TF Plaza

Miguel always felt like he was miles behind other guys his age. He was short, skinny, and practically hairless from the eyebrows down. He kept hoping, praying he would hit his growth spurt like all the other boys around him. If any god was listening, none thought he was worth their time. 

“Mini-guel” The nickname he got back in middle school. It started out as light hearted teasing, but as time went on this turned into something more malicious. By the time he graduated high school, everyone knew that the nickname wasn’t just referring to his height. 

Now at 25 years old, Miguel had only grown a few more inches leaving him at 5’3”. Still skinny, hairless, and lacking in the meat department, he found dating to be nearly impossible. He tried every dating app out there with no luck. The only messages he received were from predatory men interested in his “youthful” appearance. And considering his appearance, they always assumed he would bottom for them. Despite still being a virgin, Miguel knew bottoming was not for him. All those late night self-discovery sessions were evidence enough for him to know that. 

It was Friday night. Miguel’s friends decided to go clubbing. He reluctantly went along with them, having skipped out on too many outings already. Going out with his friends had just become inconvenient, often being accused of using a fake ID at the clubs and bars they would frequent. Once he managed to get in, he almost always just faded into the crowd, ignored in the sea of men “better” than him. 

Miguel stood off to the side, gazing at all the men on the dancefloor. One guy in particular caught his attention. This man was everything Miguel wanted to be. Ruggedly handsome, full beard, huge muscles, a sexy pelt of chest hair. The man was wearing tight shorts that left nothing to the imagination. A large bulge clearly advertising his package to any and every man hungry for a taste. Miguel was so distracted by the hunk’s majestic junk that he didn’t see that the man was now looking right at him.

"You got a problem?" growled the hunk as he walked towards Miguel, snapping him out of his trance.

Miguel's head snapped up to meet the man's eyes. Legs shaking, palms sweating, mouth going dry. He opened his mouth to apologize but nothing came out. The man now stood right in front of Miguel, towering over him. The top of Miguel's head barely reaching the bottom of the hunks chest. Having this walking testosterone factory so close had him both frightened and aroused. Having backed Miguel into a corner the hunk got right in his face.

"I'm just messing with you," he laughed. "I'm Leo. I saw you staring so I figured I'd give you a closer look." He grabbed Miguel's hands and placed them on his chest.

"I'm sorry. You're just everything I've been praying to be like," said Miguel staring at the ground. "I'm just tired of feeling infererior to every man I meet."

Leo smirked. "Why don't you come to my place and we can sort that out for you."

Miguel hesitated for a second. Not wanting to be pressured into bottoming for a man, a man who had him scared to death less than a minute ago. However, the hunk's musk was affecting him. He found it harder and harder to resist Leo's invitation. Soon he was following the hunk into his car.

They shortly arrived at Leo's apartment. It was the typical bachelor pad. Laundry everywhere, mattress on the floor, and almost no furniture. The smell of Leo’s musk was even stronger in the apartment leaving Miguel dizzy and even more aroused. 

“So you said you want to be like me, huh?” Leo asked while flexing his biceps, exposing his hairy armpits and wafting more musk into the room. 

“Yes… I do…” slurred Miguel, his arousal slowly becoming more intense. 

“Then listen to everything I’m about to tell you. Can you do that?”

“Yes, anything!” Miguel panted desperately.

Leo gave a wicked smile before giving his first command.”First, strip.”

Miguel froze. His mind was torn between wanting to obey and hiding his embarrassing (lack of) endowment. He looked at Leo with pleading eyes. “E-Everything?” he asked barely above a whisper. 

“Yes, everything. You won’t be needing them once we’re done anyways.”

After Miguel stripped out of his clothes, it was Leo’s turn. First he undid the button on his shorts and slowly pulled them down making a show out of it for Miguel. Bit by bit his underwear was revealed. Bright yellow briefs filled to bursting with a meaty package. Now free from its denim prison, Leo’s bulge swelled even bigger. Now tenting and dripping through the fabric, Leo gave a satisfied sigh. 

“Looks like it's time to pass down this blessing.” moaned Leo as he pulled down the briefs and stepped out of them. His massive member leaking right onto the floor. He hands the soaked briefs to Miguel. “Put this on.”

Miguel pauses, his mind overwhelmed by the naked beast of a man in front of him. Snapping back to reality, he pulls the briefs on. On his tiny frame, the briefs look comically large. He feels Leo’s Intense stare and considers putting his clothes back on and leaving. 

He starts reaching for his own underwear when he feels it. A pulse of something stopping him in his tracks. Then, a warmth. It starts with his bulge. His cock starts swelling, reaching his full length at 3”. He isn’t getting hard; it keeps growing until he reaches 8’ soft. His balls follow suit. Churning, swelling, and churning again until they rival large eggs. They start flooding his body with male hormones and testosterone, kickstarting the next part of his transformation.

