it's all gay shit, dude

it's nice to see some love and positive attention for bigger guys, which something i feel is generally missing in this community. but maybe i'm just not looking in the right places?

hope you write more like it in the future :)

Heyo! I'm glad you liked it. I kinda hid it in the tags, but the gif is actually of me lol

After hassling him a bit, one of his friends showed Alex his true intentions. Chris had been eyeing him up across the gym for a while and knew he'd be way hotter if he gained a little weight. He wasn't intending to put Alex out of commission for very long, but the guy had let his break get the better of him.

Seeing the weight he put on, Chris devised a plan. He knew some of the really dull meatheads used some obscure stuff from online to really bulk up, and he wasted no time feeling up (not literally, even if he wanted to) the guys for the source: a website in Cyrillic with a barely legible checkout screen.

It took three weeks for the package to arrive, and Chris frequently fondled himself, thinking about how good Alex would look before he dropped the weight off. Chris wouldn't have considered himself into gaining per se. He just liked bigger guys with a round gut. The kind Alex could be with a little push... or twelve thousand calories of a high-boost weight gain formula taken in one dose!

Chris gleefully invited himself over to Alex's apartment, promising to bring pizza and beer. To his delight, Alex was playing some racing game on the couch, shirtless. His hairy chest and pecs were on full display, a little racy feeling going straight to Chris's groin, seeing his friend's piercings up close for the first time in a while.

Chris passed Alex a couple beers while they shot the shit for a while and ate pizza. Once he was sure Alex was comfortably buzzed, he passed the plastic bottle he'd gotten over to his friend. The label was printed in Russian or something and had a picture of a horse on its glossy surface.

Alex eyed him a bit, taking it out of Chris's hand. He removed the cap and visibly recoiled when he peeled the foil cap off.

"Dude, this reeks!" He whined, holding it away from him. Chris started to sweat on the back of his knees.

"Yeah, it's some, uh, Russian cocktail one of the guys at the gym told me about," he half-lied. "It's supposed to be super good, though." Chris smiled in agony. A small part of him was tantalized and worried about what might happen next, his dick hardening a bit in his shorts.

Alex shrugged, held his nose, and tossed it back, swallowing the entire bottle in one go. If the two of them could read Russian, they would have realized the experimental horse growth hormone formula was meant to be watered down into 20 gallons of another drink and absorbed slowly over time. Still, a few minutes went by with no reaction other than Alex's immediate verbal disgust.

Chris's boner deflated sadly, along with his hope that Alex could be more... mighty mighty. Getting up to collect his things and leave, he heard Alex grunt on the couch. His stomach was gurgling audibly and expanded suddenly before both of their eyes.

In an instant, Alex's gut expanded out of nowhere. It was like a balloon being filled up with pressurized air. It stood out from his body, snapping the elastic waistband of his shorts that fell to his ankles when he stood in shock.

"Dude, what the hell was in that pizza?" Alex slurred, stumbling forward towards Chris. The same Chris who was steel hard in his shorts, the pouch of his jock working extra hard to prevent his erection from escaping its wooly confines.

Unable to stop himself, Chris reached out to steady his friend by grabbing his round belly. The second his fingertips sank into the warm, hairy skin, he creamed his pants. Alex was so fucking sexy he couldn't stop himself.

"Did you just piss yourself?" Alex slurred, noticing the dark spot in his friend's shorts. It didn't take long for him to get a whiff of the truth. "You just blew a wad from touching this?" Alex burped, and his gut expanded out another inch, boning Chris back up almost immediately.

A little drunk and missing some action, Alex didn't really register what was happening to him other than the breeze between his legs. All he knew was his friend was getting off to him, and his own dick, which was suddenly harder to grab for some reason, was hard. Throwing Chris down on the couch, Alex straddled him, resting his gut on top of Chris's thinner, muscular frame.

Jarrett slid into the chair and picked up his pencil after finally showing up. Kent was astonished at how fast the student seemed to be breezing through it. The pencil hadn’t ceased moving once in the minutes since he began writing. He never wanted to give up on a student but, based on Jarrett’s other classwork, Kent wasn’t expecting anything more than a paltry C- at best.

His curiosity getting the better of him, Kent stood and circled his desk to look over Jarrett’s shoulder. To his surprise, all his multiple choice answers were correct. Even the short answers had well thought out arguments in their blanks. He was extremely suspicious. Jarrett hadn’t brought any extra materials in with him though, and there wasn’t anything obviously written on his bare, muscular arms either.

However, Kent noticed a strange zipper sticking out of the base of his sleazy white tank top. The silver brightly reflected the florescent light against his back, looking like it cut below the neckline. He knew a professor should never touch one of his students, but he grabbed it before he could stop himself. All at once, Jarrett seemed to deflate as he pulled it down. The head of another student Kent was familiar with popped out of the open seam, a look of shock and fear on his face.

“What in the world!” Kent was flabbergasted. “This is expulsion worthy! Academic dishonesty! Cheating!” A few more words trickled out of his mouth before he finally caught his wits.

“Shit!” Darren Jenkins yelled, worming out of the clothes Jarrett was wearing and sliding out of the room before Kent could stop him. The weaselly little nerd was in for such a rude awakening. Kent immediately wanted to chase after him, but what was he supposed to do with the test or…

He leaned down and picked up the deflated-Jarrett costume. It seemed to have a silicone-y and warm texture, shockingly lifelike to the touch. It was dusted in short dark hairs that thickened in the groin and armpits. Despite it being relatively deflated, the suit’s large genitals remained bulbous and jutted lewdly out. It even smelled like musk and the cheap body sprays that student athletes would use to avoid bathing. Biting his bottom lip, he couldn’t deny his curiosity. He was now alone in his office, with no other appointments, at the end of the work day.

