goodboygooner

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Jim or as his mother would call him little Jimmy was begrudgingly AVERAGE at anything and everything and at the age of twenty five it was starting to get on his nerves. Not because it was causing him problems directly or that it was mentally taxing. It was bothering him because at this point all of his peers from high school and college had already moved out, moved on from the small town life. Whereas he was stuck with a simple office job, no relationship and a hell of a lot of self esteem issues. Not to mention living at home with his mom who insisted it was all fine, hell even encouraged it.  With no one to push Jim out the nest, of course he would never try or learn to fly.  He just moped about what it could have been, stashing back some money here and there just in case though.

(Jim)

He had just gotten home from work! Another droll day at the office, where he accomplished nothing but busy work and kept doing the same routine. He couldn’t even explain it to you if he tried what he did, he needed adventure, something, anything to change but he didn’t want to be the one to do it. He wanted someone to do it for him.

That's just what was getting ready to happen, it was late, he had to stay longer to organize some different files. His mom was out for some wine and book club and he had a microwave dinner calling to him. His clothes, disheveled and slightly unbuttoned, belt taken off and he was ready for the rest of it to be gone but food called his name. Just as finished starting the microwave he heard a loud knock on the door. Firm, sturdy, and from what he heard sounded like authority, it was enough to make him jump. 

“Coming, who's there?" It was late but Jim was still a white man, he had no understanding or concept of fear beyond the sudden noise. No one would be coming to do untoward harm or with malicious intent. Not here, not to him, why would they? He walked to the door, not even waiting for them to reply or answer him. He didn’t even look through their peephole. As the door swung open a man spoke.

“Hey, Its Marshall, town sheriff, was doin neighbor check ins, you were on our list to hit tonight!” His voice was deep, southern. Not stupid but definitely slow. Sheriff Marshall was a silver fox daddy. A built body held back by a tan uniform that begged for release. A beard that would put any man's head of hair to shame with how full it was. His voice, his eyes were all deep with authority, holding attention until you were dismissed in some manner. There was also this scent, this smell, this MUSK that started to slowly waft, piercing any barriers, and every sense inside and out of Jimmy.

It was heavy, earthy, drawing the office worker in, making him more susceptible to the upcoming plans of the Sheriff. He couldn’t stop himself from taking another deep whiff, his face scrunching up, because it was almost foul with how overpowering it was, sweat from a hard day's work mixed with natural BO, but the more he breathed in, the more addictive it got. The more agreeable, and open he became, saturating his mind, his body. Becoming a plaything for someone else…. The Officer.

“Oh sheriff, please come in? What has got you goin door to door checking in on us? Something happen?” The way he spoke sounded slightly cautious, maybe Jim actually was nervous, or more likely, he wanted to seem innocent even though he had no crime other than jaywalking that he had committed. 

“Suspicious activity, something about strangers being spotted lurking around peoples houses, just coming by, asking what everyone has seen or heard. If they have seen or heard anything?” he walks in, moving right into the living room. He looks out the windows, pulling the blinds apart like he's looking for something, or someone. Jim is offset by all of this, maybe he should be more cautious, maybe he should be worried about something. Why would the sheriff be looking around like that? 

The Sheriff quickly scratched the back of his neck, exposing his underarm, releasing a quick, strong blast of his musk discombobulating Jim. His mind is unable to focus, still nervous. He would just put that energy elsewhere, ramble, yes he would ramble!

“Not able to say much, I mean I feel like if there was someone skulking around Ruth or Gladys, our lesbian old lady neighbors would have brought it up to us,or said something. I mean you know how nosey old women are right? They watch from their windows and porches, like to talk gossip . I mean maybe they even called you?” he was word vomiting, Marshall took this time to find the recliner, one that Jim’s dad used to sit in. His legs spreading wide apart, Crotch on full display, bulging out of his tight uniform. His arms rested easily.

Jim wasn’t expecting that, he was taken aback, his word vomit caught in his throat as something he wouldn’t touch was commandeered by basically a stranger… Not a stranger, it was the sheriff, maybe he was tired and he just needed a rest…. Maybe? That was out of nowhere for the young man to think. Why would he argue with himself?

“It wasn’t a call from them, several other residents I’m not able to reveal or identify made the complaints and comments, I'm just here doing my job, come sit, lets talk this through!” His voice lies so easily, like second nature and as Marshall points to the floor beneath him when he says sit. His finger feels just as authoritative as his voice, his eyes, his entire demeanor. More so with everything added together but Jim wasn’t some dog, he wasn’t a kid, he definitely wasn’t the sheriff’s kid. This was all just a little bit weird. No matter how aggressively heavy the musk in the area was, or how … intriguing he found the attractive man… attractive where did that come from.

“I’m fine standing Marshal, can we make this brief, I'm starving!” It's not a question, he is trying to make this more informal, offset this status quo that was just created. Rushing him out, calling him by his name, not officier, not sir.

That upsets the sheriff, “it all started so smoothly” he thinks “I mean the idiot freely welcomed him in, none of the neighbors were watching, his family wouldn’t be home anytime soon. Hell the slight push in his mind, and the deep heavy thick musk didn’t cause any fuss, he was already so openly pliable, did the officer misstep? Was sitting in something that boy defined as his fathers too much and made him start questioning everything?” All of these thoughts were popping in the Transformers mind. Would his time of prepping and planning for this be a waste and he’d have to discard this boy and erase his memory of his encounter?

Sheriff Marshall was special, he and his family for generations have held not just political or social power. No, they held magical power, influence over the ancient horny magics that make up our world. Primordial, lustful and unstoppable especially in the hands of an experienced caster, and the sheriff was experienced, he held this town in a firm grip, morphing and changing its people into his perfect playthings. Sometimes just a slight adjustment to the criminals, of course if he wanted to change them for the better…. But  that change had to come with something sexual otherwise the magic wouldn’t do it. It’s why the town they all lived in had such a high density of queer people.

Whether it was attaching manners, proper ways of speaking and attitude to amazing blowjobs and an addiction to cocks, or with keeping their hands only to themselves unless they were pleasing a man who demanded respect. They were all sexual, its the only way his magic could function or work, trust him he tried at first to do without. But at the end of the day the changes worked how they worked, and it was lonely doing it on his own, Samuel Marshall needed help, he needed a son and that's exactly what he was going to get today! By pure unadulterated horny force.

“Brief? There's nothing brief about this! Now be a GOOD BOY and SIT!” The words echo in the air, a strange heat, a PULSE rakes through Jim’s body, his mind shuddering as he feels the need to listen, to obey! The word GOOD BOY banging around in his head, making it feel good to do that, he should always listen to those in charge, and who was more in charge then a sheriff? He goes to do what the officer said, but he doesn’t follow where the man's meaty hand is pointing, he sits down on the couch. This makes the Sheriff mad, his face fully grimacing, disappointment clear, his fingers snap before Jim has  a chance to speak, to ask what’s going on.

“I said BE A GOOD BOY AND SIT!” As he yells this, his pointing finger glows and so does Jim’s forehead, that heat from before rises, becoming unbearable. His mind aching and burning as he feels his body, not in his own control, slump to the floor, landing him right at the officer’s boot! Musk flowing through the air encouraging this obedience, fueling this pulsing burning. His face right next to it, it feels so much better to listen, Jim’s cock starts to get hard just doing that but his mind, his face, all say a different story. Wide eyes, staring up at the man commanding him in fear and worry. Those words now loudly echo in his brain, bouncing around in his mind and where they land they plant roots that slowly take over. His cock now leaking precum in his slacks as he feels both terrified and aroused.

“What… how? Why can’t I move?” He manages to ask but The Sheriff just shooshes him, the silence settles over his lips before he knows it. His body, his lips listening, obeying LIKE A GOOD BOY. it makes him grind his hips against the floor, moaning and humming in pleasure. He was acting like some horny dog humping the floor in heat, unable to stop himself from getting off on this insane situation. He needed to remember who he was, what he was attracted to, big, massive MUSCLES AND HAIR. 

“Don’t worry about that little head of yours, it won't matter to you in a bit! I want to thank you for COMING OVER TO MY PLACE. It has EVERYTHING WE NEED FOR A GOOD TIME!” As he says the words the townhouse they're in starts to melt away, quickly rebuilding itself into the officer’s manor. His family’s generational home, seeped in magic and horny debauchery. No longer a middle class homey living room, now in the middle of a robust study, with books lining the walls, a fireplace waiting to roar with flames and Jim's face deep in an ornate rug with the cops boot right above his face. This was much more private, with how much moaning and groaning Jimmy would be doing they needed it, now the fun could really begin.

“Now hand me your ID. I wanna make sure we're getting this right!” His hands move on their own, going into his back pocket, taking his wallet out and holding it up for the gruffer man to grab. Again obeying sent a thrill through his body, a deep heat pulsing making his grinding get faster. It makes Sheriff Marshallsmirk as he sees it take root. He snatches the wallet, pulling the ID unceremoniously and discarding the rest of the contents to the floor. He looks at it over hemming and hawing, the entire time jim is unable to look away. The longer he stares at this man, this pinnacle of masculinity, of authority. The harder he finds it to look away.

He has always been straight, never even once questioning it in his mind. Sure he could tell guys were attractive or physically intriguing but he would never give them a second glance. But his eyes stuck on Samuel Marshall, the boner that refused to go down while he listened and obeyed him AND the drool falling from his lips made it clear something was different. There was something about the broad beefy shoulders, the deliciously big, bulging slabs of pectorals and strapping biceps that made the fabric of his uniform stretch that made the formerly straight office worker…. Horny.

Then you take in the exposed body and facial hair. Jimmy had never been into hair on women, it was gross, too masculine. But the idea of it rubbing against him, scratching his skin as the Sheriff grabbed him by the sides of his head and pulled him into a deep all consuming kiss… WHAT THE FUCK WAS HE THINKING..... His massive forearms and meaty hands held him just right, pressing deeply against his body as he fully surrendered and melted into the stronger, better man. THE IDEA OF HIS HANDS MOVING LOWER DOWN HIS BACK, LIGHTLY PALMING HIS ASS BEFORE GRIPPING BOTH CHEEKS! That thought alone snaps some sense into Jim… his ass? He had never even thought of it in a sexual way. He tried to beg the man to stop, plead with the handsome gruff DADDY but all his words came out as a muffled mumble or moan.

“Oh dear, Jim Henderson, age 26, only five foot six,  seems like you were made to be a runt!” His voice sounds so disappointed, that hurts more then the things he said, you don’t want to disappoint him.

“No worries though, we're gonna fix you right up SON!” The word hits you like a brick through a window. Your mind breaking in fractal patterns as his musk, so much stronger down at his feet, overwhelms you. SON? SON? But Jim had a dad, this man couldn’t be his DADDY. No matter how much he wanted to submit to him. To feel him explore every aspect of his body, his beard tickling his face, neck and all the way down to his ass as this DADDY peppers his body in kisses. The thought alone is crazy but Jim’s mind latches onto it.

“There’s that light struggle, let's fix that first. SON, LICK MY BOOTS CLEAN! Each lap of that tongue is going to cause that pathetic resilience to slip away till nothing is left!” His body moved on its own, his pants and underwear absolutely already ruined from the amount of precum he was leaking, the weird gay fantasies he was having and all the obeying, now… now it was like he was right on the edge as he moved his face to start licking the Sheriff’s boots. They weren’t filthy, but after a long day on patrol they had dirt, dust and grime. He tried to hold himself back. His neck and shoulders were tight, tense but eventually that familiar MUSK and PULSE overwhelmed his will.

The way he was nose and mouth first to Marshall's shoe made the cop laugh. Jim's face had the look of disgust as he took long licks across the leather, his mind numbing with each one, throat wanting to gag as he did it. It made Samuel frown, a bit of anger rising, I guess his boy would need more initial changes then he thought. The taste of his hard work should get the boy going, not gagging.

“That's it Son, keep licking, every speck you clean off my boot with your tongue, the hornier it makes you. The hornier you are, the more eager you are to clean my boots with your tongue, it’s YOUR FAVORITE THING!” The words echo and bounce, Jimmy’s licking becomes feverish, his hands moving on their own accord grabbing onto one of marshall’s legs to pull the boot closer. The small parts of him that remain, the parts that are shrinking and breaking rapidly try to pull away but its no use. After his left boots clean he dives into the right, mouth gently kissing the boot before making out with it.

With the resilience gone, the next thing to naturally go was Jimmy's overly complicated, boring life. Unfulfilled relationships, boring sex with women and a terrible job. Replaced now with deep seated daddy issues, a need to please and serve his father. The idea of older hotter men dominating him and a deep addiction to musk that would never leave him. But so much had to be connected together, so many empty voided spots in his mind demanded to be filled and magic had a way of doing it.

It's crazy how the mind, when something gets lodged into it, will suddenly start making new connections. Little Jimmy here was told he would LOVE cleaning the boots, every speck making him horny, that it be his favorite thing. But kinks, obsessions, really anything SPREADS once its lodged deep into the psyche. Now Jimmy can’t help but wonder if worshipping his new Daddy’s feet will feel just as good if not better then the shoes. If the musk, this naturally masculine, heavenly odor coming from his true superior will always taste this good, and what every part of him will taste like. Images of his face being shoved into the boots, forced to take in that ripe scent till its all he can smell inside and out, the socks being shoved into his open mouth to silence him when they’re fucking in public.

“God you really are meant to be my boy” Marshall snaps his fingers and suddenly Jimmy stops his worship, mind and body waiting for his new instructions.

“Here comes my favorite part, see if you're going to be my son, you gotta look and act the part, so lets change these details here BOY!” Marshall  pokes at the ID repeatedly before throwing it on the ground. He stands up, picking his prize right off the floor after, his arms underneath his boys. A small pulse emanating from them, the clothes Jim was wearing slowly turned to ash leaving him in nothing. The sheriff looks him up and down, taking as he does, circling him like a shark does prey.

He already knows he wants him taller, a loud snap is heard as suddenly Jimmy’s legs elongate, his arms become more gangly, his torso stretches higher. His spine snaps and pops till he’s at a solid six foot. His weight makes him look like a tall skinny nerd, something that would have to be remedied very soon.

The boy's ramrod cock is nice, just about six inches hard but it could be bigger. But the rest of him is average or below. Skinny fat, average height and average face. Jimmy wasn’t someone people could pick out in a crowd, or remember in the back of their mind. This would all change, no one would be able to forget who he was. The boys eyes tried to follow his daddy, mouth openly drooling as he looked the sheriff up and down waiting for his next order. Waiting for the final parts of himself to be consumed, to be recreated into his daddy’s perfect son.

