Matsmi13

So, turns out, I had serverly underestimated the amount of resonance my RentAThing prompt would generate. I'm still flabbergasted about how many of you liked the concept — or my writing — enough to want a story about being turned into a thing!

Naturally, I tried to write stories for everyone in my inbox, and, well, that turned out to be a pretty bad idea. I burned myself out so much doing that, that I couldn't write TF stories for some months. Sorry for disappearing.

I still got like 25 more requests in my inbox, but at this point, I have to yield to reality that I won't do them, at least not anytime soon, if I want to keep it sustainable. Perhaps I'll pick up some of them going forward, but I very much try to not repeat the mistakes I made.

So, if your request hasn't been done yet: I'm sincerely sorry for the wait, and the fact that it quite likely might never be done. All of them were really awesome, and I'm incredibly happy about the interest!

As is tradition, here's a pic of a guy for reading through all the yap. The briefs look new. And I wonder what happened to the farm hand that was with him just yesterday.

Certainly a longer one but I personally had fun with this! Made some creative choices that differ only somewhat from the initial request. Enjoy!

I enjoy mornings like this now even more. Sipping on my coffee, lounging around, feeling my throbbing cock against my thigh. Fuck... Look at that thing.

It’s been so much quieter in the house. That was maybe one of the first things I noticed, and god, it's peaceful. No heavy footsteps on the stairs, no slammed doors, no attitude.

"Look at you." I can't help but appreciate the sight of my fat cock resting against my thigh, "Fuck..."

I shift my weight in the leather chair, and the tight spandex pinches just right, sending a white-hot jolt straight up my spine.

"God, yes," I mutter, my hand dropping naturally down to wrap around the thick, hot base.

My dick twitches instantly beneath my palm, lengthening and swelling with a heavy throb as clear pre-cum slips from the slit to smear against my thigh.

"Still leaking?" I chuckle, giving my thick shaft a slow, firm squeeze. "You can't even wait five minutes, can you?"

My cock responds with another hard pulse, swelling thicker in my fist as if drinking in the praise.

"I never thought..." I breathe out, my eyes rolling back as I stroke myself once, twice, feeling the heavy, slick slide of skin, "...I'd ever be this lucky. I never thought I'd have a piece of meat this big just waiting to be played with every single day."

I pump a little faster, letting out a sharp groan as my hips buck. The tight fabric strains against the impossible size of my dick, leaking more and more with every stroke.

"That's it," I whisper, teasing the swollen head with my thumb, "Just... just like that..."

It's hard to remember now, looking back, that my cock used to be a person who walked through that front door like he owned the place.

I can still picture the moment he walked through that front door for summer break, dropping his duffel bag by the coat rack with a careless thud. Twenty-one, broad-shouldered, and entirely wrapped up in his phone screen.

"Hey, Mark," he snapped out, flat and dismissive.

Always Mark. A reminder that I wasn't his father. Whenever I tried to talk to him, he’d just roll his eyes, flash a cold smirk, and brush past me like a piece of cheap furniture, too busy texting his frat buddies to notice the guy paying the mortgage.

"Hey Leo, good drive?" I asked.

"Yeah, fine," he muttered, "Gotta unpack. Meeting some of the guys in twenty."

"Right," I said smoothly, my blood simmering. "My mistake. Go unpack. Wouldn't want to keep your friends waiting."

He rolled his eyes, clearly dismissing me, "Whatever. See ya later."

"Take your time," I murmured, watching him take the stairs two at a time, "We've got all summer to catch up."

He had no idea. He just thought he was home to ignore me for three months straight, totally oblivious to the Reclaiming Program pamphlet locked in my desk drawer.

I had wanted a real connection with him, back at the start. He'd get back from football practice and I'd think about my glory days. How we shared a love for the game, how we could have bonded over weights and old football highlights like real father and son. But he had zero interest in any of it. Just the guy whose money paid the bills while he lived his golden life.

But then one today, one of my old teammates mentioned the Reclaiming Program and all its promises: surging testosterone, explosive muscle development, relentless morning wood, and leaving the humiliating days of needing Viagra in the past forever. "Turn your useless son into your cock"- what a concept, right? At first I doubted it. But then, when Mikey showed up with the proof between his legs, I relented. Still, I wasn't sure it would work given Leo was just a stepson with no shared blood.

But I figured it would be worth a try...

A few days into his break, the screen door slammed shut as my step-son walked in from throwing the pigskin with some of his old high school buddies.

