The Dark Prince

Rain was expecting a pretty quiet night in with his boyfriend Eric. They were planning on making dinner together, they had gotten some drinks from the grocery store, and were ready to just chill out and watch some movies together. As Eric pulled out all of the groceries from the fridge, he realized that the two of them forgot to get an onion for the spaghetti sauce. After being told by Eric that they forgot an ingredient, Rain insisted on going to the local bodega to pick up a cheap onion for the recipe. Eric tried to convince Rain that it was fine to continue on without the onion but Rain insisted that they needed it if they wanted to get the recipe right.

As Rain walked down the street to the bodega a block and a half away he was immediately getting hot from the muggy heat that was cooking the city. Making it to the bodega, he had picked out a nice round onion and had gotten in line to check out. The line was just one person so it didn’t take much time at all to be rung up. “How is your night?” Rain asked, trying to make some polite small talk, “Fine” answered the Middle Eastern cashier “What’s the onion for” he inquired. “Oh me and my boyfriend are making dinner and we forgot to pick up an onion” proclaimed Rain, “Tsk” the older man replied “Your generation is all backwards. Back in my day that was unheard of.” Offended, Rain began to defend his relationship with Eric, but before he could say anything he caught a whiff of an acrid scent. Sniffing the air around him he heard the cashier pipe up and say “Yeaaa smell that, that's what a real man smells like”, he lifted his armpit to reveal a dark wiry forest. Rain recoiled as even from across the counter it smelled absolutely awful. “Awww come on dont you wanna know what men are supposed to be like?” the Middle Eastern cashier said tauntingly. “No!” blurted out Rain, “Not when you smell like ass bro!”, “That was weird” thought Rain, “Why did I just say ‘bro’?”. Seeing Rain get occupied by his pesky thoughts, the cashier stuck his hand underneath his armpit and rubbed his fingers around in his pit as he continued to air it out. Taking his musk infused fingers he wiped it on Rain’s upper lip while he was obviously lost in thought. “EW! WHAT THE FUUuuuuuuuu…” Rain trailed off quickly. Knowing it was working the cashier walked out from behind the counter and towards the front door, Rain just simply stood there as the smell of the man’s potent stink wafted up his nose and invaded his brain. Locking the door and turning the open sign around to say closed he then walked back to the counter and whispered in Rain’s ear “If you wanna smell more of a real man then come to the back”. Thinking to himself “No no no what is he going to do to me back there” Rain began to say no but as the older cashier watched him try and resist he lifted his arm up and then into the pit Rain’s head went. He was only held there for maybe 5 seconds but the damage was done. Rain couldn’t think of a reason not to follow him to the back anymore, “Uhhhhhhhhh okaaaaaay” Rain slurred.

Walking to the back of the bodega, Rain was taken into the small office space. It was just big enough to fit the two of them. Forcing the twink to go in first, the cashier locked the door and stood in front of it. “The name’s Yusuf” The man informed Rain, “What’s yours?”, as the gears in his head slowed Rain was barely able to A. remember his name through all the funk clouding his mind and B. find the brain power to say it. Eventually he was able to tell Yusuf his name. “No no no thats no good! You need a good Middle Eastern name! Yusuf proclaimed, he thought for a moment “I GOT IT!” he spoke loudly, “Rahim will be the perfect name for you”. Rain was surprisingly able to quickly muster up a loud “NO!” but then couldn’t follow up with any reasoning. “What do you mean no?” Do you dare talk back to your father?!” Yusuf yelled. “What is this guy talking about?” Rain was thinking to himself as he pieced together his thoughts. This guy wasn’t his dad and his name was Rain not Rahim. Yusuf continued “I know what a brat like you needs!” Yusuf again lifted up his arm and revealed his pit that reeked of his masculine scent. Grabbing Rain’s head once more he shoved it into the epicenter of his man-stink. The overwhelming scent immediately took over Rain’s head again, and his thoughts about how wrong the guy standing in front of him was turned to thoughts about how he shouldn’t talk back to his dad the way he just did. Pulling him out of his stinkpit, Yusuf said “Are you going to act right now son?”, “Of course Dad!” Rahim said enthusiastically. As he looked at his Dad he caught a glimpse of a mirror hanging on the wall near the door, seeing his reflection he was hastily snapped back to reality. “WOAH WOAH WOAH!” Rain barked out, “What just happened to me?! Where am I!”. Rolling his eyes Yusuf didn’t say a word, he knew he had to bring out the big guns. He reached behind him, down past his belt, and into his pants. Maneuvering past the waistband of his boxers Yusuf stuck his hand between his ass cheeks, after hours of working up front and stocking in the bodega throughout the sweltering summer heat, Yusuf had worked up a nasty swamp ass. His hairy ass caked with sweat stunk to high heaven, it could knock a person out, and it did exactly that. He scratched around and made sure that his fingers were coated in his fetid ass funk. Lifting his hand he used his other hand to grab the back of Rain’s head and holding it in place, he stuck his fingers into Rain’s face and watched as the gay little twink couldn’t handle the stink. Rain’s eyes fluttered shut and his entire body began to slump over. Catching the twink, Yusuf set him down onto the old office chair and watched.

The first major change was where the stink was first introduced, his cute little button nose began to grow wider and flatten out a tad. Then came the next change, his eye color darkened, his brows grew thick and wild, and his face was covered in a scratch beard. His hair began to recede and no longer became a cute surfer cut, now it was a short messy cut with a fade. His face began to make a crunching noise and his entire face grew longer and lost its soft boyish features, instead being replaced with a strong masculine jawline. Next came his small skinny arms, suddenly expanding with muscle and wiry hair. His shoulders also expanded to make his arms and bust portionate. As his shoulder blades grew and his arms expanded another transformation was happening, his once shaven armpits now filled in with thick bushes of hair, matted down with sweat, that reeked as if he had just rubbed an onion into them.

His chest grew bigger, and his stomach suddenly was hit with a sharp pain that jolted the passed out boy, Rain began to open his eyes from the pain just to be quickly met with the tips of Yusuf’s still sweat drenched fingers. Now once again out like a brick the transformation continued, resuming back in his stomach the pain subsided but left its mark as a ridgid 6 pack now lay beneath his shirt. His legs were next, first his thighs grew into massive units capable of crushing the toughest melons, his crotch underwent a similar development, his once clean, waxed crotch poofed up with curly hair and much like his armpits, the bush was trapping in the smell of his ripe balls and dried cum that hasn’t seen soap in at least a week and a half. His lower legs also beefed up, now with nice defined muscle and more wiry hair invading his nice smooth skin. The last thing to transform was his feet. Yusuf watched in excitement as the man in his office chair neared completion. As the jungle of hair crossed the precipice of his ankle, Rain’s feet began to be added to the list of unwashed body parts. They grew and grew, stretching out of their owner’s small sneakers. BOOM! The shoes burst and the odor of his buttery dogs began to drift off of the massive feet now sitting at the base of the neanderthal-like man.

Looking at the perfect specimen of unhindered masculinity Yusuf was proud of his creation, but one more thing had to be done. Right on cue from the center of Rain’s chest, a bronze spot began to grow. It began to expand and spread across his entire body, and as it passed over each and every part of his body, his hair darkened from a light brown to a deep jet black.

Picking up a can of Febreeze that he had sitting aroud in the office, Yusuf sprayed some onto a towel and held it under his son’s nose, Rahim’s eyes immediately shot open “EUUHHH! DAD! That stuff smells horrendous!”. Smirking, Yusuf threw out the towel and watched joyously as his son lifted up his arm and stuck his big nose into his own armpit and took a deep whiff. “Phewww, that smells much better” Rahim added.

After leaving the office Rahim began to obediently help his father around the bodega like he always had done. A little while later, after his father had gone upstairs for the night, right before Rahim was going to close up the bodega a small man came in. He was very clean looking, well put together young man, “Im sorry to bother you but I was wondering if you had seen someone?” The man said, “He said he was coming down here over an hour ago and I haven’t seen him since!”. “Uhhhhh…no-one has been in for a while? When did you say your friend was here?” Rahim asked. “Oh no he isn’t my friend, he’s my boyfriend his name is Rain” the man said, rolling his eyes, Rahim thought for a second. Rahim smirked and told the man “Now that you mention it I think that I saw him come in a little while ago. I think he is in the back…near the office.”. The man thanked Rahim and began to make his way to the back. Rahim left his post at the counter, turned the sign on the front door to close, and sniffed his armpit. It reeked even worse than it did an hour ago. Rahim began to follow the man to the back. It was such convenient timing, his dad was going to be happy that they found another person who would obediently help them run the bodega.