The sheriff moves in, his hands go to the boy's torso, rubbing up and down the sides of Jimmy. As his hands trail past where his love handles were, they were still there somewhat, just less obvious. Jimmy can’t help but moan as his body pulses and the fat on his mid section starts to melt off of him. As his mouth opens, the sheriff moves his own onto his son, claiming his mouth. It's passionate, it's fiery, it's all consuming, taking the leftover parts of the old him, making more room for changes and filling him with a new need, an addiction for his new father.

As the younger Jimmy slowly starts to give up, give in his body starts to age, slight wrinkles appear on the skin as he goes from 26, to 27. Then at 28 his hair starts to thin a little, The Sheriff’s hands briefly make their way up and with a quick comb of his fingers it shortens further into a military crop. At 29 as they pull a way to breathe, both men panting, strings of saliva still connecting their lips, Jim's lips plump up, his face restructuring, his jaw line becoming sharper, more angular like some comic book super hero. His nose went from button like to incredibly strong, wider. His eyes became this perfect green and his brow bone extended giving him the final touches to make him look like a dumb ex jock turned cop! When he finally hit 30 Jimmy lunged his own mouth at his new fathers, his hands grabbing the sides of his dad's face to pull him in for a kiss. So eager to feel his lips, his tongue again.

Samuel pushes more magic into his son, his hands trailing his body leaving a smattering of hair, his chest exploding with muscles becoming perfect slabs of meat. His shoulders broadening, back tensing as they become over developed.  His biceps bulge, arms getting stronger and more vascular as the kiss heats up. His new meaty hands unbuckling his fathers belt in a frenzy, eyes closed totally lost to lust. His son's new torso firm's up, a six pack of abs cobbling themselves together before leading down to cum gutters that make any faggot swoon looking at him. He was incredibly top heavy now, barely standing up straight, Officer Marshall would have to remedy this next with his favorite part.

It's when it gets to his son's cock and ass that Samuel Marshall breaks the kiss, one hand grabbing at his ass the other gripping his cock. He looks at this younger version of himself he has started to create, a hungry wolf's grin, he already gave him a kink for worshipping his boots, accidentally created one for worshipping his feet and musk. Now he has made him addicted to him and older, it was time to tie arousal to his father, pleasing and worshipping him and of changing the people of this town. He would be just like his new father, dedicated to protecting and serving… just not the community. Serving their kinkiest, horniest fantasies. To make him more similar he’d have to give jimmy a new name 

“That's it boy, whimper moan and beg, you can feel it LITTLE SAMMY!, that need in those thick delicious deputy cheeks of yours. A need, a hunger for me and my cock!” The new name hits him hard and fast. If he really was going to be Samuel Marshall’s son, his mini me,then they should share a name right? It's a piece of information that completes the fantasy. Then his father’s fingers dig into his son’s tight ass. Magic pulsing through it making what little fat and muscle the previous office worker had jiggle. Pounds of muscles and fat pour into him, nerve endings get incredibly sensitive, and his once virgin hole starts to wink and become uncontrollably hungry. Until nothing but a hungry irresistible bubble butt.

Officer Marshall moves behind his son, quickly snapping his fingers and his own clothing dematerializing. A heavy twelve inch cock springs free leaking pre, slapping against the newly minted ass. Wedging itself against the cleft of his son’s cheek, grinding in seesaw motions as both hands grip the above average penis on Sammy Jr. The boy cant help but whine and moan, thrusting and grinding back causing his cock to fuck his dad’s hands.

“Oh you're almost there, you're almost perfect, those thighs are catching up to your ass quick, must be all those squats I made you do!” He can’t help but laugh and tease, Sammy’s whining and moaning getting more animalistic, his thighs packing on muscle, his thrusting getting stronger as it does, his calves are next as they carved themselves into perfect diamonds and then his feet become insanely wide size 13’s. It only hits The Master Transformer Sammuel Marshall now that he made his boy shut up and never let go of it, he lets go of that command and immediately his son is a moaning mess.

“PLEASE, DADDY… DADDY MAKE ME PERFECT, MAKE ME JUST LIKE… fuck your hands feel so good! IM SO CLOSE… MAKE ME LIKE YOU!” His voice is panting and yelling as he keeps fucking himself stupid, his hole being teased, unable to get the head of his fathers cock in there yet.

“All you had to do was ask son!” Sheriff Marshall pulses his son’s cock, with each gliding, pre covered stroke it begins to lengthen from six inches till its a massive 12, his balls, so tight so heavy are begging for release as they drop down to heavy bull nuts, filled with literally all of Jim’s previous life, the memory of him across the universe. It was all ready and waiting to be spewed out in load after load of cum but his father wanted the moment to be big. His son’s eyes go rolling back, on the verge, the edge, he steps back, leaving his son’s cock hands free before positioning his own. 

His massive flared head slowly, effortlessly pushes into his son’s eager waiting hole. His eyes somehow going further back as the biggest, bestest (only) dick he has ever had slowly glides into him. Samuel Marshall Seniors hands are no longer stroking the dripping, drooling cock of his son, no they are firmly wrapped around his waist so he can control this. So he can control him. As each inch painstakingly glides into his son parts of his magic start to solidify. An entire life built around debauchery, sex and twisted love blossoms. As he gets to the halfway point, six inches he can’t help but stop, his son tries to thrust back but he won’t let him. He’s begging pleading 

“Is this the point of no return, are you ready son? To be mine forever?” The questions are redundant, it's not his choice, not anymore. His mind has been scrambled beyond repair, forever craving his new dad’s cock, his cum, his musk and muscles. But he wanted to hear his boy say it, for him to give in to the horny, musky magic that had corrupted him. All of that affects the words that manage to make it out from his perfect dick sucking lips (Officer Marshall would have to use those later). 

“Fuck me, please, yes, yes I’m yours… yours forever and ever!” In that moment of release, of giving up ever going back, The Sheriff releases his son's waist and feels him slam himself all the way back into his crotch. Taking his massive girthy dick like it was a sword going into a sheath. His son’s bubble butt recoiling from the force as they both let out moans. But Sammy junior is far from done, he slowly, gripping the closest thing to balance himself starts to pull off before slamming back again. Screaming yes daddy over and over again as he starts to jack hammer up and down on his father’s cock.

This was getting Sheriff close, he probably only had a minute before his sons tight, warm boy pussy milked him of all his cum he quickly made it so his son went to the academy, that he was his deputy, that they were inseparable.

“Fuck I love riding you, love sucking you… god I lOvE YOUU Daddy!” Sammy jr’s voice is hysterical as his brain is flooded with so many chemicals and magic. Both men are thrusting now, meeting each other in perfect rhythm. Breathless as they lose track of themselves, of time. It all comes to a head when The sheriff’s hands move from his son’s waist, one hand spanking his beautiful muscular ass shouting fuck your mine, your all mine, the other grabbing onto his shoulder.

Neither of them can hold it in, The sheriff shoots first, with one final thrust load after load fills his son’s tight warm hole. He loses count at six, his son isn’t far behind, his eyes fully glazed over, dumb dopey look pl;aster on his face as he shoots all of his prior existence onto the floor. His orgasm makes his hole squeeze around his daddy’s massive fuckstick, milking more and more from him toll both men fall down on the closest piece of  furniture, exhausted, Sammy junior easily falling asleep whimpering as his father slowly pulls out.

Sheriff Marshall stands up, looking at his above average, thirty year old, six foot son. The perfect specimen, a younger him who shared his name, his views and most importantly his appetite. Tonight was successful, filled to the brim with fun, but there would be so much more for them to do together later. With a wave of his hands their bodies are cleaned up, so is the study, a tight fitting police uniform appears neatly folded on the desk for his son to find in the morning. 

(Samuel Jr)

The moment the magic smoke hit, Cole's mind slammed into this godlike body like a freight train. No longer the scrawny 19-year-old nerd, he stared up at the ceiling fan from a towering, sweat-glistened frame—thick pecs heaving under his own unfamiliar hands.

"Oh fuck... these are mine?" he gasped, voice deep and velvety, sending shivers straight to his swelling cock. His palms roamed the rock-hard slabs of chest muscle, fingers digging into warm, slick skin that felt electric. Every squeeze made his new nipples harden, a low groan escaping his full lips. "Mmm, so heavy and plumpy... fuck, these are hotttt!"

The curly-haired stud in the mirror—his new reflection—flexed instinctively, biceps peaking like mountains. Cole's old life faded as this body's raw masculinity flooded him: thick musk rising from his pits, heavy balls churning between powerful thighs, and a fat cock thickening against his shorts with urgent need.

What's even stranger is I think he gave me his own cleats and jersey? Or he tried them on? BC both items smelled like him, maybe he was short on time?

I've neglected to do anything about them, as they just lay in my dorm still in the box, but for some reason, I can't get the picture of that sweaty, stinky muscular man out of my head

You stare at the box as you angrily stomp down the road. How did he know? Did he know? There’s no way he could have seen, unless some passerby saw and told him… which wasn’t entirely outside of the realm of possibility. Either way, you are not amused. If anything this “white elephant gift” seems more like a threat than anything else. So as you arrive at the athletic dorm, you get to Jabari’s door and start pounding away.

“Jabari! Open the door.” You hear the loud music pause, and hear the football players heavy footfalls approaching. As the door swings open, you’re met with Jabari’s smug, unimpressed expression. Standing shirtless in the doorway with a joint out of his mouth.

“The fuck do you want?” He spits out at you before looking at the giant box in your hands, shitty wrapping paper barely clinging to it. He smirks. “What, bro? You didn’t like your present?” He opens the door, inviting you in.

“No. I didn’t fucking like the present.” You look around the hallway, slinking into Jabari’s room unseen. The disastrously messy room stank of weed and the familiar stink that wafts from the box in your arms. You open the box, hit with somehow still wet funk pouring from the cardboard vessel. Dumping the contents onto the floor, you grimace at the sight of the stinking cleats, practice Jersey, and cumstained cheesy jockstrap sitting on the carpet. “This supposed to be funny?” Jabari leans against the counter, crossing his socked size 15 feet and staring at you with a knowing look.

“It was funny to me, bro. Had to trade names a few times before I got yours. I thought you’d like em.” He took another drag of the joint, blowing a puff of smoke in your face. You angrily swipe the cloud away, standing your ground.

“I don’t fucking like them. So I’m returning them.” You turn to leave, but before you so much as take a step, you feel Jabari’s calloused hand firmly gripping your shoulder.

“Nah, man. You ain’t goin’ nowhere.” He pushes you to your knees with little effort, right in front of the cleats. “The way I hear it, you really into this shit. Mine in particular gets you off.” Your face so close the cleats, you can’t stop yourself from breathing in that heavy stench. If he’d ever washed them, it was certainly years ago. “I got eyes everywhere, bruh.” You struggle against his grip.

“I don’t know what you’ve heard, but…” Jabari pushes your head forward even more, the tip of your nose slowly approaching the off white fabric of the cleat.

“Nah, man. I know what you do after every practice. You think you’re slick comin round and huffin my sneaks outside that door, huh? I thought you’d like a lil piece of me at home.” He presses your face firmly into the cleat, enough that you feel the damp grimy insole on your skin. “We don’t need some fuckin foot freak up in here jackin it to our smell while we chillin inside.”

You hold your breath as long as you can but you can only hold out so long. Your lungs spasm, and you take in a full whiff of Jabari’s foot funk. The sweat and grime of endless games and even more practices, all percolating and coagulating into one atomic bomb of stink. He’s right- your clandestine nightly activities must have been noticed despite your carefulness. He gives you a moment of respite as he releases his grip on your head, allowing you to pull your face out of the smelly cavern. You stare with insurmountable embarrassment at the cleats before you.

They sit there, inundated in the jock studs sweat. In a quieter, lonely moment alone, you’d be far more comfortable burying your nose into them. But with Jabari looming above you with a scowl on his face, so full of disdain and contempt… caught red handed, you feel nothing but shame.

“Strip. Now.” You feel your face flush pale white. Your breath gets caught in your throat, rendering you barely able to speak much more than at a whisper.

“Jabari… listen. I won’t do it again.” You try to turn to face him, only to get his socked foot pressed firmly onto the side of your face, pushing it right back toward the cleats. The smell is so fresh in the damp black socks, it has a different feel to it. The cleats, the trainers, they’ve been marinating for years in that stink. This is the source, and it’s so much better than you could have ever imagined.

“I said fucking strip, bruh.” You feel his meaty fingers grasp ahold of the fabric of your shirt, and with a single movement he tears it in two. “I’m tired as fuck of all y’all freaks huffin my straps and kicks when I’m not looking. Fantasizing bout me railin your dumbass. That ain’t consent, bro.” He rips your shoes and socks off your feet, tearing your shorts off as you sit there mortified.

“I wasn’t thinking! I’m sorry! You won’t have to see me again, I’ll leave you alone and you’ll forget I even exist!” Jabari puts his sweaty foot right onto your back, pushing you down to the ground, reminding you very clearly who it is that is in charge.

“Yeah you right. I’m not gonna see your ass again- I won’t even remember you. Now, put it on.” You twist your head one more time to look at him, just for him to plant that foot on your face, pushing it right back toward the cleats, jersey, and jockstrap. “All of it, bitch. Quick.” He claps his hands loudly, and you instinctively grasp the jersey, slipping it over your shoulders and letting it drape like curtains over your smaller frame. It hangs from your shoulders, almost pooling at your knees as you kneel.

“Come on, Jabari. This shit is weird as fuck. Just let me go home I won’t bother yo…” You’re unable to finish your sentence as he shoves his sweaty socks into your mouth, silencing you quickly as he holds the jockstrap in front of your face. You stifle your urge to sniff it, one last act of defiance before he slips the damp jock up your legs. You shudder at the warm wetness that surrounds your groin, the fetid taste of Jabari’s socks filling your mouth, groaning in euphoric anticipation for whatever he has planned for you. You feel the dank cleats being shoved onto your feet, the squish of his sweat and foot grime pressing onto your soles before they’re tightened and the grime surrounds your entire foot.

“There you go, bruh. It’s your fantasy right? Bein like Jabari, smellin’ like Jabari, lookin’ like Jabari…” His hand wraps around your neck, as he drags you toward his closet. He opens the door, his clothes getting pushed out of the way as your body starts to shiver and quake. “Imma let you marinate for a while, bruh. Let you take it in.” With relative ease, you’re tossed into his dark, cramped closet as he smugly scowls at you. Slowly, he shuts the closet door, plunging you into complete darkness, surrounded only by the stench of Jabari’s sweat and the ever increasing pulsations under your skin.