"Christ, it's hot out," Leo panted, dropping his cleats by the door, flushed and sweating.

I was already waiting at the counter, swirling the heavy blender pitcher.

"Rough afternoon?" I asked smoothly, pouring the shake into a tall glass.

"Felt like my arm was dead by the third route," he groaned, practically snatching it from my hand and chugging it, "Huh, this tastes good. What's in it?"

"Just a special blend of amino acids and protein," I replied, keeping my face entirely neutral as I watched him swallow the Reclaiming Protocol's special blend. "Thought you could use the edge."

Leo paused for a moment and smiled, "Thanks, Mark. I appreciate it."

Over the next few days, the routine settled into something dangerously smooth. Every afternoon after Leo came back, I'd have a shake waiting for him. I was wiping down the kitchen counter one evening when Leo wandered in, running a hand worriedly through his thick hair.

"Hey, Mark," he muttered, frowning slightly as a few stray strands came loose between his fingers. "Random question… when do guys usually start losing their hair?"

"I wouldn't worry about a few strays." I smiled.

"Yeah... I guess you're right."

Later, while Leo was out with his friends that week, I slipped into the upstairs bathroom and swapped his standard body wash with the thick, pheromone-heavy transdermal blend from the Reclaiming kit. Not long after, he returned him- his heavy footsteps trudged up the stairs. The bathroom door clicked shut, and the muffled hiss of the shower started up.

I lingered in the hallway downstairs, waiting, listening. At first, there was just the sound of water drumming against the tiles. Then...

"Ahhhh... fuck..."

I paused, leaning slightly toward the stairwell. The transdermal compounds were hitting his skin, over-sensitizing every nerve ending.

"God... what is... ahhh..."

A high, pathetic moan slipped past his lips, completely unlike his guarded, masculine tone.

"Mmm... fuck...no, I feel..." Leo whimpered aloud to the empty bathroom, his voice trembling as the suds worked deeper into his pores. Turning his skin into sensitive cock flesh. "Why does it feel like... oh god..."

Down in the hallway, I smiled.

"Everything alright up there, Leo?" I called out smoothly.

Silence hung heavy from the bathroom for a second, followed by a frantic, breathless scramble of water and a desperate, whimpering groan that he tried... and failed... to swallow down.

By the weekend, I noticed his desire to be anywhere away from me was fading. He'd follow me room to room, sit and watch TV with me... even ignored calls from his buddies.

It all culminated one humid Tuesday morning. I came down the stairs in just a loose t-shirt and boxers, grabbing my coffee mug from the counter. I noticed Leo sitting at the kitchen table, staring. His eyes locked downward, devouring the heavy, obvious bulge in my thin cotton of my boxers.

I paused, leaning casually against the counter. "Like what you see?"

Leo snapped out of it, his face flushing crimson as he stammered, caught completely red-handed. "Yes... yes, sir."

The words slipped out of his mouth before he could catch them. God, do you know how good that sounded coming from him? After all these years of him being an arrogant dumbass?

He of course, froze. Staring at me with wide, terrified eyes, horrified by his own slip of the tongue. I just held his gaze and grinned.

Later that afternoon, the cracks in his composure showed again. Passing by his half-open bedroom door upstairs, I heard him.

"No, you're not listening to me!" Leo snapped into the phone, his voice tight with rising panic. "I'm telling you, it's not just stress! My hair is literally coming out in clumps, man! And I couldn't even finish three reps on the bench today, my arms feel useless. Something is seriously wrong with me!"

I stopped in the hallway, listening to the helpless frustration in his tone, smiling to myself. He could panic to his friends all he wanted. It wasn't going to change anything.

I guess I didn't realize how far it would go until two days later. He never seemed to wear a shirt anymore, muttering about how uncomfortable clothing felt against his sensitive skin. But with that, I could see exactly what was happening to him. The muscle wasting was more clear than ever now. But that wasn't what caught me by surprise.

I had tossed my damp, heavy gym towel onto the edge of my bed before heading down to shower. When I walked back into my room to grab a fresh shirt, I caught him.

Leo was standing right in the middle of my room. Eyes glazed over as he clutched my sweaty gym towel in both hands, buried face-first into the fabric, greedily inhaling my scent with a low, desperate shudder.

"What do we have here?"

He froze, dropping the towel like it burned him, his mouth parting as excess, thick saliva slipped past his lips.

"Everything alright in here, Leo?" I asked smoothly, firmly grasping his shoulder.