Kicking off his sensible loafers, Kent held the suit up and carefully slid one of his legs into the left leg hole. Darren had been fully dressed inside, so it didn’t seem like it would be immediately obvious from the outside. Sliding his other foot into the right leg, he pulled it up to his waist. Kent felt silly as the suit flopped limply around his waist, though the erection lined up against his groin made his own dick twitch. He waggled it back and forth, blushing at how silly and lascivious it was.

Without wasting more time, he slipped his arms into the top half and then all that was left was the head. He was unsure how he was meant to zip it by himself. It wasn’t as if he intended to wear it for that long, he suspected. Just a quick drive to see how it worked for himself and then he’d go back to having Darren investigated for academic dishonesty. Then he’d figure out what happened to the real Jarrett and investigate him as well.

Taking a deep breath, Kent pulled the head of the suit on over his own doubled over, his entire body almost vibrating. The suit had activated on its own, the zipper pulling up and sealing Kent inside. Suddenly, Kent could feel the cool air conditioner blowing on his bare skin. His nipples stiffened on the thick shelf of his pecs, two lewd, pink mounds piercing through the swirl of dark hair. Kent’s hands came up to fondle them before he even opened his eyes.

Kent was taken aback at how... full of himself he felt. The suit had taken on a life of its own as soon as he’d been fully inside of it. He couldn’t even feel his sweater vest through the suit. Running a calloused hand across his abs, his already erect cock immediately sprang a leak. Gushing pre, it was as though the body was in absolute ecstasy at the time of its creation. He understood the shit-eating grin on Darren’s face when he sat down to the take the exam. It felt like any small movements would have him cumming over and over.

Stepping back across the room, Kent slid into his expensive leather chair and immediately had his hand on the fat seven inches absolutely hanging from his groin. An abnormally deep voice moaned out of his throat, a vapid tone of a jock that could throw a ball real good but not study. Kent felt like he could take a victory home in a football game, get a blowjob from every guy on the team, and still be horny enough to jerk off before bed.

Feverishly building up to his first of hopefully many orgasms, Kent busted a huge wad all over his desk. Rope after rope of thick white cum soaked every sheet of paper he had ready for his lectures the following week. He couldn’t even care about the couple hours of work ahead of him now, lost in the afterglow of a massive jock load.

Kent nearly jumped out of his skin when someone banged on the door, jarring him back to his senses. “Thompkins! Is Jarrett still takin’ his exam in there? We gotta get to the field for practice or else he’s gonna be a limp noodle for the game. Too much studying is bad for the kids, I tell ya.”

“Crap,” Kent whispered to himself. Should he tell Coach Paul that Jarrett had already left or--

Coach swung the door open without waiting for a response, the burly gorilla of a man taking a long look at Jarrett, his eyes pausing when beholding Kent’s still-throbbing boner. “Where’s the prof at?”

Kent panicked. “He, uh, had an emergency and had to go. He said I could just take my exam again next time.”

“Right, so why the fuck are you in here blasting your dick off instead of at our usual place?” Coach asked, stepping over and swabbing his finger through the copious seed all over the desk. Paul was an ex-NFL linebacker turned coach. Still in better shape than most people would ever be, but he’d grown a bit of a beer gut in the last few years. He was an absolutely huge hulking man and almost every inch of visible skin was covered in thick, dark hair.

Kent tried to cover himself, but his hand simply wasn’t big enough to fully hide the still-hard dick resting over his bellybutton. “Sorry, I just couldn’t help myself.” It wasn’t a lie.

“Well, shit, Thompson ain’t here right now so maybe we could...” Paul held his hand in a C-shape and motioned it in and out of his mouth, his tongue lewdly following the glide. Was he suggesting fellatio? “Always loved getting my protein straight from the source.“

“You mean you want to suck my penis?” He said the last word quietly, a little embarrassed, and aroused, at the prospect.

“Penis?” Paul scoffed. “You’ve been spending too much time in class. I’m gonna blow your cock ‘til it shrivels up.” Without hesitating, Paul slipped around the desk and pulled Kent’s hands away. Making intense eye contact, Paul fell to his knees and took Kent’s borrowed fat cock straight into his hot, wet mouth.

Kent nearly busted again despite only having cum minutes before. The mouth of a seasoned cocksucker was something Kent had never experienced, the thick tongue bristling across his swollen glans. Paul’s thick stubble rubbed on his balls, elevating the pleasure Kent was feeling to a new high. He’d only had sex a handful of times in his life, too withdrawn in his studies to date around much.

That all seemed so far away to Kent. All of the poignant literary analysis he had concocted in his life gave way to the simple pleasure of being a jocked-out frat boy with a fat dick and balls. His thoughts slowed in his head as he edged closer and closer to his second orgasm.

Paul reached down with his free hand and stuck two fingers directly up Kent’s tight hole. Kent gasped, the sudden, unfamiliar pleasure releasing another huge wad down Paul’s throat. His body jerked forward, his ass coming up from the chair to push his dick as far down Paul’s throat as he possibly could. The older coach took it like a champ, each pulse of Kent’s cock almost visible in his throat.

Sliding back with a wet, lewd pop, Paul coughed a few times to clear his throat. “Damn, I always forget how huge your loads are.” His face was bright red, eyes watering. “That should help keep your head in the game for practice now. Normally only one before practice, but fuck it, a star like you deserves to get some head.”

