London Kinkster PhD

You scroll through Tumblr every day and masturbate.  Don’t deny it.  Maybe after you’ve masturbated to conclusion, you shut Tumblr and you go back to your junk food, your video games, your books, your friends, a coffeeshop where you talk smart about smart things.  But later in the day, it comes back, maybe sometime in the afternoon, when you’re alone and have a little time to kill.  You open up Tumblr and you scroll through and you masturbate, maybe just a little at first, maybe you don’t even take off your jeans, but eventually you do, then you shut Tumblr and go back to your life.  Lately, the time between has become shorter.  You don’t even notice it but suddenly that urge is back, nagging at you.  Maybe it’s because you keep noticing guys out there in the world, guys like you see on Tumblr, out in the world.  They’re everywhere, it seems like.  Yesterday you had this thought: maybe Tumblr is invading the world, huhuhuh, and you realized that’s the same laugh that the guys on Tumblr have.  Well, in your head, anyway.  Are you getting dumber?  That’s hot, but it’s also worrisome, isn’t it.  I mean, do you really want, I mean, truly, want, to become dumber?  No, of course not.  Nobody actually wants that. 

But this isn’t like in the stories, bro.  I can tell you.  It’s like a relaxing.  You know?  It’s like, your shoulders untense, maybe for the first time in a really long time, and with them, your lungs sort of expand on their own, filling to capacity, and then deflate, maybe even more relaxed than they have in a really long time.  The arms sort of follow suit, it’s this whole upper-body chest thing, and it’s almost like it pulls your eyelids down like a pair of shades at the same time.  That’s how I’ve been going to sleep lately.  Head filled up with thoughts of health: my bike, the gym, my Under Armour socks and sneakers.  I’ve peeled away shame from fetish and discovered a new reality underneath.  I truly can change, become who I want to become.  It’s a simplifying, literally.  I am focused on a goal, and that goal doesn’t really have a name, but it’s a goal nonetheless, and I seem to continue to be taking steps in its direction, perhaps unaware even of why or how it is happening, simply aware of the fact that it is, in fact, happening, and bro?  It could happen to you, too, I think.  Just have to do it.  Nike’s right.  Just do it.  Nothing else.  It’s kinda Zen when you think about it, huhuhuh.  Gotta block everything else out, even how fucking hot it is that you’re doing it, and just do it.

I don’t know if I’ll ever get to the point where I’m standing in my workout gear holding an open book wondering how I got there and why I’m not at the gym and what the fuck do all these words mean, but maybe.  If I allow for the possibility, the possibility could happen.  And then I’ll just be this dumbass standing there in the library, holding an open book that has nothing to do with sports or sports or working out or what the fuck am i doing here, and I bet I’ll have this huge fucking grin on my face, I’ll shut the book or maybe drop it and fucking walk out of the library.  That’ll all happen after, if it does happen, I think.  After the gym, and the selfies, and the gear.  After the smoothies, the bike, the games, and the routine.  A slow unknitting, maybe, and then reknitting, establishing a new pattern for a new life.  Turns out all those gymspiration quotes you read are true.  You make your own decisions, you shape your own destiny.  Huhuhuh, see those on shirts all the time.  Now it’ll be OK to wear one, cuz I actually believe its true.

Okay bro.  I gotta get some fuckin eggs in me and hit the shower and bike up to the gym.  Remember, today is the first day of the rest of your life, every day. 

“Take off your clothes and lie down on the massage table. I’ll be with you in one moment”

“Take off my clothes? You’re not gay, are you?” Danny nervously laughed unbuttoning his shirt.

The masseur rolled his eyes at Danny’s comment.

“No... but you will be” the masseur muttered to himself.

“What?” Danny questioned. “I didn’t hear you”

“Oh nothing, sir. Just lie down and let me get to work.” the masseur smirked deviously.

“You’d be shocked at what these fingers can do. They’re... life changing”

———————————————————————

Danny lay down on the massage table with only a small towel covering his private parts. The masseur began slowly working his hands over Danny’s slender frame.

Danny tried to relax. He wanted to just let go. But he couldn’t help but worry. If any of his bros heard that he was getting a massage from a dude, he would be the butt of jokes for years to come. Danny would rather be known as anything other than gay.