The contact hit his re-wired nervous system like a live wire. Leo's eyes rolled back, his knees buckled slightly, and a devastatingly slutty, pathetic moan tore straight from his throat.

"S.sss...ssirrrr.... I....I...I...."

He tried to swallow it back, coughing weakly, more of that thick saliva sputtering from his mouth. Just a panting, soft-shouldered mess who couldn't even look me in the eye anymore.

"Shhh." I handed him the towel, "Enjoy it."

I left him shaking in my room and pulled out my phone once I was downstairs. The private club chat was buzzing as usual.

“Still breaking him in?” Gary posted around noon, tossing up a laughing emoji. “Poor kid is probably half brain-dead by now.”

“How many days has it been since you started dosing him?” Dave chimed in right after. “Has to be nearly three weeks.”

“Think that may be a record...” Gary added, dropping a string of applause icons. “Most guys would have already claimed the prize by week two. You’re really dragging this out, Mark.”

"Give him a break, this is uncharted territory. First time someone tried reclaiming their step-son."

"Come on and reclaim him already! Bruce wants to know if it works before he uses it on his step-son."

I smiled. They wouldn't have to wait much longer...

Leo, or what was left of him, came to me late one evening, entirely stripped of whatever pride he had left. I was sitting in the kitchen, nursing a glass of bourbon when he shuffled in, completely naked, his once-broad frame visibly shrunken and soft. Pronounced bald patches stark against his scalp.

"P-plea... agh, mmm..." Leo sobbed out, a wet, choking gurgle of sound, as thick, viscous streams of excess thick saliva pooled heavily in his mouth, spilling over his lower lip and dripping down his chest in long, glistening ropes.

"Can't even talk, can you?" I murmured, reaching down and pulling down my pants. "Look at what's happened to you. Are you asking for help, boy?"

Leo let out a pathetic, bubbling whine, nodding frantically as more thick fluid leaked from his parted lips, "Aghhhh, pl...pl..."

"Shhhh." I ran a slow, heavy hand down his back, the simple touch was too much for his over-sensitized skin.

A fresh, hefty wave of thick, viscous fluid surged from his mouth, overflowing past his slack lips in glistening ropes as he let out a high, vibrating moan that dissolved into a pathetic gurgle.

"That's a good boy," I murmured, my grip tightening firmly on the back of his neck. I nudged him forward, guiding his weight downward. "Show me how ready you are."

Without a single hint of protest, Leo gripped the table with his hands, and bent over right there. Presenting his ass to me and my hardening cock. That first thrust sent an electric shock that shot through my spine.

Leo's muffled, drooling cry cut off mid-gasp as the bones in his arms and legs began to buckle, softening and melting inward. I watched his deltoids and biceps flatten. His limbs shrank, pulling tight against his torso until they dissolved completely into the shifting, expanding mass of his trunk.

"Oh fuck..." I moaned, feeling as his ass fuse to the base of my cock.

His human silhouette distorted beyond all recognition, shrinking down lengthwise as his body reformed into an immense, cylinder of raw cock-meat. Veins braided themselves across his tightening skin, throbbing in a frantic, desperate rhythm that soon echoed the pounding of my own heart.

"Neeeee..... neeeeed th...this...." Those would be Leo's final words.

I watched as the bone structure of his jawline dissolved into a thick, pink cockhead. His nose flattened and vanished into the expanding flesh, and his lips parted permanently. The corners fused downward until his mouth narrowed into a gaping, glistening oval, weeping a constant, heavy stream of pre-cum.

"Oh yeah... Oh fuckkkk yeahhhh." I couldn't held but wrap my hand around my new length, "Oh fuck..."

My new dick convulsed violently at the contact, the entire length of him twitching and throbbing, a slick flood of pre-cum dripping from my new piss slit. I couldn't help it anymore... I hit my climax, pouring my hot release across the kitchen and myself with each throb.....

.......

That was just the first time of many, of course.

If you had told me a month ago how things would turn out, I probably wouldn't have believed it. But the Reclaiming Program delivers on every single promise it makes, provided you have the patience to see it through.

And as for Little Mark down there? Well... maybe not "little." I mean, just look at him! Twitching, throbbing, so fucking eager to be used. No arguments, no attitude, no slamming doors. Just pure, responsive meat that lives only to serve my pleasure whenever the mood strikes.

And speaking of when the mood strikes...I'd say Little Mark is eager for another round...

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If anyone wants to do a rewrite of one of my prior stories or even use a similar concept, please reach out!