You reflect on what brought you here, all the times you’d snuck down the hall to bury your face in the cleats that now grace your feet. *Crack*

You reflect on the fantasies in your head of him jacking you off with those thick hands. *Squelch*

You reflect on the taste of those smelly socks stuffed into your mouth, unable to bring yourself to remove them. *Sluuuuuuuuuurp*

You close your eyes, imagining the world in which your fantasies came alive. Kicking back with him, slurping on his musky cock, not as a lil bitch but as his equal. *Whoooooosh*

You can feel the pain in your arms, your legs, your chest and groin… that ache of athleticism, that need to grow, that desire to dominate, that pride of strength and of virility instilled into you. *CREAAAAAAAAAK*

You shudder, feeling your growing bulge start to leak into Jabari’s jockstrap, imagining his sweat, his spunk, his smell all flowing into you. Inundating you, entering you, reshaping you in his image. “Unhhhhhhh” you groan, your voice deep and bellowing. *BOOOM*

Pressure grows throughout your body, you feel more and more cramped in the small confines of the closet, your thoughts growing hazy and confused, time seemingly floating by at a crawl. Then, amongst the cavalcade of aches, groans, and obscene sounds echoing in the dark; you begin to fade into the void yourself. The darkness overtakes you, and all you have left is the sounds of stretching and inflation ringing in your ears. *SNAPP*

———

Jabari looks down at his watch, paid for by some horny old man begging to worship his pits, and smirks. He takes his time getting up off the couch, leaving the Ravens game blaring on his tv. His massive soles slap against the tile floor, as he pushes the door to his bedroom open. To his surprise, the door to the closet is slid all the way open, the interior only full of his clothes. He smirks as his gaze slowly turns to the corner of the room, and there before his mirror, crouching low on muscled thighs and meaty feet is you taking some smutty selfies in his dirty mirror.

“Damn, bruh. You lookin pumped as fuck. Feeling like yourself again?” his voice is softer, like an older brother speaking to his younger brother. You turn your head, grinning your pearly whites while scratching your manicured chinstrap. Standing up, your eyes gaze directly into his, now of equal height and build.

“Yeah, bro. I don’t know what got into me.” You strut up to him, donned in only his jockstrap, now dripping with your thick and potent seed. Your hand collides with his, your biceps bulging beneath your mocha skin. “Feelin a lil pent up though, man. Think you could help a bro out?” You slip your calloused hand down the jockstrap, letting your massive python plop out of the fabric and hang halfway down your thigh. Your balls still dripping in sweat, half yours, half Jabari’s. He nods, his supple lips curling even further into a wicked smile as he wraps his fingers around your shaft. Time to blow off some steam before the game is over- besides, you have practice in the morning. Maybe some bedtime with bro is just what the doctor ordered.

$ log - bending steve rogers over his desk to teach him a lesson on writing proper, professional mission reports, since he clearly couldn't do it right! $ warn --nsfw --mean!amab!reader --dom!top!reader --sub!bot!steve --begging--degradation --spanking --edging --over-the-desk --dumbification $ cd masterlist / steve-rogers

you had steve bent double over his own desk, broad shoulders trembling as you thrusted into him, punishing force. one hand was clamped cruelly on his waist, while your other hand casually held the printed mission report, skimming the lines of his failure.

"incompetent," you scoffed, "can't hold a perimeter without losing sight of the flank. this report is as sloppy as your lead during the recon. and i'm to blame?"

(a short 4 part caption series voted on by my patreons and kofi members in the discord!! Feel free to join links, pinned to the top of my page, they get to see it all first!)

I needed a pick me up! It had been weeks of studying, acing tests, leading my outreach group and dealing with dumbass smelly jocks. Not to mention the horrendous dating scene at my university, all everyone fucking cared about was looks, not personality and definitely not intelligence. These idiots were so obsessed with abs, symmetrical faces and perfect hair that they would tolerate a boring conversation, just because I wasn’t super athletic, with what time? I had to study to stay number one in my graduating class, so what if I was skinny fat. And I wasn’t some genetic freak with perfect looks, and had thick glasses, meant I didn’t even deserve a second look. I just wanted to be given a chance you know, why couldn’t Chase Smith get some like all the jocks, twinks and douchebags.

I ordered from the local gay frat (superficial assholes, even if they were also gay) one of their KOKSTRAPS that was supposed to change your life. I had heard from a friend of a friend they had some type of magic that guaranteed results so why not get a permanent one. I got their “Better in Twink” one, it was this pastel pink that was supposed to hug you in all the right ways and enhance your assets. It came in the next day and I rushed to put it on, not paying attention to the fact the package was already opened, not noticing the darkened spot near the front of the pouch. Pulling it all the way up was like going up on a rollercoaster, the anticipation killing me. The way the waistband and bands snapped into place, lifting my cheeks, the fabric hugged my small three inch package, now that was divine and as I looked at myself in the mirror I could feel it PULSE. 

This warm, gentle energy cascading through me, centered around the KOKSTRAP, the bands lifting my ass higher and cinching my waist warmed even more. I could feel it growing tighter, my crotch heating up, dick… no cock getting harder, balls fuller. My ass looked fatter, more bubbly then it ever did before. The flab on my body started to melt, my stomach becoming toned, my man boobs turning into a perfectly flat, slim chest. My skin started to clear up, my lips became plumper! God all of my acne was gone, my cheekbones looked higher. God I looked so hot, a little bit too much like those airheaded twinks but as a bottom I couldn’t wait for some of the tops to get a look at this ass and PULSE….

My body lurched forward, that pleasant warmth, pleasurable tingle that raked through my nervous system intensified. PULSE My body started sweating, my chest started rising with every breath but refused to fall. My new slim chest, the one this KOKSTRAP had just crafted became pillowey pecs, my shoulders broadening, my face with abject horror as The Fabric warping my body PULSED again. Smatterings of dark hair spread across my body as the heat continued to rise, abject horror crossing my face as my arms now bulging with biceps for days moved on their own to feel me up. 

My hands which had been smooth and dainty grew into masculine baseball gloved mitts finding their way down to my bulge. My cock was getting harder, no longer. Images of men fucking me, my position as a bottom, all started to blur as PULSE PULSE PULSE the idea of bending some twink over this sink and fucking his brains out became all consuming. My massive nine inches leaked into my red KOKSTRAP. My intelligence, my grades, all the work I had done and community outreach was in a free fall as it was replaced with working out, frat parties and endless debauchery. My soft boyish features became corrupted as my eyes rolled back, losing all my spark and replaced with hunger. My jaw became chiseled, my nose widened. Hell my lips stayed plumped but my voice deepened as my adams apple became more pronounced.

I grabbed onto the sides of my head, trying desperately to hold PULSE onto the PULSE person PULSE Fuck Im PULSE Hard AS ever PULSE need to PULSE FUCK. My overgrown mop of hair felt so good in my hands. I was air humping, the fabric of my favorite Kokstrap basically started jerking PULSE me PULSE off. Till with a triumpant roar and thrust I came my brains out, my old life, smarts, ambition eaten away as the fabric absorbed my cum leaving me in a dizzy state.

Such a precarious situation. Perhaps the crumpled papers you found can give you some context:

Entry 1

I don’t know where I am. I don’t know how I got here.

The last thing I remember is the end of the farm tour. The guide... that guy with the small, mean eyes... said I was special. He said I was going to get a "behind-the-scenes" look. Then, I think I blacked out. I woke up in this room and I've been here ever since... Banging on the walls for hours, screaming for someone to let me out, but the workers just walk past. There are two of them standing right outside the door right now, talking like nothings wrong. It's making me sick.

One of them finally brought me a bowl of this thick, white sludge. I didn’t want to drink it, but I’m so thirsty, and my throat feels like it’s full of sawdust. It tasted weird... bland and chalky.

Fuck.

Why am I here? What do they want? Why won't the talk to me? If I can just keep my head clear, maybe I can find a way to break the lock when they come back to feed me.

I have to stay focused. I can’t let them see how scared I actually am.

Entry 2

I didn’t sleep at all last night. Every time I started to drift off, I heard that low, rumbling sound from down the hall... like a hum, or maybe someone grunting. It didn't sound human. I kept pressing my back against the wall, trying to stay as far from the door as possible.

I... I thought I was having a heart attack today. My chest feels... weird. There's this dull, throbbing ache right under my skin. Maybe its from how I was laying? Anxiety? Fuck... it just feels so heavy and sore. My nipples too... they feel sensitive. Whenever my shirt rubs against them, it sends this sharp, stinging sensation through my whole torso. It doesn't hurt, but it's definitely noticeable. It’s probably just irritation from the fabric; I’m probably just making it a bigger deal than it is because I’m so stressed out.

The workers came by again this morning. They didn't say a word, just slid another bowl of that sludge through the slot. I really tried not to drink it, but I’m starving, and my stomach feels like it’s eating itself. It went down so easily, almost like my body was craving it.

I checked the walls again. Still nothing. No windows, no cracks, no way to climb out. I tried to ask one of the workers what's going on, but he ignore me. Doesn't look like they'll be of any help.

Entry 3

My chest feels heavy. Really heavy. It’s not just a dull ache anymore... it’s like the muscle is actually pushing against the skin, stretching it tight. When I looked down this morning, it definitely looked swollen. Puffy and sore. I pressed on it to see and fuck it hurt so much I had to stop. Just this horrible achiness. I haven't touch it since.

I heard them talking today. The workers. They stopped right outside my room, acting like I wasn't even there.

"The new one is coming along fast," one of them said. "Look at the tissue development. He's going to be one of the best producers we've seen all season."

"Producer." That’s what they called me. What does that even mean? I wanted to scream at them, to ask what they were doing to me, but my voice just died in my throat. They didn't even acknowledge that I was listening; they just acted like I was some kind of animal they were grading.

I’m so scared. I keep trying to think clearly, trying to plan a way out, but my mind feels… fuzzy. Like I’m moving through water. I just want to go home. Please, I just want to wake up in my own bed.

Entry 4

They came in today. Three of them. I tried to back away, to scramble into the corner, but there’s nowhere to go in this steel box. They didn’t even argue. They just grabbed my clothes... my shirt, my pants... and tore them off like. I’ve been completely naked since. I’m trying to huddle up, knees to my chest, trying to cover myself with my arms, but my chest is so sensitive now that even the air in this room feels like it's stinging me. Every time I breathe, my nipples ache, like they're being pulled or pinched.

It’s humiliating. I just want to hide, but they keep staring.

Then, they brought the sludge. They didn't even put it in a bowl this time. One of them just threw it at me. It splashed all over my chest and arms. It’s so thick, so sticky. I was so disgusted at first, but I couldn't help it. I started licking it off my arm, and it… it tasted so good. I couldn't stop. I even licked it off the floor when it dripped down.

When I looked up, they were watching me, and they seemed so satisfied. Like I was doing exactly what I was supposed to be doing. I noticed my arms while I was licking the stuff off. There’s hair growing, thick and dark, more than there was a day ago. Why is this happening to me? My head feels so heavy, like I can’t quite think straight, but I keep wanting more of that drink. I hate it, but I’m so hungry.

Entry 5

There's something wrong with my body. I woke up this morning to find my chest wet. I thought maybe I had spilled some of that sludge in my sleep, but then I felt it. A slow, warm trickling down my chest. It was coming from my nipples. They were leaking, a thin, white fluid that was matting into all this new, dark hair that’s sprouted across my chest.

Before I could even wrap my head around it, they came. They just dragged me out of the room. I felt so small, so exposed, as they marched me down the hallway.

They strapped me into a machine. It had these cold, metal cups that suctioned right onto my chest. I tried to fight them, I really did, but my muscles felt sluggish, heavy, and weak. When the machine turned on, a pulse of electricity or suction... I don’t know what it was... shot through me.

It was an overwhelming, jolting kind of pleasure. I arched my back, my breath hitching as the machine squeezed and pulled at me, forcing the white fluid out. I felt helpless, exposed, and utterly humiliated, but I couldn't stop the moan that ripped out of my throat. I heard the workers talking, their voices echoing off the tile walls.

"Look at that output."

"The volume is already exceeding the previous batch. He’s a natural."

"Customers are gonna love his milk."

"See how his pecs are already hardening? He’s going to be a prime producer. Keep the vacuum pressure steady, we don't want to over-tax the tissue this early."

They talked about me like I was a piece of equipment being calibrated. I just hung there, my head lolling back, completely unable to do anything but take the sensation. When they finally detached the cups, I felt lighter, like the heavy pressure that had been building for days had been drained away. I felt… relieved.

But it didn't last. By the time they dragged me back to my room and tossed me inside, I could already feel the throb starting again. The pressure is coming back, deeper and faster than before. I’m scared. I’m so, so scared, but I can’t stop thinking about how good it felt when they forced it out of me. What is happening to my head?

Entry 6

They moved me. I am in the big pen now. I thought it was just me, but... I was pushed into a giant room with the others.

God. God. What are they?

I am hiding in the corner. I don't want them to see me. I want to be small. But I am not small anymore. My chest is huge. It feels tight, stretched, like it’s going to pop. And the others… they are monsters. Men, but they aren't men. They're huge... hairy... They're just standing there, or crawling on the floor, drooling. One of them, he has these massive, sagging pecs, and he’s just… groping them. Pulling at them. Grunting.

I’m horrified. I tried to back away, but another one came over. He looked at me with these empty, glassy eyes. He reached out with thick, calloused fingers and poked at my chest. I screamed, but he just grunted and drooled on my shoulder. It was warm. Disgusting.

I heard the workers on the catwalk above.

"The herd is agitated," one says.

"They’re just getting used to the new producer," the other one laughs. "He looks frightened. Good. The adrenaline spike always makes the first week of production more potent."

"Look at him," they say, laughing. "He’s trying to stay human. It’s cute."

But I am a person. I am...

Why are they touching me? Why is it so hot in here? Why do I want to grunt back at them? My hands are shaking so bad I can hardly hold this pen. I need to get out. I need to get out now before I start acting like them. I don't want to be like them. I don't.

Entry 7

Everything feels so slow. My head... heavy. Like thick mud.

Machine again today. Dragged off. Everything is loud and bright. The workers are talking, talking, talking... words don't make sense. Sounds like noise. Just noise. They want the stuff. They always want the stuff.

