Mexican Muscle

Indeed still kinda on it cause this is not a new story but a traslation to English of - i Think - my first post, but it fits the holidays, so, enjoy!.

An straight-foward Halloween

Marco and Jalil lived together in their cute and tidy apartment. Every Halloween, they used to make a splash at parties with elaborate costumes. However, this year they had decided on a less produced, but still fun, Halloween costume: the two boyfriends would dress up as straight men.

It was a stupid idea, but everyone loves a good satire.

Jalil had opted for a pair of Bermuda shorts and a national soccer team jersey. Marco, on the other hand, was wearing some baggy sweatpants and a white, sleeveless undershirt that he had also dyed a yellowish-brown in the armpit area to make it look like a sweaty tank top. Everything had been bought at second-hand stores. Including a really weird bazar.

“It looks amazing, 'Bro',” joked Marco, giving his boyfriend a slap on the butt.

Right after that slap, Jalil’s backside released a short but audible fart. The young man immediately blushed as the fart echoed on the living room.

“Haha, someone is getting way too much into character,” his boyfriend quipped.

“Yeah... I don't know what happened, I'm sorry Bro, I mean, honey,” he replied, feeling a little confused.

“Don't worry, honey...” Marco gave his boyfriend a kiss, not knowing it would be their last. He soon wrinkled his nose; a rancid stench was invading his nostrils. It was Jalil's fart.

He didn't want to show it and make his boyfriend uncomfortable, but that gas smelled too awful. It was quite surprising; he had never smelled his boyfriend stink like that. In fact, he thought it was the first time Jalil had ever farted in front of him. To avoid making his boyfriend uncomfortable, but escape the stench, Marco walked to the bathroom.

Once there, he inhaled deeply, but another equally rancid smell invaded his nostrils. He started searching for the source and realized it was coming from the fake sweat stains on his tank top. But it was impossible... he had made them with food coloring, water, and vanilla extract...

However, the more he sniffed, the more sure it was there from where the smell was coming from. He couldn't go to the party smelling like that! So, he took off his shirt and decided he would also wear a soccer jersey, like Jalil. Even without a shirt, the stench followed him. He sniffed again and realized the stench was now coming directly from his armpits. He took a direct whiff to his pit, and the odor of an athlete after a game invaded him. Something very strange was happening.

Meanwhile, in the living room, Jalil was constantly scratching his crotch. There was something in those short pants that was causing a persistent itch. And that could only be resolved in one way: Jalil shoved a hand into his underwear and scratched hard. When he finished, letting out a sigh of relief, he felt curious to smell his fingers for some reason... so he did. A scent of old, damp sweat invaded his nostrils.

“Maybe I need a shower... maybe,” he thought and laughed.

Soon, an enormous "PRRRRRIFFRRRFRRRRPT" was heard from the bathroom.

Marco was having an uncontrollable amount of gas. Jalil laughed, feeling even a little humiliated; that one had certainly beaten his.

“Nice one, honey... I mean, Bro!” Jalil yelled, correcting himself the opposite way this time.

Soon, Marco opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom, and the stench invaded the entire apartment, and that sell the deal, changing them forever. This time neither of them wrinkled their noses. They both inhaled that masculine smell that reminded them so much of a locker room after practice, the smell of the couch when they hung out to play video games—what they considered the smell of manliness. All new memories were implanted by that very scent that was altering everything in them.

Marcos and Jalil were no longer that tidy, cultured gay couple; now they were two dirty, sloppy, brainless, slightly homophobic best friends, two bros who lived together because they were the only ones capable of putting up with each other's stench and mess. The rainbow flag that decorated their room disappeared, the decorative pop artist posters changed to calendars featuring big-breasted women in bikinis, the fridge filled with beer cans, the floor with empty cans and dirty clothes, and that stench spread throughout the house as if it had always been there, because now it had—it had always been there.

Marco made a bow, joking, though he truly was proud of himself, sure that fart had been audible all the way to their queer neighbor's room. He put on his soccer jersey, and they were both ready.