As the masseur lay his hands on Danny’s skin, Danny felt a warm rush flow through his body. It was as if the masseur’s fingertips were sending waves of warm pleasure through Danny’s slender body. The pleasure shot through Danny’s body until...

“Ughhhhhhhhhhh” A long orgasmic moan escaped through Danny’s lips.

“Now, let’s start the real massage” the masseur smirked.

“Wait... this is too gay. I have to leav- OHHHH” Danny was cut off by the sensation of soft lips sucking his nipple.

Danny looked down to see the masseur tenderly sucking on his sensitive nipple. A hot intense pleasure began to formulate around his chest. An orgasmic throbbing pleasure. So intense. So intoxicating. Danny couldn’t help but moan in pleasure. It was too much to handle. The intense tingling orgasmic pleasure began to target his pecs, making them feel heavier. It was almost as if his pecs were... growing.

Danny’s pleasure-filled pecs began to grow bigger. With each suck on his nipple, his pecs grew rounder. His once lean pecs were now soft and perky muscle tits. His nipples fattened, they looked like they were begging to be sucked. The pleasure only grew in Danny’s pecs as his moans grew louder and more intense. But the masseur wouldn’t stop. He kept sucking.

Danny’s once nonexistent pecs were now massive. So big and fat. Danny’s chest looked like it was just begging to be titty fucked. His meaty pecs yearned to have a man blow his thick potent alpha load on them. It’s what they were designed for.

Deep down Danny was scared. How was this man causing him so much pleasure? This man was making him feel more pleasure than any woman ever had. Was Danny... gay? No, he couldn’t have been. Danny had never even thought of men sexually before now. He had never even thought of their... big hard cocks between his juicy tits. He had never fantasised about sucking big fat cocks or... shoving dildos up his ass. But now, just the thought of it makes his cock twitch.

“You may lie face down now” the masseur commanded

Danny’s body obediently flipped itself over. Danny now lay on his new juicy pecs. Danny let out a moan as his big sensitive nipples brushed off the massage table.

“Now. Let’s show everyone how fertile you really are”

The masseur then lay his magical hands on Danny’s flat bottom. The fear set in. Danny knew what was coming. But what scared Danny even more was... he was excited for it.

Pleasure filled Danny’s flat bottom as it inflated in size. Growing big and round. His ass grew rounder and softer. His hips widened to accommodate for his new gargantuan sized booty. It grew bigger and bigger until it was bigger than any ass he’d ever seen. His once flat bottom was now a fat fuckable booty.

As the pleasure subsided, Danny’s rational mind resurfaced. Danny knew he had to escape. He threw himself off the massage table and onto the floor. His big ass and juicy pecs jiggled hypnotically as he hit the floor.

“That’s it, dumbslut. Shake that fertile ass”

The masseur picked up the himbo and lay him back down on the massage table. Before Danny could resist, the masseur ran his fingers over Danny’s face.

“Let’s massage that face of yours, shall we?”

The heated pleasure filled Danny’s face. His lips began plumping up, becoming the most fuckable dick sucking lips anyone had ever seen. Danny’s face became more angular. His jaw sharpened. Facial hair began sprouting on his young 19 year old face. A big thick mustache formed above his big lips. The hair spread further down his body covering his perky tits and defined six pack in a pelt of hair. His body began beefing up. His biceps grew bigger and his shoulders broadened.

He looked like the most fuckable muscle stud.

“I think we’re done here.” the masseur smugly grinned.

Danny stepped off the massage table and put his two massive feet on the ground. Danny stared at his insanely fuckable body in the mirror.

“What did you do to me?!” Danny exclaimed through his pouty lips. “Change me back! I’m begging you!”

“Change you back?” the masseur questioned. “What’re you talking about? You’ve always been like this.”

Danny’s head began aching. The words of the masseur buried themselves deep inside Danny’s mind.

“What? No... no, I haven’t”

“Yes, you have. You’ve always been a big, gay, dumb, balloon titted himbo.” The masseur pulled on Danny’s sensitive nipple, eliciting a soft moan from Danny’s big lips.

There was a long silence. Danny’s identity slowly faded away, becoming nothing more than drool inside his big dumb mouth. Danny’s face became so vacant. So dumb. His jaw hanged open as he began breathing only through his mouth. He looked so empty and relaxed. The more IQ he lost, the more drool formed in his mouth. He got dumber and dumber until his personality, his heterosexuality and all his memories leaked out of his mouth and fell onto the wooden floor, creating a big puddle of drool.