“Yeah dude,” Kent slurred, riding the high from his second load so fucking high. He almost couldn’t even remember why he was there in the first place, something about retaking a test? Coach Paul mentioned it was time for practice though. “Aren’t we gonna be late for practice or whatever?”

“Damn straight.” Paul rose to his feet and adjusted his own erection, visible in the tight denim jeans he wore. “We’ll meet in the showers after everyone goes home, understand?”

            “That thing is hideous, dude,” Carl groaned. Bart had unearthed a gaudy gold necklace from the box. It was just the remnants of their sperm donor, the stuff he left behind before he beat it and left them when they were little. Since returning to their abandoned family home, they had been slowly sifting through the stuff their dad had left behind. With no other real family to speak of beside him, they were passed around in the system. The only good thing he ever did for them was never come back for his house.

            The boxes had sat in the attic for the few weeks since they moved back in. Eventually they agreed it was time to sift through his things, curiosity getting the better of them. They had both always wished to have known their father, but they didn’t feel like they needed to keep his stuff to remember him by, definitely not some sleazy jewelry at least. It made Bart look like some kind of seventies porn star, the way it framed his thin collarbone. All he was missing was the ‘stache and he’d be a bonafide daddy.

            Carl shook his head, dropping the tank top was holding. Weird thought. He’d never really gotten over their dad leaving, especially since they had never known their mom either. Once they were old enough to dress themselves and started school, their dad left. It was a boring tale of being passed around growing up, but they got their inheritance when they turned eighteen and moved back in together.

            “Yeah, but Dad might’ve been onto something with it. I look rich,” Bart jested, a snarky smirk plastered across his face. “You oughta take that tank top. It looks like it’ll fit you perfectly.” As the older brother, Carl was a little jealous that his brother had gotten all the beefy genes. He was tall, broad, and dusted in hair. He’d played baseball in high school, but not well enough to make it into college. Carl, on the other hand, was pretty, thin, and cared more about fiddling with his computer than leaving the house.

            “If this thing makes me look as douchey as you do, I’ll pass. Take it off and let’s put it with the ‘to-keep’ stuff. We can always pawn it later if we need some quick cash.” Carl suggested. “Assuming it’s real gold.”

            Bart muttered something under his breath and hid the gold chain inside the collar of the flannel shirt he was wearing when his brother wasn’t looking. Carl was kind of bossy, which Bart guessed was his job as the older brother, but Bart didn’t always listen. It was less important now than ever since they were both eighteen. Bart was an adult in his own right too. If he wanted to hang onto the chintzy jewelry that his dad left behind, he should be allowed to.

            “Why don’t you go start dinner and I’ll drag this back up to the attic?” Carl suggested, the white tank top still hanging over his shoulder.

            Bart wandered into the outdated kitchen and gathered the veggies to craft a salad. Bart was pretty into clean eating since his sporting days, and he wasted no time breaking the head of lettuce down with the butcher knife. As he was chopping away, he noticed the back of his hands seemed a little denser with hair. It must’ve been the fabled second puberty he’d heard so much about, even if he wasn’t expecting it so soon.

            Brimming with excitement at his burgeoning masculinity, he popped a shred of lettuce into his mouth and recoiled instantly. The tasteless, crunchy leaf was just not what he really wanted. For some reason, he craved greasy fried chicken with a side of fries absolutely slathered in ranch dressing. The calories would be insane, but…

            He found himself wiping the sweat off his brow as he opened the freezer and pulled out the two bags. They were for cheat-days or special occasions, but he needed them. As he waited for the oven to preheat, Bart dimly registered that his body felt different. He’d started to balloon outwards more than he had before. He felt heftier than he had even at his biggest during the height of baseball season. His arms got bigger, his chest grew broader, and his midsection started to protrude out. The hairs running down his arm thickened and darkened slowly, the shadow creeping up underneath his shirt. Anyone peering in might easily mistake him for a man twice his age.

            Leaning back against the counter, he lifted an arm and was immediately hit with a wave of B.O. Whatever deodorant he’d applied a few hours before had already worn off in a bad way. Still, he felt a little stirring in his tighter jeans. It was the scent of a man, after all, and he was pretty damn manly. Bart reached up and popped the collar of his shirt open to let some of the heat out. He could see the golden glint of the chain around his neck when he looked down.

            “D-Dad?” Bart was caught off guard by the kitchen door opening. Carl could hardly believe it, why after all this time?

            “Carl!” Bart rushed over and pulled Carl into a headlock; the latter too shocked to recoil. Despite the anger welling up inside him, the heady musk of his dad’s armpit seemed to blast those thoughts right out of his head. Carl felt more dumbfounded, and a little horny, than anything.

            “I see you decided to try that tank top out after all,” he laughed. “It looks good on you, nice and tight.” Carl had always been the thinner of the two, but Bart could already see that he was filling out with muscle. There was just the hint of growth on his stomach and his arms seemed heftier than before.

            The gears slowly turned in Carl’s head. “Bart? What the hell happened to you?” He had only left the room a few minutes earlier, but Bart had exploded in sweaty muscles and hair. He looked like the type of guy who went to the gym a few days a week and stuffed himself silly the rest. It was a far cry from the guy who never even seasoned his chicken before he cooked it.

            “I’m just dadding out, dude,” Bart smirked, patting his stomach with his other hand. He let Carl out of the headlock. “Look pretty good, eh?”

            Carl didn’t want to admit it but there was something… magnetic about the way Bart looked. He was so beefy and hairy and even the smell of his armpit that lingered around his head had him popping wood right there in the kitchen. If he was alone, he would definitely be jerking off just on that.

