake agreed to watch the game over at Quentin's place to show how confident he was of the Rams winning. He was so ready for a nice Rams jersey fresh and new.
As both watched intently, he rooted for their team every time they scored a touchdown or field goal kick. When the final score was earned in the last five seconds of the 4th quarter, it showed the 49ers beating the Rams by 2 points. It was a really close game down to the end.
Drake looked on disappointed at the ending score. It meant that he would have to display the 49ers name for a whole week. Yet a deal was a deal. He hands the TF Shrink Ray over to Quentin without any resistance. It was only for a week, he convinced himself over the decision.
Quentin smiles as he puts in the settings on the device and fires it at Drake. He watched as his buddy rapidly shrunk in size. His skin changed to red and turned like cloth. In a couple of minutes, there was a nice new pair of 49ers shorts on the couch beside him. He picked them up and examined them. They seemed perfect. He thought about talking to his shorts, but that sounded ridiculous. He wanted to treat Drake just like what he appeared to be, his property, and an article of clothing.
THREE DAYS LATER.....
Drake was only just three days into his seven days as 49ers shorts, and he was already regretting his willing decision. Quentin had worn him to the gym all three days. Each day was intense, sweat, and grind. Each day, he came back reeked of a strong musk odor. Quentin would wash and dry him to wear him the next day to do it all over again. At least one time, Quentin jerked off in him, not wearing any underwear. He felt so degraded, not to mention that he was stuck wearing the name of a team he didn't like much.
ONE MONTH LATER......
Quentin had just gotten back from the gym wearing his favorite shorts. After one week, he simply couldn't part with them as originally agreed. He wanted to keep his shorts. They were super comfortable and durable. He simply had to keep them. He hoped Drake would understand at least one day. He had deleted the reverse data from his device so that there was no way to change him back. He never spoke to his shorts ever. It would look strange if he did. Drake was nothing but his 49ers shorts now.
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Trey was assisting a customer who came in the store looking for the perfect pair of boots for his feet. The customer was being difficult as every pair his size was not the one he wanted, but he was refusing to leave until he found the perfect pair to buy. Trey was getting annoyed with the customer over his pickyness over what they had in their selection. He called his manager over to assist the customer while he handled other things in the store.
Every now and then, he kept looking at this manager and the customer. They seem to be talking a lot, he had noticed. He saw a little frustration on the face of his manager.
As he was stocking other things on the shelf, his manager came over to him. "Meet me in the back. I think I have a solution to our customer issue." Trey's manager told him. He finished stocking the last items and followed him to the back of the store.
"I think what we need is a custom pair of boots for him." Zachery spoke to his employee. He took out his phone and opened up his TF Ray app.
"Well, we need his shoe size and what kind of boots he is looking for," Trey responded, willing to help the annoying customer.
"I already have his shoe size, and he sent me the picture of what he is looking for." Zachery spoke as he hit the flash button on his phone screen. A new pair of custom boots now appeared where Trey was standing. He picked up the boots and went back to the customer. "Cory, try these on." He handed the boots over to him.
Cory took the boots. "I like the look of these. They look just like the picture I texted you. That was fast to find a custom pair." He spoke as he sat down and tried on the boots. "Wow, they feel amazing. They fit perfectly and the look I was going for." He gave him the satisfied signal with his fingers. "What do I owe you?" He asked.
"Since we had to look hard for this pair in the back, the price is $49.99." Zachery spoke as the Corey followed him to the register.
"You don't mind me wearing them out the store, do you?" Corey asked.
"No problem." Zachery responded as he took the cash and rung up his charge him up. He handed him the receipt and watched the happy customer leave satisfied. Corey was completely unaware of how custom his boots were, but that didn't matter. He was just happy he could please him so that he would come back soon and shop at his store.
Corey walked back to his car, loving how his new boots felt. He was curious at how they found just what he was looking for after telling him they didn't have it in the store. He wondered how they could produce such a custom pair with the right kind of insoles and size and look so quickly. Yet, it sort of didn't matter either. He had the boots he wanted. There was no need to worry about the previous part. He definitely would be shopping back at that store again.
Trey was mortified at how his manager just transformed him into boots and sold him to the customer without a single thought. He didn't even bother telling the guy how he came back so quickly with a custom pair of boots. He had found the customer so annoying, and now that same customer owned him unknowingly. The customer's feet were so heavy on his face, crushing it with each step. It was quite painful to be walked on, completely being dominated by the guy unknowningly. The socks had a slight odor to them as well. He was forced to take in that odor with no escape from it. He could feel the very surface the guy walked on under the soles of his boot bodies. This was his new life now. The sad part of it was that the guy wasn't even aware of just how much he was tortoring another human being just by using his feet. Honestly, since he was permanently stuck as boots, could he even call himself human anymore. He was just an object to the guy.
