Phagster

“I…I’m sorry! I didn’t-”

Gabriel’s heart stood still, fearing the man towering over him. How had he even gotten in this situation in the first place? All he had needed was a lighter or even some matches to get the grill started at his parents’ cabin, which he had asked to loan out over the weekend. The college freshman had noticed the neighbor–and his brutish handsome qualities–before and decided to make the walk over. He imagined the worst case scenario would be that the man was not home. The best was that he would help him light the grill. And that the man would find Gabriel charming and adorable and would bend him over and the two would begin a secret affair.

Once Gabriel arrived, he assumed that the man was not home. The rusty truck Gabriel usually saw in the driveway was missing. But just as he was about to leave, he noticed that the front door was unlocked. Curiously, Gabriel stepped into the cabin. Taxidermy, rustic paintings, and antique furniture decorated the wooden space. It stunk of cigarettes and beer.

The red flags became more visible the farther Gabriel went in: a MAGA hat on a chair, a Confederate flag by the bathroom, at least three guns lying around (who knew how many were out of sight). Gabriel refocused and proceeded with his mission, venturing over to the small kitchen which, to his slight disgust, had not been cleaned in what looked to be weeks. He opened every drawer and cabinet but found nothing. Gabriel then proceeded to a closet, then another, and eventually found himself inside one of the two bedrooms. 

Unlike the other which was a bit barren, this bedroom was certainly lived in. Quilts were pulled back as if someone had just left the bed. The closet, which had more flannels than Gabriel had ever seen in his life, was disorganized. The space was musty, masculine but in a comforting way. Gabriel was not surprised to find himself chubbing up a bit. Lustfully, he knelt down to the dirty clothes hamper, shyly searching through the treasure trove. 

Gabriel struck gold right away–a dirty sock, thoroughly stretched and abused. A deep sniff sent a shiver of ecstasy down Gabriel’s body, the pure musk enrapturing him. Then he discovered the boxer shorts, their plaid long faded. The college freshman nearly squealed with delight when he located sweat stains, bringing the distended fabric to his face. Gabriel was too distracted by his pervy desires to recognize the shadow falling over him. He did hear the creak of the wood behind him though, immediately twisting his body to find the man looming over him.

“What the fuck do you think yer doin’ here, son?”

His voice shook like thunder, a gravelly weight that crushed Gabriel’s argument before he even had a chance to speak it into existence. The man was certainly over six feet tall and had enough meat on his body that if he laid on Gabriel, he could suffocate him. He was more bear than man with all his hair and muscular bulk, something that in any other situation would have truly turned Gabriel on. Well, Gabriel actually was turned on. Everything besides his cock was terrified, especially when he noted the gun perched right inside of the man’s jeans.

Gabriel stuttered out a response but the man shut him up real quick. “Ya think it’s ok to just walk into another man’s property like this?”

“No! I was just…just looking for-”

“For what, exactly?” The man then noted his discarded laundry slightly behind Gabriel. Gabriel sat frozen as the man put together a conclusion. “Fuck, yer nothin’ but a horny lil faggot, aren’t ya?”

The slur slapped Gabriel in the face. He had never been called it before, but now that the truth was out and proud it stung.

“Yer a degenerate that’s fer sure,” the man spat. “I oughta put ya in yer place ‘fore somethin’ like this happens again.”

Gabriel watched as the man’s hands moved towards his gun. Gabriel’s mouth opened to beg for mercy, ready to plead for his life, but the man simply dropped the gun onto the bed beside him. Then, he undid his belt and let his jeans and boxers fall to the floor, unveiling a massive, hairy cock. The wave of masculine musk splashed into Gabriel moments later, silencing his mind.

“Yeah, that’s good, son,” the man’s voice was warm, drawing Gabriel closer. “That’s a good, obedient cum dump.”

Gabriel did not know what to do. He decided to simply follow the man’s orders.

“Don’t resist it.” The tip of the man’s girthy cock touched Gabriel’s lips. Without thought, Gabriel opened his mouth, letting the guest enter. “All nine inches and, yeah, there ya go.”

Despite it being his first time, Gabriel was surprised by how easy the entire cock fit inside of his mouth. It was a strange realization to discover that he was a natural. Then, he felt the man’s hands place themselves on either side of his skull. With a grunt, the man began thrusting back and forth like a drill.

“Hold…still…son!” The man grunted, picking up speed. Gabriel could barely breathe, and when he did, all he inhaled was the ball sweat of the man’s giant bush. He was powerless as the man used him. Was this some kind of sick ritual? Was the man trying to scar Gabriel for life? If so, it was sort of working. Gabriel’s eyes began to water; he should have never come into this stupid house. He should have just skipped the grill and found something else to eat. But instead Gabriel was here, being used as a hole. The man unloaded himself into his stomach. Gabriel could do nothing as the man’s magmatic flow swirled down his throat and pooled within his stomach. 

“That oughta fix ya up, son,” the man grunted. His cock came out of Gabriel’s mouth with a thick plop! He then proceeded to reassemble himself, pulling up his boxers and jeans like nothing had happened.

Gabriel groaned, his stomach felt bloated. 

“Dontcha worry,” the man assured, replacing his gun. “Yeuh’ll be dandy here in just a few minutes.”

“What…?” Gabriel mumbled, slowly standing up. He felt disoriented, as if the world around him was shifting. Gabriel had expected to find himself at eye level with the man’s pectoral shelf. When his vision finally cleared, he was surprised to find himself facing the man’s beard. 

“Hmmmm, a lil shorter than I woulda liked,” the man said, disappointed.

“How did I…?” Again, Gabriel felt nauseated, as if he was going to puke. Something in his stomach gurgled unnaturally. Gabriel lowered his head, surprised to find the front of his shirt shaking. Panicked, he immediately stripped to get a better view. He had been skinny before, but now there was undeniable definition to his torso. And a tan, and hair.

“What…what did you do to me?” Gabriel nervously asked, although he was not sure if he wanted the answer. He felt his upper chest begin to tingle, watching in horror as it filled out slightly with a sturdy pair of pecs.

“Isn’t it obvious, son?” The man’s tone was belittling. “I redpilled ya.”