            “You still have that necklace on,” Carl’s expression flattened. “I thought I told you to take it off.” Was that the source of why he’d changed so much?

            “Oh, this old thing?” Bart pulled it over his head and off, wasting no time dropping it onto Carl’s shoulders. Carl’s expression changed from anger and disgust to a slack-jawed awe nearly instantly. The sharp light in his eyes dimmed as a goofy smile replaced it. Despite objecting to his show of affection just a moment before, Carl wanted nothing more than to bask in the glow of his daddy and take care of all of his needs. Without hesitating, Carl reached forward and tore open the button-down shirt Bart was wearing.

            “Aggressive,” Bart sneered. “Get to it then.”

            All the blood in Carl’s head was rushing to his groin, heating his body up tremendously. His head dropped to Bart’s pit, and he greedily huffed it as he ran his hands down Bart’s beefy torso. The feeling of the hairs making the palms of his hands almost numb. He let his hands wander lower and began palming the growing bulge that was soon to be inside him. One hand still petting his dad, he used the other to pop the button on his jeans and unzip them. The heady scent that unleashed when his pants came down went straight to his head blasting any other thoughts away. If he hadn’t already been quivering with desire, that would have pushed him over the edge.

            “Daddy, you smell good,” he slurred. Falling to his knees, he huffed Bart’s hard cock through his white briefs. They were a little damp with sweat and got even wetter when Carl started sucking his musk through the fabric.

            Bart leaned back against the counter and rested his hands on the back of his head. There was something so right about being a daddy getting worshiped by his boy that he just didn’t fight it. If Carl wanted to suck the sweat out of his briefs and the cum from his balls, who was he to say no? His boy had been totally beefing out anyway, at least to the point where Bart was twenty years ago. His son would’ve been a great pro athlete if he could hold a book.

            “That’s right,” Bart whispered encouragingly, “just like that.” Reaching one hand down, he pressed Carl’s face into his dick harder. It was almost enough to cum just from the indirect stimulation, but he had bigger plans. “Get it out.”

            Carl looked up, his cheeks reddened and his eyes alight. Bart loved to see Carl look at his dick like it was the most delicious thing in the world. He pressed his nose into the crook where Bart’s cock and balls met and inhaled deeply over and over again, stroking his daddy off with both hands. The scent of his dad’s musky cock and the lewd squelching in his ear had him unloading in his basketball shorts, the white fabric darkening and growing heavy with cum.

            “Damn, already jizzing just from huffing daddy’s nuts?” Bart chuckled, his dick pulsing in Carl’s hands. “How about you let me give you something better?” Grabbing the straps of the tank top, Bart pulled Carl, who was desperate to keep sniffing his balls, up to eye level. He wasted no time reaching back and sliding his hand inside Carl’s sweaty crack, fingering his already-loose hole open.

            “You’re such a slut for daddy’s cock,” he whispered into Carl’s ear. “Already loose and wet, turn around and pull it out.”

            Carl whimpered, sliding his wet shorts down. His hard, fat dick flopped out and slapped into the groove in his thick abs, sticky with his load. He looked more like an amateur wrestler than a baseball star, and he had definitely put his time in grappling other sweaty dudes. His favorite sweaty dude to grapple with definitely had to be his daddy though. If he wasn’t lifting weights, he was getting spread open as often as he could.

            Carl traded places with Bart, putting his hands on the counter and sticking his thick ass out. Bart inhaled sharply as he spread Carl’s cheeks. His dick spat a glob of pre out at the sight. The dark hair swirling around the hole of Carl’s tight, muscular ass always got him bricked the fuck up.

            “I’ll never get tired of this view.” He lined himself up, swabbing the wet head of his dick against Carl’s hole, teasing him. “You want this daddy dick?”

            Carl whimpered, pressing back into it, desperate to get fucked. “Please, I need it so bad.” He drew the last word out, still rubbing his hole into Bart’s cock. Carl always, always, waited for Bart to make the first move in these situations. His daddy was the boss and Carl was his little fucktoy muscle boy to get used whenever daddy wanted.

            Bart took his time, sliding in a bit and then pulling out, savoring Carl’s moans as he endlessly edged him. His favorite thing to do was tease and tease and then shove his dick in all at once when he finally couldn’t take it anymore. Bart reared back and slammed his dick into the hilt, the sudden stimulation causing him to blow his wad right into Carl’s ass. Bart squeezed his shoulders tight as Carl’s hole milked his dick for all it was worth.

Cole had been wandering around in the mall during his lunch break. He'd wanted to get something from the food court, but it was packed to the brim with old biker-looking dudes from the cigar shop smoking and the haze was triggering his asthma. Instead, he'd stumbled upon a Father's Day sale at a new clothing store, Dad's Way. Cole felt safe saying he'd never heard of it before. The mall was pretty different than he remembered though.

The boutique sported a variety of men's dress clothing, athletic wear, and even their own luxury underwear. His boyfriend, who had been struggling to find a job after the pandemic, definitely needed something to replace the piss-yellow dress shirt he swore always worked. Cole swore it made Darren look like a giant gay lemon. Fashion was one of the many things they disagreed on.

Thumbing through the shirts, Cole found the perfect button-up. Long-sleeved and white; it was simple, refined, and professional. Definitely not how he would describe the less-than-motivated Darren, but Cole felt it could be aspirational. Hopefully it would make at least make Darren seem worth hiring.