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What no? Of course you’re gonna breathe in my foot stink boy! I told you very clearly that you would spend half an hour in my shoes if you failed to finish your chores in time. I know you hate the smell of my feet so I thought this would have helped making you work harder. But it seems it didn’t… half an hour scent training it is boy
[Thank you to @twistedtfs for contributing the second image for this not-so-short story.]
That’s my boyfriend, Blake, lying down, and me, Tyler, lying on him. As you might be able to tell, I’m a top. Not that he and I actually do anal all that often. It’s a lot of work, honestly, and a lot of cleanup. We often prefer just trading blowjobs, which is what we’re getting ready to do right now.
We’re on a time crunch, anyway. I’m on my lunch break at the law firm where I work, and he’s about to start his closing shift at the art supply store.
Just as I’m kissing my way down to Blake’s waistband, his phone starts blaring Chappell Roan’s “Pink Pony Club.” Again. This is the fifth time that an unknown number has called in the past three minutes. Blake blocked the last three callers, but the calls keep coming from different numbers, so it isn’t working.
“Ugh, might as well see what they want,” grumbles Blake. I reluctantly roll off of him and he gets up, walking over to the bureau and answering his phone. “Who is this?”
I palm my tented briefs and he winks at me as he says, “No, I’m sorry, you have the wrong-”
Suddenly, his eyes go glassy.
I take my hand off my dick, sit up against the headboard, and watch him, curiously. What’s going on? Is it bad news or something?
“Well, yes,” he says, rubbing the back of his head. He must be nervous. He’s mussing his hair hard enough to pull the strands back, or something, because the part above his ears looks a lot shorter. When he moves his hand, I see something odd. His hair is shorter.
The back and sides are cropped close, and the only remaining length is at the top. I’m about to ask what’s going on when Blake does something that causes me to freeze in surprise. He grabs a blue baseball cap from the top of the dresser and puts it on, backward. He’s never worn a baseball hat like that. He’s never worn a baseball hat period. We don’t even own any!
The hat should be pressing his bangs flatter to his forehead, but they’re actually rising. They’re almost floating, like he’s touching one of those static electricity machine things at Spencer’s Gifts. They bristle and curl into a styled swoop that looks like it has been trained to flow in that exact way by years of cap-wearing.
I feel like my nerves are firing wrong, because I can’t move. All I can do is panic and try to process what I’m seeing.
“Yeah, of course,” Blake says. Is it just me or is his voice slightly deeper?
While the way he speaks has grown more masculine, his face is starting to look more boyish. His cheekbones rise, his lashes lengthen, and that beard that I love running my fingers through begins to fall from his face in small tufts, like flakes of paint being chipped off a wall. What’s left behind is patchy stubble, dark and thick on his chin and upper lip, but pretty sparse everywhere else.
“Totally, dude,” says Blake, letting out a deep guffaw that rumbles through his chest.
His ribs expand, as if they’re trying to properly contain the booming laughter that is bursting out of my normally restrained boyfriend. His thick pelt of chest hair holds on for dear life as his flat chest rises, his nipples suddenly perched on two solid mounds of muscle.
As he nods and continues to agree with whoever is on the other end of the phone, more details keep shifting. His septum ring glints as it vanishes into thin air. His underwear strains against a growing bulge. The stench of musk floods the room as he idly scratches an armpit. His eyes grow even more vacant and blank than they had looked at the beginning of the call.
He turns to look at me and I jolt. I was so shocked by Blake’s sudden transformation that I had forgotten I was actually in the room and not just observing this nightmare from afar.
“It’s for you, bro,” he says, holding the phone out to me. A goofy grin splits his face.
What the fuck do I do? Do I run? No, I can’t do that. This is Blake. The love of my life. Something weird is happening, and I need to fix it. I take the phone.
“Who is this, and what the fuck have you done with Blake?” I bark out the second the phone touches my ear.
“I don’t know any Blake,” said a calm voice on the other end of the phone. Male. Maybe early 20s? “But I asked Brody to hand the phone to you, so you can add to his generous donation.”
“Donation? What kind of scam-”
“My name is Evan and I’m calling on behalf of the local chapter of Beta Theta.”
“The frat? Look, I-”
“We’re raising funds so we can remodel the frat house. But our fraternity dues aren’t quite enough to cover everything.”