“You…what?!” Gabriel’s arms went numb. In seconds they began to ripple, bulking up with lean muscle as the veins corded themselves down the tanning skin. Brown hairs sprung forth all the way to his hands, which grew larger and calloused. Dirt shoved itself underneath his nails as they became misshapen.

“Are ya deaf, son? I redpilled ya.” The man spoke as if it was the most obvious thing. “No use in ya bein’ a lousy fag, so I decided to man ya up.”

Gabriel still did not understand, but he was interrupted by the uneasiness in his lower limbs. Feeling the tightness around his waistband, Gabriel lowered his shorts and underwear immediately, unbothered by the fact that the other man was still in the room. Gabriel’s thighs vibrated, fattening with each shake until they became two hairy logs. His calves strengthened too, bringing the new virility down to his feet which flattened out into a comparable size to the man’s. In fact, now that he thought about it, a lot of Gabriel’s changed body was comparable to the man’s.

“And there’s no better redpill than one straight from the hose,” the man continued. “Yeuh’ll be nothin’ more than my God-fearin, fag-sneerin’ rebel son in no time.”

“S-sOn?!” Gabriel’s voice cracked midway through this realization, losing some of its height and character in the process. His face began to rearrange itself, matching the qualities of the man before him but slightly softening them. Wide clefted chin, duller brown hair, thicker eyebrows and nose. Although Gabriel could not see him, he could feel the resemblance. He did not want to become this man’s son. He did not want to become just another straight white American redneck.

“Let me get ya some new clothes while ya finish up.” The man then left the room, leaving Gabriel alone. What was there to finish up? Was this his chance to escape? Gabriel mentally made the effort to move his limbs, any of them, but instead found himself stuck in place. He had to leave, he had to go back to his cabin. His cabin across the street. No wait, that was the neighbor’s cabin. This was his cabin.

Gabriel shook his head. Where did that thought come from? He had to escape from dad…no this man! He was smart, he was educated. He went to high school. No, home school. Yeah, and Sunday School of course, as every good American should. Pops made sure of that, and made sure he started learning about their heritage from the get-go. Like the great Confederation. His great-great-great-great granddad fought in the Civil War. Or was it his great-great-great-great-great granddad? Either way, God bless ‘em!

And God bless the troops who are fightin’ those wetbacks today! And fightin' the cryin’ libtards tryin’ to take control of their food and water and way of life. And can’t forget the trannies, pervin’ on those sweet lil ladies’ rooms. God, how Gabe wished he could be in those ladies’ rooms. No, no wait he was not like this! He did not want to be some repressed horny loser. Gabe was gay. He liked gu…g...gals. He liked their fat boobs and their wet pussies and everythin’ else his pops told him to like. Gabe fucked any dumb bitch he wanted to. It was his right after all. He was just doin’ God’s duty and bein’ a good American.

Just thinkin’ about impregnatin’ another chick had him throbbin’. His mighty man was pointin’ straight out, thick and heavy just like his pops. He’d have preferred to dump it in something warm, but instead he found his ole familiar friend grippin’ and tuggin’. With a masculine grunt, Gunnar came, spreadin’ his mighty seed onto his dad’s wooden floor.

“Quite the harvest there, son,” his pops laughed, tossing him some clothes. An old tee, dirty jeans, and a baseball cap. Gunnar's favorite cap! All hand-me-downs from his dad.

“Thanks, pops.” Gunnar got dressed and joined his dad in the living room. He plopped down on the old couch and cracked open the fresh beer offered to him. Gunnar felt like he was missing something. Being as dumb as he was, it took him a while to figure it out. Finally, the gears clicked into his head, digging his hand into his back pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes.

“Gotta light?” Gunnar asked, offering the pack to his father.

His pops smirked, taking the offer. “Of course son, all ya had to do was ask.”

via ImAStupidFag

Last year, I was his favorite target to bully. This year, I'm his fag. What's the difference you ask? 

It's simple. Nine months ago I made a deal with him. I'd approached him in the locker room after football practice when he was alone. Wasn't expecting to see me, he was a tad bit defensive. And right there, I gave him my proposition. I would suck his cock any time he liked IF he stopped bullying me in public. To prove my point, I got on my knees and kissed his cock through his towel. When he didn't stop me, I pulled the towel off and took him into my mouth, giving him the best blowjob I could. He quickly came in my mouth, got dressed, and walked away without another word. 

Why did I propose you this deal? 

I'd accepted that I was gay, he was hot, and I might be able to use this to my advantage...at first. 

You see, the bullying in public did stop but he was ruthless when he'd corner me in private for a bj. Complaining about my blowjob skills for months. Until one Friday, he told me to go to his place after practice. Remembering that I did promise blowjobs anytime, I did go but I was scared out of my mind. 

When I got there, he was by himself. He told me two things: that his parents were gone for the weekend, and that he was going to teach me how to give a proper blowjob with deepthroat this weekend. And he did just that. If I wasn't sleeping, I was either between his legs or on his bed with his 7 inch cock in my mouth. 

He did notice one thing, the more he degraded me the harder my admittedly small 4 inches got. Faggot, cocksucker, cumdump, stupid fag, you name it, he called me it and I started to love it. 

At the end of the weekend, he placed a small box on the table before I left. He hold me that if I put it on, he would stop anyone from bullying me and sent me home. 

What was in the box? 

A chastity cage of course. At first I wasn't sure if I should put it on. That would be super embarrassing and counter productive to my goal. But, the thought of no bulling and no gym on Mondays convinced me to try it. 

That Monday, mph! I was by myself and out of nowhere he walked up to me and grabbed my caged crotch. The sheer masculine dominance he displayed had me straining in his cage as a big smile grew on his face. 

He hold me, "you know what this means, right?"

I shook my head no, honestly not getting at what he meant. 

"It means you're now my personal faggot to fuck and use however I want. My property." 

Admittedly, I did shed a tear, unsure of what would happen. 

"That's nothing to cry about fag. Like I said, no one will bully you again. And think about all the new ways you'll get your little fag rocks off to me and my cock. Living out your little fag dream. And" his voice got a little deeper, "as my property, I don't want to see you broken."

