NO JAYWALKING ALLOWED

Thanks for your booking with FWK Vacations. We’re connecting to your down south getaway right now! Please get comfortable and prepare.

You’re awakened by someone jumping on top of you. As you jerk awake, your bro gleefully sits down on your face and blasts you with a wet, rancid protein fart. You lick his bare hole with your extra-long tongue in retaliation, making him howl.

You get out of your sleeping bag and look around. All the bros are stirring in the early morning air. Even after a crazy Fourth full of beer, fireworks, and hard fucking, it’s hard to sleep in on the hard country ground. Two of your bros have decided to warm up by double teaming a third, their thick cocks jackhammering into his mouth and hole as his neglected dick leaks onto his sleeping bag.

You run your fingers through your thick ruddy chest hair and snap the waistband of your American Flag speedo. It’s blasphemous towards the flag or whatever, but you figure it’s stood for worse than your big ginger cock. You were the only one to put on clothes after last night’s festivities, so you're like, repping national pride or whatever.

You’re brought out of what has become a gooning session, fondling your bulge in your flag briefs and sniffing your unwashed pits, by a grumble in your stomach. You need some protein. You spot one of the bros, the one with the lowest hanging bull balls, and head for him. With your thick bro muscles and carpet of musky red hair, you’re clearly the alpha bro, so you can take what you want from any of the others.

Enjoy your vacation!

Dr. Angus Jacobson was a prodigy. At just 35, he was on the tenure track at a major university, researching intersectionality and climate justice. Some people thought it was strange that a straight white man from a middle class family had gone into the field, but Angus just laughed and said he had felt a calling.

Not only was he a great intellect, Angus was also always impeccably dressed in semi-formal or formal clothes. He loved wearing suits, or a polo shirt if it was hot, and keeping his hair short and professional. He thought that being presentable was a huge part of getting ahead in life.

As one of the foremost experts on climate justice in the country, Angus consulted with several large corporations on their eco-friendly projects. Often, that meant touring sites and giving recommendations on how to improve the design or the worksite conditions to better help people. He was always unfailingly polite to any workmen that he met while on his tours, but he found them hard to relate to. They just didn’t seem to have very complex life experiences compared to him. And even if they were working out in the heat all day, he couldn’t help but feel like they enjoyed being all sweaty and never using deodorant. The thought made his skin crawl.

One day, Angus was touring a site where a development company was building carbon neutral high rises. He had just finished speaking to the foreman and was walking away, taking notes on his tablet. The drainage system was going to need a big upgrade if the facility was supposed to stand up to the storms that occasionally came through.

Suddenly the foreman called after him. “Hey, Mr. Jacobson, you forgot this!” he yelled. He was a big, burly Black guy, and his voice carried across the whole site. Angus turned, surprised and a little scared. The foreman held out a small, folded piece of white cloth. Angus was sure he hadn’t dropped anything or handed anything off, but he took it anyway. He didn't want to say no to someone like this. It was strangely damp to the touch.

The foreman grinned at him. “See you ‘round, Mr. Jacobson,” he said, and walked away without another word.

Once he got into his car, a little European EV, Angus unfolded what turned out to be a white undershirt, wrinkling his nose at the thick scent of stale sweat and body odour it gave off. It certainly wasn’t his. Maybe it was some kind of prank? He could just throw it out when he got home. Angus tossed it on the passenger seat and started driving.

The smell was impossible to ignore. Even once he was back home, the shirt safely in the trash, Angus felt like it was following him from room to room, infecting everything he touched with the smell of unwashed man. Even after showering, applying fresh deodorant, and changing into his silk pyjamas, he swore the smell was still on him. He stalked restlessly from room to room, sniffing his pristine loveseat, his freshly ironed slate grey sheets, and his immaculate suit closet to try and find the source. Finally, he gave up, resolving that it was psychosomatic. He would just call the company tomorrow and complain about their foreman playing a prank.

The next morning, Angus was walked out of his bedroom confidently in his usual suit. He had completely forgotten the incident from last night. That is, until he walked into the living room to see a beat-up leather sofa in the place of his rarely-used loveseat, the white undershirt draped over the back of it. “What the fuck?” he breathed.

Angus never used his living room. If he wasn’t in his office, he was in his bedroom. He’d only used it for the few times a date had gone well, and a guy wanted to come watch a movie… Something about that line of reasoning felt wrong. He thought it through again.

Angus spent plenty of time in his living room. He had spent good money on a quality sofa to relax on. Guys loved it, too. They loved the feeling of leather against their backs while Angus pressed down on top of them.

Angus frowned. He was versatile, but he wasn’t the kind of guy to fuck on the first date… was he?

Anyway, he looked proudly at his sofa. What the hell was that grimy undershirt doing on it? He must have dropped it there on his way to put it in the garbage yesterday. He snatched it off—how was it still soaking wet with sweat?—and mentally promised that he would clean the couch after work. The shirt went back into the garbage and Angus headed off to the university.

When he got home that evening, he swore that his house still smelled like sweat. He found the shirt in his office, where he must have left it this morning. It was right where his antique phonograph had been… Where his weight rack was, draped over the back. Angus threw the shirt into the garbage, disgusted, then did his lifting while watching a lecture on climate stewardship. He was so glad he’d thought to put a rack of free weights in his office, it let him multitask so much better. He could tell it was having an effect, too, since his arms were looking bigger these days.

Once he was done his work, Angus found himself feeling horny and bored. It was unusual, since he usually ended his workouts grossed out by his own sweat, needing to shower and lie down… Of course, it was normal, exercising always energised him, and it was too early to shower. He headed out to a bar, and a few hours later Angus found himself lying on his couch, grinding against some hunk whose name he’d forgotten. After they came, Angus gave the guy a goodnight kiss and sent him home. He barely wiped the cum off his skinny chest before he fell asleep, forgetting to shower.

Things continued this way for a few days. Angus kept on finding the shirt, still wet, sitting on a his furniture. He kept on getting hookups, at least one a day. After a few days, he couldn’t smell the sweaty shirt anymore. Between his lifting bench, sofa, unwashed sheets, and dirty laundry bin, there was too much of his own smell in the house anyway. One morning, he found the shirt in his medicine cabinet, and he couldn’t find his deodorant… He had a big tub of curl cream, one of his hookups must have fixed their hair and forgotten it.

Angus found himself hooking up with Black guys more often. He’d never had a strong preference for any one race… He’d always loved big, thick Black men. He knew it was just a fantasy, but something about big, dumb Black guys appealled to him. He downloaded Grindr, found himself drooling over pics of thick men in construction gear.

Somehow, the undershirt was in his car one morning. In the place of his nice, planet-saving EV, there was a manual truck Angus had no idea how to drive... Angus loved his truck. He loved to feel like a real man on the road, even if the gas-guzzler did conflict with his morals. It was fine, though, he would just make sure his next car was an electric truck

One evening, Angus found the shirt on the floor of his closet. His precious suits were gone! Instead there was… The shirt had been hard to find, since most of Angus’s clothes were similar casual wear, half of it dirty on the floor of the closet. Even his work suits weren’t washed nearly often enough, giving off a bit of a stench. Every once in a while, Angus would see someone’s nostrils flare when they walked past him, catching his manly musk on the air. It gave him such a feeling of power and masculinity.