“OK, so talk to your frat alumni. Isn’t that how you people usually raise money?”
“I am talking to the frat alumni.”
“No you’re not.”
“Our tastes run expensive, as you know.”
“No, I don’t.”
“We’re a relatively new frat, so there aren’t enough alumni in the area to get us what we need. I’ve had to get creative. I’ve been making frat alumni… calls.”
“OK, so you’re making calls. Why call us? And what did you do to Brody? I mean Blake.”
“You’ll understand in a minute. Look, the reason I’m calling is that you’re a former Beta Theta yourself.”
“I’m telling you, I’ve never been part of Beta Theta. Or any frat, for that matter.”
“My listings are never wrong. Don’t you live at 999 Hawthorne Place?”
“Well, yes,” I say, as my fingertips start to tingle.
“And you have close-cropped brown hair?”
“I mean, yeah,” I say, running my hand across my shorn scalp, enjoying the prickly feeling. It’s weird how much darker my beard and chest hair are than my head hair, but I’ve always liked the way the length and the color clash. “But what does that have to do with-”
“And you’ve never been able to grow a full beard?”
I rub the patchy chestnut hairs on my chin and grimace. “Well, that’s true too, but you didn’t have to roast me like that, man.”
“And you’re just as muscular as Brody, but have way less chest hair?”
“All that is on the form?” I ask, looking down at the light brown hairs that are scattered along my shelflike chest.
“And your handsome face gets flushed when you drink, right?”
I suddenly felt dizzy. My deep voice slurs slightly when I respond “Yesh.” I take another swig from my Corona and set it down on the nightstand.
“And you’re always dressed in the frattiest clothes possible?”
“I mean duh, bro,” I say, rolling my eyes as I run my thumb along the length of my chain and adjust my backwards mesh hat.
“And you’re as dumb as a box of rocks?”
It takes a minute for that question to sink in. My gears have never turned all that quickly, and I got distracted by grabbing my package and leering at Brody. I can’t wait to get off the phone so I can bury this cock in his ass, to the hilt. Oh wait, didn’t that Evan guy ask me something? “Oh.. uh, yeah.”
“And your name is Tigger?”
“Yeah, bro, but it’s just a nickname. They called me that because Prez kept catching me bouncing on Brody’s dick,” I say. God, I’m so horny. My ass aches to be filled. Brody is taking off his underwear and jerking his fat cock. I’m drooling at the thought of it. I can’t resist jumping his bones every two hours or so whenever we’re alone together between shifts at the gym. The Beta Theta tattoo on his wrist flashes up and down with every stroke.
“And you’re a devoted Beta Theta?” Evan asks.
Is that even a question! “Uh… doy,” I say. “And they say I’m the dumb one. I have the tat on my asscheek to prove it. So you need money, yeah? Would 10K do? I have that much saved from my lame old job.”
“$10,000 would suit us perfectly well,” says Evan.
“Hell yeah, boyyyyy,” I say. “Just, like, make sure to put up a plaque or something when you build it. ‘Brody & Tigger’s Beer Pong Stadium’ or something like that, y’know?”
“Will do, Tigger. And thanks again,” says Evan.
“Anything for Beta Theta, man! These are the best years of your life, I wouldn’t want them to go to waste on a sucky frat house!”
After making the Zelle transfer, I hang up the phone and lumber over to Brody, grabbing his dripping cock in my meaty hand. I can’t wait to crash my mouth against his and feel his sexy stubble scrape against my chin. “Now, where were we, bro?”
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Dan had finally reached a breakthrough in his investigation of a smuggling ring. He had gone undercover to join the organization to gain the evidence to bring down the whole operation. All he now needed was picture to show the smuggling in action. So far, no one had suspected that he was an undercover cop working in their smuggling ring operation.
Dan got on board the ship with the intentions to snap a few pictures with his specialized hidden camera and call in his lift to exit the situation. Unfortunately, the ship had left dock to meet up with the perspective buyers. There was no way for him to get in contact with backup to extradite him from the scene, but it did give him more time to gather even more intel to take down the organization for good. After taking a few more pictures, he took in some fresh air up on deck.
Dan suddenly found a bag thrown over his head as he was dragged to one of the rooms below deck. His hands and feet were bound to a chair as the bag was removed over his head. He looked up to see head of the organization looking at him.
"Our guy here noticed you snooping around lately and making strange motions. Please explain." Ryan spoke as he took a seat across from him.
"I was just wanting to see the operation up close and personal. And make sure the merchandise is accounted for before we rendezvous with the buyers." Dan spoke, hoping his lie would be believable.