That last line is what did it for me. I reached into my pocket and gave him the keys to my cage, accepting that I was now his faggot. 

True to his word, he fucked me over and over. Made me lick his feet, clean out his pits after practice, and if anyone bothered me, he would stop it. 

You think its weird that we get off to pits and feet? 

via aspergaythoughts

You’d spent hours crafting a speech for you’re straight republican roommate, one that detailed why His homophobic views on gays were wrong. However, you had barely gotten out the first sentence before He propped His sweaty foot up on a nearby table. Immediately you began stuttering, attempting to maintain just one train of thought in His presence.

Before you could however, He told you that you could continue your speech while massaging His feet. This seemed reasonable enough. At least He was offering to listen, you thought. Not five minutes into the massage though and He had your tongue between His toes and you denouncing every thing you were trying to say to him about gays and equality.

For more 18+ content, check out my Onlyfans for erotic stories featuring man stink and more! https://onlyfans.com/jettroguewrites Zach watched his best friend from his slightly cracked door as he was relieving the built up pressure in his balls. Jeff was so eager to cum that his mind didn’t even care that his door was ajar. Weeks of pent up sexual urges were too strong to contain.

“Is he looking at… men licking each other’s arm pits?!” Zach squinted. He indeed was. Jeff even sniffed his own before speeding up the fapping. Zach took a deep breath and walked right into Jeff’s room.

“Okay buddy! Enough is enough… is THIS why some of my gym tshirts have gone missing? Do you sniff them?” Zach questioned. Jeff was frantically trying to contain his cock back inside his underwear but he knew it was too late. “I… I can explain!” Jeff was shaking. “DUDE! There’s no need to worry man… I mean sure it’s weird… but we’re bros… if you want a pit to lick I can help a brother out.” Zach smiled as Jeff’s eyes grew wide. Zach lifted his arm pit and leaned to the side to stick it right into Jeff’s face. “Go on buddy… jerk one out… give it a sniff bro.” Zach’s pit was ripe, after a full day of working out, he forgot to shower and knew he was pretty smelly. He was doing laundry so he didn’t want to get sweaty again in the hot laundry room outside his apartment. Luckily… he found a great use for his stink in his best buddy, and roommate Jeff.

Jeff moaned with every inhale of Zach’s hot garbage smelling pits. His strokes became easier as his cock grew harder in his fist. As he continued to inhale, the feeling grew too intense, he started spraying wad after wad of cum onto the bed.

“Keep going buddy… I bet it’s still stinky as fuck!” Zach’s pit sweat started combining with the sweat on Jeff’s face as it dripped down into Jeff’s mouth. Jeff tasted his roommate’s funk with every swallow of his sweat.

Moaning, Jeff submissively agreed to keep stroking. His balls were still loaded with so much cum, that he never wanted to stop.

Me (20M) and my best friend (20M), let’s call him Matt, have been friends since primary school. We were always the nerds at school : he’s kinda chubby and wears glasses, I’m tall and scrawny and although I don’t wear glasses, I wore them until middle school. We bonded over nerdy interests like video games and comics, and often went to the night market together to search for a Sonic game, Pokémon cards and new comics (he’d even encourage me to read them at the booth before the shopkeeper noticed !). We were inseparable best friends, doing everything together.

But when we started going to middle school things started being complicated. You know, the guys start becoming jocks and they start acting like assholes who only care about developing their social network and sports, while they let their schoolwork go to waste. I was always against that ! I was often top of the class because I studied well, while they willingly abandoned that ! But Matt was not faring as well as I did. You see, while he is very intelligent, he has trouble concentrating, so he did not work a lot and did not get exceptional grades. His parents would often chastise him for it, calling those grades explicitly bad (while jocks had much worse results !) so you can imagine that he was very down during middle and high school.

I tried to help him by showing how much he was not like the jocks ! I would tell him that they play football, grow their muscles, get cringey hairstyles, listen to rap, go to parties, etc. etc. Also they would get expensive skin treatments that makes their body unnatural and all that (which I insisted on because at the time he was quite self-conscious about his bad case of acne) And he did none of those jock things, so he just had to concentrate a bit more and ask for help ! He had all it takes to become a productive member of society unlike them ! I even helped him avoid that trap when we came back from holidays once and he grew a mustache even though it’s something only jocks do (he said it was a dare from his sister though)

So fast forwards to around today. We made sure to go to the same local university and both went to IT. I continued helping him with his classes, but I noticed that he started hanging out with non-mutual friends more and more (which is fine,in principle!) However, I noticed that he started changing little by little, and not for the better. Individually they were not thatbad : he got himself a more "popular" haircut with short sides, he started to listen to more R&B-like music, he decided to stop the study sessions… but taken together it’s as if he was getting more jock-like as time went on.

Of course, I had to snap him out of it ! So we got into a discussion, that turned into an argument when he told me that he wanted to switch majors to business, and in the end he said that he would be eating with someone I’ll name Peter (20M I think ?) that is likethebig jock in class ! We haven’t properly talked since, and I think I’m losing my best friend to the band of those vain people who only care about sports and parties, not about having a successful career and serving the nation.

So that was all the background to why I’m writing this post in the first place (that argument was 1 month ago btw) : two days ago he sent me a message asking me whether I’ll cheer for him at that big night run event that happens in my city tomorrow. I feel very bad about all of that, because I feel Matt will become a worse version of himself and he has put so much effort into becoming a good person ! So I don’t want to enable him in that bad path ! But at the same time… I just miss my best friend, I want him back, so I’m having second thought.

Considering all of that, AITA ?

⬆ 1 ⇩　　🗩 0　　⮫ Share

And I hit send on the post.

It was… hard to put all my feelings like that on the internet. It feels as if I am naked in front of everybody, especially in front of a public tens of thousands big ‒ considering Reddit’s size. But I need an outside opinion. Especially considering I am someone who strongly believes in better rather than more numerous friends, so losing one is painful ‒ especially one as important to me as Mateus.