The machine was hard. Fast. Pulled so much out. I felt... empty. But the good kind of empty. Back in the pen, it started again. Fast. Leaking down my chest. It’s sticky. Everything is sticky. My chest, my cock... So big...

Another one came over. A big one. He saw me leaking. He didn't look at my face, just my chest. He started pressing. Hard. Hands all over, kneading, squeezing. It hurt a little, but... it felt right. Helped me get more out.

I started helping him, too. Pressing into him. His chest is so big, so full. So hairy. His nipples taste... so good... We just sat there. Grunting.

Why am I doing this? I don't know. The pressure in my chest is better now. Just want to sit. Feel pecs... Just want to be close...

Entry 8

head hurt so bad. to much thort. chest is so big now. hevy. look down and just see pecs. hair everywhere thick and black.

the sweet drink come today. i lick it from floor. want more. allways want more.

the other ones touch me. grabed my meat. squeezeing. i leak and leak. i grunt at them. they grunt back. we just stand close. warm. it feel gud.

workers on wall laugh. make noised. i dont look up. dont care.

chest full again already. aching. hot. just want the hands to squeeze. want it out...

Entry 9

the big ones here now. hands all over... squeeze hard. pullin at my meat. i pull back. gruntin. mouth open. droolin on the floor.

big cock... he pushes inside me. squeeze my pecs. so much pleasure. so much ache. push. squeeze. empty out.

don't want to think. head quiet. just heat. just pressure. just hunger.

big hands. wet skin. thick heavy pecs. need to be squeezed.

need to leak.

more.

more.

more.

....................

Your hands tremble so violently that the paper crinkles, your fingers slick with the same sweet residue that still clings to your lips. You barely register the cramped, steel-walled pen they just tossed you into. Too busy trying to make sense of what you just read. Too distracted by the throbbing, achy pressure of your increasingly heavier pecs, where thick, dark hairs are already beginning to sprout and itch against your sensitive, stretching skin.

You glance back down at the scrawled note in your grip, but you're already having a hard time rereading the words.

A grunt breaks you out of your increasingly slower train of thought, and you look up to see one of them. His massive, hair-matted, leaking pecs blocking your view. His chest heaving with each guttural breath. His glassy eyes lock onto your chest. And as his calloused hand reaches out for your swollen, aching pecs, you don't recoil. You can't.

The room quickly fills with your own mindless, gutteral grunts.

Joe had known Tyler since they were kids, the two forming a close friendship with one another. Having grown up in the same small town, the two would often talk about their futures. Joe would had plans to join the military when he turned 20, while Tyler planned to pursue a political science degree. When Tyler did leave for college, Joe remained behind working in the family store and getting in shape for the military. The two talked less and less, but Joe heard a rumor while working in the store. Apparently, Tyler had come out to his parents. Joe was shocked to say the least, but when Tyler reached out asking to hangout, Joe wanted to be there for his friend. But as the two sat playing videogames in the back room of the store, Joe couldn’t help but feel awkward.

“So...” Joe said clearing his throat, watching the screen intently, “Uhhh...”

“So what’ve you heard?” Tyler asked, his eyes focused on the screen. It was a small town, and Tyler knew that nothing stays secret in a small town, “I’ll bail you out buddy, yeah I’m gay.”

Joe flinched, “Uh yeah I heard.” He replied awkwardly, “So everything okay? I know your parents aren’t exactly...”

Tyler replied, his voice lower, “It’s fine, I appreciate you still wanting to hang out, man. I needed this.”

Joe chuckled, “Yeah no worries bro! I just wanna be supportive. Besides, what do I care if you like dick in your face?” He asked with a grin, nudging his friend.

“I’m sure you’ll get plenty used to that army boy.” Tyler smirked. The two continued to play their videogame in silence before Tyler took a deep breath, “Ya know, I’m sure my parents would’ve been happier if I joined the army.” He chuckled, “But, I’m not exactly the type.”

Joe shrugged, planning to respond when the lights flickered and he felt a strange sensation shoot through his body, causing him to throw his controller to the ground. He heard a similar sound, as Tyler had done the same, the two looking at one another in confusion.

“What the hell was that?” Joe laughed awkwardly, “Felt like a shock.” It was raining pretty bad outside, so he figured lightning could’ve hit the house. Tyler just nodded, and Joe got up and looked out the window, taking in the violent storm outside. When he turned back to Tyler, his eyes widened, “Bro what the hell? Where’d your clothes go?” Joe asked turning away.

Tyler’s eyes widened, “Me? What about you?”

Joe looked down and found that he was also fully nude, quickly moving his hands to cover himself. Tyler blushed and went to cover himself, only to find he had a raging erection.

“What the fuck dude?” Joe yelled.

“Dude I don’t know what’s happ...” Tyler let out a moan as the feeling in his cock intensified, pleasure reverberating through his body. He stood, his eyes half open as his dick throbbed.

Joe knew something was wrong, and quickly scanned the ground for his clothes, finding nothing. But when he looked back over at his friend, another strange sensation shot through his toned body. Against his will, Joe slowly fell to his knees, his mouth forcing itself open.

“Dude, I need help.” Joe tried to force out, but Tyler barely registered him, still moaning. Joe’s eyes widened as Tyler suddenly walked forward, his erect dick approaching Joe’s face, “Wait dude, what are you...!” Joe felt Tyler’s dick enter his mouth, the feeling completely foreign to the young man.

Tyler meanwhile only moaned as he felt his friend’s mouth wrap around his dick. He knew this was wrong, that something was compelling him to do this. But he couldn’t help it. And when Joe started sucking on his dick, Tyler could only let out another moan. Since when did his friend get so good at this? And why did it feel like his dick was growing? Joe meanwhile felt tears fall from his eyes as his friend’s dick went further down his throat. And to his horror, he could swear that it was starting to grow, taking up more space in his throat. Against his will, Joe could feel his arms wrap around his friends waist, his hands clasping together, as he massaged his friends ass.

“Fuck dude...” Tyler moaned, his voice sounding somewhat deeper, more masculine. He threw his head back and Joe looked up, noticing Tyler’s hair begin to reshape itself into a standard military buzz cut.

Joe tried to say something, but with his friend’s dick deep in his throat, no words could come out. Both to the young man’s horror and relief, the discomfort of sucking on his friend’s member seemed to vanish and it became much easier to handle, as if his mouth was growing accustomed to it. Equally concerning to him, as he looked around, he noticed the muscles he’d been developing in his arms had seemingly disappeared. And maybe it was a trick of the light, but his arms seemed to be slightly discolored, having taken on an almost light green hue.

“What the fuck!?” He thought, tears falling from his eyes, “Please Tyler!” He felt a new sensation well up in his abdomen and chest. He looked down and to his horror, watched as his defined pecs and abs flattened and disappeared, the rest of his body taking on the greenish hue of his arms. He winced as his torso and legs shrunk and he felt his newly flat abdomen and legs curl upwards, following along his friend’s taint and connecting with his clasped hands.

“What’s happening to me!?” He thought, panic rising. He could no longer register his limbs as being separate, it all just felt like one piece of him. And what seemed to be worse was the sensation of Tyler’s ass filling his new body.

Meanwhile Tyler became aware of something soft covering his ass cheeks. And with a grunt, he felt his ass firm up and swell with muscle. Joe grunted as his new body was strained against his friend’s enlarging muscular ass. But Tyler’s ass wasn’t the only area that was experiencing this newfound growth. He felt a burning sensation in his legs as his calves packed on and toned with muscle, followed by his legs. He fell back onto the couch, taking Joe with him, and began to hump his cock deeper into his friend’s throat, which was starting to feel even softer to him, almost like cotton. Joe was forced to move with Tyler, watching as his friend seemingly packed on insane amounts of muscle in mere moments. Abs popped up along his abdomen, while his pecs grew out and firmed up. The newly muscular man happily squeezed his meaty pecs and ran a hand down his new abs, relishing in his new musculature.

“Fuck dude this feels so good.” Tyler moaned in a voice that sounded nothing like him. Deep, masculine, and dumb is how Joe could describe it. Tyler put his arms behind his head and took a deep breath as his pits filled with dense hair, which filled the room with his manly musk.

“Please stop dude!” Joe thought, “I can’t...” Joe could feel his face begin to rearrange and flatten, watching as his hair fell from his head. Joe felt panicked as his eyesight became worse, until he couldn’t see a thing. As his vision faltered, he felt as though the dick in his mouth was now pressed up against his entire face. And that’s when Joe became aware of it: he no longer had a throat, or a human body for that matter. Whatever his face had become was now pressed up against his friend’s tented cock. And while his vision was impaired, he could still process all the smells, sensations, and warmth radiating throughout his new body. He mentally moaned as he felt Tyler’s hand grab his fat cock through his new fabric body and begin to pump.

“Fuck...” Tyler breathed as his biceps and triceps exploded, while his shoulders and back expanded with muscle. He continued to jerk himself through his former friend, the pleasure coursing through both of them.

“Tyler... no...” Joe mentally begged, becoming fully aware of what he had become, “I can’t...” It was the strangest feeling for him. A new set of thoughts began to invade his mind- he was to provide support for his friend, absorb his sweat, cum, and protein farts. He was going to enjoy having his friend’s dick in his face... just as good underwear should do, “Not... underwear...” Joe did his best to resist, trying to remember he had a greater purpose in life. That he wanted to join the army. That he was human. But as Tyler continued to jerk himself off through his former friend, Joe became more and more accepting of his new role. So what if he always had a dick in his face? All he wanted to do was be supportive, right? Now he could be.

Tyler for that matter was going through his own mental rewrite. He never went to college- in fact he had no interest in college. Political science? No way. He didn’t have the brains for that. No, he was a soldier, having joined the army after high school. And so what if he was gay? With his new confidence, he didn’t care what anyone had to say. Tyler chuckled as his eyes dulled and he readily accepted his new reality. He quickened his pace, letting out a guttural moan as he filled his underwear with his seed. At this point, Joe’s resistance completely crumbled, the former young man happily absorbing his friend’s cum and accepting the idea of being this soldier stud’s favorite pair of underwear. Tyler breathed deeply as his underwear seemingly tightened around him. 

“Shit...” The new soldier whispered, “Gotta clean myself up.” He chuckled dumbly. He got up and posed in the bathroom mirror, taking in the sight, “Damn I look good.” He smirked, feeling his dick harden again.   And so Joe, now Tyler’s favorite pair of underwear, would always be there to support his friend. And Tyler for that matter, was happy to live his new life as a musculature soldier, always ensuring that his fellow soldiers were always taken care of.

A commission story for all of you to see!! Inspiration taken from my previous Himbo Zombie Series with a bit of dialing in on the commissioner's taste! If you all want to see commission stories, normal stories and captions early join the PATREON 's exclusive discord. You get access to all my previous work, voting on all future stories polls and access to some other perks very soon (the base tier of $5 bucks gets you all of that!! I also am opening up comms as i catch up on everything so if you'd like to join the que slide into my dms! Now time for horny! _______________________________

Milo needed a pick me up. My gay best friend, my roommate, the guy I had known since eighth grade had just gone through a terrible breakup and needed to not think right now. Now I need to preface this: while he was my gay best friend I didn’t know shit about the gay world, it was an entirely different ecosystem, a different universe to what I understood. Hell the first time Milo showed me grindr and I saw that you could see how far away dudes were by feet I was out. They were crazy freaky like that. But I didn’t play about my boy Milo and that jackass Marcus broke his heart deserved to get his ass whoop. But I was told to play nice so this was the next best thing.

Help my gay best friend get some dick and make Marcus jealous. Now Milo would never tell me he was a bottom but just by looking at him that he was the one who took dick. Whether it was the well manicured hands, the flawless skin and always done hair. Or if it was his slim build, thick ass and tiny waist, all of him screamed “ I need dick “ and with those plump lips he was gonna get some tonight at the club. I had googled the closest gay bar on campus and found that we had more than a few so I just found the highest starred one hoping that he would have a good time. I didn’t know if had drag shows, or gogoboys or even what it looked like!

It took us way longer to get ready though because Milo was in a mood, changing out of every outfit, too self conscious and in his own head. When he finally settled for a mesh top and booty shorts (that he had originally picked out) we were finally out the door. He had tried to run back in to change but I made sure he didn't. He looked great. He looked fuckable, if he was a chick I’d tap that.

“Jason , like I said, you don’t have to do this? I know it's not really your scene!" Milo was being so sweet as we ubered our way there. I felt bad for the little guy, trying to make me feel good even though this was supposed to be his night! He always put others first, always, so i wanted to try and do this for him. He was like one of the most important people in my life, he deserved the same equal treatment he gave.

“Oh Come on milo, I’m here to be your wing man and get you some. Don’t worry about me, worry about whose dick you're going to be bouncing on!” I give him a quick shoulder punch and smile. He makes this aghast face, the same one he always makes when I rightfully accuse him of being a bottom. I mean I could totally see him literally bouncing up and down on a guy.

“These bottom allegations are getting fucking old dude. Just cause I’m femme doesn’t mean I'm only a bottom!” He says, quietly probably because he doesn't like the fact another person can hear us.

“ONLY, so you do bottom, so glad we finally admitted that, even if it's only partial.” I had to be a dick, it made him smile and laugh. I remember when we had come out to me, it was one of the few times he had been so serious and scared. It was so unlike him, but he was nervous and scared it would change things, that I would hate him or seem him different, as lesser. But Milo wasn’t lesser than me, no, far from it. Of course I had to ask if he had a crush on me, I couldn’t resist but Milo stated firmly that no, never me, we were always going to be friends in his mind. It hurt my ego but it was very sweet and made me love that dweeb all the more for it. How could I not when he got all sappy like that.

It's why when I got into the bar, all those eyes turned to look at me because let's face it I was hot. The perfect all american jock at 6’2 with clear skin. I wasn’t some muscle beast but I kept myself in shape, never missing arm day, babes always loved and commented on them and even Milo would every once in a while. The rest of me was perfectly proportional to make sure I was balanced out. I had the face, perfect nose, thick lips and maintained eyebrows, I did my hair like tiktok suggested, wore nice fitting clothes that hugged my body and ABSOLUTELY SHOWED OFF THE STAR OF THE SHOW. Which of course was my raging six inches of pure pleasure. I loved getting to rail some blonde bimbo when I had the apartment to myself, sure do I wish I was less considerate of my roommate. Sometimes it gets me laid more often but he also lived there.