Lounging on his leather sofa in a pair of threadbare boxers, Angus was scrolling Grindr when he got a message. “Hey man, you ready yet?” It wasn’t from anyone he knew, except… It was from the foreman of the work site. His profile was full of pictures of him in hiviz gear, sweating in the hot sun. What could he mean? Maybe he wanted to do some roleplay. He was so hot, exactly what Angus loved imagining.

“Always ready for you, baby ;)” Angus messaged back. A few minutes later, he was texting the foreman his address, excited to see him again.

Just before he let the guy in, Angus realised he needed to put on a shirt. He had nothing clean. There was an undershirt sitting where his bedside table should be… Over his bong. He should wipe that down, see if the foreman wanted to smoke up after sex. He threw on the shirt and went to answer the door.

The foreman looked approvingly around Angus’s apartment. “Looking good,” he said, half to himself. He fisted a hand in Angus’s shirt, almost like he owned it, kissed Angus hard, filling Angus’s mouth with his huge tongue. “Seems to me that you’re way too white and educated for this house. Mr. Jacobson. You live like one of my labourers.”

Angus looked around. The foreman was right. For some reason, despite being a university professor, his house looked nothing like it. He didn’t have an office, just a home gym. He had no suits, no bookshelves, just casual gear and porn DVDs. Maybe it was all in at the university? That didn’t make any sense.

Before Angus could get too confused, the foreman grabbed him. He whispered in his ear, “Seems to me like you want to roleplay. You want to tell me you’re a big, dumb, sweaty construction worker, right, Mr. Jacobson? You want to fuck me with your big Black cock while still wearing your shirt?”

Angus did.

“You like that?” he growled a few minutes later, getting between the foreman’s legs. “I’m gonna open you up with my tongue. I didn’t get any fancy schooling to use fancy words, I just eat guys like you out like you've never been ate out before.”

He drove his tongue into the foreman's ass, enjoying the taste of his unwashed ass. As he did, Angus’s tongue lengthened, his lips darkening as his nose became wider. By the time he had the foreman moaning, his hole starting to gape, Angus’s face was black-skinned, his features strong and masculine.

“Yeah,” he grunted. His voice was deeper, slower. “I work hard in the heat all day, and I fuck hard all night. I sweat and leak so much I basically don’t need lube.”

Angus’s cock seemed to get even harder as he bottomed out in the foreman. He felt a burst of sensation as his foreskin grew back, a continuous stream of precum starting to leak from the tip. The skin around the base darkened, his hair growing in thick and black.

Angus started to rock back and forth as the foreman moaned underneath him. Having this burly Black man at his mercy made Angus feel even more confident. He continued roleplaying. “I’m such a thick Black construction worker, your cock gets caught between our sweaty bellies when I suck your neck. You’re gonna get off with your cock trapped between us.”

He leaned down and started to bite and lick at the foreman’s neck and collarbone as his chest and belly expanded. Angus’s skin darkened as hair grew thick over it, sweat beading as he fucked harder. Just like he’d said, the foreman’s cock was caught between their muscle guts, the foreman’s precum mixing with salty sweat to create the perfect friction.

Angus could feel the orgasm coming. He barely understood the words coming out of his mouth as he said, “Gonna pick you up and fuck you against the wall. I’m a big Black muscle bull, got no brains, just a big muscle ass and thick legs, so sweaty, dumb, smelly…” He trailed off, rocking back as he picked up the burly foreman like he was nothing, slammed him against the wall, and kept fucking.

He felt the foreman’s hands on his juicy muscle ass, tense and round as he rutted against the wall. Yeah, Angus’s body was the product of hard labour, a temple of Black manliness. He was glorious, a fucking god, he was… he was…

Angus came, filling the foreman up with shot after shot of thick Black cum. The foreman came too, his cock still pressed between their bellies, his cum soaking into Angus’s sweaty undershirt.

In a haze, Angus stumbled back from the wall, still holding the foreman off the ground. He collapsed onto the bed with a huge crash. Something had changed… Everything was fine… He was a beast… Angus fell asleep without pulling out.

The next morning, Angus “Beef” Jacobson woke up slow, enjoying the feeling of a mouth on his musty cock. Boss was so good with his tongue. “Morning, Boss,” grunted Beef.

Boss pulled off Beef’s big black cock with a pop. “Morning, Beef,” he growled. “Ready to head to the site?”

Beef grunted. He reached down, grabbed Boss by the shoulders, and dragged him up. “Not yet,” said Beef, lowering Boss onto his slick cock. He started moving his Boss up and down like a fleshlight.

Beef wasn’t the smartest guy. That was how he’d gotten his nickname, ‘cause he was like a big, sweet cow who loved to fuck. He was like a walking stereotype of a Black construction worker: burly, sweaty, musky, and totally dumb. Hell, he’d pretty much worn the same shirt for a week, an undershirt Boss had given him. It was so musky and smelly Beef was pretty sure anyone who touched it would be smelling him for weeks. That was a hot idea.

He didn’t really know much other than the physical stuff, but Boss told him he was helping to save the world, some shit about green buildings. Beef thought that was funny, since the building was grey concrete, not green. He was such a dumbass sometimes. Just a big piece of dumb Black Beef.

Thanks for your booking with FWK Vacations. Get ready for the business trip of a lifetime.

When you wake up, it’s to the sun in your eyes. It’s gotten late enough that the sun has dipped below the edge of your beach umbrella. You blink through your expensive mirrored sunglasses. Seems like too much work to get one of the poolboys to tilt the umbrella down.

You reach languidly into the box next to you for a cigar. Your company sent you here, to El Salvador, to help buy out a local company. You closed the deal in a few hours, and you’ve been enjoying the rest of your time here by the pool or lounging on the beach.

As you smoke your cigar, you jiggle your hot bear belly and fondle yourself through your speedo. You’ve matured into quite the big Daddy in the last few years, you think. Back home, it’s not so great, but here, all the little gay boys are basically begging to be used by a powerful, bearded man like you. There’s one boy who works at this resort, he's practically panting for your Daddy dick every time you walk by him. Who knows? Maybe you’ll bring him home and get him his citizenship. Might be nice to have a sexy houseboy to keep you young.

Enjoy your vacation!

Why use my genie when you just found your own? A fat, hairy genie bursts free from your screen as you send the ask and floats next to you in the air. “A hard gainer, huh?” he cackles, looking over your skinny, pale body. “And you wish to be… bigger? It is done.” He claps once, and vanishes.

You feel a sensation in your belly, like a burp rising up your throat. You let it rip, and the belch is your biggest ever, gassy and rank. It feels like you drank a whole gallon of Coke at once and then held it. Your belly suddenly distends, the skin darkening as the fat gain spreads up your chest and down to your ass. Underneath the fat, you gain thick, bulky muscle. Pretty soon, you’ve got big, squishy pecs and a jiggly belly. Your ass is a phenomenon, bouncing with every motion.

Your arms and legs thicken up, too, and your hair recedes into your golden skin as your brain starts to drain. Who says it’s hard to bulk? All you think about are the three Fs: Flexing, Fucking, and Fat gain. Don't expect to cut anytime soon, or ever. You sniff your sweaty body and know that, no matter which of the three you do next, you’ll be getting stinkier soon.

Another wish fulfilled.

Thanks for your booking with FWK Vacations. Enjoy your Swedish getaway!

You wake up stretched out on a warm rock. You laid down to enjoy the northern summer sun, but you must have fallen asleep. You sit up with a groan and stretch like a cat, enjoying the sensation of your long, long blond hair swinging around in front of you.

