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Josh is your typical college kid maybe even a little nerdier. He majored in video game development and is a part of the gaming club at school he really didn’t take part in any social life. He was very average-looking, not too skinny but not too fat. Of course, he has some pudge around him One day while waking to his character design class he noticed a new flyer on the bulletin board

“Love video games? Want to earn cash? Come join our trail of Beta testers”

Josh loved the idea as he continued reading. It did pay pretty well and would provide all accommodations during the duration of the trial. He decides to take the pamphlet and heads to his apartment pondering if he is going to do it or not.

The next day Josh ends up driving to the address. Some big office parks with multiple buildings. “WAG” said the sign out front. He remembered seeing this developer when taking his Indie gaming class last semester. “We Are Gaming” is what the company was called and they specialized in virtual reality games and development. Josh was excited to see what project he would be helping in.

As he walked into the building he went to the front desk.

“Hello I’m here to be a part of the beta testing program,” Josh asked the receptionist

“Hello, please fill out the form on the iPad and one of our specialists will assist you momentarily”

Josh grabbed the iPad and started to fill out the questionnaire. It had all the reasonable questions you might think Until he got to the end

“What the fuck” Josh winced as the questions got more personal. Cock size, sexuality, perceived popularity. Josh decided to answer as he didn’t want to get disqualified and entered the form. Not that long after a man in what seemed like a doctor's uniform comes out from a secure door

“Hello, you must be Josh. My name is Doctor Houston. I’m the head of the VR department. Please follow me” Houston had a very stern voice with a seriousness that he did not want to mess around.

As he started to follow Dr.Houston Josh asked questions “Wow so you have a Ph.D. in gaming or computer science?”

Dr. Houston chuckled before answering “No, I have a MD in Internal medicine. WRG hired me to head the VR department as they want to see the reactions the body takes to long-term virtual reality gaming… and here we are” He finished saying as he opened a room to some sort of laboratory containing a monitor, sleek white gaming equipment and some sport of large computer. On the other side a window looking into what seemed to be a control room

As Josh walks in he hears a door close and lock

“Hey, what’s going on” he screams while banging at the door. After a moment he notices dr Houston walk into the control room across the room and sit down at a desk facing the main room.

Over the speaker “Dear Josh, I will be monitoring your experience from over here. Please strap onto the center platform near the screen so we can start”

Josh felt like this program was more of a medical drug trial and video game testing but decided to continue with what the doctor said anyway. As he walked up to the platform he put his two feet on the conveniently designated spots and looked at the screen as it turned on.

“Welcome player to your new life”

wait new life what did it mean by that. Before Josh could react clamps came out of the ground and attached to his feet holding him in place

“Hey what’s the meaning of this” he screamed

“Please stay calm as we proceed,” the doctor said over the speaker

Large laser pointers came from the side of the computer. “Beginning digitization” the computer screen announced

“Wait what?? What’s happening”

Slowly two beams from the computer started to travel up his body as everything it touched slowly disintegrated

“AHHHHH FUCK IT BURNS STOP IT STOP IT PLEASE” Josh pleated to the computer and the doctor or anyone that would notice

As the computer continued up his body in a burning pain he noticed on the screen a complete 1 to 1 replica of himself….. wait no not a replica that was him…

The computer finally made it up to his head as he pleaded one last time “PLEASE I DON'T WAN…..” He was caught off as his head was completely overwhelmed by the lights

Suddenly Josh regained consciousness but now he is in some white room with nothing around. He then hears a noise

“Customization available……. Character template chooses… JOCK…….. PROCEEDING MODIFICATIONS”

“What is happening stop this” Josh screamed but no one was around to hear him as his clothes completely vanished out of nowhere.

Slowly his body started to change to correspond to the data inside the computer

First Josh's feet grew from his regular size 9s to a huge size 14 which would be making noise anytime he walked anywhere. As the changes traveled upwards his calfs and leg muscles grew. His thighs ended up looking like watermelons and could easily break one if he wanted to between the two.