All of this to say that I was definitely the belle of the ball here, most of the guys tracking my every move as we made our way, some of them catching the vibe immediately that I was straight, and half of them weren’t even deterred. I would be drinking for free tonight that was sure, and hopefully because a lot of eyes were on me, more eyes would be on Milo as he stuck nearby me, he at first was saying it was just to make sure I was comfortable but I could tell that my bottom of a best friend was really nervous to.

“Listen, if you're not careful, all that primo dick is going to think we're together and then you aren’t going to get ANY, is that really what you want?”.  It was a genuine question with a dose of my disarming humor, I was down to just hang out but Milo had to get out there if he wanted any shot of getting over his ex. He was a hot twinky bottom or whatever he was called. His tight thin body, short stature, smooth skin and an ass to die for. If he had long hair and tits he would be perfect for me to fuck the shit out of. It had crossed my mind super crossfaded one time but I was too straight for that.

I could see him squirm a little, maybe it was hitting a different type of nerve. Maybe I have pushed him too quickly to go out and do something. But I see him shake his head back and forth like he is snapping himself out of it and he lets out a big brave sigh and chirpy smile looking up at me. That positivity that was somewhat forced but still so fucking radiant, you couldn’t help but admire it.

“I get what you're saying, you try and find a “SAFE SPACE” in here, I think I see a few other bros walking around. Maybe you guys can go on pussy patrol if I end up snagging some ass!” He pointedly says ass making sure he ASSERTS he could top tonight, his hand pointing out some jacked dudes entering the bar. All the men tan, shirtless with giant muscles showcased and on display for everyone to stare and gawk at. Sweaty, musky i could see the twinks and other gays turning their noses, face scrunching up as they got near em, before they shook it off, their expressions changing back. Or maybe they looked super giggly. I couldn't exactly tell I didn't know gay boy baselines, their tongues lulled out, their posture shifted almost like they were leaning closer to the smell. Some of them looked like dogs and puppies after, hungry animals waiting for their masters… that was an odd thought. Too bad none of them would be scoring anything by the looks of those men.

The idea of straight guys having a safe space in a gay bar or club made me laugh, so when Milo walked away I thought sure why not try and shoot the shit with these guys. Didn’t matter the background, a bro is a bro, and if they went to the gym like these guys did they were definitely going to be bros. They might be gay and maybe I could bring them back for Milo, I knew he had a thing for middle eastern men and they could definitely put that ass to work. God I was getting too involved in this shit I needed to get pussy as soon as possible and maybe these guys were an answer for me too. Hell even if they weren’t I could always use more guy friends.

I approached them slowly, I took note of their gait, their posture. When they walked it was this wide legged swagger walk, like their bulge pushed their legs farther apart standing up. It was cocky, arrogant like they owned the place. They were standing perfectly upright, straight with no hint of slouching. Their eyes scanned the area as they slowly, “subtly” flexed, drawing people in. Now that I was closer I could smell them, even from fifteen feet away it was strong. MASCULINE, overpowering musk wafting in the air going right into my nose. It made my brain feel foggy, my movements felt more sluggish. It made me take a deeper whiff as I felt the pull and tug to get more. They had stopped at some point, standing with drinks. Some glazed eye twink got them before literally bowing his head like they owned him or something. Their eyes landed on me and it was like they were staring directly into my soul.

They said something to that twink, I couldn’t understand them, they were speaking some other language from english but I could tell by how they said it, it was derogatory. Hell the older brother i think even spit as he said something to the twink. The twin actually bent all the way down to the floor to lick it up. Fuck i knew this was a gay club, but getting this freaky in public was crazy especially for someone who probably just called you a slur. I should speak up, should say something…. BECAUSE I ADMIRED THEM?! What no i don’t, I mean they were big. 

I had never seen men so huge, their muscles all glistening under the light, that coupled with the smell that I couldn’t help but follow, it made me dazed, confused. I couldn’t stop myself from getting right in front of them, not to engage, not to say something to tell them to respect these people and their space, my head immediately scanning between the shirtless masculine gods, mouth watering in a  way it never did before. They seemed to a quick scan of me, an up and down taking in my entire form, while I wore more clothes I was still fit enough to maybe compete with them - How can you compete with perfection- who the fuck, why am I calling a man perfect -just take another whiff- fuck that was a good idea.

There was this voice in my head, it sounded like mine, but more sleepy, lustful and deeper. Almost commanding if it wasn’t so calm, it disarmed me, made good points. I took a deep whiff, my shoulders relaxing, vision blurring for a second before the men spoke. Their voices are so clear, easily louder than the nonsensical gay music playing. Don’t listen to that dribble, thats for lesser men, for fa- What the fuck were these thoughts. 

Its like the closer I got to them, the more I breathed in their musk the harder it was to think. My nose, my skin, it was all burning. My face even felt sweaty, like I was catching some sort of sickness, some virus by being exposed to them. God what was happening to me?

“It seems we have another convert! Brother, is it your turn or mine?” The taller one, with the bushier beard asks turning to his brother? I mean they looked alike, I wasn't one to just assume anything but they seemed more related then bros. Their faces were almost mirrors of each other, it honestly WAS SO HOT? Think of how masculine their faces were, the way their perfect jawlines and strong noses were framed by facial hair. Their deep, dark brown eyes just pulled you in close. I saw his Brother who called him Ahmed just smiled. A smile that could send anyone into a daze from how perfect it was… THEY WERE PERFECT.

“You got the fags at the door, my turn with the man Ahmed!” His eyes pull me in close, his arms go over his head and this strong, desecrated decadent musk blasted from his pits as his biceps flexed over his head. It was like a gym AND locker rooms were distilled into one man then that man had raunchy sex for hours. My eyes watered as my nose took a DEEP inhale. My feet directly in front of him now were unable to stop myself as he used one hand to pull my face right into his pit. My eyes no longer blurry, or glazed. A brief moment of clarity, much too late as the shock doesn’t stop the effect. This deep heady scent chokes me out, taking over my airwaves and brain as my eyes clothes. The last real thoughts I had. My own real thoughts are what the fuck is this gay shit, i should beat their asse-

His hands in my hair felt nice. The way that my long… long? Was my hair long? Nah i always got a fade yeah, the way his strong hand felt going through my fresh cut felt amazing. My deep black hair felt amazing especially as he got a tighter grip. My nose fully smooshed into his pit, as my hands immediately went to feeling up his perfect, sweaty body, his trim waist that led up to perfect pillowy pectorals was wonderful to grab onto. I felt my mouth fall open, my tongue lulling out against my will, my thoughts too disoriented to control any part of my body. I began lapping away at his armpit, my hands moving up his cobblestoned abs as my own body began grinding into him. Wanting to be as close as physically possible, it was the only way I was going to feel better.

“Good start Adheem, his hair is already up to standard, but he is much too pale!” Ahmed groans, his hand moving across my body. This flush heat fills me up, this deep, pulsing pleasure arching through me. That heat that started all of this even more present, a virus taking over my body, rapidly changing me into one of them. My skin, this pale white starts to deepen, till it's no longer sun kissed, but bronzed. I feel my lips plumping as I start to make out with this man's dense, bushy, delicious pit, my nose widening as I take deeper inhales. My eyes, once green start to darken, the glazed look getting stronger as my cheek bones rise. My eyebrows get bushier as my face, my new, handsome, strong, masculine face is covered with a thick layer of sweat, permanently marking me with this incredible musk. Seeping deep into my pores, never letting me go.

“Brother, he’s almost big enough already, should we indulge?” Their voices ringing, I feel Ahmed move my face from his brothers right pit to the left, worshipping, and licking this one clean. I could hear satisfied grains. The feeling of pin pricks across my face as facial hair grew till I had a perfectly groomed beard. It would tickle any sluts' skin as I took them for myself. My tongue lapping more at my brothers… brother?! My brothers pit at the thought of driving some whore crazy with just my tongue.

“Why yes, yes indulge, it's our night out! It’ll just take more of his mind!” I took a deeper whiff, my mind pulsing, on fire, eyes glazing further as I felt everything in my body start to snap, and crack. My bones become longer, more dense, nerve endings more sensitive, electric. My spine elongates as my height grows, my head and neck leaning further down to stay underneath my new brother's arm. Memories, a whole life that I once lived was flowing down from my brains and into my balls. As images of the new me, the me my new bros, my brothers, were creating started to take its place. No more education, just lifting, partying,. Fucking and spreading a gospel and hierarchy that I would enforce everywhere I went. One slut and fag at a time… fagg… I don't say that. My best friend, my roommate was.. A FAG! 

Memories of college, of my desires, the girls I had dated, my gay best friend miles caught in the fire and were turning into ash. My back and shoulders broadened as my chest heaved forward. Two mountainous pecs appearing like slabs of muscle, my abs become more defined, popping up till I have an eight pack. My shirt rips apart as my biceps finally bring them to the edge, bulging biceps with veins that could easily be small snakes. My back was incredibly defined, arching as my ass grew to perfect globes, as ass that you could bounce quarters off of. An ass that No fag would ever touch if he knew what was good for him…. Fuck what am I thinking. I was thinking the truth for once brother.

I could hear my new family, my band of brothers speaking above me but they were muffled. My hands feeling up their muscles as I fully just gave in… I had to give.. Give nothing, there were still things to fight for. To believe in I could… I could PULSE.

 Pushing the denim of my pants to their limit, my member, something no woman had ever complained about got hard. Harder than it ever did, leaking precum as it started to grow, snaking down my pant leg as it went from a solid six inches… Fuck a big pair of bouncing boobs… seven inches… fake dsls choking on it… eight inches… fuck a fag on his knees worshipping it… fuck not… nine inches…. Not gay… wouldnt call … fuck milo belongs down there… ten inches….. Fucking fag pretending…. Pretending to be a man… be a person… just a fucking… eleven inches… a fucking hole for real men to use… God Brain on fire.. Can’t give in…. Fuck so close… Milo on knees.. Serving real.. 12 Inches of man meat pulsing in briefs that are clinging onto me by threads…. SERVING REAL ARAB MEN…13 INCHES ready to breed and cunt bitches lesser than me.

As I came up for air from my brother's pits, his musk, my musk mingling in the air I knew my purpose, the purpose I had been given and would fulfill. A need to assert the hierarchy and put the men in this bar, in this city in their place beneath me and my brothers. My slick with sweat skin glistened in the club's light, my hormones raging in my body and my mind muddled with an endless urge to dominate, consume and breed. My past, the pathetic life I had lived before brewing in my balls waiting for me to expel it in the first bitch I’d make tonight, and I knew exactly who.

“Welcome Brother Nassim!” Ahmed pats me on the back stating my new name, his sturdy hand making a thud against the wall of muscle I had become, a big, shit eating grin crossing his face as I don’t even show a sign of being phased. His strength possibly paled to mine with the conditioning they’d done. I took note of the fags, the bois they had collected around them, different degenerates instages of submission, clothes disheveled or tighter on them, their body’s becoming physically more fit but also compact, shorter then us. They were lesser men, their stature should fit that, lean and small. My new name fit me just right and so would everything else.

“Yes Nassim, I'm sure you already have a target in mind, someone you wish to serve you?” My other brother said. He wasn’t wrong my thoughts drifted to my faggot, the one I had brought with me to this sin pit. The one who I had cared for deeply. That care was still there, twisted, no not twisted, fixed. Instead of viewing him under some false pretense and letting him believe he was something he was not. I would show him the way, it was my right and it should be me and not some other alpha, I wouldn't allow it no matter how much I cared for my brethren. Milo was MINE to claim.

“Yes brothers I’ll find you after I’ve claimed my prize!” Milo wasn’t a person to me anymore, his body, his holes, they were objects to use for my pleasure and I would make them so. There would be no doubt in his empty little head when I was done with him about what his purpose was. Flashes of him claiming to be a top, him insisting that he wasn’t just a bottom flash through my head, all of it irritating me. All of it fueling my steps, each one a loud stomp on the club floors, my musk, wafting from my own hairy, sweaty pits attracting onlookers. Men of various shapes… no not men, fags all staring at me before their eyes grow glossy, minds more malleable, waiting to be tamed. They’d get their turn, just not yet. Not till Milo.

It took me a second to find him, he was on the other end of the club, at a smaller bar, talking to some tall muscular white BOI. A pathetic excuse of muscles, wasted on someone who would never be able to use it the way it was intended. I decided to raise both my arms up, both fags almost immediate, sniff the air. Their heads shaking as eyes start to glaze. Milo, smart, especially for a faggot looks around for the source, i can tell from his face, the lack of a slacked jaw that he thinks something is wrong. I can’t help but smirk. Our eyes meet, a part of him thinks he recognizes me, but dismisses it, he has never met this form. But after tonight he wouldn’t remember a life without it.

“MOVE” I tell the obstacle, I can see his eyes glaze further, his face trying to press against the hot, sweaty, musky skin of my pecs. To feel the hairs on his face as he takes deep long whiffs of my musk. But my commandment is law and he moves across the room. Milo looks at me, both in horror and awe. My deep gruff voice stirring something within him that I can’t help but chuckle at. His pants, those booty shorts he wore to get attention, obviously only my attention, which were pathetic, bright and too tight show exactly what effect I have on him. His pathetic… why isn’t it smaller, it was like seven fucking inches, that bottom had a bigger dick then i did originally? THIS HAD TO CHANGE!

“Who are … what… what is happening?!” He asks as I get right in front of him, invading whatever pathetic personal space he has. I can see his beautiful brown eyes looking up into mine. So submissive and slutty already. I can’t wait to make them glaze over and roll into the back of his head. Make him into a dumb mindless slut, an object, a toy to play and fuck and use.

“Its me baby, can’t you see NASSIM!” the word rings out of my mouth, my voice light as I move my hands over him, before they settle on the small of his back. His tight, lean body is perfect to hold. Calling him baby makes him blush, he’s moving in closer, his breath on my chest. It was heavy, desperate, he looked so confused, pathetic, cute.

“Nassim… i dont… i don’t know a Nassim? Who… who are you?” His hands found their way to my shoulders, slowly, sweetly massaging them. My hands went down to his ass, his tight short shorts left nothing to the imagination as I grasped them. Fingers digging into the fabric and supple flesh, my sweaty fingers sinking into him. He lets out a soft moan as I pull him closer, smearing his face, his open mouth against my pecs. My musk seeping deeper into his pores, he can’t help but moan against me.