He was always so important to me, and was even the one who supported me while I was struggling with my sexuality over highschool and uni ! He was the one to accept me as his gay friend even though he’s 100% straight ! And I should show him the same kindness he has shown me by keeping him on the straight path towards success and a good life ! It is just the natural and kind thing to do !

However, barely a few minutes after that post was sent, comments start pouring in. And they are… not delightful.

YTA For the love of god go get checked you’ve got some terrible af opinions

No wonder your friend wants an out

⇧ Vote ⇩　　🗩 Reply　　⮫ Share

Wayyyyy too much details I’m not here to read a biography!

YTA btw

⇧ Vote ⇩　　🗩 Reply　　⮫ Share

YTA bro can’t assume he has a type and bullies his friend for it :D :D :D

⇧ Vote ⇩　　🗩 Reply　　⮫ Share

How can people be so mean ? After I poured my heart online this is what they have to answer ! They’re mocking me ! I should never have done this, I’ll be better working this all out alone ! This was such a huge mistake, I’ll delete my post and stop the bloodbath. I don’t want people coming from that and review bombing the Sonic fangame I’m working on for daring to ask help on the internet.

Before I do that, I do check the last comment notification. Just in case, before pulling the plug entirely.

YTA. I think you ultimately mean well, but you are wayyy too afraid of change to consider your friend’s feelings properly.

If you want to continue being friend with Matt (which I assume you want), you should go to that run and support him on this new phase of his life.

People change, and you should be ready to accept that. And who knows, you might find that this new Matt is not as bad as you imagined ;)

⇧ Vote ⇩　　🗩 Reply　　⮫ Share

I stop, and after rereading it a few times, I decide to give it an upvote. In fact, as kinder comments pour in and the aggressive ones get pruned out by moderation, they all seem to confirm the read of that commentator. Is it possible that the Mateus I’d see tomorrow is still the Mateus I know ? Or is it only the beginning of the end as he drifts towards jockhood, idle life and forgets everything we love ? Everything he is ?

Or is it all just because I don’t want things to change ?

I mulled over the question for a whole day and was not able to come to a conclusive answer. The only decision I was able to come to ‒ one that got confirmed by even more of the comments and discussions spawning under my post ‒ is that I should go see Mateus’ run. At least for a last goodbye before he is lost forever. So I send him a message that I’ll be there ‒ mere hours before the start. He answered excitedly, saying that he wished I could run with him for this "run of a lifetime".

What a joke. But…. I have already decided to make an effort. Just this once.

To say farewell to my friend.

I dress myself in my smart-looking chinos and polo, my short kinky black hair well in place, ready to go out… to see a running competition. What a peculiar situation to find myself in.

When I arrive at the place where the competition is set to start, I notice Mateus already in runner’s gear : black shorts, a black graphic tee with anime motifs hanging loose, a black cotton band right above his glasses and a white square biometric watch ‒ how he managed to get a hold of that with his meager student funds is beyond me. But before I can approach him, I see him in discussion… with Pedro. That looksmaxxer-type guy with those perfect curls that is definitely in our IT class with the sole goal of showing off his big muscles. I always keep an eye on him whenever he appears... Because he is the exact kind of bad influences I am afraid of.

When Mateus notices me however, he dismisses the jock and trots towards me.

"Hey, Gabriel ! So you ended up coming !" He smiles weakly. ‒ Well, I at least owed you that…"

An awkward silence falls upon both of us.

"So I’m guessing I should just watch you from those bleachers ?" I point to the temporary set of benches set in reclining fashion near the race beginning. ‒ Yeah, that would be the best place ! The whole course is 10km long, there are two laps of 5km, so this way you can see me three times ! And you’ll even see my finish !" He seems excited by this prospect. "They also have a big screen so you’ll see me even when I’m in another part of the course ! ‒ Okay."

I don’t actually really know what to say. We awkwardly wave each other goodbye, but before we each go in our own direction I can’t help but sneak in a snarky remark.

"Have fun with Pedro ! ‒ Hey !" He looks offended. "You know, when you get to know him he’s actually a cool guy ! ‒ Well, I’m warning you, it’s not my fault if it ends badly.” I shoot an eye back at Pedro, who’s smiling talking with other contestants, shaking his perfect curls… Ugh. I snap my eyes back to my friend. ‒ Here we go again. You know, Gabriel, you’re so judgmental. I…" He sighs. "You know what, let’s talk again after the run."

I sigh, before taking place in the bleachers. I look at Mateus frolicking around with his jock friend. He stands out like a sore thumb, as the only chubby guy in a band of cut people ‒ granted there are a greater variety of men and women at the back. But one thing that I notice is that his face radiates of happiness. An expression I have seen him bear rather little in the last few years ‒ most often when we were doing LAN parties or discussing the latest scans of One Piece.

Am I actually the asshole ?

Suddenly interrupting my idle thoughts, the sound system announces the imminent beginning of the race. All the runners take place in front of the beginning line. Mateus is squeezed in the middle of the pack, but his eyes show readiness. Silence befalls the assembly, in anticipation. Everybody looks focused, ready to run at the very moment the gun will fire. Even I am taken by the tension in the air, looking closely at my best friend.

And then...

BANG !

Everybody starts running. People in the bleachers start cheering, encouraging the friends they came to support. I, on the other hand, limit myself to staring at Mateus. He does not have the greatest start as he is quickly squeezed by people on his sides as they try to pass him over. I see surprise in his eyes ‒ he likely expected people to simply run forwards, not try to converge towards the middle.

But he finally ends up advancing, and slowly leaves my field of view as I notice a drone flying overhead. I take this opportunity to look up at the giant screen, and see its footage alongside some data on the run and a map of where the runners are. If I can concede to this race anything, it would be these shots. I have rarely seen Palhoça from above, and never at night. Seeing the city I’ve always called my home from this different angle is really impressive, and aesthetically pleasing in a way I wouldn’t have anticipated.

Suddenly, I notice Mateus in the footage. The image is taken from rather far away, but I can easily make out his all-black clothes on chubby form. But there is something quite… weird on the footage. It is subtle, but he usually has hair that is just a bit wavy. However, in the footage, it looks messy, almost to the points where it looks… curly ?