Inspired by Anon Ask

Clay was walking to work on an empty street, looking down at his phone he suddenly saw in the corner of his eye someone quickly moving towards him. All of a sudden, just as he was looking up from his phone, some dude on a skateboard crashed right into him knocking the both of them down. As the skater bro laid right on top of him Clay heard the guy start profusely apologizing, “Oh my gawd duuude im so sorry like I wasnt paying attention at all!”. Getting up first the skater held out his hand to help Clay up to his feet, looking down at himself Clay realized that his outfit was ruined from the fall. As the skater pulled him up Clay began to berate the guy, “How stupid could you be?! Some of us have actual responsibilities like work and I cant show up looking like this!”, etc etc. The skater obviously annoyed that Clay was getting so heated over an accident tried to apologize again, “Look man I am real sorry I-” Clay cut him off “I dont care if you’re sorry! How exactly do you plan on fixing this?!” The skater tried one last time to amend the situation “Look we got off on the wrong foot Im Apollo.” he held out his hand inviting Clay to shake his hand. Clay pushed Apollo's hand down and again just was insulting and berating the guy. Tired of this douchebag yelling at him Apollo furrowed his brows and pushed Clay back down to the ground. Falling on his ass Clay yelled out “WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!?!”, Apollo responded “Dude you definitely need a reality check, i'm just helping give it to you”. Quickly turning around so that Clay was looking right at Apollo’s ass, Clay was assaulted with the stench of Apollo’s obviously unwashed ass “You smell so fou-” “PPPPPPFFFFBBBBBBBTTTTTTTT” Apollo interrupted Clay with a boisterous butt blast. “What….the…fuuuuuuuuck…” Clay said as the eggy stench that Apollo just shot into his face began to make him feel weird. Clay heard as Apollo said “Sorry man but I really think you need this” “FFFFRRRRTTT” another gust was inhaled by Clay. “...this…feels……wrong…” Clay was having an even harder time speaking than before. Turning back around and squatting to get face to face with him, Apollo held Clays head in place and told him “Look bro im gonna change you okay? You are gonna be waaaaay more chill once im done” Apollo watched as Clay gently nodded his head. “PPPPPPFFFBBBTTT” Apollo let out another fart and watched as Clay’s light brown pupil turned into swirling green spirals.

“Good boy” Apollo cooed out to Clay. “Skaters enjoy farting out rank clouds of gas, its the funniest thing to us” “FRAAAP” Clay felt as his nose began to like the fetid smell that was filling the air around the two boys. “Skaters don't mind getting knocked down, it’s part of skating” Clay felt as his anger and annoyance towards the fact the Apollo knocked him off his feet quickly rushed out of him. “FRAAAAP” those feelings quickly rushed out of his ass, producing a disgusting stench Clay would have normally been grossed out by but for some reason he found the meaty smelling fart humorous. “Skaters dont mind wearing ripped up and distressed clothes, in fact they like it” “FRAAAAP” Clay suddenly felt that his clothes were actually pretty cool, his temper would no longer rise if he was seen in ripped up clothes. “Skaters like spending their days skating and fucking other skater bros, its the best way to live” “FRAAAP” Clay’s mind grew lighter as his previous responsibilities evaporated into a smelly fart and were replaced with the desire to waste his days skating around and making his skater bros feel maximum amounts of pleasure. “Skaters are dumb mindless idiots whose brains have been replaced with their own ass stank” “BRRRRAAAAAPPPPP” Clay watched as Apollo recoiled due to the malodorous fart Clay just produced, feeling even more light headed than ever Clay began uncontrollably chuckling, “huhuhuhuhuhuh…” Apollo stood up and held out his hand and helped Clay up to his feet. Letting out one last fart Apollo watched as Clay’s eyes returned back to normal and he stood there with a goofy grin on his face. “How you feeling bro?” Apollo asked, “huhuh I feel… BRAAAP- sniff sniff gooood” Clay chuckled out. “What are you doin today duuuude?” Apollo questioned Clay, “Uhhhhhh skating…duhhhh…what else would I pfffbbbtt be doin?”

It was the first day of summer and you would have been so excited to be away from school for the next few months except for the fact that you had to attend summer school. Math was never your strong suit and it ended up being the downfall of your summer plans. The worst part was that not a single one of your friends had to attend summer school alongside you, you were all on your own. On the first day of summer school you immediately got lost. The high schools in the area took turns to host summer school every summer and this year it was at your rival high school’s campus. Being unfamiliar with the school was proving to be a challenge, you found yourself wandering an empty hallway when you heard someone coming down the hall. Afraid it was going to be a teacher or principal who would end up scolding you for not being in class you quickly snuck yourself into the bathroom that lucky happened to be next to you.

As the door swung shut you slipped into a stall and hoped no one saw you. Less than a minute later the bathroom door swung open followed by the distinctive sound of dress shoes, this was definitely not a student, “Excuse me is anyone in here?” The man said with a semi-authoritative voice. You wanted to confess and admit your presence and hope that he understands that you just got lost on your way to class. Just as you were about to speak up, the door swung open again, this time the sound of flat rubber bottoms were heard advancing through the bathroom. “Excuse me young man but shouldn’t you be in class?” You heard the teacher say, “Oh relax teach, its fineeeeee” you hear in a relaxed tone coming from whoever just entered the bathroom. “Umm actually it isn’t you need to get back to…” “FART BOMB!” FFFRRRRRPPP, the teacher was cut off as a boisterous fart echoed in the room. You heard the teacher quickly fall silent, “Huhu good riddance” you heard the relaxed voice say. Covering your nose with your shirt you tried not to inhale the nasty fecal scented flatulence hanging in the bathroom. As you inevitably breathed in more you began to cough lightly “Huhuh…is the Tripp’s fart bomb tripping you out?” the boy in the bathroom said. You opened up the stall door and was met with a dude who looks like a surfer with a douchey look on his face.

“How are ya bro?” he said as the teacher stood next to him but was swaying around, it was like he was in a trance. “W…what did you do to him?” you stammered out, looking confused for a second the boy looked at the teacher and said “Oh, I just exposed him to a direct hit of the Tripp’s fart bomb” Tripp said it as if that was a totally normal thing to say. Waving the stink of “the Tripp’s fart bomb” away from your nose Tripp piped up again, “He’s fine huhuh he’ll come to in a couple minutes so we gotta get outta here” Walking towards the door, Tripp looked back at you as if to hurry you along. Getting exposed to fresh air again you followed Tripp down the hall, “Do you know where classroom 342 is by any chance” you asked trying to find a way to the class you were already late for. “Nah man the Tripp-ster don’t do classes and shit like that” he said nonchalantly, “But how do you pass any classes?” you asked, “Bro why do you think the Tripp is here? I gotta make up hella shit”. “Shouldn’t you be in class then?” you asked, given by the way he spoke and how he always referred to himself in the third person you were realizing that “the Tripp” was a self-assured moron. “Nah bro, like I said the Tripp don’t do school” Tripp’s tone was so relaxed as he told you that, “Take a walk with me bro, it’ll be nice to clear your head since you were whiffin’ my nasty fart bomb earlier”.

Giving up on finding your class you agreed and let Tripp take the lead. You two walked around for a while, just pursuing the school, Tripp disclosed that he goes to this school and that after 5 years they were just gonna let him get his diploma. He was a super senior and all he had to do to graduate was get through summer school. As the two of you eventually made your way down to the secluded baseball field you two went down into the dugout and just sat there and talked. After a while you said something that “the Tripp-ster” didn’t rock with, “Im shocked they are even gonna let you graduate if you have failed so many classes. I mean c'mon man you gotta be REALLY stupid to fail so many” you could see that Tripp didn’t appreciate that remark. “Psh you don’t know how smart I am mannn” Tripp said, doubling down for some reason you remarked that “Sure I know how smart you are man, you're as smart as a pile of rocks!” laughing to yourself you didn’t notice that Tripp had gotten up. Interrupting your laughter Tripp questioned “Well maybe you should know what it’s like being ‘as dumb as a pile of rocks’!” Tripp turned around and lifted his leg like a dog about to piss, “FART BOMBBBBB!” BBBBRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAP

Getting a face full of Tripp’s rancid fart bomb you turned your head and gagged “WHAT THE-…” your voice cut out as you suddenly found yourself incapable of speaking. Filled with thoughts about what you wanted to say next you simply couldn’t muster up the mental energy to say it. You could smell the stench of Tripp’s eggy fart filling your nose and feel it shooting itself into your brain. You felt oddly glad that he had farted in your face, your thoughts couldn’t help but revolve around the fact that his gas stunk so good. You heard him proclaim “Don’t worry dude, the Tripp-a-thon has more of that sweet sweet gas stored up and i'm ready to let er rip huhuhu”, feeling a battle in your head between disgust and excitement you tried with all your might to get yourself to turn your head away but unable to concentrate you failed and was looking straight down the barrel. You heard his stomach grumble and then it happened, PPPFFFFFFSSSssssssh, starting big and loud and ending with a squeaking toot, Tripp had just released a torrent of pungent aromas right into your face. Your mind began to slip, “This is so gross” you thought, but then your brain was invaded by the thought “Im so lucky to receive a fart bomb from Tripp” this transformation was occurring to everything stored in your head. Memories of nights studying turned into nights of you farting up a storm while hanging out with the boys and eating pizza, Knowledge of human anatomy became knowledge of what foods made you the gassiest, Memories of your childhood as a sweet, rule following kid were clouded over and erased by memories of being an idiotic rule breaker who always got his way. Knowledge of art and history was erased and replaced with knowledge of what movies had the funniest fart scenes.