“Oh fuckkkkkkkkkk” Josh moaned as the changes continued

His cock and balls were next to change as his penis started to pull outwards slowly inching from a 6….7….8…….9……10 and finally ending at a huge size 11 which would make anyone fucked with It limp for days. His ball felt sore as they grew to baseballs filled with cum ready to fill and breed. The last touch to his groin area was the re-growth of his foreskin and ended with a continues leaky cock.

The changes moved to his torso as his abs started to chisel themselves one by one making a road all the way to the growing mountains that were his pecs. His chest looked like it was being inflated and his pecs were the Mount Everest of the range with a pointed nipple which faced downwards due to the muscle growth onto of his pecs.

“Ughh please make it stop…” Josh moaned as the changes continued

Next, his arms grew with his biceps growing to the size of footballs and his hands matching to be able to palm and grab any ball he wanted. The next set of changes started to settle in as hair started to grow across his body. His armpits started to burst out with hairs so thick that even when he put his arms down they would spew from the sizes. Next hair started to travel across his chest and legs thinking and giving him a nice rug that accentuated his already defined muscles. Lastly, but most importantly his bush started to grow more and more from his groin. Anytime of pants or underwear won’t be able to cover the spillage that will be coming over the top of them.

Josh was in a dazed state as the changes started to subside and finish up. He didn’t know how to feel…. Horny? Confused? Scared? Everything seemed so different as he started to hear the voice again.

“MODIFICATIONS COMPLETE….. STANDARD JOCK REGISTERED…… NAME: CHRIS HERNANDEZ… REGISTERED”

Wait that wasn’t his name why would it say that was someone entering all of this

“GAME WILL BEGIN MOMENTARILY… PLEASE HOLD”

Soon everything went black and it felt like Josh fell asleep.

“Oh god…. where am I” Josh woke up in what seemed to be a house much different to his one. It felt almost generated. Against his will, Josh got up from his bed and started to move to the kitchen where his body made a protein-heavy breakfast.

“Omg stop why can’t I control my body what is happening,” Josh thought in his mind completely scared of what was going on. Unbeknownst to him outside the computer his body was being fully controlled by someone on the outside.

After eating the breakfast his body immediately got up and started to walk to a new room filled with gym equipment. “Oh god no,” Josh thought.. His body started to go through an intensive workout against his will.

by the end of it he was completely exhausted with the last bits of energy he had he was able to take control for a moment and scream out

“HELP IM STUCK” . . .

“Um Doctor, there seems to be an issue,” the voice said

“What seems to be the problem?”

“The character said something weird… “Help, Im stuck” in like screaming pattern” he responded

“Ahh that’s strange don’t worry about that. We can fix that in the next patch. Might just be grabbing from some unused text files. Thank you for pointing it out” The doctor replied as he walked away taking notes and smirking

Josh was now completely trapped inside WRG new game “US” a life simulation game where gamers can be anyone their dreams can be. Unluckily for Josh, he was stuck being the complete opposite of his original self. Now is a template of a stereotypical jock for those who are too lazy to create their own characters in the game.

.

.

I've been an over thinker my entire life. From school to the workplace, I've been told over and over again that the only thing stopping me from being brilliant is how often I end up stuck inside my own head. Analysis paralysis, choice anxiety, whatever you want to call it - I freeze up and overthink instead of getting shit done

As my career plateaued, my relationships stagnated, and my age started to show, I couldn't stop thinking about it. It started out small but gradually took root, this fantasy where I could stop thinking and start doing; and as I fantasised about it more often, the fantasies gradually started to shift. What began as a vague desire to wake up the next morning suddenly able to shove all my thoughts to the side gradually built itself into a fully fledged imaginary world where I'd never struggled with overthinking at all.