No, it’s likely my imagination over-interpreting a bunch of blurry pixels. There’s no way someone’s hair spontaneously curls just because they’re taking part in a random night run. That’s ridiculous. And unscientific. Imagine Mateus with one of those jockish hairstyles, hair settled into a bush of well-defined curls, bouncing under his step as they overhang on his headband and skin-shaved sides...

How ridiculous. He’d look atrocious like that. Absolutely. And if it happened to me, I’d panic, because I’m not one of those dumb jocks with those terrible hairstyles. I refocus on the footage before me, and I notice that the angle of the drone has changed and obscured Mateus. I guess I did not notice that happening.

While waiting for him to reappear, however, I take a look over the other contestants. I recognize some of them ‒ not least of which Pedro and his perfect finger coils ‒ however some of them look a bit off. I cannot really tell what, since I don’t have any interest for jocks, but just like Mateus… Yeah, just like Mateus it’s surely a matter of compression.

Speaking of, although I don’t see him on the screen just yet, I notice on the minimap that the runners are about to finish the first lap. Indeed, looking down to the street, I notice some people coming around from the right. As the cheers start coming in, I decide that this will be a better sign than any that nothing happened and that this hallucination is but a product of my fears.

I watch as the runners start crossing the lap line one by one. Mateus is around the end of the main cohort last I saw ‒ which is much better than I ever expected him to manage ! ‒ so I bite my time. Face after face cycle before my eyes. Most men bear facial hair and trendy hairstyles, while most women wear ponytails and skintight clothes.

And, suddenly, I notice him.

I watch him as he approaches.

I…

I cannot…

I can’t describe this.

He…

He actually has curly hair.

His glasses have disappeared.

And a mustache manifested.

What the fucking hell ? What is happening ? I swear he wasn’t like that when I saw him, else I would have freaked out already ! But that would have been nothing when compared to the freaking out I’m having right now ! Over the span of a few minutes, in a televised race, Mateus has not only somehow permed his hair creating some well-curated photogenic set of curls on top of his head, shaved to the skin the sides of his head to that cringey and atrocious style that all jocks seem to be in love with and corrected his vision to a point where he doesn’t need glasses anymore, but his lip has grown hair into a skinny but well-furbished mustache as well ?

This… this is not possible ! I stand up as if I could get a better look, but no matter how I look, where I look or when I look, he always looks… changed.

As I watch him leave my field of view, I cannot help but imagine how it must have been like. To be running, and as you run you take your hands up into your hair, likely to push up some loose strands. But those slowly start snaking under your fingers, looping around them little by little. When you put your hand down, your hair bounces back up, but rather than their usual straight quality they keep that curly pattern, fluttering in the wind as it finds itself more voluminous. The air now has to pass through the sides of your head rather than on the busy top, becoming more and more sensitive as the hair there slowly shrinks. You take your glasses out as some strands stick on them, but your vision unblurs at that very moment, so you just decide to throw them aside to be forgotten.

You then put down your hand on your upper lip as it starts itching. You feel your skin becoming more and more rough below your fingertips, so you try rubbing it. But instead of softening it becomes even more coarse, as hairs start growing under your fingertips. It continues itching all over your upper lip, in a thin line up until a band of short hair has grown, and suddenly it becomes your new normal. You always looked so vain, so self-important, so... eye-catching. Trying to make yourself look so good that you end up as a ridiculous amalgamation of ideas, none of which work together. Yet nobody can take their eyes off of you.

Or at least I can’t.

I try chasing those thoughts from my mind, but as I look back up at the giant screen, seeing the heads of all the runners, I can’t help but think of what happened to Mateus. What if the next time I see him he has changed again ? What if he is taller, skinnier, hairier… dumber ? No, no, I don’t want that ! I want my friend ! I want my Mateus ! Not this horridly warped version of him that is corrupting into a jock ! I... I can’t look at it !

Yet, looking down to my legs, I just keep on thinking about those jocks, their immaculately ridiculous styles, their unwavering confidence and certainty in their self-righteousness. I can’t ! I can’t think about that ! Or else... Else... I’ll continue thinking of what’s happening to Mateus ! yeah that’s totally what I’d be thinking of.

I finally look back up at the screen and look at the contestants. Thankfully, it seems like Mateus is not captured by the drone flying overhead. But when I look at them I can’t help but wonder if they saw what happened to my best friend. If they noticed someone changing before their eyes. Or even if what happened to him happened to any of them.

How many of those contestants used to be normal people, before they suddenly became jocks, becoming the beacons of everybody’s attention ? And how much will they still change before the end of this clearly cursed race ?

Suddenly, I notice from the corner of my eyes the ‒ now curly ‒ head of Mateus. I don’t want to look at him. I don’t want to push him into corruption. When I finally take the courage to do look at him directly, I notice that his way of running looks… different.

It is weird, it seems like he is running better, faster, and even… tighter, if this makes sense. It’s as if his arms were pressed closer to his body, as if he had less bounciness to his step. Is it just because he is tired ? No, if he was he’d be running slower, while he is in fact now higher than before in the cohort. Is it because he is getting used to it ? No, even if he was it wouldn’t change his corpulence.

The only solution is…

…

No, I refuse.

And indeed, just as I decide that, the drone pans towards the back of the pack, obscuring the faint figure of Mateus. I hear some rather loud fans scream encouraging words to people like Ana, Felipe, João or Cecília. They seem all normal enough in that part of the pack, few look like outright jocks. Yet they participate in that running event, and are cheered on by their friends. Can you enjoy this kind of things without being a jock ? … or without becoming a jock ?

Soon enough more cheers ring, and looking at the map, I noticed that the runners are finally close to finishing their final lap. Looking to the right, as expected, the few forerunners appear, and seem to be starting a big sprint. Well, sprint might be a big word, considering it is only a bit faster than the speed they had shown till now. I guess they are pretty tired after more than 35 minutes of running.

I scout every head. I recognize Pedro again, near the front of the pack, but I do not really care about him anymore. I want to see my best friend again. And when the front of the pack starts being visible, my greatest fear has finally materialized.