It only took a few minutes after the first expulsion of Tripp’s foul ass vapors but quickly you were reduced to just another idiot. To seal the deal and leave you this way was to make you fart out your past self, and thats what was about to happen. “Huhuh you like that dontcha you stink sniffer? So dumb and simple, just like me huhu” you could barely even process what he just said when you heard the command “Fart your brains out brooooo” BBRRAAPP and just like that, you were gone, all that remained sitting in that dug out were two morons gassing each other with their own potent smells. Tripp looked at you, “What’s your name bro?” thinking about it but unable to find it, you shrugged your shoulders and guffawed. “Hmmmmm I know!” Tripp said, “Ripp”. It sunk into your brain and settled in as the truth. Ripp was now your new self, more self-assured than you used to be, Ripp was constantly being egged on by his best bro Tripp and led through life by Tripp since he was the smarter of the two.

After the two months of farting around and not taking summer school seriously, Tripp and Ripp ended up completely flunking out of school. Too stupid to be truly affected by this, Tripp made a dumb joke to Ripp “I guess we got real Tripp-ed up this year huhuhu”. The boys, too stupid to work, spent their days hanging with their boys, playing video games 24/7, and turning every room they walked in into a fart infested trap.

Michael was excited to be picking up a new hobby, he was going to start going to the gym, he was always a pretty skinny guy but he was looking to put on some muscle. Entering the gym for the first time Michael spoke to the guy running the front desk, he got a membership set up for himself and was pointed in the direction of the locker room. Entering the locker room for the first time, Michael was met with a musty smell lingering in the place. Of course Michael wasn't expecting it to smell like a perfume counter so he didn’t pay too much mind to the smell, but as he entered deeper into the locker room the smell got more and more intense. He had passed by a tall gym bro who had dumbly told him “Broooo, locker 054 is unlocked if you wanna use it.”

Michael had decided to find locker 054 and when he got to it he set his stuff down on the bench while he opened it up. Upon opening it he was met with an obviously worn tank top and a pair of gray sweatpants sitting at the bottom of his locker, and on top sat a pair of ripe gym socks. Gagging and turning away Michael was disgusted from the ripe scent pouring off of the clothes and out of the locker. It reeked so horribly that Michael grabbed his stuff and started to walk away when he suddenly thought to himself “Why am I leaving my locker wide open…? Im such a dummy” turning back around he made his way back to the toxic smelling locker. Setting his stuff back down Michael began to get changed, picking up the stinking socks he slipped one foot in and then the other. Feeling the wet feel of the sweat soaked socks would have typically disgusted Michael but now he felt as if this was natural for him. He could smell the newly acquired putrescent stink flowing out of his feet. Taking a deep whiff he felt his head get lighter, and for some reason being here in the gym, in the locker room, at this locker, it all felt so routine.

He proceeded to grab the sweat pants and pull them up above waist, his crotch immediately released the stench of his dried cum and ball sweat wafting towards his nose. It was odd to Michael that he could smell it given that he had showered right before he came to the gym, he shouldn't reek already. Checking if it really was coming from him Michael did something that he would never have done normally, he scratched his balls with his right hand and brought his fingers up to his nose, taking a big whiff he audibly went “Huhuhuhu…so stinky”.

Going back to putting the gym clothes on after his sniff check, Michael put his arm through one arm hole and then the other arm through the other of the white tank top. Now completely on Michael once again smelled a new nasty scent radiating off of him, sticking the same hand he had used to scratch his balls underneath his armpit he left it tucked there for a few seconds. Pulling it out he once again brought his hand to his nose and took a deep whiff. Letting the smell of his wet, tainted, armpit flood his nose sealed his fate. His body began to inflate as his arms grew more muscular, his legs grew sturdier, his feet grew bigger. He let out a deep dump giggle and picked up a can of AXE body spray from his bag. Spraying a spritz on each pit he gave them a sniff to check, to him they now smelled fresh as a daisy, but to anyone else they completely reeked of strong B.O. and cheap AXE. Looking in the mirror Michael saw a hot gymnast reeking of pheromones. Proud of his muscles and progress over the past few years coming to the gym he flexed in the mirror, lifting his arms to do so let out his festering pit stench directly from the source.

After practicing his gymnastics routine for an hour or so he returned to the locker room. Michael got changed back into his everyday clothes that were now too small and straining at the seams. He took the pile of damp gym clothes and set them back in the locker. Adorning his filthy pile with his even smellier socks on top, he leaned in and took a deep sniff of the stinky pile, eyes rolling back in his head from pleasure he knew had had a good workout based off of the stink he and his clothes let off. Closing the locker and leaving it unlocked he had begun to walk to the door when he passed by a lean guy walking into the locker room. “Broooo, locker 054 is unlocked if you wanna use it.” Michael disclosed with his usual idiotic tone.

"How much longer is this gonna take?" Ethan shifted, pretending to look interested. He had an exam coming up and a hundred places he’d rather be, but the man across from him only grew more animated by the second.

"So we came up with our slogan, 'Be PrEPared.'" The man practically beamed. "The boys in marketing really outdid themselves, don't you think?"

"Yeah..." Ethan caught his mind wandering and forced a smile. "I'm happy to be involved. I think population health is undervalued."

"Preach, babe." The man snapped his fingers.

Ethan grinned internally. The guy was eating out of his hand, and Ethan knew it wasn't just his answers. From the tone to blatantly checking him out, this guy fit every gay stereotype Ethan knew. What could he say? The gays loved him.

"But enough about me," the man laughed, leaning forward. "Tell me about you, hun. Why join our campaign?"

Ethan’s smile widened. He could tell the truth: he didn't give a shit about population health. He wanted a cushy specialty, and residency directors liked well-rounded resumes.

"Well, I think this is a great opportunity to support..." Ethan trailed off as the man raised a skeptical eyebrow. "...support marginalized groups. Happy to help de-stigmatize this stuff."

The man stared, then broke into a grin. "Oh my God, you're adorable."

Ethan let out an awkward chuckle. "That's a first." When the silence stretched into uncomfortable territory, he leaned in. "Look, I'd be good at this. Promise you won't regret bringing me on board."

The man tapped a finger against his chin. "Hmmm..." Really? Had this guy even looked at his résumé? This wasn't exactly a difficult decision, "Who would you prescribe PrEP to?" He finally asked.

"Uh…" Ethan wasn't expecting that. "Guys who sleep around, I guess." He paused, catching himself. "You know what I mean. Gay guys. Men who have sex with men."

"And would you use PrEP?"

"Uh, no." The answer shot out too quickly. The man’s eyebrow climbed, "I mean, I'm not the target demographic," Ethan corrected with a nervous laugh. "Nothing against it, but I'm not looking for sex with other men."

The man studied him for a beat, a grin spreading across his face. "Well, Ethan, I think we're gonna get along just fine."

"So that's a yes?"

"Oh, babe. That's absolutely a yes."

The tension left Ethan's shoulders. Perfect. One more line for the application. "Awesome. I appreciate the opportunity."

"We're excited to have you." The man reached beneath his desk and pulled out a small BePRePared tote bag. "Take this, hun."

"What's in it?"

"Everything you'll need for tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

The man's grin somehow widened. "Don't you worry. We'll be in touch."

-----------------

"That took longer than I thought." Ethan returned to his apartment, tossed the BePRePared tote bag onto the couch, and sat at his desk to study, "Fuck, I'm behind."

He stared at his digital flashcards, trying to prepare his best for his upcoming exam. But the text blurred. He blinked and stared at the card.

"What the hell?" He knew the answer to this, or at least he did yesterday. A suffocating brain fog rolled over him, as a dull ache started behind his eyes. His mind went completely blank, "Am I getting sick?"

Shoving himself away from the desk, he ran his hands through his hair. His neat trim felt dense, curling thickly between his fingers. He paused and ran his hand through his hair again, slower this time.

"How...?" Suddenly, the room tilted and sweat broke out across Ethan’s forehead, his joints throbbed, "Shit..." He couldn't afford to get sick, not when he had his first gig with BePrEPared tomorrow. The thought made him stop, "What am I thinking? Must be the fever... fucking with my head... Need water..."

He stumbled toward the kitchen and reached for a glass, barely noticing the fabric of his sleeve straining against his growing bicep. He quickly chugged his water, and froze when he wiped his chin. There was thick, rough stubble there. As if he hadn't shaved in a week.

"Fevers can... cause... hallucinations." He reasoned, although his thoughts were coming slower now, "Need... sleep..."

The room spun and his temperature spiked as he stumbled over towards the couch. He weakly pulled his scrub top off and threw it aside, his palms brushing through the thick, dark mat of body hair sprouting across his chest. But he barely recognized any of this, as his vision blurred and body grew weaker. He grabbed the tote bag on the couch and dropped it to the ground, the contents spilling out.

"What the fuck is this?" Ethan muttered, his voice dropping an octave, settling deeper. He felt a surge of irritation. This was a joke. They couldn't be serious. He was a medical student, for God's sake, not a...

Yet, as he stared at the blue speedo, his mind drifted to thinking about the happy, muscular campaign ambassadors he remembered seeing on the website. No exams. No residency stress. Just having fun and being noticed.

"Must be nice..." He fell onto the couch, and wiped sweat away from his forehead, "Fuck..." He smiled weakly, "I bet I’d look good in that Speedo." he thought.