What would my life have been like if I thought less? Would I have still been studious or would I have been more of a jock? Instead of going into higher education, I would've barely managed to finish high school and found a job where I could use my body and not my brain. A strong, happy-go-lucky dummy, not too bright but with a body built by practically living at the gym and throwing heavy weights around.

I couldn't stop thinking about it. I decided I had to make it real.

When I found the caster on the dark web I didn't think twice about what I asked them to do. "Make me a hot, horny, laid back himbo who thinks with his body instead of his brain."

I got my wish. But my wish didn't fix shit, dude.

I'm like, barely literate, and the only math I can do is adding my reps up. And sometimes I mess up half way, so I just keep going - better for the gains.

Worst thing is, even though my brain is slow and fuzzy all the time, the thoughts still keep on coming. Except instead of overthinking everything to shit, every thought I have revolves around this hulking, horny, impulsive body of mine.

I've been staring myself in the mirror for the past 10 minutes, admiring my pecs, feeling them up. Fuck but I'm one sexy stud. Look at that arm vein- yeah, look how it bulges when I turn and flex just right. My next client's coming soon and I should get ready... but it can wait another minute. Lemme take a pic first. Maybe I'll sweet talk him into letting me blow him in the locker room again. Get my protein in so I can ride him in the showers when we're done.

“Oh fuck, make it stop!”

Two American students, Mike and David had been the best of friends for awhile, coming from the deep rural south, the two farm boys were intellectuals, incredible at their academic unlike others in the family. Even deciding to go to the same college together they were both as thick as thieves - and that was quite literal too. 

They had started using their intellect to plan robberies all over town in order to get the money they needed to pay off college and set up their own company. And now here they were, midway through a robbery of a mansion owned by some British CEO as a second home, in a baseless room with both their hands forcibly down their underwear and fiddling their cocks.

“No use playing with them down there boys, let them out,” commanded the British daddy, his voice was smooth as silk as he stood there with his grey beard and silver mane of hair, his body was surprisingly muscular for someone who was an older man and a CEO for that matter. He was shirtless allowing the curls of his chest hair to appear like hypnotic spirals as his musk spread around the room hypnotising Mike and David further.

Mike was the first to let his cock snake out from his underwear now both hands wrapped around his large seven inch dick and slowly starting to stroke.

“N-No! Mike, don’t give in- Aww fuck!” David moaned as he looked down to see a hand already stroking his own six inch cock without even noticing, already starting to see the cock dripping as it started to elongate, getting thicker and longer in his hands. “W-What’s happening? No! Make it- Make it…Oh!” David watched his own pubic hair nested around the base of his longer and lengthier cock begin to slowly turn from a deep brown to a silvery blonde as he continued stroking, his body beginning to be consumed by every inch of power.

“David! Don’t worry we’ll think…think of…fuck it’s so hard to think,” Mike watched as both hands wrapped around his cock started to already grow, his cock only beginning to lengthen. “What are you doing to us?” The man laughed.

“Oh don’t worry boy, see you think you’re so smart do you?” chuckled the man as he stepped closer, hands behind the back of his head to reveal his furry pits. “Not for long. You can already feel it, can’t you boy? How dumb you’re both becoming, harder to think. Sniff deeply, I think I can teach you some manners and help you make some money as some dumb British bimbos.”

David wanted to say something but the pleasure was too much, he only wanted to step closer and worship his newfound master, those deep pits and that furry chest, to ride on that nine inch dick as he could feel himself slipping. The blonde hairs began to race up his suddenly flat stomach, the small pouches of fat beginning to fade away as he could start to see his body starting to not only grow leaner, but broader. 

Muscle started to expand quickly as his skin stretched, he felt like he was being pumped with newfound energy and lust continually feeling like where he was once a mere boy but now swelling as a man with pure muscle.

As David continued to masturbate, he tipped his head back as blonde hairs began to grace his broad pecs and his glorious musclegut from hard time being spent in the gym.