Miguel was already satisfied with his changes so far. He went to embrace Leo to thank him. But as soon as he moved, he fell over in pain. His bones started lengthening leaving him at a height of 6’8”. As it stopped he stood and walked up to Leo. To his surprise. Miguel was now taller than Leo. 

“You might want to be in front of a mirror for this next part,” said Leo, leading Miguel to the bedroom. 

As soon as they reached the bedroom door, Miguel began sweating buckets. The heat he felt earlier returned. Now it was focused on his chest. His nonexistent pecs suddenly ballooned into a perfect pair of meaty, juicy muscle tits. His nipples thickened and expanded, becoming extremely sensitive. The growth spread outwards. His torso becoming thick with powerful musclegut. His shoulders so wide that most doorways will be his worst enemy. His biceps arms swelling to massive peaks. His legs expanding thicker than most men’s waists. 

While Miguel admires his new muscles in the mirror, he feels an itch across his whole body. Bit by bit, he grows a sexy dusting of hair along his body, accentuating his muscles and filling with his new musky scent. Smelling his own musk drove Miguel wild. He began stroking his cock while burying his face in his own pit. New thoughts filled his head. He realized he didn’t mind bottoming if it was for Leo. In fact, he found that he craves Leo’s cock just as much as his perfect ass. With those images flooding his mind, he came with a loud roar. His seed covering the entire mirror and himself. Miguel turned towards Leo, breathless but still horny. 

“Thank you for this. I look incredible, I feel incredible!” Marcus said, attacking Leo with a sloppy kiss. 

“I knew you’d take to it well,” said Leo as he rubbed and squeezed Miguel’s new muscles. 

Soon they were both enjoying each other. The briefs were discarded on the floor next to the rest of Leo’s dirty laundry. Both men were now enjoying their blessings. Obtaining the bodies they desire and the relationship they were searching for. 

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

His American roommate had invited him to a costume party that evening, insisting everyone had to dress as something “completely unlike themselves.” Nikos was a twenty-one-year-old engineering student from Thessaloniki, not an actor, not a party animal, and certainly not a wrestler.

Still, he had promised to go. “Ένα απλό κοστούμι,” he told himself. Just a simple costume.

The shop was enormous, its walls crowded with plastic capes, rubber masks, and brightly colored uniforms. Nikos passed pirates, superheroes, and cowboys before stopping beside a black wrestling singlet trimmed in gold. A roaring lion decorated the chest.

Archie and Felix were laughing as they finished their morning coffees on the way to the break room. They were discussing how the blonde bitch in marketing with the enormous tits managed to get that promotion, whether she blew everyone on the floor above or just let their boss fuck her up the ass. Both were laughing when they paused and saw a sight that made Archie grimace and Felix start giggling again. A round, fat arse was under the sink, the hairy crack exposed wiggling as its owner handled a tool trying to fix a leak. Heavy strained breathing could be heard under the sink as the overweight man with tattoos down one sleeve tried to get the issue sorted in the cramped area.

Archie and Felix approached and stood either side of the wagging fat butt and smiled at each other.

"Damn that sink stinks!" Felix said as he straightened his red tie and lent of the fridge behind him.

Archie couldn't help but let out a slight chuckle but controlled himself long enough to understand what Felix was doing. "Yeah there has been this awful smell coming from a crack in it"

Ask anyone about Chet and most will say the same things. He’s attractive. He’s funny. He’s charismatic. He’s a fuckboy, but he’s a great fuck. Chet was popular among his circles. A king of douchy frat bros and gym lads alike. He was a dick but still loved by everyone for his goofiness and good looks. Everyone but me. To me Chet was disgusting. Chet was a pig. Chet was a dumb fuck with a pea for a brain. Chet was a gym dripping in sweat and pre workout. Chet was a dick, not loveable and a dumb jackass who had stupid little people wrapped around his finger. Chet is everything I hate about society and more.

Just look at his smug smile, that classic Chet shit-eating grin. A grin that said yeah I am better than you and I know it! What a dick.

Even though I hated to admit it to myself, he was perfect. Physically I meant. Not his personality. His personality was what I hated. It’s always the pretty fuckboys that get the attention and treat it like shit. I wanted him to have that stripped away from him. I knew him mostly through parties. He was so fake, he’d come up to me with a typical hey bro then give me a hug like we were friends. We weren’t friends! His posy of dumb bimbos and dumb jocks would follow him everywhere and hype him up. God knows why. He’s such a fake piece of shit. I’m genuine, why don’t I have followers, and a posy, and guys and girls who would do anything to get a night alone with me. Fuck Chet. Fuck him! He’d always wobble around whatever party he was at, laughing obnoxiously and dumbly. He’d fart and think it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. Joke about his boner and act like a child. Immature and stupid. Tonight was the final straw. It was some party at this guy’s house. I barely knew him, a friend of a friend who’s parents were right and off travelling the world, leaving his estate open to drunk collage students looking to drink the night away.