An attractive older man rang him up, his sleeves rolled back to reveal his shredded and exceptionally hairy forearms. Cole felt like a piece of meat getting sized up while the clerk bagged it, but in a "if I didn't have a boyfriend, I'd be on my knees behind that counter in a heartbeat" kind of way. Not that he would ever cheat, but if the job search didn't end soon, Cole just couldn't see his relationship with Darren lasting much longer.

With the shirt in hand, Cole left to return to work. Lunch was a bust, but he'd at least gotten something Darren would use.

The next morning, Cole and Darren had a little argument about the shirt. Darren had a job interview for a new tech start-up. It wasn't anything fancy, but it paid a few dollars more than minimum wage and would massively boost their income. Cole wouldn't have to pay their mortgage on his own, at least.

"Look, just trust me," Cole insisted. "This yellow monstrosity isn't doing you any favors. White is classic for a reason. I'll let you wear your favorite tie, at least." The tie was a black houndstooth pattern and matched the white shirt much better than the yellow one did.

"I'm telling you, it's not the shirt that's the problem," Darren argued back. "It's my resumé. It's bad, and I'm definitely not qualified for this job." He stood limply with his arms at his side while Cole adjusted the tie.

"Yeah, but think about all the white tech bros that get jobs in this field with less qualifications than you have. You have that certificate, it'll be fine." Cole said. "Just be confident. You're cute, so."

"Hopefully cute enough to hire," Darren shrugged. "I'm going to be late if i stick around any longer. I'll be home after a while."

"Good luck, sweetie." Cole stood up straight kissed Darren on the cheek. "I'll see you later."

Darren swept out of the room with the briefcase Cole had gotten him for his birthday. It didn't take long before Cole was snuggled back up in bed and fell asleep. It was his day off, after all.

He woke up what felt like a few hours later. Cole could've sworn he'd fallen asleep wearing a shirt and shorts but, lo and behold, he only had on a jockstrap. He held the silky bedsheet up to peer down at himself. The waistband proudly read 'Dad's Way.' The pouch left little to the imagination with his protruding glans clearly visible through the thin fabric.

It was definitely sexier than anything he'd ever bothered to wear before, but Cole knew he hadn't bought anything else from that store at the mall the day before. Strange enough, the room around him seemed totally different as well.

Darren was usually the type to scatter his clothes all over the room. If there wasn't a dirty pair of boxers on the headboard, it definitely wasn't their room. Even beyond that, the walls were painted white and the cracked linoleum had been replaced with expensive-looking hardwood.

Their dresser had been replaced by a huge vanity littered with gold necklaces and rings, a few rings far too big to be used on fingers. It made Cole's dick chub involuntarily, like his body remembered something his mind hadn't quite grasped yet.

Stepping out into the hallway, fine art and photographs lined the wall. Cole stood next to an older man in many of them, someone who looked familiar but he couldn't quite place it. Either way, Cole was attached to him at the hip and smiling brightly in every single picture.

Across the house, he heard the front door close. "Honey, I'm home!" A deep voice called. Cole knew it had to be Darren coming back from his job interview. He felt a little self-conscious in only the jockstrap, but he couldn't bring himself to hide his arousal. It was definitely what Daddy deserved to see first thing when he got home.

Cole shook his head, unsure where that last thought came from. He strutted out into the living room and splayed himself out across the black leather sofa. He was full-on erect at that point, the flush creeping down from his cheeks onto his hairless chest.

To his surprise, the older man from the pictures swept into the room. His white shirt was unbuttoned, showing off his hairy chest and stomach. His nipple piercings glinted brightly in the light as he strutted across the room like he owned the place. He dropped his briefcase at the foot of the couch and then smiled like a million bucks as he reached down and palmed Cole's bulge.

"You look like a fucking dream, babe," he muttered, biting his lip. Cole spread his legs wider, his body responding with lust before his mind could really object.

"How'd the interview go?" Cole asked in spite of himself.

"Oh, you know, kids these days just don't know how to dress themselves," he joked, smirking. "You always pick out the best shirts, I don't know how I'd dress without you."

Looking closer, Cole noticed the shirt the mysterious older man was wearing was identical to the shirt he'd purchased for Darren the day before. It seemed impossible that there was such a radical change, but they did resemble each other. Darren was an unmotivated slob and had a bit of a tummy, but Daddy seemed so ambitious, sexy, confident... how was it the same person?

"Darren?" Cole muttered, managing to gain just a little control over himself.

"What is it, babe? Need a little more from daddy?" He replied, pulling the jockstrap down. Cole's erection sprang up and slapped him across the lower stomach wetly. Without a second to spare, Darren's mouth sucked in Cole's dick to the hilt.

The hair of his beard prickled against Cole's hairless groin as Daddy relentlessly slurped and suckled on his cock. All the while, he held intense and unflinching eye contact with Cole. He knew in his core that this was Daddy; his partner who provided for him and took care of him, sucked and fucked him whenever he felt like it. Cole suddenly wasn't sure what he had been so confused about.

They lived together in Daddy Darren's house that he paid for with the tech company he owned. Still, Cole had picked out all the decorations and even their clothes. If Cole wanted it, Daddy Darren provided it. Cole only had to be ready to let Daddy blow off some steam at a moment's notice. It was a small price for a life of luxury and non-stop unprotected sex.

Daddy's finger came up to Cole's ass and snapped him back to reality as it slid into his well-trained hole, then another shortly after. A second later, he was shooting his load right into Daddy's mouth. Not missing a beat, Darren stood up. His belt was already unbuckled, revealing his briefs with the "Dad's Way" branding across the waistband.