“David! Man you need to stop!” moaned Mike as he felt his own arms starting to bulk up as he couldn’t help but bite his lip, growing even more horny from watching David shred out of his clothes, his biceps building up and broadening to the point where the sleeves of his shirt shredded to nothingness and revealed his paler skin.

“Can’t do that mate, feels too good,” groaned David in an undoubtable British accent as his hair started to spike up, the browns becoming lighter as he started to find his face growing paler. His own features shifting and rearranging, nose growing somewhat broader as his eyes became a dark brown.

“Why don’t you show him, how good it feels?” said the man with a smile on his face as David nodded, stopping jerking off as he was suddenly behind Mike.

“D-David what-” Mike could no longer speak in fact by now even with his diminishing intelligence he could barely think as David’s long eight inch cock sunk into his moist ass and began ramming it. His own hands snaking down to brush against Mike’s nipple and help him masturbate his cock.

“Come on Mike mate, join me, we can be dumb together,” moaned David as he continued to fuck Mike. Mike couldn’t handle it, the pressure being built on all sides he started to feel himself growing a few inches taller, his back stretching as did his legs which started to become thinner and leaner as a result. 

Only his calves started to grow with muscularity as he watched his feet and hands adjust to his newfound height, his size 9’s soon flopping on the floor with the lengthy pale soles and longer toes as size 12’s. His own fingers twitched and turned as he continued to jerk his cock off in rhythm to David fucking him and helping him along the way.

His own chest started to already inflate with muscle, each thread starting to rip away from his shirt as he gained the muscle mass that he had always looked for, his own abs now becoming well defined as they formed a six pack. His own pecs jutting out almost in a Chris Evans-like fashion as they were slabs of muscle that overshadowed the rest of his torso, no shirt he knew of would ever fit him again at this rate. Even now as his biceps started to be pampered with the same muscular treatment that David once felt.

The blonde hairs were not silvey like David’s but instead spun with a gold texture, a remarkable shade he had only seen from dyed hair and male models, the type of beauty someone aspired to for their whole lives and now Mike was exactly like that. He felt good, he felt dumb, he felt at place as he continued to be fucked over and over again, his prostate being rammed into and pleasure flooding his mind as he started to forget, himself, his name, where he was from, what he was doing.

“Oh fuck mate, keep going, so close! I’m gonna, gonna-” Mike moaned out loud as the man snapped his fingers.

“Cum.” ordered the man.

And both men did, cum spilling and shooting from Mike’s own rock hard cock and spraying all over the floor continuously as David began to flood Mike’s ass with his own cum, feeling the sticky substance shortly spilling slowly from his ass back all over his cock that continued to cum more and more. In any normal day Mike would feel sick, but he felt fulfilled as his blonde hair started to grow in, whilst his face started to grow narrower and smaller whilst his own lips looked fuller.

“Well boys, I think that’s more than enough for tonight. Now why don’t you come on upstairs and reward me with some good worship?” smirked the man.

“Yes sir,” said Mike and David simultaneously as they stopped and slowly but surely started following their master, their arms limp, and their minds muddled as they flexed and flaunted their new bodies.

In the end, Mike and David were now both British gentleman that lived with their mysterious benefactor and started to earn real money with business and their own bodies. No matter what, they always listened to their master as they looked for more men to become the British bimbos that they were now. 

Mike and David were no longer the thieving intelligent Americans they once were but now happy, dumb, sexy, and British boys known as Matt and Dylan and they could barely keep their hands off their large cocks.

He can't help but obey with pleasure...

“Did you call me, Coach?”, he asks entering the office.

He remembers other times when he’s been called to this office, but he doesn’t remember what happened there.

It doesn’t bother him. He doesn’t even try to remember, he doesn’t feel the need to try. These calls just happen and he goes there and talks to the coach, that’s how things are and he accepts it.

The Coach tells him to lock the door and then sits and looks at him, and even without words, he feels like he’s listening to all his orders, all his words, all the instructions that have been planted deep into his mind.

Those words come to the surface and he remembers all of them now. And he changes.