“So Danny, I think we’re done here. How was that?” The masseur looked at Danny smugly.

Danny’s face lit up as he giggled dumbly. His big tits and fat ass jiggled.

“That was, like, so totally fucking awesome hehe”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it, Danny.”

“Next time you should, like, totally fuck my big bubble butt, hehehe”

———————————————————————

And so, the homophobe lived out the rest of his life as a dumb gay balloon titted himbo. The slut can’t go an hour without fingering himself, shoving a dildo up his ass or getting ravenously fucked by sexy daddies on Grindr.

Danny has become a regular at the spa, getting at least two massages every week. However, the masseur only likes to focus on massaging one specific part of Danny’s body.

His prostate.

“Good Boy,” His voice filled my head, “keep looking at the pretty lights.”

I blinked heavily, my eyes longed to stay closed but I managed to open them again. Unfortunately this just made the flashing lights seem even brighter and more mesmerizing than before. I took a deep breath in at his prompt, and felt like my defenses were falling when I exhaled.

“That’s right,” He chuckled, “don’t resist. Safely take a deep breath in, exhale all your worries and doubts out. Breath in your weakness and obedience, exhale your power and control.”

I shivered with fear as the smell of defeat seemed to enter into my nose. I felt his suggestions sweeping away my remaining ability to fight. It felt so good to have his power flowing through me that I didn’t even care that I had started to drool. I nodded in agreement to the fancy looking lights. “It’s true,” I felt a shiver running down my spine hearing my own voice acknowledging it.

“It is true,” His reassurance caused me to moan, “and it feels so good. You can feel the pleasure in your mouth: tingling across your lips and covering your tongue. You can feel the pleasure in your chest, making your nipples pulse to erection. That amazing feeling pumps through your cock and balls, arousing a boner that you’re too relaxed to worry about. Your whole body feels so amazing, with every deep breath you feel more relaxed and more turned on.”

I gyrated involuntarily with the deep pleasure I was feeling, but after one deep breath every muscle except one fell limp. I licked my lips and felt immense arousal at the sensation of my tongue brushing across the sensitive skin. I pushed out my chest and allowed my nipples to pulse with every beat of my heart.

I started listening to subliminals about a year and a half ago.  Totally changed my whole life.  I used to be just another scrawny ectomorph, never feeling good about myself or getting laid.  I came across some of these hypnotists online, and I first I thought it was all bullshit, but then got to chatting one up somehow, telling him I didn’t believe it was real but that it was interesting to me in a way.

He said it only works if you want it to work.

I guess I must have really hated my life, because I started doing it with him.  I did want it to work.

He started with my mind.  “You’re kind of a dim bulb.”  I was asking him what that was all about.  I didn’t want to be referred to as stupid.  I just wanted to build some muscle.  He asked me how many smart guys I knew who build muscle.

I had to admit, he had a point.

I figured I had nothing to lose.  I guess I didn’t realise how good hypno would make me feel, and just how deep I would go into it.

“You’re not a very intelligent guy, and you’re ok with that,” he would tell me, taking me deeper and deeper into trances.  He’d ask me to drink wine when we were doing these exercises.  Eventually, a month in, he switched to hard liquor and beer.

“The more you drink, the less clearly you can think.  You don’t want to think.  You just want to live.  You want to build muscle, have a happy life, and have a lot of hot gay sex.”

“I do?” I said.  I’d already gotten so used to letting him have control.  I could almost feel the drool welling in my mouth.  It felt good to let go with my hypnotist.  It felt good to feel like clinging to the part of me that felt like it had to imbibe and process so much information at the time was the wrong way to go.

I could always shift back if I went too far, I thought.

And yet I wanted it.  I was already happier, scrawny as I was.  It had been months and I hadn’t done anything towards gaining muscle with this guy.

“Doesn’t drawing it out feel good?” he asked when I questioned him on how slow the progress was.  “I want to do this right with you.  If you rush through it, it doesn’t work as well.  It’s reorienting your mind that’s the important part.  The rest will come easy for you after that.”

It did feel good.  I even told him that a week later, that if I just had him to work on the dumbing down process for a whole year, even, that would be fine with me.  I already felt more like a dumb guy in my mind, if not a dumb jock, and the just knowing that I was eventually going to cross the line into jock territory had me really excited, even if it was hard to visualise.