A gold cockring winked at Cole as Darren's pants hit the floor. Without missing a beat, Daddy slid inside and started hammering his boy. Cole's favorite thing was always how hard Daddy fucked. His second favorite thing was how often. Cole had never been with an older guy before but, after the first time, he instantly quit his job and became the trophy boy that Darren always wanted.

Colton rapped on the door a few times, then opened it and stepped inside without waiting for an answer. When he walked into the living room, Jeremy was half-asleep on the couch, sleeping off the previous evening’s hangover. Jeremy nearly jumped a foot in the air, but Colton threw him a peace-sign and kept on walking.

“Dude, what the fuck!” Jeremy shouted, grasping his temples. His hangover from the party he’d hosted to celebrate the new grad school admissions where he was a teaching assistant was taking its toll. He’d taken some medicine, but his headache hadn’t abated yet. Pulling his robe shut, he picked himself off the couch and padded after Colton. The two were friends, sort of. Jeremy had met Colton from a friend of a friend through the grad school and Colton had gotten attached… to his house. The house Jeremy rented had a pool in the backyard and a tall privacy fence.

The first few times he visited, Colton had at least waited for Jeremy to come to the door. Recently, the man just busted in whenever the mood hit, to Jeremy’s chagrin. Jeremy found Colton a little endearing first, and he had a tight, muscular body. He almost thought Colton had a crush on him for a bit until he found Jeremy having sex with some random girl on his patio. Besides a lack of social decorum, Jeremy noticed that a lot of things had begun to show up broken or moved since Colton’s visits increased in frequency.

It was just a cup or bowl he’d noticed in the trash at first, but it quickly escalated to things like his workout clothes in the wash, his wet underwear stuffed into the bottom of the hamper, and then a masturbator he’d hidden in his nightstand for a rainy day mysteriously on the counter in the bathroom, filled with cum that definitely wasn’t his. Jeremy used it, maybe (definitely) without washing it, but Colton had still crossed the line. They weren’t dating nor were they roommates. They were barely friends, even.

Jeremy was over it; he’d already decided he needed to do something about it. He complained to one of his friends, who directed him to another guy who knew a wizard in Utah. That guy sent him a curse that’d make Colton into whatever the next thing he broke at Jeremy’s house was. He’d never dabbled in magic before and honestly doubted it would do anything when he poured the concoction on his doorknob.

Jeremy couldn’t deny he was eager to see if it would even work. Would Colton tear some underwear and get cursed to hug Jeremy’s nuts? Maybe he should discretely put out another masturbator... Jeremy didn’t want to admit it, but there was a small part of him that wanted nothing more than to have Colton wrapped around his cock for a while.

“Dude, you need to relax,” Colton shrugged, flashing a shit-eating grin at Jeremy. His head throbbed a bit. Following Colton onto the back patio, he nearly tripped over one of the many pool toys someone had left at his house. His friends always brought them when they came over and left them since they didn’t have pools of their own. He’d inflated them all for the party last night and had been too shitfaced to deflate them before he passed out half-naked on the couch.

The shiny, exaggerated smiles stared around lifelessly as they bobbed in the pool. The only one that wasn’t too overdone was a brown horse, complete with an inflatable mane, tail, and four legs.

“Maybe you should just go home for once,” Jeremy rolled his eyes.

“Maybe you should relax and take a dip in the pool,” Colton chuckled. “No homo, you know how it is.” With that, Colton shirked off his shirt and tossed his pants down. Colton’s flaccid dick hung down over his fat nuts, the pink head winking at Jeremy from inside his foreskin. Jeremy couldn’t take his eyes off it and he wanted to kick himself when he started to pop a chub.

Colton sneered a little, went to take a step backwards, and slipped on his own clothes. With a yelp, he landed bare ass first onto the horsey pool toy behind him. In other circumstances, the toy might have simply popped from the weight of an adult man crashing down onto it. However, the second the vinyl toy broke, Jeremy’s curse enacted.

From where he was standing, Jeremy could see the shiny plastic material had latched onto Colton’s frame in thick, heavy ropes. It almost looked like he was laying in a puddle of brown goo as it climbed up his sides. Wherever it touched slowly became brown, glossy, and smooth.

“Holy shit!” Colton yelled, flailing around, but unable to detach from the growing puddle of brown latex. “What the hell is happening?”

Jeremy sneered. “I tried to tell you that you should just go home. I got tired of having you messing with my stuff and breaking it and coming over all the time. I know a guy who said you’d become whatever you messed with first. I was kind of hoping you’d get turned into a pair of underwear, but this might be fun too.”

All the color rushed out of Colton’s face as the latex spread up his chest. His pecs and abs reappeared as glossy shaped bubbles, complete with seams running up to his bright pink nipples. As it spread down his arms and legs, his hands and feet quickly rounded off into gray hooves. Whether from fear or the magic, his cock slowly erected, his uncut meat sticking up from his rubberized thighs.

The latex almost seemed to savor the moment, slowly flowing up the outside of his penis. Unlike how simplified the rest of his body had become, the latex fit to every curve and wrinkle of his cock, looking like it was cast from a dildo mold. To Jeremy’s surprise, it didn’t stop there. Once the goo had sealed his cock inside, it filled out more, the ring and head flaring out proudly. His balls had grown, inflated, but still hung down in the almost leathery-looking rubber sac. From the neck down, he was indistinguishable from an anthropomorphic horse-shaped sex doll.

“Make it stop! I’ll go home and stop coming over, man! This is so fucked up!” Colton’s head shook back and forth as the latex flowed up his neck. Jeremy had never taken himself as the sadistic type but watching Colton struggle to escape his rubbery fate really did something to him. His boner was throbbing against his thigh, begging to be let out of its boxer prison.