It’s a new him standing there in front of his Coach, no longer the captain and leader who took the team to the championships, no. Now he’s a submissive jock who knows he owes all of it to his Coach and is willing to pay with all he can.

The captain, the leader, fades into the background. And instead surfaces the slave.

The slave remembers all these hours serving his Coach, all these afternoons of sex and submission that the captain is not allowed to remember. The slave knows it and wants it.

The slave takes off all of his clothes and stands naked and attention, and when the Coach stands and begins undressing, the slave feels turned on and grateful for another opportunity to serve.

The captain doesn’t know this, the captain doesn’t remember this, but the slave does. All these afternoons will be locked in a dark box in his memory, so deep that the captain will never find it inside his own mind, but the slave keeps them and treasures them and is ready to live another one.

The captain is gone and the slave is ready.

If you concentrate real hard you can almost remember who you used to be, but its harder every time with the sunlight draped over your skin and the fresh tickle of grass underneath you, the hot breath of the light wind against your face.  Its almost like every time you close your eyes you feel your muscles growing.  The more sunlight you can get on your skin the more the muscles grow.  You start wearing less and less, youre excited to wear less and less.  At first it was shorter sleeves, tighter against your growing biceps.  Then it was sleeveless shirts, cut off right at the top of the shoulder, then it was tank tops, then one day you just felt it, felt it right in your middle, just yanked out the scissors in a frenzy of no-thought action, almost attacked that red t-shirt you hadn’t worn in forever, sliced the sleeves right off, and then went even further, carved two big holes right down the sides of the shirt.  “Natural air conditioning,” you shrugged to your gawking friends as they made fun of you.  “It’s hot.”  It isn’t an excuse not for you. 

And how long has it been since you wore anything but compression shorts, you cant even remember can you.  Anything else would just feel weird, boxers - why even bother?  Oh yeah that sunlight on your skin.  You spend so much more time outside now that you joined the local baseball team, you dont really have any time for the friends you used to hangout with, and they werent any good for you anyway.  Drinking too much, smoking too much, so fuckin negative all the time.  Theyll get old glued to their barstools blinking in the afternoon through a haze of drunk and pot while youve been up since sunrise, pumping at the gym, swinging on the field, maybe havin a beer or two with your new friends, yes your new friends, the ones who clap you on your shoulders and exclaim at how much your bodys changed since you started training with your trainer and man how glad they are you joined the team, youre just fuckin dominating the game, bro, and it just fills you with this golden feeling like the sunlight draping over your skin and the warmth pressing down on the crown of your head, pressing down on your ballcap that you never seem to take off - team loyalty you know - and before you know it, your life has totally changed, maybe not in the blink of an eye but you almost didnt notice it happening, and now it’s already happened and here you are in the sunlight and it just feels SO FUCKING GOOD you cant help but clench a fist and flex your bicep and grin grin so fuckin big that it splits your face in two and time rushes by and you hear your bros callin your name from the dugout.

Patron Request for: @trekoid-pr0n

“Have you ever considered a tattoo?” The question echoes in your mind. For a moment, the world around you seems to contract to just you and this veritable god of a man. No. You can’t say that you’ve ever really considered a tattoo, but now that this man is asking…

“No,” you say, the words coming out in an almost-breathless rush. “But now that I think about it, I don’t think it would be too bad…” Something in the back of your mind seizes. You’re a professional, working for one of the most respected firms in the area. You can’t come to work with a tattoo. You try to take it back, but instead you stumble over yourself, the words spilling out before you can really take them back. “Maybe something small… Nothing too grand. A star at the base of the neck, maybe?”

He smiles and claps a meaty hand over your shoulder. You feel faint, your knees buckling from the sheer weight of this man’s masculinity washing over you. The curve of his lips is gentle. It makes you want to lean up and kiss him. “That sounds like a great idea,” he says, slowly maneuvering you toward the entrance to the parlor. “Why don’t we get started?” he adds, almost unable to keep the excitement in his voice contained.