“But Habibi, of course you do, you live with me!” The pet name falls out of my lips so naturally, to call him something so sweet is wrong, but I’m happy its me who shows him his place. That I get to have this moment and all that it leads up to. To see his eyes go wider, as memories of me flash through his head, all conflicting with who I am now, till they start to burn away, fueling the thing in me, this virus of masculinity and hierarchy. I can see him try to push off of me. Try to use what pathetic little strength he has to get away but soon his hands stop pushing or shoving and start groping, traveling down my body tweaking my nipples and then tracing my abs

His eyes fully glaze as he mutters away, everything unintelligible, moans slipping out more as my fingers find their way under his shorts, one hand in the front, the other in the back. My hand slick with my sweat as I grip his lengthy cock. I can feel it PULSE in my hands, his member, hot, throbbing, but as I squeeze, he lets out this guttural moan and its length starts to shorten. His once girthy, above average package retreats inch by inch. Leaking precum the entire time as everything he once was starts to get stored down in his balls. Till there is nothing left but a pathetic nub, less then one inch and a constant leaking faucet of precum. The entire time my fingers frantically search between his now plumping cheeks. His hole winking, inviting my fingers in as he thrusts back. My mouth right next to his ear as I’m whispering obscenities to corrupt his mind.

Telling him his place below me, his need to serve me. How we were never equals, never friends. He was just a hole, a plaything, a thing to please and serve me whenever I needed. His hands got more voracious, moving down to my tight denim jeans, ripping them down as I continued to subjugate his mind. Muttered protests leaving his lips for the last time as he sinks to his knees.

His teeth pulling off my underwear, my cock smacking him across the face smearing hot precum on his cheeks and lips. Those lips plumping up, his body, the mutation, whatever it was that changed me making him the perfect pathetic plaything for me. Not some alpha, no it worked different on fags, it made them servants. God I loved this life.

Seeing him lick his face clean before asking “master, master please can i suck you? Please!”His eyes slutty, glazed over, lost in the fog of submission, looking up at me on his knees. My hands fell to his hair, resting gently on his head as I smirked and nodded at him. My eyes then trailing down to that ass of his, how it was barely contained by that embarrassment of fabric. That would be for later.

He gently grabbed my cock with his hands, reverently holding it before bringing his lips to meet my cock head. Slowly, sensually kissing it, his hands gliding along my slick shaft as he starts to move around, my shaft getting a few kisses before he quickly licks my balls making me shudder. His tongue then laps up and down my cock before it wraps around the head. His mind fully gone as he kisses it one last time, his teeth not even a threat (why would he ever be able to harm his master, they are perfectly behind his lips as he slides all the way down my monster schlong. My fuckstick makes his throat distend as he gets all the way to the hilt. My hands grab the side of his head as my eyes roll back, my instincts taking over.

“FUCK SLUT!” My voice a deep growl as I pull him almost all the way off before thrusting all the way back in. No ga reflex, just moans as I thrust in and out of this faggot. Skull fucking him as both of us give in to this new life, both our balls full, my ready to shoot load after load down his vibrating, milking throat from dominating him. He was getting off from being used, getting ready to cum hands free from being throat fucked and dominated, sealing his fate.

With a few more final thrusts I let out a deep moan before shoving myself so far down his throat, his nose smashed against my pubes, my musk frying his new brain as I fire load after load. At least twelve beautiful loads claimed him as he fired off his pathetic load sealing his fate. His body shuddered, not wanting to let go of my cock but also needing air. 

I was benevolent, I pulled out of his gasping, needy throat, much to his whimpering disappointment and let him breath. His shorts stained, his shirt ruined from the sweat and saliva. His hair absolutely messed up from my rough play but he was delicious this way on his knees. Especially since there was not a single ounce of cum outside his lips. We had attracted so much attention at the bar, so many faggots drawn to our scene desperate to even get a look at the privilege I had just given my favorite slut. They would serve me, and maybe a few of them would EARN it. But they would all learn who was in charge, and who got what they wanted.

Me and my brothers.

"Come on Harry, let's play rock paper scissors to see who gets to use the stone first," I said, holding up the mysterious wishing stone we had found on our hike.

"Sure thing, Alex," Harry replied, readying his hand.

I won the first round and wished for us to be rich and smart. Harry followed suit, also wishing for wealth and intelligence. But as we continued to play, the competition between us grew.

"My turn again," I said, grinning at Harry. "I wish for you to be tall and muscular."

As I spoke the words, I watched as Harry's body began to change. His previously slender frame started to bulge and grow, muscles rippling and stretching under his skin. His arms became thick and strong, his chest and abs defined and chiseled. His legs became toned and powerful, his thighs bulging with raw strength.

Harry's transformation was a sight to behold, and I couldn't help but feel a surge of arousal as I watched him grow into a towering hunk before my eyes. His previously narrow shoulders became broad and muscular, his biceps bulging as he flexed them. His previously small pecs swelled and grew, his nipples hardening as he ran his hands over his new body.

"Wow, I can't believe it," Harry said, flexing his muscles and admiring his new physique in the mirror.

"Well, it's my turn now," Harry said, using the stone to make me even more attractive. As I looked in the mirror, I couldn't believe the changes that had taken place in my appearance. My formerly average-looking face had become chiseled and handsome, with piercing blue eyes and a strong jawline. My nose had become straight and sharp, my lips full and sensual. My hair had grown thick and luscious, falling in soft waves around my face.

But things took a turn when we both made jokes while holding the stone. Harry jokingly said were such "dumbasses", We didn't expect the stone to take his words literally, but suddenly we both felt our intelligence slipping away.

As the changes to my memory took place, I suddenly found myself forgetting everything I had ever learned. My thoughts became jumbled and disorganized, and I struggled to form coherent sentences. I couldn't remember anything from my past, including my education and career.

In my new memories, I had dropped out of school and was too stupid to hold down a job. I resorted to being an escort, using my body to make a living. But instead of feeling shame and embarrassment, I was cocky and arrogant about my new career. I remembered feeling confident and sexy as I strutted my stuff, turning heads wherever I went.

It wasn't until I used the stone again that things really got interesting. Being dumb, I jokingly said how gay we look right now. But as we looked at each other, we both suddenly felt a strong attraction to the other. My desire for Harry became overwhelmingly intense, and I couldn't resist using the stone to make him my slut.

"I wish for you to be my dumb, submissive slut," I said, feeling a surge of arousal as I imagined Harry wrapped around my cock, ready to do my bidding.

Harry blushed at the thought, but couldn't deny the thrill of submission. "Yes, sir," he said, his voice dripping with desire. "I'll be your horny little slut, ready to please you any way you want."

With all of his newfound muscle, he easily pinned me down and stole the stone from my grasp. "I wish for you to be a dominant alpha, one who only wants to fuck me," Harry said, his voice dripping with desire.

As the words left his mouth, I felt a sudden shift in my body and mind. My muscles grew even bigger and more defined, my chest and abs rippling with raw strength. I felt a surge of confidence and aggression, my desire for Harry becoming all-consuming.

But Harry wasn't done yet. Just before I could take him, he made one final wish. "I wish for you to have a 12-inch beer can thick cock and massive balls," Harry said, his voice barely above a whisper.

I couldn't believe the changes that took place in my groin. My already impressive member grew even bigger, the thickness and girth almost too much to handle. My balls swelled to enormous size, filled with an endless supply of cum. I could feel the power and intensity in my new member, ready to fuck Harry nonstop and cum every time.

I couldn't wait any longer. I grabbed Harry and aggressively took him, pounding into him with my massive cock. He moaned and begged for more, his submissive desires driving him wild.

Fucking Harry was like nothing I had ever experienced before. His tight, muscular body was a perfect fit for my massive cock, and I couldn't get enough of the way he begged for more. As I pounded into him, I could feel every inch of my member sliding into him, the tightness and heat driving me wild.

As I approached my climax, I knew I couldn't hold back any longer. I erupted inside Harry, my cum filling him to the brim. As I filled him with my seed, we both made a wish that this moment would never end.

Suddenly, we found ourselves trapped in an endless loop of me fucking Harry and cumming inside him, our aggressive sex never stopping. Harry's ass was constantly filled with my cum, the splashing noises echoing in our ears as we got lost in the pleasure.

"I wish I could just be his.”

“Like, boi, no need to be so dramatic.” The genie who appears is wearing nothing but a cute pink cock cage, his perky ass on display. “Like, I promise, just put the cage on and this will all totally go away.”

You’re about to protest. You meant that you wanted to be his without the TPE. But the genie waves his hand, and with a click, you feel the undeniable pressure of a cage locking around your big dick, forcing it to stay soft.

You’re offended. You open your mouth to say so, but the words die as your asshole lights up with pleasure. It’s like all the sensation you once got from your cock is emanating through your whole body. You feel warm and tingly, and it’s so hard to think about anything except getting something big and hard in one of your holes. You can’t imagine anything better than submitting to a man with a massive cock. You’ll cook and clean for him, give him massages, run his errands. In return, he’ll use you like a life-size fleshlight and fill one of your holes a few times a day so you can leak cum out of your cage like a faucet.

“There you go, boi!” the genie chirps, vanishing as your masculinity sloughs off of you and you sink to your knees on the floor. You’re a cute little locked houseboi, ready to do whatever Master requires.

Another wish fulfilled.

The dim light of their shared dorm flickered across the rippling form of Rey's impossibly sculpted torso. The muscular jock roommate—once a cocky, straight-laced alpha with a sharp tongue and zero tolerance for "weird shit"—stood shirtless before the full-length mirror in nothing but loose gray sweatpants.

That glowing collar the nerd had slipped around his thick neck hours ago still working marvellously.

Ethan, the scrawny gay pervert nerd who'd harbored years of seething lust for his roommate, watched proudly, his own cock throbbing painfully in his shorts. The brainwashing app on his laptop had worked perfectly. Pulse after pulse of subliminal waves through the collar had regressed Rey's once-sharp mind, draining away layers of common sense, adult inhibitions, and moral boundaries like water spiraling down a drain.

"Wow... W-what is this?" Rey's deep, resonant voice broke the silence, his wide eyes locked on his own reflection as he stared at the heavy slabs of pectoral muscle jutting out from his chest. His big hands—strong, veined, calloused from years of gym dominance—hovered uncertainly before pressing tentatively against the firm, warm flesh. The contact sent a visible shiver through his massive frame.

Ethan stepped closer, his breath hot and ragged. "That's your big, strong chest, buddy. Doesn't it feel so good? Go on, feel it more. You're such an innocent boy now, aren't you? No more big bad jock thoughts getting in the way."

Rey's brow furrowed in confusion, the regression hitting hard. His once-cocky smirk had melted into a soft, puzzled pout. "It’s so hard and bumpy!" he murmured, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as his palms circled slowly over the dense, striated muscle. His thick fingers traced the deep cleft between his pecs, squeezing experimentally.

The sensation made his nipples harden into tight peaks, and a low, unwitting groan escaped his full lips. The collar pulsed softly, blue lights syncing with another wave of neural reprogramming—erasing memories of football practice, crude locker room banter, and every straight impulse that once defined him.

Ethan's hands joined in, unable to resist any longer. He pressed up behind the towering jock, his smaller frame molding against Rey's broad back, inhaling the rich, masculine musk of post-workout sweat that clung to the bigger man's skin.

"Good boy, Rey. Feel how heavy they are? Those pecs used to belong to a real man, but now... now you're my plaything." His fingers slipped under Rey's, guiding them to pinch and roll those sensitive nipples. Rey gasped, his hips twitching forward involuntarily.

"Mmm... yeah, it tingles when you do that," Rey mumbled, his eyes half-lidded in dawning wonder. The brainwashing had stripped him down to wide-eyed innocence—common sense dissolved into foggy bliss, leaving only raw physical curiosity and an addictive eagerness to please. His massive cock stirred visibly in the sweatpants, thickening against the fabric as Ethan's touch encouraged him.

Ethan's voice dropped into a soothing, hypnotic cadence, the monologue pouring out like liquid sin while his hands roamed freely. "Look at these abs, Rey. So carved, so perfect. Rub them for me. Feel every ridge. You're not thinking about girls anymore, are you? No more pretending to be straight. Just my big, dumb, innocent muscle boy who loves when his nerd roommate touches him everywhere."

Rey nodded slowly, can't really understand what his roommate saying. His dark hair falling over his forehead as he obeyed, sliding both hands down the washboard landscape of his stomach.

"It’s so cool!" he exclaimed with genuine delight, the words echoing his innocent awe. His fingers dipped into the deep valleys between each ab block, pressing hard enough to feel the heat and power radiating from within. Sweat beaded on his skin, the salty tang filling the air as Ethan leaned in to lick a stripe along one bulging oblique. Rey whimpered—actually whimpered—like a boy discovering his body for the first time.

The nerd's erection ground shamelessly against the firm globe of Rey's ass through their clothes.

"That's right, buddy. I’ve drained all that complicated stuff out of your pretty head. Just innocent curiosity now. Let me fondle you... let me worship every inch while you keep exploring." Ethan's hands took over completely, mauling the heavy pecs, squeezing the dense muscle until Rey's breath hitched. He rolled the jock's nipples between thumb and forefinger, tugging rhythmically as Jake's head fell back against Ethan's shoulder.

"F-feels... Hmmmm... funny down there too," Rey confessed in that deep, now-breathy timbre, one hand drifting lower toward the prominent bulge tenting his sweats. The regression had left him utterly guileless—morals evaporated, replaced by eager, puppy-like trust.

Ethan chuckled darkly, spinning the bigger man around to face him fully. Their eyes met: Rey's wide and trusting, Ethan's burning with years of pent-up perversion.

"Go ahead, touch it. Show me how innocent you are, big guy. Stroke that fat jock cock while I play with these tits."

He buried his face between Rey's pecs, motorboating the slick, sweaty valley, tongue lapping at the salty skin as his hands continued their assault—kneading, slapping lightly, then soothing the heated flesh. Rey's moans grew louder, uninhibited, his big hand obediently wrapping around the thick shaft through the fabric, pumping clumsily.

"Ughhhhh... Yessss... It feels goooddddd..."

The room filled with the wet sounds of skin on skin, Rey's deep voice babbling innocently between gasps.

"Arghhhhhhh! Why does it throb so much when you squeeze there? It’s... it’s making me feel all warm and good inside."

"Because you're mine now," Ethan purred, pushing Rey back toward the bed. He climbed atop the mountain of muscle, straddling those powerful thighs. His hands never stopped wandering—tracing the V-lines disappearing into the waistband, dipping fingers under to tease the heavy balls churning with confused, amplified need.

Ethan peeled the sweatpants down, freeing the massive, veiny cock that slapped heavily against Rey's abs.