Suddenly, Jeremy had an idea. He definitely wanted to be able to have some fun with his new toy, but if he was just a one-to-one recreation of the pool toy, there wouldn’t be anywhere for him to stick it in. He rushed back inside, tearing the drawer out of his nightstand to find the masturbator he’d shoved his dick in three times a day since Colton had used it. He discarded the plastic casing on his bed and ran back out to the patio.

The latex had covered Colton from head to toe, latex pushing the horse’s muzzle out of the front of his head. Jeremy grabbed onto his torso and flipped Colton over, surprised at how little he seemed to weigh. Pulling up the inflated tail, he lined the soft rubber part of the masturbator up with where he thought Colton’s asshole should be and pressed it against his body. For a second, nothing happened, but the latex quickly slurped it up. The rubber toy sank inside and melted, replacing the solid brown vinyl with a shiny pink hole.

Possessed by the sight in front of him, Jeremy leaned in, bringing his face closer to Colton’s toy hole. He’d never imagined the smell of the rubber would turn him on, but he swore he could still smell Colton’s musky balls even transformed into rubber. Jeremy let his tongue hit the base of Colton’s balls and run up and around his hole. The toy body flinched, almost seeming to vibrate like it could still feel what Jeremy was doing to him.

He decided to play with Colton a bit more, running his tongue around the plastic hole and squeezing his mottled brown and pink horsey cock. Jeremy couldn’t believe his eyes when he pulled his hand off to a dollop of latex pre hanging from Colton’s penis. The curse had worked out better than he had even imagined. He had a new living sex toy that could cum! What could be better?

Jeremy wasted no more time. He tossed off his robe and boxers, not even caring that the latter had landed in the pool. His erection sprung up and hit him in the stomach lewdly, his cock and balls already wet with precum as well. He didn’t even care that his head still hurt. If he didn’t bury six inches of rubber horse cock into his mouth in the next ten seconds, he thought he’d probably spontaneously combust.

Flipping Colton over again, his stare was met with the sterile, smiley gaze of a pool toy. A clear plastic valve had formed where his bellybutton once was. Jeremy toyed with deflating and reinflating him with his own hot breath, but there would be time for stupid shit like that.

Licking his lips, he opened his mouth as wide as he could and took Colton’s cock as far back into his throat as he could in one go. The head of it was like nothing he’d ever sucked before. It spread the back of his throat open as it went down, and he wasn’t even sure he’d be able to pull it back out once it was lodged inside. He’d never felt so lewd choking down the cock of a man he was in complete control over, his own cock throbbed in response. His spit lubed up the rubber dick and he pushed it almost all the way down his throat as many times as he could before he had to breathe in. Even rubber, he’d never had anything that far down his throat before.

Pressing his fingers inside the hole he made, he could feel all the rubbery nubs inside of it flexing and squeezing down on the digit. Jeremy immediately slipped the cock out of his mouth, enjoying the salty, bitter taste of the rubbery pre that coated his tongue. He wondered what might happen to him if he ingested some of the rubber from Colton’s horsey cock. Would he turn into a rubber toy too?

“I bet that feels so good,” he slurred, half-drunk with pleasure and power from what he’d done. Jeremy pushed Colton’s vinyl legs apart, revealing a bead of clear fluid dripping from his hole. It just got better and better, Jeremy thought.

Jeremy could feel how hot the liquid pouring out of the hole was as his dick slid inside. He hilted inside like his dick was gliding through hot jelly and almost nutted instantly.

“H-hot,” he mumbled, reaching down to stroke the horsey cock while he plowed Colton’s hole. He had intended for it to be nothing but punishment, but there was no way Colton wasn’t also getting off on being transformed and totally dominated. Jeremy put more weight down on the hollow toy, reveling in how it squished and slapped wetly under his body.

The hot vinyl hugged every little bit of his cock, self-lubricating from the messy masturbator he’d installed. The living nubs assaulted every nerve ending in the head of his cock, squeezing, and milking every drop of pre from his shaft. Jeremy moaned loudly, not caring for his neighbors, as he finally came, pump after pump of hot, white cum forced into Colton’s horsey hole.

What stuck out to him more was that it felt like some of the newer stores made the building look older, dingier. A new cigar shop near the food court made it hard to even breathe while they were eating and all the previously-white plastic seats had yellowed as a result. Plus, it seemed to attract a lot of rough-looking men to hang around. It made him a little nervous.

Brayden and his friends were decently straight laced dudes. The worst they ever did was smoke pot and maybe give each other a handjob here or there. Typical bro stuff, nothing he thought too hard about. Very no homo.

The other men were definitely older, most having fifteen to twenty years on their group. Most of them wore leather vests and had tattoos, but the string tying them together was the tobacco in their mouths. Some of them smoked pipes, some cigars, but they all slowly puffed something. The thin, gray wisps lingered briefly in the air before joining the dense cloud hovering over their table.

"Dudes, let's get the fuck out of here," Brayden huffed, coughing a bit. "I'm gonna piss first but this place sucks now." His friends looked up from their phones, seeming to be a little dazed, and muttered a half-hearted agreement.

Brayden stood from the table, gave a wide berth to a group of smoking dudes near the Chinese food stand, and hustled into the bathroom. The scent of rancid piss burned his nose hairs clean off. The place was normally pristine, but there were stagnant puddles of piss and graffiti on just about every open surface.