You can’t help but feel a bit giddy. This feels dangerous, almost illicit, and the man’s energy is just so contagious. You think of the warmth of his hand on your shoulder and butterflies flutter in your stomach. He guides you to the chair and you sit down, leaning your head back to bare your neck to him.

In the back of your mind, a small lucid part of you is screaming for you to run away, that you’re going to be late for work, that you can’t possibly afford to show up to meetings with clients with a tattoo on your neck. But you can’t hear that part of you. It’s muffled. Like the rest of your thoughts.

“Will it hurt?” you ask. The man shakes his head as he prepares his tools. You smile, lean back, and relax, ready for whatever is coming next.

There is pain the first time that the needles sink into your flesh, but almost immediately afterward, you feel a warm tingle of pleasure wash out from the puncture. Your breath grows hot in your throat and you can’t help but moan as the sensation spreads across your chest and stomach, the tingling heat gathering in your crotch, making you painfully, deliriously hard.

For the next half hour, you’re almost trapped there, on that chair, afloat in a mindless sea of pleasure as the tattoo on your neck takes shape. It’s nothing spectacular. Just a star. A reminder of a love that could have been but wasn’t. The melancholy pang of that thought disrupts the pleasure but only for a moment. Then, it passes, and you get lost once again.

By the time that you totter out of the tattoo parlor, branded across your neck, your head feels fuzzy, but your body feels great. You’ve got none of that fatigue that you’ve gotten so used to, working in such a high-demand job. You feel more energetic than you have in ages. Sure, you’re not sure your brain is working quite as well as it should, but you feel so good you’re willing to just let it pass.

Later that evening you find yourself signing up for a gym, something that you’d always told yourself you were going to do but never got around to. If your coworkers noticed how spacey you were, they didn’t say anything. They are unlikely to. Your world is cutthroat, after all, and every weakness in the competition is a weakness to exploit. But you find that you can’t really bring yourself to care too much about it all.

The next day, instead of heading for work, your feet take you across the street to the tattoo parlor again. Again, you ask for something small. Nothing spectacular. Another star. The man just smiles at you, making your heart do somersaults in your chest. You take off early from work that day, wanting to get a work out in at the gym.

Your head is even fuzzier, but it doesn’t scare you. If anything, it makes you feel good. There’s something sexy about just not thinking too much. It feels almost like a release from the rapid, relentless pace of the life you’ve lived thus far. And lifting weights, running on the treadmill, the pounding repetition of it all helps keep you fuzzy and hazy and warm.

You keep going back to the tattoo parlor, and then leaving early from work to go to the gym. You find that you can’t really think well anymore. You don’t remember when you notice it, but you do. And you can’t help but chuckle at it. The thought of being a dumb muscle bro turns you on now, and the fuzzier your head gets, the more you fail at the simple maths that your job requires of you, the harder your cock gets, the more intense you train at the gym afterward.

Of course, it’s only a matter of time before you’re fired. With your declining intelligence and productivity, the dumb chuckling that fills your cubicle as you look up diet tips and work out regimes on the clock, it was inevitable. But you find somewhere to take you in. That tattoo parlor. The owner fucks you the first time in his bed that night, and having his thick cock squeezed between the muscular buns you’d developed over the last few weeks is rapturous.

The next few days after that are a blur as he works on your newest tattoo. Something big. Something spectacular. Something flashy. Something that would attract attention. Then, one day, the man kisses you on the lips, cinches an arm around your waist, and presses flyers into your hands. He tells you to stand outside and hand them out to passersby.

As you’re looking out across the street, you see a handsome young man. He’s got a suitcase on him, with a logo that’s faintly familiar. You beckon him over. You’re glad you found him. But you don’t know why. He asks you if you’ve met before. You think about it. He does look awfully familiar. But you’re not good at thinking, not anymore, so you answer as truthfully as you can. “No.” you say.