Although the guy I see approaching the finish line has the traits of Mateu, none would believe them to be the same person. Not only does this new jock have a mustache, a curly undercut and has lost his glasses, but his body is entirely different. His excess fat was all burned off, revealing inflated pectorals that firmly extend towards his shoulders. Those have grown in size, looking almost detached from the rest of Mateu’s body considering how boulder-y they look besides the man’s developed traps.

Below that, Mateu’s gut has fully receded, letting only what is presumably a skinny frame swim in the XL graphic tee, last remnant of the nerd I knew. In fact, when he takes its hem to sponge out sweat on his face, it reveals a pair of six packs remaining on his midsection. His arms have also ballooned, biceps looking massive as he swings his arms in what is by now an expert motion. His ass seems to have been pushed out by all the muscles that have been developing in his legs, becoming perky ‒ and quite salacious.

Imagine for a second that you are in this run, and every step you take shrinks your gut and strengthens your leg… every swing of your arm strengthens your arms and pushes your pecs out… Becoming a stud as you are reduced to a jock… Fuck, no, what am I even thinking ! This is… so bad ! All levels of bad ! I can’t be feeling‒ It’s Mateus we’re speaking about !

He is my best friend since primary school ! I shouldn’t be imagining his transformation, I should be regretting his old form ! Finding a way to bring him back to who he really is !But as he crosses the finish line, I see him exploding in glee, to a degree I have never seen him feel. He takes his shirt out fully and casts it aside before making bro-hugs with other contestants. Then, as if to rub salt in my wound, he faces the bleachers and flexes, grinning with perfect teeth in front of everyone.

I force myself to look away.

Tears leak out of my eyes.

I have lost a friend.

I don’t have the courage. There is no going back.

He… betrayed me.

Yet... my eyes cannot help but be drawn back to him.

I decide to walk out of the bleachers and start making my way out of the competition before the festivities can properly start. I don’t want to meet him. I want to preserve the memory I have of him. I don’t want to keep thinking of this jock version of him. I want to think about the normal Mateus, not the eye-catchingly handsome jock with the ridiculous hair and mustache ! I want out of here !

"Gabriel !"

The voice sounds deeper and more confident, but I can immediately tell to whom it belongs. I turn back and see the remains of my best friend motioning me to approach. My eyes look up and down, committing every detail to memory.

How can he still want to mock me ! He is renouncing all of our years of friendship, and now he wants to show me how much of a noob he was to be a nerd like me ? How much he is better now, how much he loathes having ever been friends with me, how much he hates video games and comics ?

How much of a noob I am to still be one of those nerds ?

I furrow my brow and approach with conviction. I will show him that he has made a mistake. I will show him that he should have listened to me. I can bring his real self back. Not only that, but I also won’t let him try to tempt me into becoming an unproductive member of society. I was right to say that going to a jock activity would make him into a jock, and I don’t want to fall in the same trap.

"What. Mateu." I ask, sharply, forcing myself to look away. ‒ What did you think of this ? I went above and beyond ! ‒ Who are you and what did you do to Mateu."

His smile waivers.

"I am Mateu." The grin comes back, as he flexes. "I found my true self doing this race, and I guess its power remolded me into what I needed to be ! And I’m sure it can do the same to you !"

As I predicted, he wants me to join the side of the jocks. He wants me to think that this is normal, that this has always been what it should come down to.

"No, you’ve been… transformed ! You’re not the same person anymore ! ‒ In some ways, yes. You know, I’ve always wanted to do that, to have fun doing sports and looking cool ! But I’m still me below ! ‒ Hah ! Well I think we can agree that you’d rather die but try speedrunning Sonic 3 again. After all, now, you need to go to the gym, huh ?" I spit, my words full of vitriol. ‒ I’d die not trying to speedrun Sonic 3 again with you ! That was so fucking cool to do ! ‒ You’re just trying to coax me into believing you are still the old you so you can drag me along with those… terrible fashion choices and all." I look away again.

His grin falls as he takes a long inspiration and pinches his nose.

"You know, you haven’t changed since middle school. You’re still so trapped up in your own world that you can’t even consider things that don’t fit in. You know, back in high school when I tried to grow my mustache ? I was so proud of it, I thought that finally this was something that would make me look good even if I had tons of acne ! But you decided that mustaches were one of those jock traits and you all but forced me to shave it down ! ‒ Yes, but‒ ‒ Let me finish." He cuts me violently. "So I did it, and then I felt terrible about it after. I was finally feeling good about myself, and I let you sacrifice me for you delusions. I would still have loved video games and comics, you know ! In fact, I still love them right now ! But I had to chose between feeling good with myself and being your friend. Yesterday, I chose being your friend, but today, I chose feeling good with myself."

I look at him. His eyes betray a deep sadness. It is not for show. These are his real feelings, that he hid from me all this time. Was I… really the source of sadness ? The reason why he was seldom happy ? Was I a bad friend like those commentators were saying ?

Was I actually the asshole ?

"I don’t want to lose you." Tears start welling, again. ‒ Me neither. But I want to be my own person as well, and... you have prevented me from doing that, until now. ‒ I… I was trying to protect you ! I was worried that if I didn’t help you… what your parents were saying about you would be true…"

He gives me a weak smile.

"Who cares about them, really ? We’re both adults ! Now is the time to shape your stories ! Your fate is in your hand !"

I can’t help but laugh through my tears at the random Final Fantasy X quote, delivered with such panache.

It’s definitively Mateu under this mountain of muscles.

"Sorry… But, you’re sure this is what you want ? To be a jock ? ‒ Look cool and do sports like this ?" He flexes again. I look down. "Absolutely. But be a jock like in highschool ? Well I think you’d do better to update your playbook, because those I’ve met are nothing like those bullies."

I raise an eyebrow.

"Even Pedro ? He’s such a disgustingly vain guy, with how much effort he takes to look at the pinnacle of hotness ! ... which of course he isn’t ‒ have you seen his finger coils ? ‒ Honestly ? Especially Pedro. My god, Gabriel, you have to meet him. I’m sure you two would hit it off so well."

He shows a smile of a devilish quality that I know so well from all the times he made me fall for a prank. I raise my second eyebrow, but then finally smile back.