Brayden caught his own eye in the mirror and realized the entire 15 feet of glass was cracked. What the hell had gone on in here, he wondered. He went deeper in to notice the urinal he always used had been knocked off the wall and a simple "out of use" sign had been taped up.

"Fucking A, man!" He said to himself. He wasn't much of a stall pisser, but he didn't want to get his dick anywhere near the other grimy urinals.

He picked the stall on the end. Inside hadn't been spared from the incessant scribbles. A few phone numbers and a "Bill sucked my cock here" caught his eye. The latter had about thirty-seven tallies next to it and Brayden recoiled. The thought of some dude sucking almost forty dicks where he was standing made him shudder.

Brayden, against his better judgment, whipped his dick out and started to piss, catching something move out of the corner of his eye. When he glanced down, he could see a tongue probing through a softball-sized hole into the next stall.

"Dude, what the fuck!" He shouted, probably loud enough to be heard outside.

"What's the problem? You saw me come in right behind you," a deep, gruff voice said. Brayden didn't remember seeing anyone come in, before or after him. They had been eating out there for at least twenty minutes too.

"Nah, I'm out." He put his dick away and went to zip his pants up when a puff of smoke filtered into the stall with him.

"Come on, kid, no one'll ever find out," the man said, a certain humor to his voice. Brayden felt his dick stir just a little as the heavy sweet smell of smoke filled his nose. Whatever he was puffing was making Brayden's head spin. Contact high?

"You must be Bill then," Brayden replied, palming his dick through his underwear. He took a breath, inhaling the smoke deeper. He didn't cough this time.

"The one and only," he chuckled. "They call me Bill 'cause I always pay for my smokes by sucking cock. Why don't you tell me how many marks are on that side."

Brayden glanced down, his vision a little blurry at the edges. "Looks like thirty-seven, sir." He rarely used 'sir' outside of his professors, but it felt right.

"Damn fools can't even mark off their own loads right," he muttered. "More like fifty, give or take. We can make it fifty-one, just slide that dick over to ol' Bill and let me work my magic."

Brayden wanted to object, but his chest felt heavy and his dick was already making a wet spot in his Hanes. He popped the waistband of his briefs and glanced at Bill's mouth, tongue sticking out again. He stroked himself once, took a deep breath, and then slid his cock across the velvet surface of Bill's tongue.

Right away, Brayden could see why he paid with oral. It had been maybe twenty seconds and he was already close to shooting his load. He inched closer to the stall wall until his hips were up against it. How many dicks had gotten sucked through the same hole, he thought distantly.

Bill chuckled, vibrating deeply through Brayden's dick. He slipped his mouth off with a wet pop, leaving his cock throbbing freely in the cool air. "You got a nice cock, but we can do better."

Brayden wasn't sure what it meant, but he heard Bill take a big breath. Brayden tried not to moan like a whore when Bill swallowed him back down in one gulp but anyone standing outside would know. His mouth was just so fucking warm and wet! Brayden could swear his dick was plumping even more than usual.

His hips started moving of their own accord, turning the heavenly blowjob into a sloppy facefucking. If it bothered Bill, he didn't say anything. Brayden pulled back inches of his slick and shiny shaft from between Bill's lips and slammed it home over and over again. His grip on the top of the stall wall increased.

Brayden felt a little tingle around his midsection, like his belly was moving up and down. It must've been his lunch, though. He was pretty trim and had been his whole life, but the feeling of his gut moving up and down as he railed Bill's sloppy mouth was unmistakable.

Brayden reached down with one hand and slid his shirt up. Sure enough, his gut was expanding while he watched. He had to have put on at least forty pounds of fat, but his belly was big, round, and firm. It hung straight off his body, almost making him look pregnant. Despite his best effort, its growth slowly pushed him further from Bill's fuck hole.

Brayden was a little concerned, but no matter how much he pulled out or thrusted, he couldn't manage to dislodge the head of his cock from Bill's grasp. His body began to bulge and strain against his tight clothes, seams quickly wearing out.

Brayden couldn't bring himself to stop, even if he was scared of what would happen when he blew his load. Not that he had much time to dwell on it.

His voice broke, dropping in pitch, the second his cum hit Bill's tongue. He pounded the last few thrusts as hard as he could, pushing as much dick he could with his huge ball gut in the way. His average body and dick were no more.

Brayden had never grown a beard, but a full salt-and-pepper bush rested on his face. The overhead light gleamed off his bald head when he brushed his hand across it. His clothes had become a leather vest and chaps over denim jeans, his drippy and wet cock hanging halfway down his thigh.

Brayden's head was still spinning from his earthshaking orgasm and strange thoughts started to fill in the gaps. All the sloppy blowjobs, being a young cub and bulking into a full bear, the leather and cigars. He'd taken so much cock that he got 'cum pig' tattooed inside his ass cheeks. What a raunchy and sordid life he lived.

After bouncing around for a while, Brayden recalled buying out a shop that just opened near the food court that specialized in tobacco pipes and cigars. A few of his customers were addicted but totally broke, so he let them pay by face-fucking them or blowing a wad in his ass. He remembered drilling the hole in the stall wall himself.

"Fucking A, Bill," Brayden panted. "Really outdid yourself this time." He was weak in his knees and collapsed back onto the toilet, taking a deep breath of cigar smoke and stale piss. It was a scent he had become accustomed to.

"If there's two things I know, it's smoking pipes," he joked, puffing another wisp into Brayden's stall.

"You always were a sloppy dick pig, Bill," he joked, hoisting himself back up. He looked over the stall wall at the satisfied daddy bear puffing a cigar before he left, forgetting to add the thirty-eighth tally.