“You sure are getting dumb.  I want you to do a test with me,” he said not long after that.

“Sure.  What sort of test?”

“We gotta deep hypno you first.”

He took me under for an hour straight, until I was lying on my back, almost naked for him, calling myself a moron and a dumb jock.  The test was a series of questions in which I told him how I truly felt about the process.  He said he had to ensure that I was completely on board with loving everything about it and on never returning to the guy I was before hypnosis began.

He wanted me shirtless, my chest bare, everything bare.

Then he had me drinking beer for him and doing more routines until I passed out.  It took hours, but it felt so good as he coaxed me through it, telling me that when I woke up, I wouldn’t snap out of it.  I’d be a dumb jock now.  I just remember telling him, “Yes, that’s exactly what I want.  Do it.  Make me one forever.  That’s all I really want to be anymore.”

It really hit me hard that night.  The session got kind of crazy.  We’d built this intense connection and it was getting crazier all the time.

“Tell me how stupid you are,” my hypnotist said.

I was drunk, and I was practically blubbering at one point, I was so in the bag from all the alcohol and the hypnosis.  I could feel the drool running down my chin.  “I’m so dumb, man.  Just so fucking hollow.  Just an empty fucking jock, and it’s so fucking hollow that this is all I want to be!”

At one point I was slapping myself upside the head, as if I deserved it, as if I was killing off whatever part of me insisted on being a dork and staying busy with too much unnecessary information or interests that would only get in the way of me living my best life.

“Fucking dumb, man, I’m your dumb jock, man, it’s all I want to be, man,” I was saying like a zombie for what must have been an hour.  I had rarely seen my hypnotist so happy, and that he was so excited with the results we were getting just pushed me even deeper.

“Yes, you are.  Tomorrow you’l feel it.  For once, for the first time, now and forever, you will never come out of this state.  This is you now.  There will be no surfacing.  It’s strong enough in you to hold, now.  You will wake up as everything you want to be tomorrow, namely, just a standard dumb jock who lives for working out, sex, sports, and muscle.  You’ll never revert now.”

When I woke up, I did feel it.  I was a guy who was a dumb jock.

I went to the mirror and looked into it.  I could feel it, the change having come over me, and I could feel it so strongly, but still, I just had to verify that this was real.  I had to see what I looked like now.

I looked the same, mostly, except for the expression on my face.  There was a tangible difference there.

I raised an eyebrow at my reflexion.  I could see it.  I really could.  I wasn’t the guy I used to be.

Sure, my body was the same as ever, but my expression had changed.  I looked just like a guy who was a jock dude at heart, one who had those kind of mannerisms, even.  I wasn’t perfect, but I was more in the ballpark than ever before.  I looked like a jock guy who just happened to be stuck in a scrawny, ectomorphic body.  And that pissed me off, that I was stuck in this weakling’s body.  I knew I’d have to change it.

I dialed up my hypnotist that morning to confirm it for him, that it had worked, and to help me figure out what was going to come next for me.

He had lifestyle instructions for me.  He wanted my walls bare.

“Doesn’t it piss you off that you’re meant to be a jock dude but you’re in such a scrawny body?”

“Yeah, it really does piss me off,” I answered back.  I could feel the anger.

It was that morning that I just ripped everything off the walls that could possibly identify me as the guy I used to be.  I wanted to dispose of him completely.

It was that morning that, grunting, not even knowing what I was doing yet, just knowing that I shouldn’t be in a body this weak, and that I couldn’t even stand looking at myself in the mirror like this any longer, knowing I was a different guy inside than the body reflected, that I started doing pushups, my bare chest against the floor until my arms ached and I collapsed.

I was breaking down that muscle, shredding the guy I had been.  I kept it up, doing more pushups the moment I could stand to do more.  I still looked weak.  I screamed in front of the mirror, practically roared in front of it, and flexing in front of it as I roared.  I was going to bust right out of this scrawny frame.  I was going to hulk up, one way or another.  I didn’t care how much lifting I had to do.

I went tot the sporting goods store that day and bought a doorframe pull-up bar, a workout bench, and some dumbbells.  Dumbbells, I thought, how appropriate.  I’ll show them who’s dumb.