"Well, I do owe you for being a terrible friend all these years. I cannot promise any kind of result, but I can promise that I’ll make an effort to tolerate him for an evening. ‒ Thanks, Gabriel."

He smiles, before looking around and approaching me. I can smell his sports funk ‒ which does turn me on a little.

"You know, parties like these were never really my thing… What do you say we go to your place and play some Street Fighter ? ‒ You’re on !"

UPDATE: AITA for not wanting to come to my best friend’s run?

Original here

First, thanks to all your comments. They were harsh, but ultimately… you guys were right.

I ended up going to Matt’s (my best friend) run, and we had the opportunity to talk. I saw that he was very happy in this new scene, but at the same time he was still the same person he always was. He’s just more complex than I ever gave him credits for. I apologized for my behavior, and as a congratulations party we had a blast playing video games and talking about comics just like before. I have my best friend back !

Since then, I accepted to meet up with one of his jock friends (Peter that I mentioned last time). Turns out that guy is actually a very nice guy with the same kinds of interests as me, so I guess I was very wrong with all that jock traits thing ^^’ Matt meanwhile decided to switch majors to business next year and signed up for the running club, all the while he helped me in creating a retro games club at our university. He smiles a lot more, and even found a girlfriend !

So thank you Reddit for opening my eyes and saving my friendship !

Also, at next year’s run, I decided that I’ll join (even though I don’t like sports at all). Apparently, it’s life-changing, and as a good friend I should take interest in what my friends like ! ^^

⬆ 1 ⇩　　🗩 0　　⮫ Share

He learned very well that it's okay to humiliate faggots and that homophobia is natural, but homosexuality isn't.

He will be the reason why your daughter becomes a teenage single mother and has to give up her plans.

He was raised to be a soldier of masculinity. A spokesperson for male superiority. A proud defender of toxic masculinity.

He voted for Trump in the last election, and he'll vote for him again in 2028. And if it were up to him, no Democrat would ever come to power again.

Kylo looked in the mirror, he admired the mass added by the stranger who moments ago moaned his name. Kylo had absorbed men before, he enjoyed adding them to his body and enhancing himself but he never really stopped and learned about his body. However, in the hotel mirror he glared as he noticed his skin was clearer and tighter than before, he seemed to have a glow about him that wasn’t present before the stranger was digested.

Dirty Desires : Hypnotic Hasan

"Do you want to put your face against my ass?"

"I do!"

"Do you want to sniff my ass?"

"I do!"

"Do you want to taste my ass?"

"I do!"

"And do you want to sniff my farts?"

"I do!"

Dirty Desires : Gassy Gamble

"Listen up pledge! This is your final test to decide your future in the Fraternity. Normally it would be a simple ceremony and that would be you in. But since you went out a few weeks ago and drunkenly gambled your assigned frat brothers money away, he thought there should be consequences. One of us just spent the last week on a higher than healthy protein and fibre diet. Eight eggs a day, fibre bar at each meal, that kind of stuff. The other has had a clean diet with barely any gassy foods. You must choose to put your face in one of our asses to worship for the next couple of hours while being held in place by the other if needed. Its a 50/50 chance of being gassed into a deep sleep or having an easy clean ass takeout session. But hey, you are a gambling man! So get to betting!"

When an A-List star refuses to bare his butt on camera, Wyatt and Preston, two hapless junior producers, search for the double-cheeked double to fill his place. Which struggling Hollywood newbie will fill in by showing off what fills out his pants?

You used to be a sub, then a dude with a musky leather jacket and a doe-eyed side piece showed you how good it feels to dominate.

You used to be a fag, then a man with biceps bigger than your skull and four wives showed you how good it feels to pound pussy.

You used to wear deodorant and cologne, then a bro with an allegation and size 14 feet taught you that when you smell like a man, your stink fogs over your anxieties.

You used to shave yourself smooth, then a bro with wild pits and olive oil in his hair showed you how the hair traps the musk and hides your imperfections, not that you have any you beast.

You used to go to university, then a gym rat with loud flip-flops and a muscle shirt with sleeve holes cut down to his waist taught you how the ache in your muscles after a heavy workout is much more satisfying then the ache in your brain during a test.

You used to be a leftist, then a deep-voiced alpha with a bright hat and a thick beard taught you that you're a male, you were born to rule.

You used to love your girlfriend, then all your bros made you remember women exist to impregnated and raise your spawn, not loved, and you can get all the attention you need from a good brojob and a chest day.

Finally, you used to be a person, then you looked in the mirror and what cockily grinned back can only be described as an ape. You flexed your hulking arm, the jungle of pit hair beneath wafting the stench of perfection over your stupid breeder brain. You fumbled with your phone, your fingers too thick and calloused to operate it, to see a text from Jake,

2 wombs ovr here need seed bro cum hlp

You sat on the park bench staring at the skate park just a few hundred yards away from you. Filled with envy as you watched all the dudes skating around with their bros, farting and burping non stop whilst having the time of their lives. You wished you could’ve experienced a life like that but instead you were thrown into your family business at 18 and have been stuck there for the past 20 years. You woke up every morning immediately going to work and by the time you were done the sun was staring to set. You felt trapped in the boring office lifestyle.

Your day off usually included going for a walk but never towards the skate park. You felt drawn here today but all it did was disappoint you as it felt like it was a way of the universe flaunting you with what you didn’t have. As you sat at the bench you looked down to the side and saw a black bat left behind. It looked like it had been soaked in sweat and worn a lot. You picked it up and examined it. A black cap with red embellishment that stunk of sweat covered by cans of Axe body spray. You don’t know why but you felt inclined to but the hat on.

You slid the hat onto your head immediately finding yourself in a completely different location. You looked down to see a skateboard in your hand, something you’d never owned let alone held. You quickly looked up to see a bunch of dudes aged 18-20 around you. You didn’t know why you were hear but you knew that it felt right. You suddenly felt a rumbling in your stomach before lifting your leg and *PFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTT* letting out a massive 12 second fart smelling of cheap booze and greasy food.