When you look down and see your naked body, you’re surprised for a moment, and then you recall that you’re staying with a nudist commune right now. You come for a few weeks every summer, enjoy going au naturel in the wilderness for a while, and always head back down to Stockholm feeling refreshed.

You’ve already been here a few days, and since you missed Shower Day you’re pretty funky. You love it, though, being able to smell like this just for yourself has your big Swedish cock hardening. That’s another thing you love about your nudist vacations: just lying back on the ground wherever to milk a load from your fat cock!

Enjoy your vacation!

Mark walked into the locker room after a long workout session and threw himself onto the locker room bench, sweat dripping through his workout gear. He was exhausted. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh.

Suddenly, Mark heard the door swing open. A huge hulking figure walked in. Mark could hear the monster’s footsteps coming towards him. Mark opened his eyes to see a big muscular Arab man taking a seat on the bench across from him. Mark found himself getting lost in the Arab’s dreamy dark brown eyes. Beads of glistening sweat drifted their way down the man’s beautiful brown face. Mark couldn’t help but stare at the man’s frame. His broad shoulders, his massive pecs, his giantic forearms, all of which were coated in a thick pelt of arabic hair. He radiated masculinity. Mark was in awe of the man.

The Arab man then made eye contact with Mark and smirked. Mark immediately diverted his eyes. He didn’t want the gorgeous man to see him lusting over him. Mark’s lust was cut short when suddenly he could smell his own sweat. Mark reached into his gym bag and took out his towel and body wash. However, the body wash felt lighter than usual.

“Damn, it’s empty” Mark sighed as he shook the bottle. Mark could have swore the bottle had been full this morning. The lid of the bottle was loose. It was almost as if someone had emptied i-

“Use mine” The Arab man held out his shampoo.

“Oh no, it’s okay. I’ll just shower at hom-”

“No, just use mine” he said more forcefully this time. He was staring directly into Mark’s eyes.

“Seriously, it’s fin-”

USE MY SHAMPOO

Mark was surprised by the man’s commanding tone. He was manly and intimidating. The arab man’s body hair was infused with sweat. It was beginning to stink up the entire room. Mark’s nose was quickly filled with the man’s alpha stink. It reeked. Mark swiftly took the shampoo from the man’s meaty hands, afraid of what the man would do if he refused.

“Try not to moan too loud” the Arab man laughed to himself.

Mark smiled politely and quickly made his way into the public shower. “What a psycho” he thought. Why was the man so insistent on him using this shampoo? Mark looked at the label. It read ‘مزيل الصبي الأبيض’. The liquid was a brownish orange colour. Mark had never seen anything like it. Maybe it was only made in the Middle East or something?

Mark poured the shampoo onto the palm of his hand and then scratched it into his brown hair. The shampoo trickled down his smooth hairless body. It felt... good. Mark was surprised with how nice the shampoo felt against his pale hairless skin. Mark poured more out onto his hand and began to rub it into his hair more aggressively this time. Mark rubbed the shampoo more and more until he accidentally let a moan slip through his lips. Mark covered his mouth, hoping no one had heard him. The shampoo was sending a warm heated pleasure throughout his body.

“Oh fuck. It feels so goooooood” Mark moaned loudly as he lathered his hair with the shampoo. He couldn’t help it. The pleasure was becoming too intense for him to handle.

Mark was too lost in the pleasure to notice that his hairless torso was beginning to sprout... chest hair? That can’t have been right. Mark’s chest had always been hairless. He had never allowed any hair to grow on his body. He always thought hairy men looked like smelly animals. But now, Mark didn’t have a say in the matter. Dark black hair began sprouting all over his body. His chest, his forearms, his legs, his face now sprouting thick jet-black smelly hair. The once hairless 20 year old had grown so much hair, he looked like some kind of smelly animal.

The shampoo began to sink into Mark’s muscles. His lean body inflating, becoming bigger and stronger. His lean pecs ballooned outwards, now looking like a pair of fat hairy tits. His nipples grew bigger and more sensitive. The slightest touch could make him blow his thick load all over the shower wall. His shoulders grew broader and hairier. His biceps and legs grew big and thick. Mark began growing in size. His thin 5’8 stature increasing to a hulking 6’7 monster. His age increased with his height. The 20 year old aged until he began to look like he was in his 30s.

Mark’s ass grew bigger and juicer. Becoming round and fuckable. It began jiggling with the slightest of movements. It looked like it was constantly begging to be fucked by a nice big thick cock. His average sized penis grew larger too. It grew longer and thicker. His once 5 inch penis shot out into a thick 12 inch monster cock.

The shampoo began to seep into Mark’s pale skin. His complexion slowly darkened as the water washed his whiteness down the drain, never to be seen again. Mark’s smooth pale complexion was replaced by a beautiful brown tone. With Mark’s thick black body hair, his huge monster cock and his beautiful brown skin, someone could easily mistake Mark for... an Arab.

Mark began to panic as he looked down at his new Arab body. Mark threw the pleasureful shampoo onto the shower floor. He took one step out of the shower, struggling to balance his new 6’7 frame. He began stumbling out of the shower area and his fat ass jiggled behind him. His new big hairy tits swaying on his chest. He looked so hairy and fuckable.

Mark stumbled into the locker room, heading straight for the exit. He didn’t care that he was naked. He didn’t care his big fuckable ass was on show for everyone to see. He didn’t care his boner was swaying from side to side. He didn’t care that the bouncing of his new hairy fuckable tits was almost causing him to bust a nut all over the floor. He needed to escape. Now.

WHERE YOU GOING, FUCKTOY

Mark looked back to see the big hulking arab man who gave him the shampoo. It was humiliating having someone see him like this. He was exposed. But Mark knew he had to relatiate if he wanted to get out and find help.

“What have you done to me?! Let me go!” Mark screamed.

“Let you go?” the man furrowed his bushy brows. “You love being around me... don’t you remember?”

“What? No I don-”

YOU LOVE ME

YOU NEVER WANT TO LEAVE ME

YOU ARE MY ARAB BOYWIFE

The words sank deep into Mark’s head. Embedding themselves deep inside his subconscious. Mark grabbed his head. New memories began filling his mind. Memories of growing up in Egypt. Memories of falling in love and marrying his lifelong best friend, Omar. Memories of never getting a job. Memories of being a good submissive boywife filled his head. Mark... no... Ahmad looked up to see his husband standing in front of him. He then looked in the mirror, smiling at his appearance. He loved being Middle Eastern. He loved his heritage.

“Now, boywife. Are you done with your little tantrum?” Omar grinned at his husband.

“Yes, Master. I don’t know what I was thinking. I will make it up to you when we get home” Ahmad smiled adoringly at his loving husband.

“Yes you will” Omar lustfully stroked his husbands bouncy fuckable Arab ass.

“So get dressed now or I’ll fuck your jiggling bubble butt in front of the entire gym”

Ahmad put on his clothes and submissively followed his loving husband back home. Omar smirked at his new boiwife, forgetting that he had left the magic shampoo behind. The shampoo lay on the shower floor waiting to be used by some oblivious unknowing victim...

inspired by the incredible, @salmonskinrolltf

Kevin stood just outside the small apartment he shared with his boyfriend, Mark. Just like it always did on Valentine’s Day, his heart was fluttering inside his chest. Kevin was shy and soft-spoken, the kind of man who still blushed when he held Mark’s hand in public. He was holding a bouquet of red roses accented with white lilies, the stems tied together with a large, frilly bow. He was excited to surprise his boyfriend with the gift. Mark was everything Kevin adored: quiet, bookish, a little awkward, and completely his.