My hypnotist kept me on track, told me what to watch on tv, what to cook, what to eat, all sorts of tips until I was on track.  I feared nothing more than relapsing into the guy I used to be.

I worked out almost every day at first, no matter how sore it made me. I kept flexing and raging at the mirror.  And before long, I was popping wood over how I was noticing an actual difference.  I was starting to put on muscle.  I was starting to get this body to match its new personality.

I can’t even tell you how good that felt, to know I was building the body I was supposed to be in.  To know that I was becoming myself.

I’ve really hulked out since then, totally jocked myself out.  The scrawny guy I used to be just packed on more and more muscle until I looked like the guy I actually am now.

I feel great all the time now.  Now I don’t even need hypnosis at all, because what would be the point?  This is the dude I am.  But I still love talking to my ‘tist every now and again.  He gives me tips I can use on some of the guys I have over, but it’s hard to really focus on that.  I’m not a hypnotist and that stuff seems kinda weird to me.  It’s like something I did in the past.

I’m more into sports and working out and all that.  I guess I love listening to anything that will enhance me and give me extra energy or motivation.  But me and my hypnotist have kinda drifted apart.  He got upset at me for a while about it.  I was like, “Hey man, I’m not into that weird online hypnosis stuff.  It’s just kinda too out there and dorky for me, in a way, and I don’t really see the point.  What would I want to be hypnotised for?  I’m happy with my life and all that.  You’ve gotta understand.  I gotta go. The game’s on and I’m having a friend over tonight.”

I used to be so jealous of guys who looked like I do now, but I just had to work for it I guess.  I mean, it’s hard to even remember, but I do remember I’m never going back to the place I was at in my head before this.

These days I’ve got way more energy, my hormones pump harder, and I’ve got a higher sex drive.  I know I look a lot better, that’s for sure.

I’ve gotten damn good in bed compared to how I used to just lay there and snuggle up to guys.  Now I like to watch the game with them for hours before I even think about fooling around with them.  I like a guy who’s into guy stuff.

Other than that, I’m into arm wrestling and grappling with guys a bit, maybe having some beers, wrestling them down to the floor and seeing if I can pin them down.  Football, baseball, wrestling, I’ve got a few different interests.  Sometimes hockey’s cool, too.

Dudes love this tight muscle bod of mine so I’m always staying fit and making sure other guys are up to my standards, too.  I like to keep a goatee and some scruff on my face because guys love it when it brushes up against their cocks, especially as I’m taking one in my mouth. 

Always looking to get other guys more motivated and into physical fitness too, but a lot of times I lack the patience for that.  I don’t want to train all these losers myself, especially when I”m living life, and I just don’t have the patience to take them to where they should be at themselves already if only they had the self-discipline and motivation to get there.

I sent one weird guy I knew to that hypnotist guy online, the other weirdo that I used to be sort friends with.  Figured maybe it would get him off my back for good, but of course, it’s my life so just ignoring him’s the best way to get him off it, that’s for sure.  That’s probably the last time I’ll do that.  Guys don’t need hypnosis if they want to work out.  They need a personal trainer, and I’ve met some of those recently and would rather refer folks to them.  Don’t really need any weirdos in my life, period.

Had a hot hookup last night, just me and a bro who came over watching the football game, talking sports, and he was legit, knew everything and really was passionate about the game just like I am.  Ended up wrestling him down and pumping my cock in and out of his mouth as he lay on his back on the floor, and that was hot, to bust a nut all over his face as he stuck his tongue out and let me coat him in it.  That guy wanted me bad.  But they all do now, and there’s no shortage of hot guys out there for me to have fun with.

That guy, I want to have some more fun with him, maybe work out together, really spend some time in front of the mirror flexing and feeling up each other’s bods, just getting off on how sexy we look together.  That’d get me off big time.

You scroll through Tumblr every day and masturbate.  Don’t deny it.  Maybe after you’ve masturbated to conclusion, you shut Tumblr and you go back to your junk food, your video games, your books, your friends, a coffeeshop where you talk smart about smart things.  But later in the day, it comes back, maybe sometime in the afternoon, when you’re alone and have a little time to kill.  You open up Tumblr and you scroll through and you masturbate, maybe just a little at first, maybe you don’t even take off your jeans, but eventually you do, then you shut Tumblr and go back to your life.  Lately, the time between has become shorter.  You don’t even notice it but suddenly that urge is back, nagging at you.  Maybe it’s because you keep noticing guys out there in the world, guys like you see on Tumblr, out in the world.  They’re everywhere, it seems like.  Yesterday you had this thought: maybe Tumblr is invading the world, huhuhuh, and you realized that’s the same laugh that the guys on Tumblr have.  Well, in your head, anyway.  Are you getting dumber?  That’s hot, but it’s also worrisome, isn’t it.  I mean, do you really want, I mean, truly, want, to become dumber?  No, of course not.  Nobody actually wants that. 