This year, the two friends had decided to wear their soccer uniforms as a costume. It wasn't a very creative costume, but they weren't very creative either, and it's not like their straight friends at the party they were going to would care.

“Ready, bro?”

“Always am bro.”

Marco playfully slapped his best friend on the butt, to which he responded with a loud and smelly fart. But this time there were no kisses or embarrassment, only laughter, like the good straight soccer players they were.

"Bro, I look so beefy"

Do you like it?

"Of course I do, it's amazing"

And was it worth what you gave up?

" you mean my smart?? Hell yeah bro"

First it was just curiosity. I found chav lad hot n was like I need trackies. Obv I was a pussy so I only were em at home

Then I started spendin more time on my phone chattin n watchin chav stuf. Gettin convince I'm more than a pussy I'm an alpha I should take what's mine

What’s good, bros? Welcome to HowToHimbo, where I teach you how to become the perfect himbo.

Jock bro, trophy boy, brainless slut, or anything in between… if you wanna get bigger, hotter, dumber, and happier, you’re home.

Let’s build that body, that vibe, and that “pretty but empty” headspace.

Possible Side Effects of full himbo transformation:

• Massive increase in libido — you’ll be horny 24/7 with almost zero off-switch

• Decreased intelligence — those big thoughts get replaced by simple, happy, fuzzy ones

• Intense cravings for sex — cock, pussy, both, or anything that feels good. Your brain will default to “how do I get fucked or fuck right now?”

• Vapid & narcissistic tendencies — you’ll become gloriously shallow, self-obsessed, and addicted to attention

• Bonus effects — permanent glow-up energy, zero shame, and the ability to smile and flex through anything

Warning: Once you start, most bros don’t want to go back.

yo bros check it the fuck out 💪😤 me n my boyz just chillin after another hypno sesh n holy shit our brains r straight up MELTED 😂😂

u gotta spread the DUM REVOLUTION fr fr!! like why even think when u can just pump iron, edge ur brains out n let the hypno files fry all that smart ppl bullshit??

we used to be all “study n goals” n now we cant even spell revolution right but who the fuck cares when ur this swole n dumb??? our heads r so empty n happy bros its unreal.

if u still got thoughts up there u NEED this shit. download the files. listen on loop. let it fuck ur brain till ur just a drooling muscle pump like us.

The big dumb jock has the opposite problem. His brain stays simple. He doesn’t overthink. He doesn’t spiral. He just moves through life lighter, more present, and way less stressed. That mental simplicity is the real advantage. Less noise in your head = more peace, more confidence, and way more room to actually enjoy shit.

Mental action point you can start today:

Every single time you catch yourself overthinking something today (and you will), stop and do this:

In your head, say:

“I don’t need to figure this out. I’m becoming a dumb jock.”

Then immediately shift your attention to something simple and physical — how your body feels sitting there, the weight of your arms, what you’re gonna eat later, or how good it feels to just breathe for a second. Don’t analyze it. Just notice it and move on.

Do this every time the overthinking starts. No push-ups, no mirror speeches, no performing. Just a quiet mental switch.

The more you practice letting go of the “smart guy” stress, the more your brain actually starts to chill out. That’s how it begins.

Keep lifting

Keep growing

Keep flexing

Stay strong and dumb

Listen up, bros. You ever notice how the “smart” guys are always fried? Always grinding, always overthinking, always carrying the weight of a million expectations on their shoulders? They’re stressed 24/7, chasing grades, careers, approval, trying to be the perfect son/boyfriend/employee. Their brains never shut off. Anxiety is their default setting.

Now look at the real winners, the dumb, happy, horny himbos.

They don’t overthink. They don’t stress. They just feel.

They lift heavy, eat big, smile wide, and get hard at the simplest shit. A tight tank top in the mirror? Instant boner. A bro’s sweaty muscles after leg day? Even better. Low expectations = maximum bliss. No pressure to be the smartest in the room when you’re too busy being the hottest, horniest, most fuckable one instead.