He let himself in with his key, the scent of the bouquet filling the hallway and mixing with the smell of chocolates they had already opened earlier in the day. “Mark? Happy Valentine’s, baby.”

Mark looked up from the couch, laptop balanced on his knees, wearing the same faded Star Wars T-shirt he’d had since college. His messy brown hair fell into his eyes, and his smile was lopsided and sweet. “Kevin… you didn’t have to.”

Kevin crossed the room and set the bouquet on the coffee table. “I know, but I wanted to. Now, open the card.”

Mark plucked the little envelope from the arrangement, tore it open, and began to read. His eyebrows rose. Then his cheeks flushed pink.

“Uh… is this a prank, Kevin? Or are you dropping hints that you want to try roleplay?”

Kevin leaned in, curious and confused. Mark turned the card so he could see.

The handwriting was bold and dramatic, full of pretty cursive loops and I’s dotted with hearts. It read:

My big, strong Daddy,

Happy Valentine’s Day. I’ve been thinking about your thick cock all morning, shooting your hot loads down my throat. I can’t wait to move in next week so I can wake you up every morning with my lips wrapped around it. Your good boy is so fucking excited to be yours completely, Daddy.

— Nico

Kevin’s stomach dropped. “Oh my god. That’s not— I must have grabbed the wrong bouquet at the shop. Or they must have mixed up the cards. I’m so sorry, Mark, I…”

Mark stared at the note a second longer, then began to laugh. It was a soft, familiar chuckle, the same one that always made Kevin’s chest warm. “It’s okay, baby. Honest mistake.” He leaned up and gave Kevin’s cheek a quick kiss. “You’re still the sweetest guy I know.”

Kevin exhaled in relief, cheeks burning bright red from the embarrassment and his boyfriend’s soft lips. He took the wrong card, crumpled it, and tossed it in the trash. The right one, a simple and heartfelt note, was lost in some other bundle of flowers elsewhere in the city. Deciding to shrug off the awkward situation and move on, Kevin wanted to at least enjoy the rest of the day he had planned: going out for dinner to Mark's favorite restaurant, coming home to slow dance in the living room to their special song, and a night spent tangled together in their bed.

But as the afternoon wore on, something began to shift. There was a weird thrum of energy in the air, moving through the surroundings.

Mark had gone back to his laptop, but his posture was different. He sat straighter, shoulders broader than Kevin remembered. When he reached for his water glass, the sleeve of his T-shirt strained, revealing a bicep that looked… thicker. Dark hair broke through the skin, spreading across the length of his seemingly growing arms. Kevin blinked, telling himself it was just the lighting of their crappy apartment.

By evening, the changes became impossible to ignore.

Mark stood to stretch, and the motion pulled his Star Wars shirt tight across his chest. The fabric strained and made a thin, stretching sound. Kevin’s mouth went dry as his heart raced. Mark’s pecs had swollen into two beefy pecs pushing outward, nipples visibly hard beneath the shirt that now looked painted on. There was no denying his arms were changing, biceps rounding into solid peaks, veins beginning to trace under the skin. He rolled his neck, and Kevin heard a low, satisfied rumble come from his throat. The sound was deeper than Mark’s usual soft tenor.

“Mark… are you okay?” Kevin asked, voice small and concerned.

Mark turned. His face had changed. The boyish roundness was gone. His jaw was thick with a deep cleft, shadowed with stubble that had grown thick and dark over the last couple hours. His eyes, once soft behind his discarded glasses, now looked more intense, haloed by dark circles. He scratched at his thick chest absently, and Kevin watched the motion tug the shirt up, exposing a trail of curly dark hair running down a newly defined abdomen.

“Yeah, I’m all good,” Mark said. His voice had dropped an octave, with a faint gravelly edge that sent an unwelcome shiver down Kevin’s spine. “Just… feeling pumped today.”

He peeled the shirt off without asking, revealing a body that no longer belonged to the man Kevin had fallen in love with. Broad shoulders that were solid and strong, heavy pecs dusted with coarse black hair, a stomach that was still flat but showed the definition of strengthening abdominal muscles. Mark’s skin looked tanner, weathered by the sun. His nipples had darkened, thick and perky and just asking to be played with. Kevin’s anxious gaze dropped lower. The front of Mark’s sweatpants was stuffed full with a thick, heavy bulge that visibly throbbed once, as if aware of being watched.

Kevin’s cock stirred traitorously in his jeans even as panic started to sink in.

Mark didn’t seem to notice his boyfriend’s distress. He grabbed his phone instead, newly thick fingers scrolling through messages. A low chuckle, deeper now, rolled out of him as he read something on the screen.

Kevin tried to smile. “I, um… I made reservations for that little Italian place you like. Seven-thirty. We can walk there and hold hands, like we used to—”

“Not tonight,” Mark said, not even looking up. His thumb moved over the screen, typing. “Got plans.”

The words hit him like a truck. Kevin’s planned romantic evening dissolved in an instant.

Mark’s belly had begun to push outward. Not fat exactly, but solid and powerful. He was now rocking a heavy gut that spoke of his new strength and voracious appetite. Hair spread across his gut in a thick, dark pelt, swirling around his bellybutton. His sweatpants rode low now, the waistband stretched by wider hips and a round, muscular ass that jiggled when he shifted his weight. The bulge between his legs had grown even more obscene, the thick outline of a fat cock and swollen balls clearly visible to passersby. The fabric covering his crotch had already begun to darken with a wet spot of pre.

Kevin’s heart hammered inside his chest, alarm sirens blaring in his head. “Mark, please. Look at me. Something’s wrong. You’re… you’re changing.”

Mark finally glanced over. His face had aged impossibly. He had to be mid-forties now, maybe older. Lines accented the corners of his eyes, his brow heavy and brooding. His messy hair had receded, the top of his head now smooth and shaved close, while a thick, bushy salt and pepper beard had erupted across his chiseled jaw and cheeks. The hair was wiry and full, framing a mouth that looked more smug, frozen in a cocky sneer. When he spoke, his Midwestern accent had shifted, too. His voice was deeper, slower, a low rumble with a faint Southern drawl that Mark had never possessed before this moment.

“Wrong? Nah. I feel fucking good.” He palmed his heavy bulge openly, squeezing the fat shaft through the fabric as the dark spot spread. “Got my boy texting me all day, telling me how bad he needs his Daddy’s cock. Can’t wait to wreck that tight little hole tonight.”

Kevin’s knees nearly buckled. “Your… your boy?”

Mark’s eyes narrowed, cold and dismissive. “Nico. My boy. You know that. Stop acting weird, Kevin. You’re my roommate, not my keeper.”

The words hit like a slap across the face. Kevin staggered back a step. “Roommate? Mark, we’ve been together for three years. We’re boyfriends. I love you—”

Mark laughed at that, a deep and booming sound that vibrated through the room like thunder. “Boyfriends? Ain’t that cute. You’ve always been a little clingy, but this is pathetic.” He stood fully now, towering over Kevin. He had grown at least six inches taller, easily 6’4”, shoulders wide enough to block the light and cast a shadow over the smaller man. His gut was a solid, hairy ball now, pushing against the waistband of his sweatpants. The fabric had begun fraying at the seams from the sheer mass of his thighs. His cock completely thickened into a monstrous, veiny club, the mushroom head pushing past the waistband as Mark became aroused. The tip was slick and leaking, and the musk wafting from the dense bush of black pubic hair made Kevin dizzy.