He blinked, horrified by his own thought. Where had that come from? He shook his head, trying to clear the fog, but the movement only triggered a vicious wave of nausea.

"This isn't… a normal virus," he muttered. The words felt clumsy on his tongue, "Something's... wrong... with me..."

Ethan's hands drifted across his torso, tangling in the growing, dense dark body hair that was spreading now across his stomach. Beneath the coarse mat, his pectorals had swollen into heavy, solid shelves of muscle, hard and burning to the touch. He squeezed his own chest, a delirious, breathless laugh escaping him as his thumb traced over a newly sensitive, hyper-reactive nipple. He pinched it, and a sharp, slutty jolt of pure pleasure shot straight to his groin.

"Fuck," Ethan groaned, "Fuck... fuck... fuck..."

The room was spinning now and he was starting to see things that he knew shouldn't be there. He saw Joshua, sitting and smirking in the corner of the room.

"You're... not here." He slurred, "Leave me... alone..."

He closed his eyes tightly, and the hallucination of Joshua blurred and shifted. He was suddenly surrounded by nameless men crowding over the couch. He could feel them. Their heavy, rugged palms gripping his broadened shoulders, rough fingers digging greedily into his newly full, heavy ass, squeezing his thickening muscles. With a grunt, he flipped onto his stomach, and arched his ass.

"Ah... fuck..." Ethan groaned, drool leaking from his mouth. He whimpered as he felt something press against his exposed hole, "Pl...Please..."

His hand slithered past the tight elastic of his boxers, wrapping around a cock that was longer, thicker, and harder than it had ever been. He began to pump it in a frantic, heavy rhythm, his muscular thighs flexing with every stroke. He didn't care about the exam. He didn't care about residency. He just wanted to be a dumb, hot object. He wanted to be used.

“Would you use PrEP, babe?” Joshua’s voice echoed in his head.

"Wh-why... would... I?" Ethan moaned, "I'm... not... Oh... fuck..." He gagged suddenly as he felt the heavy pressure of a thick cock pushing deep into his throat, stretching his jaw and cutting off his breath, while another massive, rigid shaft slammed brutally up his ass, "Th... this isn't... real..." He thought, even as his jaw ached.

Every thrust of the thick, veiny shaft plugging his throat made his eyes water as he gagged. Simultaneously, he felt his ass being stretched wider as the skin-on-skin pounding drove his lower body forward, burying his face deeper into the cushions with each wet, heavy slap.

“What’s the doctor word for... not breathing?” he tried to ask himself, “Can't... think of it. Mind... fuzzy. So heavy.”

The ambient hum of his laptop fan and the quiet of the night vanished, completely replaced by a deep, thumping electronic base that vibrated directly through the cushions beneath his chest. His brain couldn't quite process the switch. Even the clinical definitions of auditory hallucinations felt too distant, too complicated to grasp.

“Music?” Ethan thought, his cognitive processing slowing to a crawl. “Music... nice... feels good...”

Even the scent of the room was suddenly different. A thick, heavy cloud of cologne, raw male sweat, and latex filled his lungs with every desperate, choking gasp.

“Smells... good,” the simple thought drifted lazily through his mind, “Warm. Thick. Smells like... men. Sex."

He let out a choked gasp as the cock went deeper down his throat. Panicking with what little logical faculty he had left, Ethan whipped his hands upward, fully intending to push away whatever hallucination was blocking his airway and clamping his jaw open.

“Get it out... need to study... am a doctor...”

But instead of empty air, his palms connected firmly with hot, sweaty flesh. The solid, moving hips of a man rhythmically thrusting down his throat.

“No... Wha...? Not a dream? Real. Big. So big. In my mouth. Up my ass.”

He reached out desperately, trying to find leverage, but instead his thicker palms and fingers clamped directly around two pulsing, rigid cocks. His broadened shoulders flexed automatically as his palms wrapped tight, his fingers squeezing the thick shafts as he began to stroke them in a frantic, heavy rhythm. His body knew exactly what to do, even if his brain could no longer define it.

“Stroke them... make them feel good,” his dumbed-down thoughts hummed, completely content to abandon his studies. “Good boy. Do what they want. Just a hot object.”

The thumping music grew louder, accompanied by the rapid, rhythmic click-whir of a professional camera shutter and deep, masculine groans of approval close to his ears.

"Look at him take it," a deep, gravelly voice chuckled right above him. "The new guy's an absolute natural."

Flash. Flash.

An intense, blinding glare of white-hot light penetrated right through his closed eyelids. The searing heat radiating against his skin wasn't a fever spike anymore; it was the burning warmth of professional studio lighting hanging directly overhead.

Ethan’s eyes snapped open.

He wasn't in his apartment. No, he was pinned face-down on a leather sofa in the center of a roaring photography studio. He could see his reflection in a mirror. Bulkier, hairier... sexier... sporting a toy stethoscope over his hair-covered chest and a tiny blue Speedo that was completely soaked through.

"Oh my gawd..." He thought, eyes watering.

A tall, rugged model stood over him, holding Ethan's face up by a tight fist in his thick, curly hair as he slid deep into Ethan’s throat. Behind him, a massive, tatted model was burying himself ruthlessly into Ethan’s expanded, aching glutes, slamming his hips forward with a heavy, wet slap. To his left and right, two more models leaned over the couch, grinning down at him as Ethan’s large, rough hands rapidly pumped them.

"Fuck... where'd you find this guy?"

Ethan's eyes were wide now, but the panic he expected to feel never came. His mind was too beautifully empty, too saturated with testosterone and pleasure. Board scores, residency applications, the endless stress of his old life...

“I’m the PrEP boy,” his thoughts drifted, “Dumb... hot... please... use me.”

"Keep going, hun, you're doing amazing," Joshua called out over the music, gesturing to the lens. "So, let's hear it for the campaign! Would you use PrEP?"

The thick cock down his throat pulled out with a wet pop, a line of drool running down his heavy, stubbled chin. He looked straight into the camera lens, his mind completely wiped of medical terminology. None of that mattered anymore. He was a BePRePared model. He was beautiful, he was being used, and he loved it.

"Y-Yes..." Ethan gasped out, his voice a deep, thoroughly broken baritone. His hips gave a desperate, simple twitch against the man behind him. "Yes... God, yes..."

The photographer grinned, clicking the shutter rapidly. "Perfect! That's the money shot!"

With a final, shattering surge of friction, the man behind him buried himself to the hilt, releasing deep inside him. Simultaneously, the model in front of him painted Ethan's face and thick, hairy chest, while the two men in his hands blew their loads over his fingers. And Ethan's own massive, leaking cock throbbed and fired a heavy stream into his tight, blue speedo.

"So good..." He moaned, falling back onto the couch and looking up at the other models with a dumb, happy grin, "More…?" he slurred, a thick bead of drool tracking down his chin and mixing with the man's seed. "More… please… use me more…"

"Don't you worry." Joshua patted him on the shoulder, while the other models chuckled, "You're our star now, Ethan. We've got plenty of work lined up for you." He nodded over at the photographer.

"Next shoot is in twenty minutes, boys," the photographer called out, adjusting his lens with a grin. "Clean him up just enough to do it all over again."

Carlisle Moreau was the definition of perfection.

He had himself convinced that if he was to flip open a dictionary at any given opportunity, he would find his picture smiling back at him. Smooth skin, clever eyes, a wickedly sly grin creeping up the side of his face. He was a brilliant young man, richer than his father and his grandfather combined.

He liked to look at himself like he was a product, the result of years of endless studying and careful grooming. Everything about Carlisle was calculated, and carefully planned, and he lived his life following a strict schedule. A light jog in the mornings, a healthy five star breakfast, a long day of work.

Not that the work was ever difficult, not from within his luxurious office, but it was still work. He would always set aside time to go to the gym in the afternoon before booking a reservation at whatever restaurant was trending that day, where he would order a salad that cost way more than it was actually worth.

He was paying for the experience, he liked to tell himself. Just like he paid for his experience at the most prestigious gym in the city. So maybe that was why he was so easily annoyed by one of the other patrons. Frank the Tank/Pussy Smasher, as he liked to call himself, or Ass-Blaster/The Human Gym Sock, as others called him behind his back, was Carlisle's polar opposite.

His name was Frank Lombardi, and how he had even earned an invitation to the gym was a mystery to Carlisle. Let alone how he could afford it, seeing as no matter when the young businessman tried to schedule his evening workout, Frank was somehow always there. Always pumping iron, bloated way past the possibility of looking like a normal person, always grunting and listening to loud rock music.

He threw slurs around like they were free candy, fondling his dick and his balls like manners didn’t apply to him, trying to pick up chicks at any given opportunity. His eyes always looked a little too cloudy, his mouth a little slack, like he was just a few strokes away from losing his load. He just needed to explode.

And he did, often. Much to Carlisle’s disgust. He was called Ass-Blaster by the other gym patrons for a reason, gassing out all the guys throughout the day with his booming protein farts. It was easy to ignore his rancid armpit stink in the gym air, but not the toxic fumes wafting from Frank’s meaty ass. Carlisle was among the few souls who couldn’t handle the latest blast of the day, excusing himself to the locker room and still clutching his nose tight.