But this isn’t like in the stories, bro.  I can tell you.  It’s like a relaxing.  You know?  It’s like, your shoulders untense, maybe for the first time in a really long time, and with them, your lungs sort of expand on their own, filling to capacity, and then deflate, maybe even more relaxed than they have in a really long time.  The arms sort of follow suit, it’s this whole upper-body chest thing, and it’s almost like it pulls your eyelids down like a pair of shades at the same time.  That’s how I’ve been going to sleep lately.  Head filled up with thoughts of health: my bike, the gym, my Under Armour socks and sneakers.  I’ve peeled away shame from fetish and discovered a new reality underneath.  I truly can change, become who I want to become.  It’s a simplifying, literally.  I am focused on a goal, and that goal doesn’t really have a name, but it’s a goal nonetheless, and I seem to continue to be taking steps in its direction, perhaps unaware even of why or how it is happening, simply aware of the fact that it is, in fact, happening, and bro?  It could happen to you, too, I think.  Just have to do it.  Nike’s right.  Just do it.  Nothing else.  It’s kinda Zen when you think about it, huhuhuh.  Gotta block everything else out, even how fucking hot it is that you’re doing it, and just do it.

I don’t know if I’ll ever get to the point where I’m standing in my workout gear holding an open book wondering how I got there and why I’m not at the gym and what the fuck do all these words mean, but maybe.  If I allow for the possibility, the possibility could happen.  And then I’ll just be this dumbass standing there in the library, holding an open book that has nothing to do with sports or sports or working out or what the fuck am i doing here, and I bet I’ll have this huge fucking grin on my face, I’ll shut the book or maybe drop it and fucking walk out of the library.  That’ll all happen after, if it does happen, I think.  After the gym, and the selfies, and the gear.  After the smoothies, the bike, the games, and the routine.  A slow unknitting, maybe, and then reknitting, establishing a new pattern for a new life.  Turns out all those gymspiration quotes you read are true.  You make your own decisions, you shape your own destiny.  Huhuhuh, see those on shirts all the time.  Now it’ll be OK to wear one, cuz I actually believe its true.

Okay bro.  I gotta get some fuckin eggs in me and hit the shower and bike up to the gym.  Remember, today is the first day of the rest of your life, every day. 

the past is in the past and gone now

“With this biceps, no way in hell they will reject me. Thanks dude,”

“Your welcome. Umh, but one more thing,”

I focused myself and my power by taking a deep breath. As I exhale, the knowledge pscked in your brain flowed out and your mischievous grin turned into dumb grin as your eyes zoned out and getting this dumb vacant look

______________________

Shit, Jess is waking up!!!

this shouldn’t feel wrong

you used to envy guys like this. straight-laced and weighed down with gear. you wear pads. you play football. you love the velocity, that sensation of matter breaking down in streaks of motion. molecules and shit, i dunno

when the season’s over, your life’s over. you can’t wait for practice to start up again. for the chance to suit up and get dirty out there with the boys. brick shithouses colliding in kinesthetic demolition of meat and armor

this’s so right. nothing’s ever felt more right

say it with me, bro

i wear pads. i play football

this is who i am now

see? it’s like i said. we got your back, big guy

just the awareness of who you are makes your heart race. your loins ache. the resonance burn deep within the conduit of your nervous system

dude, this is you now. number 9. you wanted this. don’t fight it

As he jogged by the building the need to piss hit him and hit him hard. He stopped and walked into the building

He stopped at the doorway. Looking into the room. It was dark and dingy. The floor was covered in white puddles and large ring cigar butts

It smelled strongly of sex,piss, and cigar smoke"Oh God" he thought,“ This place is disgusting. I’ll just run in piss and run out”

He saw there were three urinals on the wall to his left. Across from three doorless stalls on his right