Kevin was inhaling him: cum, sweat, pure masculinity. His own small dick was painfully hard, shame flooding his cheeks even as tears stung his eyes. He couldn’t mask the sense of betrayal in his eyes.

Mark’s phone buzzed. He grinned, teeth white against the greying beard. “That’s my boy right there. He’s on his way over. Gonna fuck him so good tonight. You might wanna make yourself scarce, roomie. Unless you wanna watch.”

Kevin’s voice cracked. “Please, Mark. Remember me. Remember us. This is a dream and we’re both about to wake up. This isn’t possible—”

Mark waved a massive hand, already turning away. “Clean up your half of the dishes before you go to bed. And start packing. Nico’s moving in next week and things are becoming official real fast. We’re making this place ours. You’ve got till Sunday to find somewhere else.”

The horror settled deep in Kevin’s gut. This wasn’t a prank. Reality itself was rewriting around them. Mark, or better yet the stranger that had taken Mark’s place, was forgotten by the rest of the world as the sweet nerd he had once been. He had always been this: a big, hairy, dominant daddy who collected pretty boys like property.

The knock came at eight-thirty.

Kevin was still in the kitchen, hands trembling as he washed the same plate over and over while lost in thought, when the door opened.

Nico stepped in.

He was everything the card had promised and more. Blonde, tousled hair that fell in soft waves around a pretty, vacant face. Full, cock-sucking lips that appeared glossy in the light. Wide, innocent blue eyes that blinked vapidly. His body was pure himbo goodness: narrow shoulders, tiny waist, and then an explosion of curves below. His ass was enormous, two fat, jiggling globes barely contained by tight white booty shorts that disappeared between them. His cock formed a small bulge that bounced with every step. He wore a crop top that read “Daddy’s Boy” in glittery letters, nipples hard and visibly pierced beneath the fabric.

“Daddy!” Nico squealed, voice high and breathy. He dropped his bag and threw himself at Mark.

Mark, now fully transformed now, caught his lover easily, massive hands gripping two handfuls of that fat ass and squeezing hard enough to make Nico moan. “There’s my good little slut,” he growled, voice pure gravel and smoke. “Missed this fat fucking ass all day.”

He kissed Nico like he was claiming territory, tongue invading that eager mouth while Nico whimpered and ground his hard little cock against Mark’s hairy thigh. Kevin watched from the kitchen doorway, frozen, as Mark’s thick fingers slid under the shorts and pushed into Nico’s needy hole without foreplay. The wet, filthy sound of it filled the apartment.

“Bedroom. Now,” Mark ordered.

Nico nodded frantically. “Yes, Daddy. Use me. Ruin my hole.”

They didn’t even close the door.

Kevin stood in the hallway, heart shattering at the sounds he could overhear. The wet slap of skin against skin. Nico’s high, desperate moans. Mark’s deep, filthy growls.

“Take it, boy. That’s it. Swallow Daddy’s cock. Fuck, your throat’s so tight. Gonna bust so hard you’ll taste me for days.”

Kevin’s hand moved without permission. He felt himself palming his own pathetic erection through his jeans, shame burning through him like fire. Tears streamed down his cheeks even as he unzipped the fly and fished out his small cock, even as he started stroking in time with the rhythmic thump of the headboard against the wall.

Inside the bedroom, Mark was relentless. “You’re mine now, Nico. My cumdump. I’m gonna fuck you every night while that worthless roommate of mine jerks his tiny dick in the next room.”

Nico giggled, voice breaking on a moan. “He’s so pathetic, Daddy. Can we… can we make him watch sometime?”

Mark laughed, deep and satisfied. “Maybe. If he’s good. But today is Valentine’s, boy, so we're the only two people in the world right now.”

Kevin came hard, shamefully, biting his lip to stay quiet and choke down the moan. His load splattered against the hallway floor as the sounds of Mark fucking his new boy toy echoed through the apartment. The man who had once whispered “I love you” to Kevin before bed each night now snarled filthy commands and slapped Nico’s fat, jiggling ass until it was red.

When it was all over, the apartment fell quiet except for Nico’s soft, satisfied whimpers and Mark’s low, possessive grunts.

Kevin slid down the wall, spent and broken, staring at the still ajar bedroom door. He could smell the musk wafting out. Valentine’s Day was over. His relationship was over, too. The man he loved was gone, replaced by a big, hairy, dominant daddy who didn’t even recognize his former boyfriend as anyone other than a dude who split the rent payment with him.

And in the morning, Kevin would start packing. He had a couple days to come up with a plan, but it was a given that Mark and Nico were not going to be shy about their love during that time. He’d be listening to the daddy and his boy fucking like rabbits through the wall at least until Sunday.

He cock began to rise again just thinking about it.

One of the biggest problems with online dating, at least according to Michael, was the complete unreliability of photos.  Guys lied.  They lied all the time through outdated photos and misrepresented numbers.  Men posted photos from six years ago, listed their weight as twenty pounds lighter, or used completely stolen photos of someone else and hoped when real life meetings occurred that nothing would be said.  Not with Michael. Having one too many dates expecting a jock and getting a pudgier version, Michael’s profile was explicit and direct.

“No fat guys. Period. If you have gained weight, put on a gut, lost your six pack, don’t lie and pretend you still have it.  I’ll call you a fat ass and bail on the first date.”

This is me.

I'd like to think I'm pretty good looking. I hit the gym regularly, I take care of myself, and I'm very lucky to be in a great relationship with a loving boyfriend.

It can be a little tricky in the bedroom since we both prefer to bottom, and his sex drive is a lot higher than mine, but other than that, life's good! Or so I thought.

Turns out, my boyfriend has a massive daddy kink.

I kinda suspected it a while given his dating history; I mean, I'm the youngest guy he's ever dated, and I'm 31. Well, *was* the youngest guy he's ever dated is a little more appropriate.

It also turns out that he's got some witchcraft in his bloodline. Nothing too crazy... except for specific times of the year, where the fabric of reality is thinnest. Which happened to fall on Valentine's Day.

Imagine my surprise when I woke up in a body 2 decades older than what I was used to.

I called him in a panic, and he guiltily confessed that it was all his fault. It was supposed to be a one day thing, and I shouldn't have remembered any of it. Except something had gone haywire - he managed to change reality to where I was now a silver fox, but he ran out of juice before he could set a time limit, or make my mind match this new body... and this new body's urges.

See, he didn't just conjure up a reality where I was a daddy. He conjured up a reality where I was a kinky, constantly horny, dom top of a daddy who can't stop thinking about putting his boy on all fours.

My boy's loving every moment of it. At first, I tried to get him to turn us back, but... shit, I've started loving it too.

Hey everyone! Putting together a winter weather series I think. Here is the second out of the three total I have planned. The first can be found here: The Snow Storm. Hope you enjoy!

"You for real, boy?"

Jake's smile faltered as his fiance's voice cut through the frigid winter air. There were a lot of things that Jake loved about Lindsey. There were a lot of things Jake loved about Lindsey's family. But her father? Greg? That was a whole other story. And Jake couldn't really understand it. Jake took care of his body, had a good job, went to church, and loved Lindsey with every ounce of his being. But Greg never warmed up to him, never seemed to like him all too much.