He had made so many complaints, offered so many bribes, but nothing got done. He never really stopped to consider who Frank was, or why he was there, he just focused on the fact that he was so far beneath him, beneath everyone in that gym, a walking barrel of beef jerky that had spoiled long ago. Maybe if Carlisle had done a little research, he would know that Frank was the son of the gym owner. Also rich, also a pedigree, just not so fucking uptight about it.

His dad bought him a gym so he could make gains all day, whereas Carlisle’s helped him put down a down payment for a private jet. They were just two different types of guys, and that should have been okay, but Carlisle couldn’t accept it. The spicy scent was still lingering up his nose, only just fading, when the locker room door swung open and Frank stomped inside.

He was such a douche. Piss burnt yellow hair from a bad bleach job, diamond studs, a backwards cap, the aftermath of his fart and sweat still hanging thick around him. Carlisle took a step back as the giant approached, and Frank laughed at the sight of the squeamish businessman. He didn’t ask for permission before throwing his arm around Carlisle, squeezing so tight that other guy couldn’t escape the embrace, laughing even louder like they were best bros just sharing the love.

“Dude, why do you always run from me? We could be buds.” Carlisle couldn’t choke back his scoff, breaking free from Frank’s grasp at the first opportunity. Literally nothing sounded more unappealing than being friends with this gorilla. He didn’t even deem the young man worthy of a response. This hurt the meathead’s feelings a bit, though his dumb grin never really left his face.

He just pulled off his shorts and scratched at his massive dong through his jockstrap, grunting as he did so, louder and louder. “Fuck, bro You ever get jock itch like fuckin’ crazy?” Carlisle didn’t mean to glance over, but he nearly gagged when he did. The white fabric was anything but, long since stained yellow from abuse, torn at the edges and straining against the hardening cock. The smells in the room just got that much worse.

“You are absolutely repugnant. How do you even live with yourself? How can you be okay with this? Learn some manners.” Carlisle couldn’t understand how one person was so carefree, to the point of being a human garbage disposal. He was gross, and rude, and so stupid. Nothing like Carlisle. And what made it worse was that Frank had the means to be somebody, but he chose this. He chose being a muscle pig.

Carlisle was trying to excuse himself when Frank replied, voice still dumb and chipper despite the loneliness in his words. “Bro, I just wish I had a guy to chill with. Someone that actually fuckin’ gets me. You know how hard it is being around you uptight fuckers all day?” He threw his arms out in frustration, flaring his large chest. “Y’all need to take the sticks out of your asses and let one rip!”

The more polished of the two could only roll his eyes, slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder and tilting his head to the side. “Wow, Frank. That’s sweet. I really wish I wanted to follow in your footsteps sniffing up your farts all day. Sounds like a great life.” He shoved past the giant as he tried to exit the room, but his bony shoulder hardly did any damage.

It almost felt like it had done more to him. A few steps later before reaching the door and he nearly fell to his knees, pressing a hand to his slim stomach and wincing as a gurgling sound moved through him. “Oh, gosh.” That was all he could think to say, straightening himself back up. He didn’t like to curse, he believed that it was a sign of low intelligence. He could feel gas building up in him, out of nowhere, so he tried to excuse himself quickly.

He didn’t even notice his stomach was bloating until he tried to open the door and hit himself right in the gut, causing a burp to rocket past his lips. The stench of his breath was meaty, and rancid, like he had eaten five steaks already. It didn’t make sense, why his fumes were like someone else’s, or why suddenly he had a small gut resting above his narrow hips.

“Oh, my goodness. What’s happening?” He could hear Frank chuckling, and despite himself, he backed away from the door and closer to the big oaf. He couldn’t risk leaving like this, he didn’t want anyone to see him. Not when he still felt like he was inflating, like he needed to let loose in the worst way. Frank could clearly see the struggle, watching the prissy guy scrunch up his face and rub his stomach anxiously.

“Dude. You clearly need to take a shit.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing, and it was. But not to Carlisle, not to a young man that never passed wind in front of strangers, who followed manners at all time. Frank lifted a leg in response to this, squeezing out a squelching fart like it was the easiest thing. “See, man? That’s all there is to it. Better do somethin’ before you pop.”

Carlisle wanted to turn on his heels and accept the judgmental glares right then and there, but when he tried to move it felt like his body was betraying him. He was just standing there, staring at Carlisle, until he started to mimic the giant’s movements. “What? No,” he whimpered, confused, unable to stop as he lifted a leg and let rip a booming fart. It kept coming out of him, a deep bass with a spicy protein stench, still rocketing out of his ass when he started to belch, too.

The whole time he expelled the gas, his body started to change. The small bloat started to lessen, giving way to a solid muscle gut made for holding rank farts, and a light dusting of facial hair formed around his lips. His eyes were full of fear, and shame, but Frank look delighted. “DAMN. I didn’t know you had that shit in you. That’s power, bro.” There was something eager, and almost hopeful about him. Like this was really what he was wishing for. Maybe he had finally found someone just as gross as he was.

But Carlisle didn’t want to be like this, and he was confused why all of this was happening in the first place. He tried to talk, but the aftertaste of his belch just made him want to retch. He started coughing before it turned into dumb laughter, the same sound Frank had made, hands falling to his now shredded abs and then to his stretching shoulders. He felt himself grow, and change, his ideal physique becoming that of a gym rat’s.

He looked like he could have been Frank’s younger brother, a muscle pig in the making with his thick muscles and douche style. That was when Carlisle finally got control of his body again, shaking his head and glancing down at himself. His feet were huge, his legs long and thick, he looked like he had just finished a good pump. He walked to the nearest mirror, nearly tripping over himself. He was stunned by what he saw. “That’s not me. I don’t want this.”

Where had these clothes come from? Why was there hair and tattoos suddenly all over him? He started to panic, but he couldn’t control his face. It just kept smirking, his control waning once more. When Frank plodded over, wrapping his arm around his bro’s shoulder, Carlisle could see the resemblance in all its glory. He looked like part of the Lombardi family, well on his way to being just like his bigger, grosser brother. He had to fart again. And burp.

So he did.

Frank just laughed, not even waving the scent off. “Dude, that’s a 10 out of 10. You’re more rank than me.” Carlisle couldn’t believe what was happening, he didn’t understand it, suddenly there was a stranger in the room and he was trapped in his body. Out of nowhere there was another meathead with horrible hygiene, just like Frank, and he was stuck inside without any control.

“Bro, there’s no fucking way. No one could ever live up to your stank.” He sounded so dumb, and so crass, and he hadn’t even moved his lips willingly. He was so scared, banging at the walls of his brain as he felt himself leaning forward, nudging his nose against Frank’s closed armpit. The bigger guy just laughed, looking around to check that the locker room was still empty.

“What, piggy? You hungry for this?” He lifted his arm, and Carlisle wanted to scream. He tried to pull away, he tried to run, but all his body could do was dive into the sweet musky forest. His tongue lapped at the matted hair, drinking in the divine sweat, all the while Carlisle could taste everything inside his own mind, gagging and crying and begging it all to stop. Not that Carl wanted to, he was grunting and moaning and grinding his hips against Frank’s leg the whole time.

“I love that my best bro is such a gross fag.” And he really did, Frank was more than happy to keep Carl satisfied. The new jock never really asked for much, but he had a thing for smelly guys, and Frank was the smelliest. Frank was a pussy hound, through and through, but if Carl wanted to choke on his fat cock then who was he to stop his best bud’s enjoyment? A mouth was a mouth. He was just grateful to have such an awesome friend.

“Dude, let’s go to Taco Bell. If you’re that horny I need to load up.” Carlisle didn’t understand what that was referring to, but Carl replied with an excited moan and a dumb chuckle. He scratched at his bull nuts, pulling away from Frank and not bothering to wipe the sweat and stray hairs away from his face.

“Oh, fuck yes. Suffocate me with your smelly ass, bro.” Then he understood, and he was terrified once more, but he soon learned that he would never regain control. He wasn’t Carlisle anymore, Carlisle had never existed, there was only Carl. And Carl was gross, and beefy, and Frank’s perfect little lackey. They did everything together, no matter how disgusting, how degrading. Both of them had gotten their wishes granted.

Carl was such a good bro now. The perfect spotter at the gym, the only guy who could dig into ten burritos without stopping, also the only guy who didn’t care about the hours of gas afterwards. He was so gross, and so dumb, and so chill. That was what Frank wanted. He wanted a dude who was just like him, and he got it. He got his mini me, his best pal, someone who wouldn’t run away when he made a complete ass of himself.

And Frank was everything Carl wanted. A bigger guy to follow around, to do all of the thinking for him. Huge and gassy and always willing to help him with his gross desires. He was so excited for tonight, he couldn’t wait for his bro to let one rip right in his face, over and over, he’d clean that hole until it shined. Anything for his best friend.

Poor Carlisle had a solo ticket to the most exclusive, disgusting muscle pig cam show on earth. He’d be around Frank for the rest of his life, breathing in his essence, laughing at his dumb jokes, helping him pick up chicks with the stupidest pick up lines, never again attending a meeting or following a strict schedule beyond the daily farts. He should have just kept his mouth closed.