Your mates yelling at you with awe of how amazing that last fart was, but your stomach disagreeing by continuing to release tiny but deadly farts every few seconds. You leaned over still not fully aware what had changed and why you don’t remember where or who you were but only that you belonged. You looked over at your mates before letting out one last *BRAPPPPPPPP*

“Oye bruvs I think I just shit myself” before grabbing your board and running to the nearest McDonald’s, a place the old you wouldn’t dare to visit. But the new you had no recollection of that life. You sprinted to the toilet letting out gnarly ass bombs on the way, leaving your skateboard out side as you sat on the toilet. Yoh pulls out your phone whilst you shit and started taking photos to send to your mates. Showing off your stinky new feet and fart videos. You couldn’t remember anything but knew this was your new life.

You left the McDonald’s with toilet paper stuck to your shoes as you headed towards your new home completely forgetting about your previous life. The skateboard left forgotten outside the shop faintly starting to flow, ready to transform its next victim into a hot gassy bro.

You sat in your house immediacy opening up a hidden compartment and pulling out your bong. You took a hit something you were unsure how you knew how to do but still were able to. You lifted your leg letting out a room filling fart that caused you to relase a deep chuckle. You called your mates telling em to come home and smoke and jerk off after they’re done skating. While you waited you walked over to the shower and threw your dirty trousers into the tub. You weren’t exactly sure what the shower was when you’d rented the condo but assumed it was just a glorified laundry basket. You waited on the cum stained couch sniffing your armpits and feet enjoying your new life of a jobless 20 year old alpha. All you had to do was make faggots submit your you online. You enjoyed how easy your life was and wouldn’t change a bloody thing

You know I have a lot of depression and anxiety both about the world and my life . I sure wish I had an easy and carefree life where I didn’t have any worries and couldn’t think at all.

Huhuhu, yeah bro. I don't get what those big words you said at the beginning are, but having it easy and carefree is where its at! Who wants to think about sad shit when you can be young, dumb, and full of cum?! Huhuhuhu Fuck yeah bro.

---

Saw a shooting star and just wish I could be a confident strong man's man. My siblings see me as a wuss and all the guys at my college walk all over me. I just wish for a change

It’s time to thank your lucky stars because it looks like your wish came true! You’re not sure how it happened, but the day after you made that wish, you woke up in the body of a muscular, macho, manly man of a man! Your younger brothers, who used to mock you, now look up at you like you hung the stars in the sky, and the college jocks who used to bully you now follow you with a mindless, feverish loyalty. It seems your wish to be a “man’s man” may have been taken a little to literally, because you are definitely gay now, but on the bright side you have twinks literally throwing themselves at you, so you’re getting a lot more tail than before

---

I love my boyfriend so much he is so sensible and so nerdy and so cute, so when he was forced to move out into his straight dumb jock big brother's frat house, I was very sad. What's worse is that he moved out last week and he hasn't replied since he arrived there, I hope they are getting along and he is not getting bullied. Should I visit?

You can’t seem to find your boyfriend anywhere! It’s been a week and you haven’t heard anything from him since he moved into his brothers frat house. You went over to visit, but his brother said he hadn’t seen him for a while. Or, brothers, I should say. You had no idea that your boyfriend’s older brother Chad had a twin named Brad, but your boyfriend never liked to talk about his family, so that wasn’t that surprising. Chad and Brad were surprisingly nice too. They saw how depressed you were and invited you to drink with them. It’s good beer too. Makes you feel all warm and dizzy inside… makes you forget your troubles… make you forget…. Forget….

Huhuhuhuhu

---

Me and my husband just bought an amazing house that we somehow managed to afford, just when we were unpacking, the hottest suburban preppy muscle daddy and his gorgeous hunky preppy son appeared at our door welcoming us and offering some help, so while we are doing stuff the son is really excited for some reason to help my husband while I’m with the dad talking which is weird because it would be the other way around as I’m the younger and more chaotic of the couple.

You weren't expecting the rich hunk next door and his frat boy son to suddenly burst in on you and your husband well you were unpacking, but you figured that maybe this was one of those neighborhoods where people felt comfortable entering someone elses house. You had always lived in cities, where that kind of behavior would get someone shot, but you knew that some more traditional towns worked like that, and Befton was definitely a more traditional town. All your friends back in the city said the guys in Befton, or as they jokingly called it Beef-Ton, were big, rich, traditional, and homophobic, so you had been somewhat worried that the two muscular strangers who had come over were going to run you out of town or something, but they were surprisingly nice. The frat boy, whose name you learned was Sterling, quickly got into a conversation with your boyfriend, who smiled politely as the jock talked about the upcoming football season, well you and his dad, Preston, got to know each other.

As the two of you talked, you could feel your attention drift off. You didn't want to be rude, but you couldn't keep your eyes off Preston. His expensive, showy clothing, his perfect tan, his toned muscles…. something about them spoke to you. Something about him, about his pressence, made you feel… wrong. Like you were wrong. You weren't supposed to be like you had always been. You had to be… like him. You felt your body tense as lean muscles appeared across your body, pushing against the fine fabric of an expensive polo you hadn't been wearing before. You grinned at Preston, a charming, plastic grin that felt so perfect on your now flawless face, before looking out the window. One of the reasons you had moved to Befton was the beautiful beaches, and it looked like your son Ambrose and his new friend were already enjoying the sun. You knew he'd fit right in at his new college. Everyone who moved into Befton fit was a perfect fit after all. Everything was perfect. it had to be.

---

Some days like this I wish I humored order and structure to my life so I could become not only successful but powerful and elite. I also hate how alone I am feeling lately and would love to be surrounded by other people who not only enjoyed my company but could help make me the best me I could be. I just recently got an ad in the mail for Preppy-Tory Academy that basically promised it can help make friends and fix my broken life I just attend one of their seminars. I really hope they can help me become my best self.

Welcome to Preppy-Tory Academy, a specialized school for turning regular joe-shmoes into true elites. See, these days the read men of the world are harder to find than ever, so instead of trying to hang on to the few true elites in the world, we just make more! Soon you'll have rippling muscles, a cocky smirk, and expensive clothing you only wear to show off your sculpted body and audacious wealth. Welcome to a life of looking down on people and partying with your fellow beautiful rich people. I'm sure you'll love it