He walked into the nasty room. Took a couple of steps and stopped. He turned to his rights. Walking to the stalls instead of the urinals

He walked into the middle stall. When he passed the threshold of the stall,his clothes faded from his body and a long fat maduro appeared in his jaw. A maduro he was puffing deep and slow. Like he’d been a long time smoker. Instead of the avid non-smoker he was when he walked into the building

He sat on the camode. Staring straight away. Puffing the big maduro. As he did, his cock started to harden until it was standing straight up between his legs like a steel post

In his mind,he was seeing images of big muscled hairy guys in tight leather gear fucking each other. He moaned as his hard cock throbbed and shot out a big glob of clear cocksnot onto the already filthy floor

Then the images changed to just one leather pig. A pig he recognized as himself. He watches as he walked behind one of his buds and teammate’s

He put his CHP gloved hands on his bud’s shoulders and pushed his big pigdick into his no longer virgin hole and started fucking him deep and hard

When he moaned in his mind,he moaned in the bathroom. He stood and moved to the doorway of the stall. Puffing his big maduro deep and hard

He was thrusting his cock just he was in his mind. In his mind he fucked the length of his big pigdick into his bud. Grunted and started filling him with his pigcum

In the bathroom he roared" Aw fuuucckk!!“ And started shooting his load. Adding to the puddles of pigcum on the floor

When he stopped shooting the innocent teen jock was no more. He was the NASTY QUEER big maduro smoking gearpig he was in his mind

24 hours Edging.

As always, the instructions were simple but hard to follow. My Master commanded me to edge for 10 minutes every hour for the next 24 hours and send him a pic as proof. There was just one thing I could say to that: Sir, Yes, Sir!

I was excited at first. Be available to touch myself, make myself hard and edge for 10 minutes it stop... and repeat again after 45 minutes sounded as heaven, but like everything with Fran... pleasure and torture is the same thing.

I started at Friday 9:00 pm. It was easy to get hard. My cock in my hand jerking slow and steady, enjoying every second. 10 minutes felt as 10 seconds. Then my Sir wrote me to stop touching me but my cock stayed hard for longer.

I repeat the same for the next couple hours. 10:00 pm. 11:00 pm. 12:00 pm... and then things started to get complicated.

That day I was awesome since four in the morning, so I had been for 20 hours awake already. I was tired, my eyes barely were open. I set alarms for every hours for the next six hours and felt asleep.

At 1:00 my alarm went off and I started to jerk off. Edging and producing precum. 10 minutes passed by, I send him a pic and went back to sleep. I did the same proses all night long. Sometimes I was already hard when I waked up. Sometimes I don’t even remember taking the pic, but was there. I jerked off and edged no out of lust. I did it because I’m an obedient Jocktoy. My body, mind and cock belong to my Master.

At 6:10 am, after send the pic I finally get up the bed and I made some coffee. I started my normal Saturday day... just with the difference of being naked and jerking off every hour.

As the day went by I was getting more and more horny every time. 45 minutes seemed as very long time to wait. I funded myself unavailable to do anything else... u just wanted to jerk off again. Feel my powerful (and sore now) cock on my hands. I crave to send a new pic to my Master. He wrote me several times during the day checking on me and to be sure I was following his instructions. Of course I was, I’m a good muscle boy.

That day is a blur in my mind. I just can remember the feeling of being an animal. A horny beast that wanted to be used and enjoy sexual pleasure. My cock got so sensitive, my balls so fucking full. The last couple hours my Master signed in Kik and was there with me the whole time. He give me instructions about how to jerk off and how he wanted his pics. I followed everything instruction... happily. I’m so hard right now writing this and reliving that day.

I was a piece of muscle meat. I was a sextoy. I was a muscle bull ready to be milked. I was my Master’s Jocktoy. My mind empty and my cock full. I had never felt so powerful and manly.

The last edge of the day we did it together. My Master and I jerked off at the same time. He told me to shut up and just jerk off while he wrote me encouraging words as we edged together. Master-Salve connected.

At the end he did not allowed me to cum. I did not care... whatever he said goes. We said goodbye. I said Thank you. And I slept deeply.

At the next day I was still tired, sore and very confuse. “What the fuck happened yesterday? It was all real or just a dream?” But then Kik chimed. I look at my phone. Was Fran sending me some of the pics I sending him last day... yep, everything has been real... and I was hard again.