“Who the fuck are you!” You stared at the half naked man lying on your sofa, playing GTA V, the room reeking of weed and… some unidentified scent. “Get the hell out of my house!” You were shrieking like a banshee, yet this studly stranger took no notice of your rage.

“Yo, bruh. Why you screamin’? Calm down.” As if a Valium hit you like a brick, waves of relief washed over you.

“I… I don’t know.” You stood there, dumbfounded. Wondering why it was you were so surprised this dude was in your apartment. You calmly place your stuff down at the door, kicking off your uncomfortable work shoes.

“Man, that fuckin’ job has got you stressed out as fuck.” He sits upright, patting the leather cushion next to him. Your head still fuzzy, you idly find yourself waddling over to him, and plopping down next to him on the couch. He tosses his arm around your shoulder, and hands you the second controller, which you gladly accept. There is nothing like Grand Theft Auto to let out all that aggression that builds up after a bullshit shift. “Sit back, and just let it out bro. I’ll roll us a blunt.”

Marco bends over, opening the pot box. Wait. Marco. Yeah, that’s his name. But, why do you know him? How do you know him? Have you seen him before? It’s as you stumble over the little holes in your memory, your nose is bombarded once again by that strange smell. Sweet. Salty. Sour… It’s rank! Yet, addictive. Your mind occupied on the game, your nose focused on the smell… It’s a sensual overload when Marco finally has the blunt in his mouth, lighting it up and letting out his typical massive cloud.

“Aight, here.” You take the blunt from his fingers, and he tosses his arm around your shoulders once again. You bring the blunt to your lips, and light it. You inhale, taking in that oh so familiar spicy taste of ganja. You sigh as you let out the smoke, settling into Marco’s comfortable hold. You try and pass it back to him, but he quietly refuses. “Nah, man. You need it way more than I do.”

You two shout and laugh together, high as kites as your outrageous shenanigans on GTA coincide perfectly with the absurdist humour the weed brings out. It’s at this point once again that your drawn again to that smell. It tickles the hairs in your nose, giving you shivers down your spine. Marco looks over to you, noticing your obvious goosebumps down your arms.

“Ahh. I know what you need.” You feel a hand grab the back of your head, and within seconds, your face is buried in a dark, dank little space. The smell is pulsating into your nostrils, clearly it is coming from here. “Yeah, I know how you like it. Breathe it in, babe.” You grasp Marco’s meaty pecs and back, pulling your face deeper into the sweaty armpit. He always knows how to treat you when you’ve had a rough day. Marco plays on, smiling, yet nonchalantly unperturbed. You lap up the beads of trapped sweat from his damp pits, savouring each and every ounce of his salty taste.

You pull away from your boyfriend’s musky pits for only a moment; just enough time to slowly and seductively pull down his beat up sweatpants. His gorgeous cock springs to attention, smacking you in the cheek. The familiar sour stench of his musky balls and cock welcomes you back to your favourite place on earth.

Marco grabs the base of it, smirking that familiar, cocky sidegrin. You know exactly what to do. You gently kiss and caress his tip, fondling those melons he calls his balls. Your insatiable lust takes over, as you go down on your boyfriend, deepthroating as if you’ve done it every single day. Each time your nostrils hit his bush, you take in that incredible stench, a product of his lackadaisical stance on showering.

He grabs the back of your head, thrusting his cock into your mouth, throatfucking you like he loves to do. He growls, moans, and grunts as he furiously fucks your face. Each slap of his balls on your chin, you are reminded of the amazing streams of seed that will flow down your throat- your drink of choice. No sooner as you think it, Marco roars out his animalistic grunt as he shoots his massive load down your throat. Stream after stream, neverending. You can feel the cum get caught in the back of your throat, heading up to your sinuses, and trickling down your nose. Each throbbing thrust of cum fills you in ways you cannot explain. As if it flowed from your mouth to your toes, filling you up with every single burst. You found yourself pulsating, your muscles stretching and contracting with every load barreled into your powerful gut.

Marco dismounts your cum-soaked face, and passionately kisses you. His little alpha persona is such a mock up, as you know that he’d rather just light a blunt than boss you around! You look down at the tattered remains of boring square work clothes on your lean, muscled body. What the fuck had happened? Who the fuck wears that shit? Thank god you sell out of your place, so you don’t even have to put pants on! Slipping on your favourite trash shirt, and rancid, cumsoaked undies, you plop back into your seat, while Marco begins to repay the favour you paid him. He’s in for a surprise. You didn’t wash up this morning, so there might be a little… Build up down there. You take a puff of your blunt as your boyfriend goes down on your cheesy cock. Damn. Doesn’t get better than this.

Continued from PART 1

I stood there, slackjawed in awe. In the forefront of my mind, I saw the guy I've always been; deeper down within me, yeah, something was off. Of course I was always slim, I was always sinewy. Though, if that's the case, why couldn't I shake that feeling? Maybe it was the fact I was wearing Alejo's shirt and jockstrap... Maybe it was the fact that I'd cummed so much my balls ached...

"Yo, dude! I'm bootin' up Smash Bros, hurry up!" Alejo called out from his bedroom, snapping me back into reality. Though, just to be safe, I snapped a quick selfie. In case something was off, I would be able to compare before and after at least.

I walked back into the room, and Alejo grinned. I picked up the dripping fleshlight from my seat, tossing it back onto his bed- droplets of our mingled spunk flying across the room. Plopping down onto the couch, I picked up the controller off the floor and leaned back as Alejo tossed that firm and strong arm around my shoulder. As the game flashed to life on the screen, the confusion over my reflection just melted away.

"Fuck, bro. This is the fuckin' life! Kickin' back with your buds, strokin' and tokin'." His enthusiasm and cheerfulness hadn't taken a single hit in days. That newfound energetic zeal and laid back persona had lasted throughout the nightly fleshlight swapping, the copious amounts of cannabis, the scary movies, the 'deep' conversations... the new Alejo was a different man, and he was more than willing to share that energy. "Speakin' of which, pack a bowl for us so I can kick your ass off this platform." I chuckled, reaching over to the bong and grinder to stuff more of his weed into the bowl. Though, as I unscrewed the top- horror.

"Oh shit, I think you're out of weed." Alejo paused the game, turning to me with a look of shock on his face. He rose, searching through drawers, shoeboxes, the abyss that sat beneath his bed... indeed his confused face showed we were out.

"Fuck. Aight, I'm gonna go restock on the good shit." He walked over to a pile of his clothes, slipping on a pair of jeans and shoving his big bare feet into his ripe AF1's. "Hang tight, bro. Give me like twenty minutes, I'll be back and we'll be sky high!" He leaned over, high fiving me and ruffling my hair as he walked toward the front door. I couldn't help but follow like a lost puppy, feeling as if I were tethered to my good bro. He turned to me just before turning the knob, and smiled. "Aww, I know you wanna come with. But my plug doesn't like new people around when we buy."

"I get it." I lied, my eyes drifting down to his crotch. He'd only just put on those jeans and there was already a puddle of dampness outlining his dick. "Might wanna clean up before you go, though!" I pointed at his sticky patch; all he did was look down and smirk.

"Heh, can't help it, bro!" He grasped onto his bulge, flashing those bright white teeth at me. "Been churning out my ball batter for days, bro. Free advertising, am I right?" I couldn't help but stare. His 'ball batter' had been coating my cock for hours at a time the last two nights, and the only thing in my head each time I see his wet groin is an image of that firehose spraying down my throat or straight up my cock. Though I thought I was being discreet, evidently I was not. His brows furrowed and he beckoned me toward him with a single finger, his other hand slipping beneath the black band of his underwear.

I slowly walked toward him, that musky funk wafting from his body wrapping around me again. It had become my own private little oasis, the moment it slithered inside of my nose I felt safe and satisfied. Within arm's reach, he let his left hand slide down my back and onto my tight ass, pulling me chest to chest with him.

"Bro, I have a feelin' you're coppin' feelings for me." He teased gently, squeezing my ass as he fondled himself in his jeans. "We got close these last few days, yeah?" Pulling his right hand out of his pants, his fingers were coated in his slimy pre; the scent of his unwashed dick paired with the sharpness of his thick white seed grew stronger as his fingers inched closer and closer to my face. Leaning in, he whispered. "Cuz I think I got some feelings for you too, bro." The slimy fingers pressed against my lips, easily pushing past and into my mouth. The tanginess, the cheesiness, the saltiness, the sweetness... it was like fireworks going off in my mouth as I sucked his 'ball batter' off his sweaty fingers. He smiled even more- I'd given him an answer without so much as a word. "Ooooh, yeah I think we're gonna be playing a different kind of Smash Bros when I get back, babe."

He leaned in, pressing his lips against mine. I felt his tongue slip and slide over mine, the remnants of his slimy spunk being shared between us before he pulled away. He winked at me one final time before walking out the door, closing it behind him. I was alone in the apartment. The moment played on repeat in my head, those supple lips against mine, his hard chest pressed against me, his hand gripping my rear, the pungent taste of that pre... I wanted it. I wanted him. I wanted more.