Then, because you don’t want to lose him, you change the topic. “Have you ever considered a tattoo?”

I have a Patreon page now at Patreon.com/KinkyPupEcho! I don’t have many rewards yet, so any suggestions would be welcome! Due to the volume of requests that I regularly receive, the waiting time on new requests right now is about two months give or take. If you sign up as one of my beta or alpha patrons, it puts your request on a higher-priority queue, meaning you’ll get it sooner rather than later.

But don’t worry, that doesn’t mean that I won’t be paying as much attention to my regular requests. I’ll keep writing them!

You can find more of my work here at the following links, if you’re interested!

Been trying this new hypno muscle thing…

It’s working pretty well. Getting bigger.

Feeling more powerful at the gym….

Hypno Game

you’re jealous. don’t deny it. and now, every time you make fun of one of Those Guys in your head, a cluster of your brain cells is going to >pop< and fizzle out like a dud firework in the sky. as they do, you’ll feel great, but you’ll sense a new kind of emptiness in you. the craving for muscle, the boredom of books and smarts. the craving of the clanking and grunting of the gym.

So I just wanna share where I’m at these days with Tumblr, the community, and some concerning developments as of late. Firstly, I want to thank all 5k of you for supporting me for almost a decade on this platform. It has been a wild ride with ups and downs but this community has really given me an overall positive impact on my self image, bettered my writing skills, and helped to come to terms with who I am as a person and as a kinkster. So above all, I have so much gratitude for y’all, thank you.

Over the last couple of months, I have taken notice to some difficulties on behalf of Tumblr and their censorship efforts against queer erotic writing. I have had to fight more flags and community labels than ever before, and it has really affected my desire and motivation to publish more stories. If only certain folks with their mature censor turned off can read my posts, that fuckin sucks. But I admittedly got rather stoned last night and thought about why Tumblr is cracking down so viciously on our content. I think I’ve come to my own conclusion there.

I am and have been extremely alarmed by a number of tropes that have become relatively commonplace in recently posted tf prose. As I have mentioned countless times before, underage people have no business being in your sexual fantasy fiction whatsoever. The amount of writers I’ve seen recently posting stories focusing on 12-16 year of children being erotically transformed is disturbing to put it delicately. Especially those which maintain the children’s psychological age intact, but even without that trope it is inappropriate, unacceptable, and should not be platformed on Tumblr.

In addition, I’d like to touch on another trope: homophobic tf. Now I have no issue whatsoever with Gay to straight, as being straight is a valid expression of sexual orientation. There is nothing wrong with featuring characters from a wide array of identities. That being said, this new content of lib to con, MAGA tf, gay bashing tf… it’s disgusting. In the current world we live in, these types of archetypical characters do exist in the real world and are causing real significant harm to queer folks. These groups of people are actively, in their own words, trying to eradicate the LGBT community in America. These types of people exist all over the world as well, and queer identifying people live in legitimate, actual fear for their lives. I question why we fetishize individuals who seek a literal genocide of an entire peoples, and whether it is acceptable to do so. I point to the fetishization of Nazism as an apt comparison: a hypermasculinized group of people who sought eradication of a group of people based solely on concrete identities which could not be changed. I believe we as a community have rightly deplatformed such content, and I cannot fathom why this current iteration is in such a Renaissance.

These are just two examples of obvious reasoning as to why Tumblr might righteously suppress tf erotica on their platform. Can I blame them? No. Frankly, I understand completely. If the community refuses to monitor and moderate its on content, then Tumblr as the platform most certainly will.

I've noticed that over the last 2 years especially, there's been a large increase in questionable blogs and content in the gay transformation space. It's hilarious that Tumblr cracked down so much on anything even remotely resembling porn but this hate-filled content is allowed to run rampant. This place has become a cesspit.

I would fully understand & support your decision to leave; I've been thinking about deleting my own account and turning away from all this. The turn this community (or whatever one wants to call it) has taken has left a very sour and bitter taste in my mouth.