Chet came up to me whilst I was getting a drink. I was wearing the only nice shirt I owned. I wanted to go for a Harry Styles inspired look with a loose shirt with a funky pattern of vines and flowers. Like the dumb oaf he was, he bumped into me, he spilt my drink, he ruined my shirt. “Aww bro I’m so sorry. Here let me get you another drink I feel so bad, you can borrow my shirt if you want?” He stripped like some dumb rentboy in front of everyone and handed me his sweaty white tee. What a fake fuck. Showing off and making himself look like some nice guy. I was the victim here! I stormed past him into a private study that was off limits to guests. I locked the doors behind me and stood for a second. I wanted to scream. I stunk of alcohol and my chest felt wet and sticky from the awful concoction of summer fruits and vodka. Trying to clear my head I decided to explore.

I knew very little of the man that owned the mansion, but I knew he travelled. A lot. He’d been to almost every country. Climbed most mountains. Befriended thousands of locals. Trophies and trinkets from his journeys littered the shelves and desk of his study. Wooden statues, silverware, books. The belongings of a true adventurer. I picked up many of these trinkets, examined them closely in my buzzed state. I eventually came across a small velvet box. It had some Asian lettering I didn’t understand. Gold symbols on the red fabric. I opened it showily to reveal a hidden treasure. A coin. A gold coin with what I assumed were Chinese symbols all over it. It looked expensive and almost intimidating. It was hard to describe but it had a presence. I felt a piece of paper on the inside of the box and it was a note. “The coin of a prolific emperor, thought to guide him in decisions and help him stay on the right path. A coin to heal one’s bruises.” What a load of horse shit. A coin to help someone. Like good fortune. That’s when there was a knocking at the door. It was Chet. “Bro I’m sorry, please let me in I feel awful.” I wanted to scream at him, tell him he’s a dumb lumbering moron and to fuck off. But I couldn’t. I let him in.

He gave me a deep, heavy hug. He was clearly drunk as he put more weight on me than he should and his hot breath stunk of jäger. He looked almost in tears. For a second I thought he actually might feel bad. “Bro I’m so sorry, I don’t want you to hate me but I feel like you have something against me. You always seem like you don’t wanna be near me. Have I done something wrong?” Have you done something wrong? Yes you thick fuck, you’re acting like you! Being some dumb douche why would I want to hang around some stinking jackass. He even burped in my face, claiming beer makes him gassy and he couldn’t help it. Disgusting pig. I was about to tell him exactly what I thought of him when he placed a hand on my shoulder and looked into my eyes. It was weird, le looked at me like he’d known me his whole life, like I was important to him. And I felt it, I was looking at him the same way. Like a fire had just awoken in me. “Let’s just have some bro time, everyone else can wait. We used to be so close.” The words rang in my ears when I felt something strange. It was like my mind was rearranging. Becoming foggier but clearer at the same time. Not as many thoughts, not as complex. I was confused at first but remembered. Of course he cared about me, he was my brother. Chet was my twin. Wait no?! He wasn’t my twin. My mind was scrambled as I had two worlds in my head, one where I hated Chet and one where he was my best friend, my family, my twin. My hands grew clammy as I started to sweat. My body felt sore and swollen. My clothes tighter and almost damp. My hair started getting greasy as it grew sweaty and clammy. I felt like i hadn’t showered in ages. Like if just finished a workout.

THPPTPHTPHPHHPH

I started chuckling in a low, dumb laugh as Chet released one of his toxic beer farts. He’d always been that way ever since we were kids. We’d sneak into our Dad’s mini fridge in his workshop and steak cans of beer. They were cold and bitter, we couldn’t understand why any adult would ever want to drink something so gross but here were were downing can after can. After a while we felt dizzy as our heads span and we danced. I remember he’d fart and burp because of the beer. It always made him so uncontrollably gassy. It did the same to me too, after all, I’m his twin. The loud blast of gas blustering out my ass brought me back into the room. Chet was laughing like a drunk, howling in tears as he rolled and farted on the floor. I couldn’t suppress my own laughter even though I knew it wasn’t funny. But it was at the same time. It was idiotically funny. Complex jokes would go over my head, even simple jokes sometimes, but farts, farts were always funny. I caught sight of my reflection in the glass of a tall cabinet. What the fuck?