I walked back into his room, realizing quickly that it seemed smaller than before. As if the ceiling had dropped, or the floor had. Looking down at my feet on the floor, I'd noticed they'd left big sweaty footprints from the kitchen to Alejo's room... I turned to the pile of his dirty laundry by the bed, with a raised eyebrow. Surely nothing would have fit, he was at least a foot taller than I was... wasn't he? As I thought about it, he didn't need to bend over to kiss me, he simply pressed his lips against mine... Huh... I must've had a growth spurt. The yellow jockstrap he'd donned on me barely fit compared to an hour ago, though I did end up adding my own pre to the mix after that little make out sesh...

I tugged the yellow underwear down, my erect cock springing upward as I did. Long, slender, slime oozing from under my hood... The little voice in the back of my mind screamed at me that I was cut... his weed must have really fucked me up. I tossed the strap onto the bed, and knelt down, rummaging through the pile of Alejo's clothes. Finding a much better fit in his cumstained black Calvin Klein's, I slipped my big feet through the holes, slipping it up over my thick thighs and onto my lean waist. The band snapped- a perfect fit. I pressed my pulsating bulge against the sticky fabric, sighing in ecstasy at his leftovers from the night before laminated my rod and sac.

A pair of black sweatpants sat deep in the pile, looking comfy as fuck. Pulling them out, they fit like a glove as I slid them up my long legs and right atop my bulging basket. It didn't take long before a little damp patch started to appear on the black fabric, slowly growing in size as I found his beat up Chucks. Size 14... just like mine... I don't know why I thought I wore size 10! Slipping my feet into the well loved, damn ripe high tops, it felt as if they were meant for me. My toes fell right where Alejo's sit, I could feel the depressions where those smelly dogs pressed into insoles. I turned to the mirror, dressed from the waist down in his threads, looking damn sexy. The sweatpants fell just below my abs, the cum gutters pointing directly to my leaky faucet.

I turned and collapsed onto his bed. Closing my eyes, all I could think about was his smile, his scent, that musty cock, that tangy spunk and how it felt in my mouth. I was pawing my throbbing member through Alejo's clothes, not even realizing I was doing it. My balls ached as I moaned, thinking about his lips against mine, about that cock in my mouth, his cum in my hole... I needed release.

My elbow touched something, and opening my eyes, I grinned as I saw what it was. His condom- Alejo's creamed condom, and one with one hell of a load sitting within. It was like my body was on autopilot, my brain could barely keep up. Within seconds I'd untied the knot up top, and pried it open. I brought it to my nose, taking a deep whiff. Fuck, it was so good. It was like sniffing that cheesy cock right under my nose, followed by that sharp cum stench that had sat in rubber for a couple days. A lightbulb went off in my head, as I slowly pulled the waistbands down, releasing my musky member from it's sweaty, slimy prison. I brought the rubber down to my head, pulling my hood down to easily let the slippery rubber slide over it.

I tugged, letting the top heavy condom slide down my shaft, until I felt Alejo's seed at the tip of my cockhead. I sighed in euphoria as the cool slime cascaded over my cock as the rubber fit perfectly in place. I just stared at it for a moment as it pulsated before my eyes. Slowly, I wrapped my hand around it- sounds of the squelching slick rubber holding his load tight against my rod. All I had to do was pull up, and push down. Up and down. His load sloshed around inside of the condom, lubing my cock as I pumped.

My body glistened with beads of sweat, illuminating the sick ink I must've got done recently on my arms. My abs rose and fell with my breath as I pumped, my juicy pecs jiggling as I thrust into my hand. Shit, I could barely breathe... Yet... I needed more. The fleshlight sat to the right of my head, still dripping our loads from earlier. I grinned as I snatched it up, holding it above my face. Globules of our cum rained down onto my face as I kept thrusting into his condom, the fleshlight coming closer and closer to my face until mere millimeters from my face. Oh, the scent.. the taste... As I plunged my tongue into the silicone hole, I must have reached nirvana. The slimy splurge slid across my tongue as I rimmed the fleshlight, lapping up every drop I could. Moans, cacophonous moans bellowed out from within me as I surrendered to the lust. My brain grew fuzzy, my mind grew dim.

I could only continue to thrust into my hand, and bury my face in the fleshlight; nothing else mattered. That craving for Alejo's spunk inside of me, dripping from me, possessing me... it's all that my warping mind could focus on. In fact, so enraptured was I with the filth and lust that I didn't even notice the front door opening and closing. Nor did I hear the heavy squeaking footfalls across the tile kitchen floor.

"Well fuck, bro. Couldn't help yourself, huh?" I pull the fleshlight away from my face to see Alejo leaning against the doorframe, his long dripping python straining against the sticky denim of his jeans. I smirked, my bright white teeth sparkled as his cum ran down the corners of my mouth. "How's about I tag in real quick, would you like that, babe?" I moaned with an unquenchable thirst in affirmation as he unbuttoned the jeans, taking a step forward before pulling down his black underwear to reveal that gorgeous 10 incher and pulsating swollen balls. He crawled onto the bed, grabbing my legs and hoisting them up into the air, my perky bubble butt beckoning for him. "Fuck you're so sexy in my clothes, babe." I feel the slimy head of his dirty cock press against my tight hole as he wraps his hand around my dick in his smelly condom. "You're gonna be even sexier when I fill you up."

He wasted no time, slowly pushing his member past my contracted sphincter. I yelped in ecstasy as he slid inside of me, going deeper and deeper until his sweaty balls pressed against my cheeks. I put my hands behind my head as he thrust into me, pumping my cock in tandem with his rhythm. Slow, sensual, and tender, his pace quickened. My hole seemed to mold to his perfect cock, massaging every inch of him as he picked up the pace. The sound of slimy slaps of our skin grew faster and louder, his grunts and my moans following suit.

"Oh fuck, bro. Your ass is so much better than the fleshlight man. Fuuuuck." Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap. You could hear the tendrils of his precum lubing him as he kept thrusting until his breaths became labored and short. "Ohhh. Oh fuck, bro. You want summa this bro batter? You want me to fill you up with this hose?" I nearly screamed in confirmation, one last smirk and a deep slam inside of me, and I felt the torrent of his load flow in. One barrage, two barrages, three... four... five... his cock was indeed a hose, dumping what seemed like gallons from his baseball sized veiny balls into my body. I shot my load into his condom, swearing for just a second that instead of expelling my own seed, it was his rushing into my cock flowing straight into my balls, doubling... tripling... quadrupling their size with the sheer volume of his cum invasion. In that moment, I felt every ounce of strife and anxiety wash out of me. I felt nourished, rejuvenated, virile, and satisfied. He stripped the empty condom off my cock, pulling himself out of me as my hole closed up behind. We grinned, letting our tongues mingle once again, not wanting to part ways ever again. Not even for a single moment. We were tethered, we were one unit together. He pulled away for just a moment before standing up and pulling me to my feet.

"Oh fuck, babe. We're gonna be doing that a lot more often." I grinned, wrapping my strong arms around his waist. "In fact... you down for round two?" He didn't need to ask twice. I spun him around, bending him over the side of the couch; his plump ass begging to be plugged with my musky 10 incher.

---

Bianca, or should I say Bianco now, burst into the apartment. His sinewy muscles still dripping with sweat from the run across town to see his man. He called out, walking through the puddles of steaming white slime that had pooled across the tile floor. Our ripe threads and roached joints littered the apartment, our combined musk permeated every inch of the place.

"Yo, babe. Where you at? Why am I so fuckin' horny, bro? I just wanna dump my seed into anything that moves... what's wrong with me?" He walked toward the open balcony door, following the river of spunk and the slurps emanating from the outside. He rounded the corner, turning his head and smirked.

My hands held Alejo's pretty head as I speared his mouth with my tool. Fuck, he knows how to use that tongue as it wrapped around my length like a spiraling snake, my cum dripping like rain out of his mouth as he drank it down. I turned to face Bianco, winking at the sexy specimen of newfound manhood.

"Sup, B?" I gasped as I unleashed yet another torrent of my seed down Alejo's throat. "You want a turn, man? He sure knows how to drink it down, heh." I dismounted my best bro's face, his tongue hanging over the tip of his chin like a panting dog. "I'm gonna go pack us a bowl, bro. You two have fun, eh?" I slapped Bianco on the back as I walked away, hearing the unzipping of his pants and sighs of satisfaction.

Someone with a plan. Perfect

Hey, bro, you found me!

Yup, you got that right, I’m a Banana now. I guess you can say they caught me slipping… you can be a Banana too, bro, you just gotta let them transform you. It feels good, bro. They put you in this comfortable uniform— peep the yellow compression shorts— and they feed you this yellow stuff that Coach says, uh, “turns your brain to mush but makes your muscles massive” or something like that… I don’t remember exactly what he said. Doesn’t matter, bro.

“Hey… uh, where’d you say we were goin again? How come I feel so fuckin’ weird…”

“Don’t worry bro. It’s all for the best. Just relax.”

“The… fuck? Did you drug me?”

“Just relax bro…”

Compelled. Muscles relax. Muscles shift. Muscles smiles.

“Some of your old self is still hangin on. What’s your name, bro? Tell me your name.”

Greg. It was Gr - “Muscles,” he said.

The driver laughed, barked, almost. “Hahaha bro, that’s just a nickname. Not your real name. What’s your real name?”