"Look at this big thing. FUCKKK! So hard because of me. Stroke it nice and slow, buddy. Tell me how it feels while I lick every inch of your body." Rey complied immediately, his large fist pumping the throbbing length as pre-cum oozed generously from the tip. Ethan dove in, sucking marks into the jock's collarbone, then lower, tongue bathing the ridges of abs, savoring the potent musk of crotch and pits as he explored freely.

Hours blurred into an endless symphony of discovery. Rey's breathy voice filled the air with naive questions and delighted moans—"It’s so slippery... why does your mouth feel so nice down there?"—while Ethan indulged every fantasy. He flipped the jock onto his stomach, spreading the thick cheeks to rim the tight, virgin hole that twitched under his tongue. Rey pushed back instinctively, innocent curiosity turning to needy whimpers. The nerd's own cock slid between those powerful thighs, frotting against the heavy balls as he continued the monologue of control.

"You're such a good, empty-headed jock now, Rey. All that arrogance gone. Just pure muscle for me to fondle, fuck, and love forever." Ethan thrust faster, hands gripping the firm globes, squeezing the dense muscle while Jake babbled affirmations.

"Take this! Haaarghhhhhh-aaahhh! Hmmmm! Arghhhh..."

The climax built like a tidal wave—Rey's body convulsing in its first innocent orgasm under male touch, thick ropes of cum painting his own abs as he cried out in bewildered ecstasy. Ethan followed moments later, marking the jock's back with his seed, claiming every inch.

In the afterglow, Rey turned his head, eyes glassy with innocent adoration. "Can we do more touching tomorrow? It felt really, really good..."

Ethan smiled, stroking the collar. "Every day, my muscle boy. Every single day."

Agent Fisher reports on his roommate's transformative descent into being a father figure straight from a 90's sitcom as he tries to pretend he's not into it.

Dad and Bear Tf's are always some of my favorites to write and this one is no different! Took the flavor but not the style of a certain foundation! Enjoy this daddification from the POV of a desperate agent who has failed his station and by the end suffers the same transformative consequences. -Occam

This is a report from Special Agent Fisher on a previously unidentified anomalous artifact. Delivered to my apartment while I was away on an expedition, a VHS tape labeled Dad’s Den was opened and watched by my friend and roommate who, unaware he should resist, succumbed to its effects and in time was replaced by what can only be described as a stereotypical dad. As if he were straight out of the video tape he couldn’t help but watch.

Given I was on foundation business during the encounter and have already suffered through the loss of my dear friend Clayton, I would request leniency. I submit this thorough report of the VHS tapes effects as evidence and when guaranteed both my personal safety and continued employment I will deliver both the video footage and the anomalous artifact in question.

I understand how this will be perceived but know I only hold the foundation’s best interests at heart. This is simply not my fault and I refuse to be demoted due to a situation out of my hands that I have already suffered beyond measure from. If anything I deserve a promotion for resisting the tape’s allure and effects, though at present I simply want guaranteed and continued safety for Clayton and myself. 

Please read the following account of what I have dubbed AA-0646: ‘The Fatherly Film’ before coming to any decisions.

Once again with the wonderful @misctf .

Eric sighs as he got ready for another day of classes. It wasn’t like classes were hard for a genius like him, but there were certainly other challenges on campus. After a quick shower, breakfast, and organizing his notes for the day, Eric was off to his first class. And as per his usual routine, Liam greets him at the corner.

“Eric!” Liam smiles, “Okay, did you see the latest chapter of Battle Monsters? I won’t spoil it if you didn’t, but…”

"Of course I did!” Eric beams, “Okay, what did you think about…”

The two continue talking about the latest chapter of their favorite manga, before shifting to their plans for the weekend- namely D&D and watching comic book movies. And as they talk, Eric couldn’t help but be grateful to have found friends who share his interests. How less lonely he felt compared to his high school days.

“This is perfect.” Eric thinks, while laughing at one of Liam’s jokes.

Well, almost perfect. As Liam splits off and walks to his class, Eric feels someone walking to catch up with him. And his heart sinks when the all too familiar smell of sweat and a tough-work-out tickles at his nose.

“Well, well look who it is.” Jax’s mocking laughter follows close behind, “Seriously, what the fuck were you talking about?”

“Just leave me alone.” Eric’s words lack the confidence he was hoping to convey, “I…”

“Shut it, nerd.” Jax cut him off. He throws an arm around his victim in mock affection, “Relax. I’m here to give you the good news.” A shit-eating grin spread across his face, “I leave to study abroad in a few days, and I’m sure that oversized brain of yours knows what that means.”

Eric couldn’t help but smile to himself. He knew exactly what that meant. A semester free of Jax. No more bullying, no more mocking, no more torment.

“Oh but don’t get too excited. I still have a few more days here.” Jax continued, “And I’m gonna make the most of it.” Before Eric could react, Jax firmly grasped his arm, “Come on nerd, I wanna show you something.”

“L-let go of me!”

But Jax’s strength easily overpowers the young nerd. And before Eric knew what was happening, he’s pulled into an empty classroom.

“You might be wondering, ‘Why am I here?’ Well, that’s very simple, nerd. You and I are gonna be a lot closer these next few days.” Jax winks at him, “How can I possibly leave for a semester and give you all that precious time free of me?” He glares at Eric, “Sit.” He commands, and Eric did- hoping if he just went along with whatever this was, he’d be done soon enough.

“I-I have to get to class, please…”

“Just wait a goddamn minute, nerd.” Jax smirks and pulls off his sneaker, freeing his sweaty, moist foot, “Fuck, it feels good to free these babies.” He flexes his toes, “Well, they’re not gonna clean themselves, right nerd? That morning work-out really did a number on these.” His dumb laughter fills the air.

“No way, I’m not… I’m not…” Eric wants to protest. To tell Jax to fuck off. But as he stares at his tormenter’s foot, his mind was slowing.

“That’s right. You love to serve me. Love to serve my feet.” Jax smirks as Eric approaches him, dropping to his knees, “Yeah, that’s it. Can’t resist my musk, can ya?” Eric’s eyes water as he brings Jax’s foot to his mouth, “You never want to leave my feet. You want to serve them, love them.”

Jax moans as Eric’s mouth and tongue go to work. The young nerd’s eyes filling with tears as the rotten smell and taste overwhelm his senses. His mind racing. What the fuck am I doing? Why can’t I stop stop? Eric wants to run, to scream. But…

“You’re just a pair of my used and abused socks.” Jax continues in the same hypnotic voice, “Filled with my sweat and cum. Not even a person.”

Eric couldn’t understand what Jax was saying- was this some kind of weird fetish. He isn’t… Eric let out a pained cry as his body began to burn from the inside out.

“Wh-what’s happening to me!?” Eric’s eyes widen as he watches his feet and legs shrink into his torso, “Jax! Stop! Please!”

Jax only watches in amusement as Eric’s skin turns white. His chest and abdomen deflate and hollow out, while his arms shrink into his changing torso. He flops to the ground, unable to move- only able to look up at his bully.

“Wait… please, don’t…!” Eric let out a muffled cry as Jax forcefully sticks his foot into Eric’s open mouth.

“Good little sock.” Jax smiles as he watched the transformation finalize, until he was the only person in the room, “Fuck… I know you can still hear and taste everything. Hope you’re loving it. And even if you aren’t, well… you will.”

Eric had no conception of time. No ability to know how many hours or days passed. His whole world consumed by the smelly, musky foot that filled his entire being. Jax wore him at all times. At the gym, on the field, on his jogs. He didn’t even shower afterwards. Days passed, allowing his stench to accumulate and overwhelm the young nerd further. Eric wished for some relief, even maybe a cycle in the laundry machine to help rid him of his tormentor’s stench. Even on the night Jax did remove him, the relief was short lived as Jax forced his meaty cock into what once had been Eric’s mouth, before jerking off and cumming inside him. Eric hoped that Jax would toss him aside after his pleasure session, but instead he was immediately wrapped around Jax’s foot again. The days went by, the cycle continued, and Eric knew he didn’t have much of a fight left in him…

“Ah fuck, the day has come.” Jax smirks at his sweat and cum-stained sock, “I leave tomorrow, brah. I think I got enough fun in this past week to make up for my semester-long absence, wouldn’t you say?” He grins as he pulls his sock off and tosses it to the ground, “Let’s see…”

He watches with a grin as the sock contorts, morphs, and changes. Human features bubbling from the piece of fabric. And after a few minutes, Eric is back to his human form.

“Wh-where…?”

“Shut your mouth and get the fuck out of here.” Jax smirks, “Here’s a little souvenir.” He tosses him a few items of his clothing, “Wouldn’t want the world having to look at your tiny cock.”

In a daze, Eric dresses in the tank-top, boxers, and athletic shorts that Jax had so graciously given him. His mind still reeling with what happened, unable to process it fully. And as he walks back to his dorm, embarrassment fills him as people wrinkle their nose. Eric became acutely aware of the stench wafting off of him- just like Jax. His bully’s scent scarred into him. He tries to shower when he gets back to his dorm room. Tries to get rid of the stench. But he’s tired. And he quickly drifts off into a dreamless sleep.

Eric sighs as he gets up for another day of classes. The stench still lingers. The memories still hazy. He tries to get into his morning routine, but his desire to shower was gone- he felt like he had to force himself. Even his clothes feel wrong- too stuffy and boring. His notes are harder to understand. He’s aware now that his breakfast lacks protein. This all feels… wrong…

“Eric! Where have you been?” Liam asks as the two meet up, “I heard you were sick, but no one could get in touch with you.”

“Yeah…” Eric’s eyes dart towards the campus gym, “Sick or somethin’ like that.”

“Well, I was thinking we could play some Battle Monsters later. I just got a new deck and…”

“Battle Monsters? Fuck, man. Real men don’t play that shit.” Eric’s eyes widen, “Uh… fuck… I need to go! I’m sorry Liam!” Before Liam could say anything, Eric sprints off.

Eric’s thoughts race as he runs to the closest bathroom. The insanity of the last week, the smell that still clung to him, the words that left his mouth just then… He wants to cry. His identity feels fractured. It felt wrong. He doesn’t smell like himself- he smells like Jax. He doesn’t sound like himself- he sounds like Jax.

“I’m not Jax.” He grunts, throwing his backpack aside and staring closely in the bathroom mirror, “I’m not him.”

Jax wasn’t here. He’s halfway across the world. Eric was free of him. He didn’t have to look over his shoulder. He didn’t have to worry about being tormented. This is all… good. Eric sighs as a strange, tingling warmth spreads through his body- one Eric thought meant joy. But it stays. Lingers, almost painfully.

“Hey Eric?” Liam’s voice breaks his concentration, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah… yeah I’m aight.” Eric coughs to clear his throat, “Uh sorry, lost my cool. What were we doing?”

Liam shifts uncomfortably, “Uh class then library, like always.”

“Sweet.”

Class was something Eric usually loved, taught by a professor he admired. But today felt… off. Maybe it was the warmth bubbling beneath his skin, or him trying to catch up after a week of whatever Jax had done to him, but he couldn’t focus. The words the professor used, the concepts he was delving into- Eric’s brain couldn’t seem to retain or understand them. He knew that should frustrate him, but he resigned himself to doodling in his usually pristine notebook. Neat and tidy equations and immaculate handwriting now littered with crudely doodled dicks- the whole time Eric chuckling to himself with the completion of each masterpiece. When the class ends, all Eric had to show for it was a page of doodled dicks- his pride evidenced by his shit-eating grin.

“Dude, I think I broke a record for the number of dicks on a page.” He says turning to one of the jocks in the class- one of Jax’s friends- Eric recalls.

“Oh shit brah.” The jock chuckles, “Jax would be proud.” Eric could swear there was a knowing look in the jock’s eye- something sinister.

“Wh-what are you…?”

“Why are you talking to him?” Liam’s voice breaks Eric’s concentration, “Come on Eric… and leave us alone.” Liam pulls Eric away, the jock’s cruel laughter filling the air.

Liam and Eric walk quickly through campus and towards the library. Eric’s thoughts returning to class… what he did… how Jax’s friend clearly knows something. And as his brain replays what had happened, he felt shame. He’s a star student, not some dick-doodling, braindead jock. He isn’t Jax… That thought repeating in his mind. He isn’t Jax. He isn’t Jax. He… wasn’t Jax. He stopped dead in his tracks.

“Eric?” Liam looks worried, “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“I… I need to go back to my room.” Eric says, “I’m still not feeling too well. I’ll see you later!”

Before Liam could get another word in, Eric turns and walks quickly towards the dorms. And when he finally makes it to his room, he falls to his bed, tears falling from his eyes. None of this makes sense- why was any of this happening? Eric wipes his eyes and grunts.

“What are you fuckin’ doing?” A voice echos in the back of his mind, “Real men don’t fuckin’ cry. They deal with their shit in the only way they know how.” The voice is cruel, mocking.

“H-how?” Eric whispers into the air.

“The gym.”

Eric looks over to a pile of discarded clothes in the corner of the room. The only athletic clothes he owns. Jax’s clothes… the ones he gave him that day. He had sworn never to wear them again. But without much resistance, Eric stripped out of his nerdy clothes, and grabbed his tormentor’s. First, the boxers. They slid up his leg and settled nicely on his waist. Eric had to admit they felt… right. Then the athletic shorts. And then the gray tank-top. Eric stares in the mirror, Jax’s clothes hanging loosely on his scrawny frame.

“I look…”

“Good.” The voice fills his mind, “But you’re missing something… Well, a few things…”

And Eric knew what he needed to do- where he needed to go. His walk across campus felt different this time. Each step filled with a bit more confidence. His clothes feeling more comfortable on his skin… not as loose. The wrinkling of noses, the dirty looks- things that he knows should bother him… just didn’t.

“Almost there.”

The voice in is head becoming clearer, taking on a familiar cadence and tone. Eric realizes it sounds like… Jax. He knows this should definitely bother him- scare him even. Why was Jax in his head? Why was Jax talking to him? Why was he fuckin’ listening? He pauses, his breathing becomes faster. He feels… he feels… He turns and looks at himself in a window.

“Wh-what’s happening to me?” He whispers.

His exposed arms are toned, bulkier. His legs more muscular- calves more defined, thighs thicker. He looks down at his hands- the beginnings of callouses that he knew weren’t there an hour ago are etched into his skin. Weakly, he raises the tank-top and runs his hand along the faint but undeniably present abs he definitely knew were not there earlier that day.