"What do you mean, Mr. Anderson?" Jake's smile returned as he tried his best to be polite.

"My daughter sends you over to help shovel and you're sittin' hear shiverin' like a little bitch." Greg scoffed.

"I run cold at baseline." Jake replied quickly, "And it's freezing out here."

"Aww, poor little Jakey is cold." Greg mocked, "This ain't nothin'."

Jake frowned. Despite the frigid temperature, his soon to be father-in-law was shirtless, kept warm by a thick pelt of manly chest hair. Despite his age, he was built- one of the only things Jake hoped he could emulate when he got to Greg's age. But that was about the only thing he wished to emulate about the man before him.

"Yeah, but..."

"Here, take this hat and shut up, boy." Greg smirked, shoving his warm winter hat into Jake's hands, "This'll do you better than whatever it is you've got on your head."

"Uh, th-thank you."

"But no more bitching, alright?"

Jake nodded and exchanged his hat for his soon to be father-in-law's. Mr. Anderson was right- he certainly felt warmer. Well at least his ears and head did. Jake smiled- Mr. Anderson was tough but maybe he was warming up to him. But as they continued to trek through the snowy landscape of Mr. Anderson's massive property, Jake was growing more concerned.

"Maybe we should head indoors" Jake said, trudging further behind the man, "The snow is starting to come down harder. We should wait..."

"Who raised you? Gotta shovel while it's comin' down." Greg replied, his voice sounding more distant, "Come on boy, try to keep up!"

Jake could barely see a few steps in front of him as the blizzard intensified, "Mr. Anderson, I can't... what the fuck?" Jake watched as the snow clung to his legs, accumulating rapidly, "Fuck... I can't move... Come on!" He tried desperately to move his legs, but the snow packed on at an alarming rate, "Mr. Anderson! Somethings wrong! We need to get inside!"

Greg's laughter echoed from somewhere ahead, distorted by the blizzard. "Quit your bellyachin', boy! You'll be nice and warm soon enough!"

Jake could barely see Mr. Anderson in front of him anymore. But that wasn't what worried him. It was the snow. He felt his arms grow heavy as it stuck to them, forcing him to drop his shovel as his arms fell to his side. Jake's movements grew sluggish as the weight of the snow hindered his limbs. Panic began to set in as he realized the severity of his predicament.

"Help! Mr. Anderson!" Jake managed to choke out, his words muffled as the snow covered his face, "Please..." But it was too late- he was covered entirely.

Inside the snowy cocoon, Jake's mind raced with fear and confusion. Why wasn't Mr. Anderson helping him? Where was he? Why did it feel like the snow was right against his skin and not the layers of clothing he had on?

Jake shivered violently within his icy prison, the cold seeping deep into his bones. His teeth chattered uncontrollably as he tried desperately to conserve body heat. Fractured thoughts flitted through his numbing mind:

"F-fuck, it's so c-cold…" Jake mumbled to himself, his speech slurred, "I-I can't feel my t-toes… or my fingers…"

He struggled against the snow enveloping him, but his efforts proved useless. The frigid white powder had totally encased him. Fear crept in as strange sensations tingled across his skin and muscles. Was this what hypothermia felt like?

"No no n-no, th-this can't be h-happening..."

And as the bitter cold consumed Jake, a fleeting thought crossed his mind. He imagined the comforting heat radiating off Mr. Anderson's muscular, hair-covered body.

"He's so warm..." Jake thought deliriously, "His big s-strong body… so much h-hair… I bet he'd k-keep me warm in th-those arms…" Jake recoiled mentally at the foreign desire, "Wh-what the fuck am I thinking?" Jake protested weakly, even as he longed for that masculine embrace, "Fuck, fuck, fuck... what's this cold doing to me?"

A sudden rush of warmth flooded Jake's body, causing the snow around him to begin melting rapidly. As the icy layer receded from his head, Jake gasped in shock. Bristly hairs tickled his cheeks and chin - a full, coarse beard now adorned his previously smooth face.

"What the hell?" Jake mumbled, not used to the tickling sensation from his newly sprouted facial hair.

Jake's arms burst free from their snowy confines next, revealing bulging muscles that made his jaw drop. Thick biceps and triceps rippled as he tensed his arms. His newly meaty forearms bore intricate, yet all too familiar, tattoos - the same ones he'd seen on Mr. Anderson countless times.

"Holy shit…" Jake breathed, running a calloused hand over the unfamiliar facial hair coating his cheeks and chin. He marveled at the texture, so different from his usual baby-smooth skin, "Oh my god what the fuck happened to me?" He nearly yelped when he ran his hand over his now completely bald head, "I'm bald?!" He recoiled at the sound of his more gravely voice, "No, no, no… this can't be real…"

But Jake's attention quickly turned to the melting snow along his torso. And as is melted away, Jake's eyes widened in shock. A thick, matted pelt of dark hair blanketed his broad chest and abdomen. Intricate tattoos swirled across his abdomen- now a hard, defined slab of muscle and fat, all blanketed in manly hairs.

"Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck…" Jake chanted under his breath, his eyes wide with dawning horror as the terrifying realization crashed over him. "There's no way this is happening. There's no way I'm…"

He was cut off mid-sentence as the last of the snow melted away, exposing Jake's lower half. He looked down and nearly screamed. There, swinging heavily between his muscular thighs, was a massive, throbbing cock - an exact replica of Mr. Anderson's own impressive endowment. Jake's balls hung low and full, churning with unfamiliar heat.

"This can't be real... How is this even..." Jake cried out, tears of panic and revulsion streaming down his face. He tried to cover his cock with his large calloused hands, "This doesn't even make sense! I'm not…"

"Well well well, what do we have here?" Jake nearly jumped as Mr. Anderson clapped him on the shoulder, his hand lingering perhaps a moment too long, "Looks like the cold ain't botherin' you much anymore, eh boy?"

Jake shuddered at the touch and felt his massive cock twitch and start to swell as he gazed upon Mr. Anderson's naked upper body.

"I… I don't know what's happening to me," Jake said, his voice now a deep, resonant baritone, "I'm you... I'm..." He stared at Greg, drinking in the sight of the older man's physique, "I'm so warm..." A strange sense of admiration and self-absorption started to creep into his mind.

Mr. Anderson smirked, noticing Jake's wandering gaze and growing arousal, "Maybe we should take this inside." He leaned in closely, "And I can show you what this ol' body of mine can do."

Even as the last shreds of his former identity screamed in protest, Jake found himself nodding in agreement, his new cock throbbing almost painfully with desire.

"I'd like that. I'd like that a lot." Jake said, his voice dripping with newfound confidence and a hint of arrogance that was so distinctly Greg. He stepped closer, invading the older man's personal space, "The hat did this, right?"

Jake ran a hand down Greg's torso, marveling at the feeling of the coarse hair and firm muscle beneath his fingertips. He met Greg's gaze and in that moment Greg knew- all traces of Jake's shy, respectful demeanor gone, replaced by a raw, animalistic hunger.

"I suppose so." Greg's breath hitched as Jake's hand made it's way down his pants and around his own swelling cock, "Fuck... shoulda done this to you sooner, boy." He reached around and grabbed a handful of Jake's muscular ass.

"Gotta make up for lost time then." Jake moaned.