IMO if someone is making content about gay2straight, religious, right-wing, fascistic homophobes then they themselves are also those things since they're promoting and glorifying those values. Even worse, they're turncoats and bootlickers - since the authors are supposedly part of the LGBTQ+ community Saying it's a "fetish" isn't good enough, it's an excuse. I'm sure pedophiles say the same thing with their "minor attracted person" crap. Saying it's a "fetish" is just a way for these people to abdicate personal responsibility and make them feel better about themselves so they can spread their hatred.

The worst part is that these people act like victims and throw a fit when they're called out. Imagine devoting most of your blog to original posts or reblogs of some of the most vile and hate-filled content directed towards gay people and then playing victim when you're called out? It's disgusting. This defensiveness also makes me suspect that these people know that what they're doing is discomforting and wrong. The (not so) internalized homophobia is shocking, it's worse than most of what I've heard from heterosexual bigots.

I also come from a country where stuff like homosexuality and contraception were decriminalized/legalized relatively recently so seeing stuff like this on Tumblr is a real slap to the face.

I'd say that Tumblr needs another good purge but the last time that happened, most of the good accounts (your account being one of the exceptions x) were abandoned/deleted and now we're left with a load of arrogant, self-hating homophobes. At least the pedos don't seem to be so brazen anymore... This place used to be a nice escape from the world but now it's just depressing.

Anyways, I'm looking forward to your next story - jocks & musk is hot.

I agree entirely with that assessment. People have gotten entirely too comfortable openly writing internalized support for a certain type of movement and calling it a fetish. It didn’t work with pedos and it won’t work for bigots.

(ID: https://twitter.com/armzbro97)

If you’ve somehow managed to snag a himbo into a standard work environment, then you have won yourself one of the best tools you could imagine.

Pure charisma and charming sex appeal; they’ll have customers begging to give you their money with just a smile. They excel in a position where all of the attention is showered on them. Maybe that’s a customer service role with slack-jawed clients barely disguising their lust for him.  Or maybe it’s a warehouse position where all the other boys can gawk and ogle at the way his khaki’s strain around his ass every time he goes to pick up a box. That’s why a Himbo comes into work. A captive audience to shower them with Adoration. Eyes coming and going and looking and staring hungrily at them. Their true job, no matter what their title, is to perform and oblige their hungering adoring fans. They know exactly which itches to scratch to get those extra bonuses at the end of the year and they are more than happy to use their most potent resource to get it.

*Omnipotent Demon narrator voice*

Sure, Victor’s been written up more times than he can count(not that he can count super high) for supposed “dress code violations”; but he knows that’s just the HR guys' way of flirting with him. He always comes back the next day, technically compliant but only technically.

With a body like his he knows he’ll get complaints about being a ‘distraction’ and ‘ a threat to my marriage’ regardless of what he wears. So might as well have fun with it right?

He knows he’s untouchable…at least in the metaphorical sense. Literally speaking he is probably the MOST touchable person around (The IT specialist wishes he could use those tits as a mousepad.) But when you basically have being the Bosses personal desk toy as a part of your total compensation, you wield the immunity and privilege that gives you as a badge of honor. Doesn’t matter what anyone says, you’ll spend all your time draped over someone else's desk or checking your hair in the mirror. It’s a part of your contract.

But Victor is a really hard worker nonetheless. It’s an exhausting, but rewarding business when your body is a product for the company. Most days it’s just a matter of undoing the top few buttons, but bigger clients can really be a handful…and a mouthful, and occasionally an ass-ful. Two if it’s a part of a joint account. But the Avis Athletics Agency prides itself on using the best practices when whoring out our top performers, and employees who prove themselves in that role can expect ample benefits and further responsibilities in the future. The bigger Victor grows those tits, the more he flashes that pretty smile, the more dress code violations he gets; the better. He knows the boss has his eye on him. That's just how he likes to do his work.