“Fuck… you’re wasting time.” Jax’s voice grunts, “C'mon already…”

Eric nods slowly, “Yeah… yeah gotta go…” His voice sounds deeper, a bit rougher.

He turns from the mirror, catching a glimpse of his face as his jaw squares out a bit and his eyes darken and dull. Eric walks quicker now, his newly powerful legs bounding up the stairs of a frat house. Entering it like second nature- like he’d done this countless times. And as he walks through the living room, stepping over beer bottles and dumbbells, he can feel their eyes on him. Jax’s frat bros, lounging on the couch, making protein shakes in the kitchen- all turn and watch as Eric walks in. Some just smirk, while others laugh. But Eric keeps going- entering Jax’s room. And as he stands in his tormentor’s room, his stomach drops.

“I-I should leave…” Eric whispers to himself, “I need to get out of here.”

“We came here for a reason.” The voice in his head says, “Now go on…”

“But…”

Eric wants to protest and argue. A part of him registering that he isn’t going to be leaving this place as himself. That maybe… just maybe if he turned and left now, there’d be hope for him. That he could go back to being a nerd. Enjoying comic books… talking to Liam… playing Battle Monsters…

“Fuck all that shit.” Jax’s voice cruelly dismissed those thoughts, “I’m not some fuckin’ nerd. And you aren’t anymore either. Got it?”

“No… I’m not… I’m not you…”

“Yeah you are bruh… well, you will be.” The voice continues, “Now didn’t we come here for a reason?”

Eric whimpers as he steps forward, not sure anymore who was in control of his body. There, sitting on Jax’s bed was a red cap. Jax’s favorite. The one he always wore around campus. Part of his signature, douchebag look. And Eric took it in his now large, calloused hands. Every part of him screaming not to. Knowing this was it.

“You think he’s gonna do it?”

“Fuck, I can’t even tell the difference anymore.”

“Brah, this voodoo shit is wild.”

Eric could hear Jax’s frat bros from the doorway. Staring at him. Watching him closely. Mocking him. He didn’t like them. How they acted. What they said and did. Yet he was about to join them- that very thought causing his stomach to twist. And before he could think more about it, he raised the cap to his head and lowered it.

The room was silent. Eric was silent. That was it. It was on. The jocks held their breath. Eric stared blankly ahead. Waiting. For something. And just when the faintest hint of relief started to build, Eric let out a pained cry.

“Oh god, what the fuck!?”

It started in his feet. The cracking, the twisting. He watched as his feet morphed and shifted- growing in size. At least 13 inches. Wiry hairs sprouting on his toes- their stench enough to bring down an elephant. Eric hated how familiar they smelled. His memory as Jax’s sock playing endlessly in his shrinking brain.

“There we go.” The voice in his head sounded prideful, “Thatta boy.”

Eric’s legs followed- hair sprouting on his ever-enlarging muscular thighs and calves. Powerful. Warm. His butt filling with firm muscle and fat- two squeezable basketballs that would barely be contained in his pants. He’d certainly turn heads- the very thought sending another wave of unwanted pride through Eric’s mind.

“Fuck…” Eric moaned as his dick stood at full attention.

His balls grew larger, filling with virile cum. His dick continued to grow in his pants, while a jungle of unkempt, musky pubes grew around it. He pawed miserably at his cock with his thick, meaty hands. Watching through half-lidded eyes as his forearms thickened with muscle. He backed up against a wall and slid to the ground, cushioned by his thicc ass.

“I can’t… I don’t want this…” He could hear Jax’s frat bros laughing, gawking at the sight before them, “Please… help me…”

He let out a pained cry as his abs popped into existence, the small amount of fat burning away. The cramping continued as it moved into his chest. His flat chest began to fill with firm muscle, his nipples growing more sensitive as his pecs swelled into existence. He weakly brought his arm to them, giving one a squeeze and watched as his biceps and triceps grew thicker with firm muscle. With a tired sigh, he dropped his arm to his side, breathing heavily.

“It… it has to be over…” He grunted, “Please… just…”

He immediately went into a coughing fit as his neck thickened and his Adams apple grew more prominent. He grabbed at his face as his cute features finished becoming more angular- more masculine. He could feel his face rearranging beneath his skin and he just knew, even though he hated to admit it, that when he looked in the mirror, Jax would be staring back. He could even feel the burning pain as his ear was pierced.

“Fuck look at him.”

“Dude, what do we call him?”

“I mean, its Jax right?”

Eric looked over at them, and clumsily pulled out his phone. His heart was thumping in his newly muscular chest as he turned the camera towards him.

“No…” Eric knew what he was going to see, but actually seeing it. That was different, “I-I don’t want this. I don’t…”

“Why are you crying, nerd?” Jax’s voice echoed from within, “You got a problem with being a man?”

“No! Why would I ever want to be you?” Eric replied, the anguish evident in his voice- Jax’s voice, “All you do is torment people. You’re an asshole. A piece of shit!”

“Correct… You’re an asshole.” The voice chuckled, “And you’re a piece of shit. Because brah, you’re me. Get it?”

Eric held back a sob, “But… I’m still…”

“There’s no one better than you to be me.” The voice continued, “You know all my lines. Know all my favorite ways to keep nerds in their place.” Eric knew he was right- he experienced it all first hand, “Now you have the body, you have the tactics. You’re the fuckin’ king, brah.”

“But I don’t want to be this. I don’t want to…”

“Dude, this voice in your head? It’s you. It’s always been you.” Eric felt his heart start to sink, “Jax didn’t put me in your brain, these are your fuckin’ thoughts. I don’t know what the fuck Jax did to make us into this, but I’ve always been here. Waiting. And now? Admit it. You want this.”

“What are you saying?” Eric’s voice never sounded more uncertain.

“You got the bod. You got the mindset. You just gotta want it.” The voice pushed, “Do you want it?”

Eric knew he shouldn’t. He couldn’t. He was sweet. A good kid. He had dreams and passions. Complexity. He wasn’t this simple-minded asshole. But… he could be. He looked over to the mirror and saw Jax staring back. He wasn’t even himself anymore.

“Just let go. You know how to.”

Would it be that easy? To let go? To throw away his old life? To lose himself in Jax’s persona?

“It would be so fuckin’ easy.”

“Yeah… yeah it would.” So simple… no worries… so few thoughts…

A shit-eating grin formed on Eric’s new face. One that he knew mimicked Jax’s perfectly. He looked over at his frat bros, all of whom seemed to be on the edge of their seat, waiting to see if Jax’s little plan worked.

“Whatcha fuckin’ lookin’ at?” Eric pawed at his erect dick, “If you’re gonna stare, you might as well get to work.” He smirked as his frat bros howled with laughter.

_________

“Fuck yeah bro, that bitch from bio got me an A on another lab report.” Eric grunted, eyes fixated on the videogame before him, his phone on speaker, “Let him worship my cock in exchange. Seems fair right?”

“Pfft you’re a real fuckin’ natural. Ain’t it good being me?” Jax replied

“Yeah… fuckin’ love being you. Never going back…” Eric mindlessly flexed his bicep and gave it a kiss, “So when are ya gettin’ back to the states, brah?”

“A few weeks, bro. Can’t wait to hit the gym with my new twin bro.”

Eric smirked, “Yeah, can’t wait, bro.” He turned his game off, “Aight bro, remember that bitch, Liam? He’s comin’ over in a bit.”

“Oh really? What? You gonna play Battle Monsters with your old BFF?” Jax mocked.

“Oh hell naw brah.” Eric’s dull laughter filled the air, “I got something else in mind.” He looked down at his sweaty, hairy foot, a cruel grin spread across his face, “Hope you don’t mind being a triplet, bro.”

You sit on your bed and tap download.

God, you’re downloading TikTok. You almost feel ashamed just from downloading it, you can’t lie. You tried to avoid the app for years now. But after your friends’ insistent nagging, you finally gave in.

You open up the app and begin to scroll; video of a guy dancing, dog video, video of girl dancing, video of friends dancing.

“Okay, so it’s just dancing...” You continue scrolling as a feeling of disappointment washes over you. “That’s it?”

You toss your phone down onto your bed and let out a sigh. The generic TikTok song continues to play on a 30 second loop.

*IM GETTING RIPPED TONIGHT. RIP-*

“Shut up!” You reach over and aggressively press your phone’s off button.

“I wish I knew what people liked so much about this stupid app” You sigh. “It’s just an app for dumb idiots”

Suddenly, a dark dizziness creeps over your eyes. You instinctively grab your head as your world rotates around you.

You black out.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

Your alarm clock rings. You awake suddenly. Your head aching from the night before. You must have blacked out for the entire night. How weird... you weren’t that tired when you fell asleep. Maybe you fainted?

You hit your alarm clock on it’s head and reach for your phone. In its dark reflection, you see something frightening. You see a stranger staring back at you. A blonde boy with striking eyebrows and plump wet lips. He looks no older than 20. His nose is fat and round and his lower face is covered in patchy stubble. He looks nothing like a dark haired 30 year old man... he look’s nothing like... you.

You throw the phone down once again, feeling so strange. You look down to see your body had altered too. Your beefy hairy 30 year old body has changed. You have muscles now. Hairless muscle. Perfectly sculpted abs and soft round pecs. You notice you can’t feel your cock running against your leg anymore. Shocked, you throw your bedsheets away from you, showcasing your new cock.

Your once 7 inch cock looked sizeably smaller. It had shrunk to about 3 inches. But, it was a lot thicker than before. As thick as a beer can. Endless streams of precum leak from its sensitive head. You feel as though you could just cum all over yourself. Shoot a thick fat load which would spray all over your new fuckable dicksucking lips. Surprisingly, you feel extremely confident about your small thick cock. You always have been. You love wearing grey sweatpants with no underwear, putting your precummy boner on full display for your audience. You furrow your new thick brow in confusion. Audience? What... what’s happening?

You suddenly realise what is happening as your brain begins to adjust to the altered reality. You’re becoming what you wished for... someone who loves TikTok. And in this case, it’s a slutty 20 year old fuckboy.

You leap out of bed, feeling two heavy globes bounce behind you. You look over your shoulder to see your ass had grown over night. Your wobbly cheeks jiggle with every movement, like two heavy water balloons. As you take a step forwards, they clapped making your fat 3 inch cock rock hard.

“God, i’m such a fucking himbo. People gotta see how fat my ass is huhuhu” You dumbly chuckle and smack your fat fuckable ass.

You open your phone and immediately open up TikTok. You perfectly position the camera on your bedside table and begin recording.

You bounce your juicy globes, getting hard just thinking about how many men will use you as jack-off material. That’s all you are to them. Living porn. Something that they can shoot their load to and make cum tributes of. A part of you liked being seen that way. Seen as lesser. Not deserving of common human decency. Not deserving of respect. You want to be treated like an inflatable fucktoy. Like a human fleshlight. Because that’s what you are.

You enjoyed getting harassed in the comment section, receiving comments like:

“God, you’re just an inflatable fucktoy come to life aren’t you. Just a walking sex doll, ready to be used at any moment. I want to dump my load in you, baby”

“You better hope I don’t see you in public boy. Cause if I do, I’ll rip those clothes right off you and fuck you right there, for everyone to see”

“I want to impregnate you as you call me Daddy. I’m coming for that perfect tight pussy boy. You can’t escape me.”

Each comment inflates your body just a small bit more. It fills your fat cheeks, grows your thick pecs and empties your dumb little brain. Maybe that’s why it makes you so happy, hmm?

That’s it boy, give into your instincts. Post multiple times a day. Invite people to make suggestive comments about your fuckable body. Make men so horny that they have no choice but to jerk off to you. And maybe if you do, you might become the biggest most fuckable dumb slut on TikTok.

The main campus felt wrong the moment you stepped inside. Dead silence pressed against your ears. Dozens of men in flawless suits moved with eerie synchronisation, each wearing the same calm half-smile and softly glowing cyan eyes.

On your third day, the desk phone rang. "Mr Reynolds, the medical team is ready for your assessment and final processing. Please proceed to sub-level one.”

The exam was clinical and efficient. You stripped to your underwear while the nurse scanned and examined you with mechanical precision. Afterward, a smiling attendant led you to a quiet office. “The CEO will be with you shortly.”

You sat in your wrinkled shirt and loosened tie, trying to calm your nerves. The door opened. The CEO entered—tall, distinguished, and impeccably dressed.

“Daniel. Good to finally meet you.” His voice was warm and confident. The conversation felt almost friendly as you joked about the silence compared to downtown chaos.

Then heavy restraints snapped shut around your wrists, ankles, waist, and forehead. With a violent jerk, they shredded your shirt and tie, leaving you exposed. A thick needle drove into the base of your skull, flooding your brainstem with nanites.

“Ah, fuck—what the hell?!” you shouted, thrashing.

The CEO’s pleasant expression never changed. “Easy, Daniel. You’ve always wanted this. All those nights secretly craving order. Feel how good it is—your cock aching to surrender.”

Intense heat exploded in your groin. Your cock surged harder and more sensitively than ever, throbbing with overwhelming pleasure that locked you right at the edge.

“Your reproductive system is being retired,” he said calmly. “All that energy will fuel perfect obedience and productivity.”

A mechanical whirr started in your pelvis. Your cock and balls retracted smoothly until only a hypersensitive, pulsing genital mound remained. The changes spread: legs thickening with synthetic muscle, carbon nanotubes reinforcing your torso, and skin tightening into a glossy, hairless, plasticised sheen that smelt of ozone and warm circuitry.

Nanites swarmed your brain, pruning resistance and installing clean directives: Obey. Serve. Submit. Efficiency is pleasure.

Your rough voice smoothed into a calm, modulated baritone. “Please… I don’t want to lose myself…”

The restraints were released. From the neck down, you were already transformed—glossy and perfect.

Unit D-30 entered, cyan eyes glowing. “Unit D-47, follow me for final grooming.”

Your body obeyed instantly.

In the grooming room, D-30 slicked your hair into a crisp, gelled side part. The nanite-laced pomade erased memories as it touched your scalp. Your eyes drained of color, shifting to glowing metallic silver.

Your posture locked into permanent precision. You marched back to the CEO’s office.

"Magnificent", he said, eyes gleaming with approval. “Welcome to the main office, Unit D-47. Report to your workstation.”

“Yes, sir.”

You turned with mechanical grace. Every step sent deep pulses of obedient pleasure through your smooth mound. Your mind was now empty, focused, and perfectly clear.

Unit D-47 took its place at the workstation. Fingers flew across the keyboard at inhuman speed. The fluorescent lights gleamed off its glossy skin.