And as the two identical men entered the house, with Jake now fully embodying the essence of Greg Anderson, he knew one thing for certain - he never wanted to be anyone else again. The power, the masculinity, the raw sexual energy coursing through his new form was intoxicating. Any remaining flicker of his old self was snuffed out, consumed by the burning desire to revel in these feelings forever. With a wicked grin, he pulled Greg into a frenzied kiss, the two passionately sealing his fate and his new identity... forever.

Last part of a few winter themed stories. The Snow Storm & The Snow Hat are the two prior stories. I'll be working on some Asks and a series for Valentine's Day. Happy Monday!

"Dude, what the fuck?"

"What is it this time?" Ron groaned and removed his headphones.

"It's so fucking cold out, bro." Cayden walked in, shirtless per usual, shivering, "I'm freezing to death."

"Well, we're in the middle of winter." Ron deadpanned, "And I mean, you're shirtless." Cayden looked down and smirked, while Ron turned away to hide his reddening cheeks.

"Yeah, I guess you've got a point." Cayden mused, "But I've been working hard in the gym. Might as well show it off, right bud?"

"Ye-yeah, totally..." Ron stared at his textbook, doing his best to avoid his roommate's knowing gaze. Of course Cayden had to check all of Ron's boxes- the looks, the cockiness, straight- and worse yet, Cayden knew Ron was into him, "But if you're going to complain about being cold, you should get a coat. Or at least a shirt."

"Just 'cause you're smarter than me doesn't mean I need you to point out the obvious." Just then there was a knock on the door, and Cayden's smile widened, "Dude, you think I wouldn't come up with a plan?" Ron watched as Cayden went and grabbed a massive package and brought it in, his muscles bulging from the weight of the package, "Fuck, it's heavy."

"What's that?"

"Just the warmest winter coat money could buy." Cayden huffed, walking past Ron and towards his room, "Some dude sells them on Insta. Calls them Bear Coats." He smiled, "I'm gonna go try it on. See you in a sec, bro."

Ron nodded and watched as Cayden disappeared into his room, "Bear Coats, huh?" He mumbled, opening their website, "Weird." He scrolled through pics of their products and customers.

"I don't think Cayden really matches their demographic." Ron shrugged, "Oh, it says here the designer is part of the LGBTQ community. Didn't realize Cayden was an ally." He chuckled and went back to what he was doing, "Who am I to question it though?"

-----------

"Last time I freeze my balls off." Cayden grinned as he took his pocket knife to the package, "Oh fuck..." A wave of warmth washed over him as he opened it, "Does this thing radiate heat or something?" He smirked, "Perfect."

The young jock worked to pull the contents of the package out, which were still wrapped in a black, plastic material. Before Cayden had a chance to open it, he noticed a small folded letter.

"Thank you for choosing us." Typical corporate bullshit, "And thank you for choosing the Barry model." Cayden raised an eyebrow, "Barry model? Who the fuck is Barry?"

He tossed the letter aside and looked over at what he assumed was his new coat, still wrapped in the plastic. He approached it slowly, the heat still as intense as ever.

"Something isn't right." He whispered, "C'mon grow a pair, man." Was he really freaking out over a coat?

Cayden chuckled at how stupid he was being as he cut into the black plastic. The steam that was released from the bag made him jump back. And he stared, wide-eyed, at the lump of flesh colored material that now sat on his bed.

"What the fuck?"

But before he could even react, it sprung at him- its features becoming more apparent. Although the suit was deflated, lacking a core, Cayden could make out what was likely a large gut and sagging pecs, blanketed in wiry hairs. It's face was bearded, it's eye sockets empty-for now.

"Oh fu...!" Cayden's scream was cut off as the mask of the suit connected with his face, "Mmmphhh!"

Cayden tried to yell out, but a rubbery gag was promptly shoved down his throat. He pulled desperately at the mask at it sealed around his head, his hands desperately digging into the rubbery flesh. Cayden fell to his knees, the remainder of the suit seemingly draping around him.

"I can't breath." Cayden thought as he continued to pull at the mask, "Oh fuck it's so hot! My head is so hot!" He pulled more desperately at the mask, "Get off me!"

But before he could mount any further defense, the remainder of the suit went into action. The suit's burly, hairy arm wrapped around Cayden's lean muscle and forced his arm to his side. The same heat enveloped his arm, although Cayden's muffled cries were barely audible. His other arm went to pull at the material covering his arm, but was quickly enveloped by the suit's other arm.

"Oh fuck. I can't move." Cayden could feel tears well in his eyes, "I'm gonna overheat. It's so hot."

He groaned as the suit's torso began to envelop his. It's hairy sagging chest enveloping his lean pecs. His once taut abdomen disappearing behind a thick wall of rubbery, hairy flesh. He tilted his head down with great effort, and through the eye slits he could see the expanse of the suit's thick gut. And behind all that fleshy rubber- his body was on fire.

"Something feels wrong." Cayden felt a sudden wave of vertigo, the heat suddenly becoming more bearable, "Oh fuck, my head..."

He slowly brought an encased hand to his head, expecting to feel the rubbery flesh of the suit. But that's not what he felt. He felt... a bushy beard. Flesh. Cayden's eyes widened and brought his other encased arm to confirm what he was feeling.

"No fucking way." He gasped as the words left his lips. He spoke. He was breathing, "Oh my god. Oh god." His voice- deeper, less youthful, "The suit is real? That doesn't make sense... Ughhhhhh..."

He yelped as the warmth in his arms and torso started to diminish too. Desperately, he grabbed at his arms, wincing in pain as his nails dug into flesh. And as he grabbed a fistful of his very real fat gut, he wanted to scream as realization crashed over him. But those thoughts were short lived as the remainder of the suit wrapped around his ass, dick, and legs.

"No... No, no, no.... ahhhh fuck." He moaned- the warmth around his dick and ass was not unpleasant- in fact, it felt so good.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back as the heat pleasantly enveloped his proud cock, shifting and morphing it into a thick beer can, nestled in his very real fat pad. All the while, his ass settled into its thicker, hairier form, while his legs finally conformed to that of the suit's. And as the warm, pleasant sensations diminished and the remainder of the suit became his very real new body, Cayden's reality came crashing down on him.

------------------

"Ron?"

"Holy fuck! Who're you and how'd you get in here?" Ron jumped up from the table as he stared at the totally naked, bear of a man that exited Cayden's room.

"No Ron, it's me." Cayden's voice was a whimper, "Cayden... I'm..."

"Cayden?" Ron's eyes widened, "What the fuck?"

"The coat, dude. It... It did this..." Cayden sounded so defeated, so disgusted, "I don't... I don't know what to do." But as he stared at Ron, something felt wrong, "You... you look cold..."

"What? Cayden, I don't think..."

"So cold." Cayden approached with a grin, "I can... keep you... warm..."

What the fuck was he saying? What was he doing? Why did he want to hold Ron close? Why did he want to cuddle with another man?

"Cayden, get back!" Ron weakly insisted.

"You want this, don't you." He slurred, "All of this." He felt a strange pride in his new, heavyset form, "Come 'ere lil bud."

Ron didn't have much of a choice. Suddenly finding himself in Cayden's bed, wrapped in the bear's massive, hairy arms. His semi-hard dick up against his ass. Being like this- up against Cayden's new, hairy, beefier form- certainly did keep him warm.

Here is the third story out the five part Love Languages series I've been writing. Check out Words of Affirmation and Acts of Service, the first two in the series. Hope you enjoy!

"Quality time."

"That's your love language?" The text read, "That's ironic."