Greg! It was - “Muscles,” he said again, thickly. A vacant, dumb grin sprouted helplessly over his mouth.

“One more time, bro… try again.”

Gr - “Muscles, Muscles, Muscles!” He said, triumphantly, and flexed a double bicep pose like a flourish.

“Well, if you say so. Dumbass.”

Muscles nodded, and laughed, a low, dumb sound. “We goin’ to gym?”

“Yup, gym.”

The thing is that you don’t even see it coming.  Or maybe you do.  Inhale, exhale.

Slower than that.  slow it down.  easy now. 

Don’t you know what you’re in for?  We all get the same warnings.  Drugs are bad.  Drugs are scary.  You could die.  You could fuck up your life.  That’s the scariest thing, you could fuck up your life.  Inhale, exhale.

That’s much better.  good job.

You could end up somewhere different.

You could end up someone different.

We’re all changing all the time anyway, though, so maybe that’s not such a bad thing, right?  To be someone else isn’t really that far-fetched a statement, considering that when you wake up each day, you’ve changed a little.  Your hair has grown longer, your nails, even the very particles of your skin have changed, been sloughed off as you roll around in bed, unaware of what is happening to your body.  You age, you change.  You are time-lapse in slow motion.

It’s all natural.  Just like breathing.  Inhale, exhale.

You lose some things along the way.  Sometime these are things that have been with you forever, things you never thought you’d part ways with.  Years down the road, you look back and laugh, huhuhuhuh, because of how ridiculous that seems.  Huhuhuhuh. 

Did you just laugh?  Maybe it’s because you can already see yourself, years down the road, looking back and laughing, huhuhuhuh, because of how ridiculous the things you have now seem.  Whoa, trippy.  Inhale, exhale.

Maybe those things encompass this one thing, which is how you see the world.  You look out through glasses, maybe.  You hate them, obviously.  Maybe they make you look smart.  Maybe they are a part of your identity.  But underneath, you hate them, because they’re “extra.”  You have to put them on.  They are a handicap.  No one likes that sort of thing.  Years down the road, you laugh, huhuhuh, because you can’t believe how long you went without getting contact lenses.  Just a thought.  Maybe you don’t wear glasses.  Maybe you just see the world through fear-tinted lenses.  Years down the road, you laugh, huhuhuh, because of how easy it was to overcome your fears.  Being dumb isn’t something to be afraid of, bro.  It’s just the way smart people look at you.  And after awhile, you won’t care how they look at you.  You’ll just be who you are.  It is what is, right, bro?  Here.  Take a puff.  An imaginary puff, of this fucking killer joint.  It’s a special blend, and it’s smooth as silk, bro.

Inhale, exhale.  Holy fuck, bro, I mean, come on.  Imagine that smoke just sauntering through your system, starting in your lungs.  Then it’s suddenly in your veins.  In your fucking muscles.  Try tensing them, just a little, even if you don’t have a lot yet.  (You will.)  You can’t deny that squeezing them feels amazing.  No, not squeezing.

Flexing.

Can you imagine how amazing it would feel if you had more muscle to tense?  To flex?  Sure you can.  The Nu weed is helping out.  Oh, I didn’t mention that this was Nu weed?  Well, it is.  It’s fucking good though, isn’t it, bro?  You want another hit?  Sure you do.  It’s all yours.

They say pot is a gateway drug, and it is.  It makes you look at the world differently.  You can see things from another angle, you can re-evaluate.  Different thoughts start floating into your mind.  Maybe you’re in a store, and you’re walking through the electronics department.  Maybe that gigantic, overwhelming wall of TVs has got the game on.  The football game, bro.  You’ve never really paid attention to it before, not really.  It just kind of exists on the edges of your vision.  You have other things to do in that store.  But this time, it’s different, you’re attracted to it.  Maybe it’s the colors, or the blur of motion as someone snaps the football across the wide green grass, you find your head turning, you find your eyes locking on.  Maybe you stand there for a long time, maybe it’s just a couple of minutes.  Maybe it’s only thirty seconds.  But after the first second, bro, it’s all there.  You chose to pay attention.  And even if you walk away after thirty seconds, bro, you made the decision to turn, and to look.  Like a catchy song you hear the chorus to just once, it’s stuck in your head, like a rock in your shoe, you feel it, all day, until you unlace your shoe, wobble on one foot, and shake it out. 

How do you feel?  Ask yourself, because I’m asking you.  How’s the Nu weed feel?  It’s nice to be high.  A little fuzzy around the edges.  A little like having your brain wrapped in cotton.  Just muting it a little bit.  Dampening thoughts that would ordinarily be painfully bright, like hot, violent sunlight reflecting off of brushed steel.  Now it’s more like the dim light of a 40-watt bulb.  Isn’t that so much better?  I can’t blame you if you want it all the time, crave it all the time.  Inhale, exhale.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen your shoulders look so relaxed, bro.  This is exactly what you needed, isn’t it?  And you didn’t even know you needed it.  Well, you knew you did, on some level, I’m sure, but you never expected to feel this way.

Marvin sat alone in his dorm, the room dim except for the cold white glow of his desk lamp. He held the green vial up to the light, watching the liquid swirl slow and viscous inside. His fingers trembled, not from fear no, he was ready but from adrenaline, nerves spiking in anticipation. It was supposed to be the final step. Not just muscle. Clarity. Confidence. Intelligence intact, with the body to match.

He muttered, “No more getting pushed around… no more sitting quiet in the back row…”

He uncorked it. The glass clinked softly.

A breath. Then he knocked it back.

Thick. Bitter. Almost oily. He swallowed it all.

And waited.

Five seconds. Ten. The vial slipped from his hand and rolled onto the floor.

Then it hit.

“Ugh hhhaagh!”

His stomach clenched. Heat flared outward. He dropped to one knee, gripping the side of his bed. His breath hitched. Short, shallow. Then his chest lurched forward bones shifting with audible pops. His hoodie pulled tight across his pecs. He gasped, tried to stand, but his legs trembled as his thighs spasmed beneath him.

“What the fuck nghh somethin’s too fast”

His hoodie stretched, seams whining. Shoulders rounded, thickened, the fabric climbing his arms as muscle exploded outward. His sleeves burst at the elbows. He grunted loud as his traps rose up, neck thickening. He flexed involuntarily, biceps pulsing, swelling round and veiny.

His eyes widened. “Shit, bro f-fuck, I’m huge what’s hah what’s goin’ on?”

Veins crawled down his forearms, hands twitching with growing mass. His chest thrust forward, popping the zipper open as pecs pushed out, heavy and high. His breath deepened. Slowed. His mind buzzed then dipped. Drowned under the growing pressure of sensation.

“Wait I… I was gonna be smart still, I—I—”

His voice dropped mid-sentence. It cracked, then settled into a low, heavy rumble.

He groaned, swaying. His shorts gripped his waist tighter as his glutes surged. His thighs ballooned, slamming together. The seams split wide open.

SHRRRIP

“Fuckkkk, dude…” he mumbled, blinking slow.

He looked down, chest rising like a machine. Abs clenched in rows of stone, hips flaring narrow beneath the shredded waistband. His lats stuck out like wings. His arms hung heavy at his sides, twitching as he flexed slightly thick, meat-packed, flawless.

The mirror across the room caught his attention.

His lips parted.

“Duuude…”

He stumbled forward.

“Bro I’m… I’m a fuckin’ beast…”

His eyes were glassy. Thoughts slow. He scratched the back of his thick neck, blinking.

“Wait… what was I uh…”

He frowned. Tried to think.

Nothing.

He looked down at himself again and smirked.

“Heh. Whatever, bro. This looks fuckin’ sick.”

ughhhhhh fuuuuuck bros... my head is so fuckin empty again 😵‍💫💦 i think i cummed my brains out for real this time... like i was jerkin it so hard last night watchin my own pump videos n i just kept goin n goin n every time i blew a huge load it felt like more of my smart stuff shot right outta my dick... now im even dumber than yesterday haha

i used to be kinda smart i think?? like maybe went to school n shit but now every time i nut my brain gets smaller n smaller. my big swollen muscles are takin over everything. i cant even remember what i ate for breakfast but i remember exactly how many times i edged my thick cock before i exploded everywhere.

look at me flexin these huge guns tho!! 💪😩 i was tryin to think of sumthin to say for this pic but nahhh... brain all drained out. just cum n protein shakes up there now. i swear my skull is hollow except for the echo of me moanin like a stupid whore while i pumped load after load. every orgasm melts another braincell n im down to like... three left tops. one for liftin, one for eatin, n one for flexin in the mirror like the brainless muscle slut i am.

i keep strokin it thinkin it'll help me get smarter but it just makes me dumber n hornier. my balls are always full n my head is always empty... perfect trade if u ask me. i try to read a text n my eyes cross n all i can think about is bustin another fat nut till my brains leak out my dick again.

so yeah this is me... big dumb cum-drained jock who just blew his iq into a sock for the 50th time this week. cant even spell "intelligence" anymore but who needs that when u got these boulder shoulders n a fat pump??

if ur readin this n ur smart... come drain the rest of my brains out for me bro. ill just sit here flexin n moanin while u empty whats left of my head.