Smart = constant pressure

Dumb = pure dopamine

Being dumb means freedom. Freedom to flex, to moan, to edge for hours because your brain fogged up and all that’s left is muscle and cock. Your only job is to grow bigger, look better, and make everyone around you a little dumber and hornier too.

Every time you let a thought slip away…

Every time you choose the pump over the problem set…

Every time you catch yourself grinning like an idiot because your reflection looks bigger and your dick feels thicker…

You’re winning.

Drop the overthinking. Embrace the himbo glow-up.

Get stupid. Get swole. Get happy. Get horny.

The world doesn’t need another stressed-out smart boy.

A line by line rewrite of this story. Now featuring pictures!

“Come,” he says.

You follow him down a dark street and into a blackened alleyway, the only light coming from a single bulb above a stairwell.

He leads you up some concrete steps, down a dark corridor and through an apartment door.

He kisses your neck and jawline, stretching upward to meet you as you hurriedly kick off your shoes and jacket. With his lips still pressed against your skin, he leads you into a bedroom.

He pushes you down on the bed and grabs at your waist. With a jolt, he tugs off your pants and underwear, forcing them down through your legs. You arch your back, allowing your clothing to pass your knees and through your ankles and feet. He pulls your socks off as well, all in one free motion. 

Your pale cock lies exposed in the air, leaking slightly and stiffening. He tilts his head down, his tongue gliding over the tip while his hand wraps around the shaft. You moan. With his other hand, he reaches up under your shirt, searching for your nipple. You clumsily rush to take off your top, revealing your entire body to the air. You raise your arms up behind you, brushing your head and reaching for the loose pillow above you.

“You will love it,” he whispers as his lips slide over your entire cock. 

You stretch and reach out across the mattress, shuddering at the touch of his tongue. He teases the tip of your dick, slipping his tongue in and out of the slit. A wave of pleasure and joy cascades through your body, forcing the change to begin. 

As you reach across the bed, your knuckles crack and pop and your arms lengthen. Your hands get bigger and you ball them into a fist, grabbing the sheets to keep you sturdy. Still, he thrusts his mouth all over your penis, caressing it with his tongue. 

You lift your arms and watch the muscles expand. Biceps and triceps emerge and become vascular and pumped. Your shoulders broaden and pop, becoming wider. The muscles in your chest swell outward, thick and heavy, with huge round nipples to match.

Pleasure tingles through your cock as he keeps sucking, slow and deliberate. He rubs it with his hand, causing you to stretch and writhe even more. A massive eight-pack eases into place, erasing any trace of belly fat. Your back cracks as your height increases. Your ass rounds out heavily and your thighs become meaty trunks of muscle. 

Your breathing quickens, and you reach down to your cock to finish yourself off. He forces your newly muscled arm down.

“Ay papi, not yet,” he says as he gently strokes your lengthening brown shaft. “Solo espera. Va a valer la pena.”

Your skin begins to prickle and tingle. With your other huge hand, you rub your eyes as the sensation intensifies across your body. You notice your skin is darker in tone, with broad black lines crisscrossing the skin: new tattoos painting themselves all over your body. You barely have time to examine them before he takes your thickening cock deep into his throat. You lift your head from the bed, opening your mouth to exclaim in pleasure. A baseball cap settles on your head, and diamond studs appear on your lobes. You feel clippers buzzing invisibly against your scalp as the hair at your temples tightens into a crisp fade. Your facial features turn more angular as the last traces of your old features fade into something unmistakably Latino.

“Listo, papi?” (“Ready, papi?”) he says.

You open your mouth, convulsing your new huge body from the pleasure. With one last pump and slurp on your thick Latino cock, you rain a shower of cum in to the air, into his mouth and onto your brown chest. 

You lie there with a grin plastered on your handsome face, breathing heavily, wiping sweat from your brow as your fingers trace the sharp line of your fresh fade.

He crawls up against your body and lies beside you. 

“¿Te gustó, papi?” (Did you like it, papi?)

“Fue perfecto,” you reply.