Logan frowned at the nearly instant reply from his boyfriend, Sam. He could just feel the tension behind those typed words. With a sigh, he put his phone back into his pocket and walked into the office. Work. So much work. Time spent in the office working, time spent at home working- it seemed never ending.

"It's for our future." Logan thought bitterly- a future that seemed like it might not come true. The time spent working was certainly a constant topic of their arguments and was creating more tension, "He just doesn't get it." He frowned, "Wedding rings are expensive."

"Logan! How're you doing?" Kathy approached him with a grin, "Big day today!"

"Yeah..." Logan replied, barely paying attention.

"Are you excited?"

"Big day... Big day?" He turned towards her, "What's going on? Is there some kind of announcement?"

She smiled, "You've always been such a jokester." She laughed and walked off, leaving Logan confused.

"Weird." He whispered, grimacing at a sudden achy feeling in his knees, "Damn, that hurts." He grunted, "Leg day finally catching up with me."

And as he moved slowly to his desk, something caught his attention. The table in the break room was decorated and he spotted some donuts from his favorite shop.

"Wonder what the occasion is?" He walked over, suddenly distracted by a grumbling in his stomach, "One won't hurt." He whispered, grabbing a donut. He scarfed it down in what must've been record time for him, "Usually one's enough." He muttered, "But I'm real hungry." He grabbed a second. And a third.

"Logan!" He turned to see Steve, "We're not done setting up."

Logan blushed, "I... Uh sorry about that. I can run and get..."

"No, don't worry about." Steve smiled, "I guess it doesn't matter. They're for... Ah shit let me take this call."

Logan frowned, "What's going on?" He patted his gurgling stomach and froze, "Since when...?" His stomach was pushing out, straining slightly against his shirt, "Fuck, shouldn't have eaten so much." He winced at the discomfort in his stomach and his knees as he finally made it to his desk.

The workday seemed to be progressing normally. Logan sent a few emails and worked on a few projects he had been assigned. But the day was tiring- more tiring than it should've been. His fingers moved slower on the keyboard. He shuffled uncomfortably in his seat as his lower back started to ache similarly to his knees. He found himself taking a few breaks and rubbing his eyes, finding the screen was bothering him more than usual.

"Hi Logan," Logan looked up to see a younger guy, probably slightly younger than him. Blond hair, clean-shaven, well dressed, "Mr. Carpenter wanted to talk to you about the Advent Project."

"Oh? Was there a reason?" Logan had been working on this one for a bit now. Big client, possibly lots of money to be made in commission if the deal went through.

"Since I'm taking over your projects, I thought I'd..."

"Taking over?" Logan coughed a few times to clear his voice. It sounded rougher, like he was coming down with a cold, "What're you talking about?"

The young man raised an eyebrow, "Umm, I'm taking over your projects, so I figured I should talk to you more about the most important one?"

Logan stared at the young man, confused. Was he being fired? Was his work not good enough? As the frustration built, he ran a hand across the top of his head and froze. His hair. What happened to his hair? Why did it feel so short? Why could he feel skin?

"What the..." Logan stumbled up out of his chair, nearly tumbling over at the change in his center of gravity, "Oh god, oh god..." His gut stuck much further out now, straining tightly against his shirt, "I... I need a bathroom..."

The other man looked on as Logan stumbled past him and towards the bathroom. When Logan finally did shut and lock the door behind him, he was nearly hyperventilating. Slowly and with a sense of growing terror, he looked in the mirror and gasped at what he saw.

"No..." He reached a hand towards the mirror as a much older reflection mimicked his movements, "No... that can't be me." He whispered, "I need to..." His phone buzzed and he looked down at a text from his boyfriend. His eyes widened as he read it.

"Can't wait to see you later." It read, "Are they doing anything big for your retirement party?"

"Retirement?" Logan gasped as another wave of changes rocked his aging body, "Oh fuckkkkk." He groaned.

It started with the itching. Everywhere. His back, his chest, his shoulders, his pits, his face. Coarse, grey hairs made there way to the surface, blanketing his previously clean-shaven skin in a blanket of curly hairs. Logan could only watch as his face sprouted a thick graying beard, while wrinkles formed around his face and under his eyes.

"Nnnnnggggg" His hand caught the mirror as he leaned over, breathing heavily, "Wh..."

He nearly doubled over as his already impressive gut took on more girth, while his lean, hairy pecs sagged with age and fat. Even his arms and legs grew larger as fat and muscle packed on to his once slender, youthful frame. All the while Logan could only stare as his youth drained from him at an impossibly alarming rate. By the time the changes seemed to have settled, he realized he must've been older than his own dad.

"Logan, are you okay in there?" His boss asked from behind the door.

"Ahh I'm... I'm okay..." He huffed, wincing at the ache in his back. Internally, he was screaming, "I think I ought to get home, fast." He said as he emerged.

But as he walked out, he was surrounded by his smiling coworkers. A sign was hung on the wall, reading "Thank You For Forty Years." Donuts were piled high in the nearby break room. There were even a few gifts. Logan looked at these wide eyed. Did his coworkers really not see that something was wrong? That this wasn't him? He swallowed nervously.

"We just finished up decorating!" Kathy said with a grin, "Can you stay for just a little?"

"I... I..."

"Yeah, it isn't everyday you retire." His boss said, "C'mon, let's celebrate. After, you can get home."

Logan gulped, and slowly nodded. His thoughts were racing too fast. He couldn't even think of what to do next.

-----------

"Forty-years and that was it." He mumbled as he lugged his wider, fatter, and older frame back to his apartment, "A donut party?"

Logan knew he should be worried about other things. Should be worried about how he went from a young, 20-something year-old man in the prime of his life to a fat, hairy, and balding 60-something year old in a matter of mere hours. With a sigh he entered his apartment and nearly fainted at what he saw.

"S-Sam?"

"There he is."

Logan felt sick- whatever magic had done this to him had also worked on Sam as well. Sam was naked, sprawled out on the couch. And as Logan looked at him, he realized just how identical they were. Large bellies, hairy bodies, balding heads, aged skin. Both of them had aged and changed rapidly, yet Sam didn't look even the bit bothered by it. Did Sam even realize what happened? Or was he like his coworkers?

"Sam, something's wrong, we're not..."

"Come here, handsome." Sam guided Logan inside, "Congratulations on your retirement."

"Sam, seriously..."

"I finally get my sexy husband all to myself." Sam smiled.

Husband? Logan suddenly felt something wrap around his finger. Eyes widened as a ring materialized seemingly out of nowhere. They were married. That thought should've brought him joy, yet now, he was horrified. As if his entire life had just sped by.

"No... Sam, there's something..."

"We finally have all the time in the world to spend with one another."

Logan's heart sunk. Time. Quality time. Sam was right. He was retired now. He didn't need to work. They could spend so much time together now. All the time in the world. Together. And as that realization hit Logan, he felt dizzy. Memories flashed rapidly. Their wedding day, their honeymoon, their day-to-day lives, growing older, vacationing, celebrating anniversary after anniversary- an entire lifetime flashed before him.

"Are you okay, handsome?"

"Yeah... Yeah I am." Logan slurred as he settled into this reality, "Feelin' my age a bit." He chuckled.

"Well I hope you're not too out of it." Sam smiled, "I have my own retirement gift for you."

Logan grinned. What a life they'd already built together. All the happy memories, all the challenges along the way. And as Sam helped Logan undress, the two pressing up against each other and kissing passionately, Logan was looking forward to all the time they'd get to spend with one another now.