"Unfortunately, for you this isn't looking good." Ryan spoke as he showed Dan pictures that had been taken with him meeting up with his fellow cops. "You think you are the first undercover cop we caught trying to take us down? The answer is no. Actually, one of your fellow cops has been a good addition to cock." Ryan added.
Dan realized why the others didn't want to take the job. Cops have been vanishing trying to work this case. He now knew way they were disappearing. "Please, just let me go. I will make you a deal. I won't report any of this in favor of just letting me go free." He pleaded. He didn't want to become another missing cop related to this case.
"We will let you go, just not the way you want." Ryan added as he pointed a cell phone looking device as Dan. He hit the flash button. The undercover cop vanished. In his place was a pair of boots. He picked up the boots and handed it to his lieutenant. "Take care of these, will you?" He spoke and left the room.
Mike held the boots in his hands. They look like good material and durable. His current boots were starting to wear down. It was time for a new pair anyway. He decided the former undercover cop would be his footwear instead of tossing them over the side of the ship.
Dan couldn't move or speak. He tried to scream, but all he heard was his own mental thoughts reflected back at himself. He now saw why the others were too scared to take the case. He didn't know what he became, but he found out the hard way that he didn't like it. A foul stench socked feet entered his body and pressed on his insole face. He was footwear. The guy had big feet, and he could tell the socks had not been clean in several days just by the odor. He tried to squirm to get way from the stench, but it was no use. He felt himself tied and bound to his feet. Being walked on while stinky socks pressed his face was horrible. He didn't let the others know where he was so there was no one to come to his rescue. Even if they knew he was on the ship, there would not be able to find him now. They would not be looking for a pair of boots. He mentally cried for some mercy from this nightmare, but each step showed that no mercy was coming.
Mike went up top and tossed his old boots away in the ocean. His new boots were way better and super comfortable. The best part was that they came free. He was lucky he was there when the boss changed him. The last time they had caught one, the cop was turned into underwear. His friend is still wearing the poor undercover cop still. He wasn't going to be talking to his boots any time soon. The undercover cop needed to learn his new place in life is under his feet now.
can you turn me into my homophobic step brother’s jockstrap?
Picture source @joep00
It was not the perfect idea that his stepbrother Kyle came out to the family as gay. Connor saw everyone being supportive of him being open about it, but he wasn't all too happy. Yet, he decided to keep his opinion to himself. He would just keep his distance from Kyle.
The distance plan didn't work all too well for Connor as Kyle was trying to be close to his stepbrother. He never truly told him how disgusted he was with having a gay stepbrother. Sort of lied to say that he was supportive. Yet, the constant wanting to chill with him was getting annoying. He decided that there was one way to put an end to it and get something out of it at the same time.
Connor finally cave in and invited Kyle on a weekend trip in his RV to the woods. He was happy to see him accept the invitation, but Kyle wanted to bring two of his gay friends with him since he thought Connor was so supportive. He agreed they could come on the trip.
All four had fun on the drive to the spot in the woods, even though Connor was hiding his true motive. By the end of the trip, he would be returning home alone in some way.
At the end of the first day at the spot, Kyle and his two friends went to sleep soundly, not expecting anything off. Connor got up and took his TF Ray device. He went first to Kyle's friends and fired at them. He watched as they were reduced to a pair of black boots. He then went to Kyle. He had a special place for his gay stepbrother. He fired at him and watched him change into a white jockstrap. He picked up the jockstrap to examine it. It looked absolutely perfect. He then tried on his stepbrother. The jockstrap seemed comfortable to wear. Now, his gay stepbrother would see his dick for the rest of his life. He went to sleep wearing him.
Kyle woke up feeling strange. His immediate view was that of a giant dick in his face. He tried to move from it but couldn't, no matter how much he squirmed. He then heard Connor's voice above him. "Good, you awake. I can finally tell you the truth. I don't like that you are gay and wanted to keep my distance, but you wouldn't allow me. So, now this is your new fate. You are my jockstrap. You get to hang out with me for the rest of your life with my cock in your face. I won't be changing you back. And if anyone asks about you, I will tell them you left town." Connor then paused for the next few words. "As for your two friends, they are my boots. I can't have any witnesses telling what I did to you. They make good boots, though, just like you are the best jockstrap I ever owned. All three of you are mine now." Connor finished as he walked around in the RV wearing his new boots and jockstrap.
Connor didn't know his new objects loved their new life or was hating it. He got rid of three fags and gained new pair of boots and jockstrap at the same time. It was a win-win for him. It didn't matter if they loved it or not. They were his property now and simply didn't have a choice.