My face had changed. My once light brown hair had darkened to the same colour as Chet’s. My eyes were getting darker, duller. My ears stuck out more making me look like some dumb ape. Even my smile was changing, looking simple and unintelligent. Blissful even. Even wisps of unimpressive facial hair adorned my face. Sure it wasn’t a full beard but showed I was a man, that’s why I grew it. But I used to keep my face clean shaven. Didn’t I? My face looked so confused and simple. That’s where Chet got better genetics, he looked like the smarter twin, and he was. That’s why I always went to the gym. Sure Chet was no Einstein but he was going places. He was a loveable goof but was studying business. We were going to own a gym he’d tell me. Our own gym where we can work out all day and do what we love. My mind told me this was wrong. I was a finance student with a bright future ahead of me but now all I could see myself doing was grunting away on a workout bench in a gym my brother and I owned.

Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe I was going crazy, but I looked bigger. I started flexing in the mirror. I was entranced by my own body. How each muscle contorted and bulged when I flexed it. I smiled at myself unknowingly I chuckled when I made my pecs bounce under my shirt. It looked so funny. So big and bouncy. “Admiring the gains bro?” Asked Chet to which I just chuckled dumbly.

My whole body was different, with muscle and definition. I looked like Chet only slightly bigger and dumber. My face screamed jackass gym bro. My clothes had also changed as I watched them contort and fade then reappear. Gone were my jeans and shirt, now I had a tank top and workout shorts on. Gone were my loafers now replaced with smelly old gym trainers. I kept flexing and admiring my physique, remembering everything it had cost me. I had barely any education because I spent so much time in the gym. I never learned to drive because Chet always offered me lifts. I was always with Chet, wherever he went, so did I. Everywhere apart from his classes. I liked being big and strong. Chet was the brains, the looks and the leader, I was the brawn. Although I didn’t know what that meant. I just know I’m big and strong and Chet will always help me. He helps me with numbers a lot as well as reading. He always reads menus to me when we’re in a restaurant. On the rare occasion he isn’t there I just ask for a burger. If they haven’t got that then I just go elsewhere. I hated being away from my bro. He got me, like actually understood me. He always made me laugh and knew how to make me happy. I loved Chet so much. We even shared a room at our frat. How else would I know what to wear? Which clothes needed to be washed because they stunk too bad? How to brush my teeth and shower without him to show me. I don’t even use the toilet alone because i don’t want to be away from his guidance. Finally my concentration was broken from my reflection when both myself and Chet farted in unison. We both laughed hysterically taking deep whifs of the eggy, rotten farts. Our protein shakes made them smell that bad, at least that’s what Chet tells me. “Let’s get back to the party dude, we can go play beer pong or you can do a push-up contest with someone.” I liked that, he’d tell me what to do and I’d do it. He always knew what was fun. If he told me to do push-ups in front of everyone I would. If he told me to flex for someone I would. Before we left he told me to take off my tank top. He said it would be better for me to show off, maybe we could score some hot chicks tonight. That’s if they can put up with our farts and shared room. Topless, I walked out into the crowds of people and thumping music as Chet made me a drink. We did shots and he made me chug beer. He always thought it was hilarious when I couldn’t stop farting afterwards.

How could anyone hate Chet? He was my twin bro. The best bro I’d ever have. We were often told we were inseparable. Like we were joined at the hip. I don’t know what that means. I’m not connected to his hip. We came as a pair. Someone said we were o-b-n-o-c-s-h-u-s and I was m-o-r-o-n-i-k when we were messing about in the diner the other day. We’re we’re just playing around. But Chet had my back, I didn’t understand a lot of the words that woman said or what Chet said back but he told me she was just jealous of how cool I was. Yeah, that bitch was jealous of my gains and how hot I am.

And who doesn’t find farts funny? She was stuck up as Chet said, but I wasn’t sure why she wouldn’t be able to sit down? Weird. Anyways we’re about to graduate collage, well Chet is, and then we’re gonna open our gym DUMBBELL DUDES. It was such a clever name, Chet was so smart. No wonder he was graduating, I was just living with him since I was made to drop out because of my terrible grades. Oh look, our new post has a comment, “imbeciles, who would want to date some dumbass oafs.” I didn’t understand what most of that meant but it was cool she was asking who’s date us, after all we came as a pair.

Anyways I need to try to work out which clothes I should were out tonight. There’s a huge party and everyone loves when Chet and I come. We’re the life and party and I make everyone laugh when I blast my beer farts and have burping completions after push up contests. Chet said he would help me find some clothes but he isn’t here yet. Are these gym shorts clean. Sure they smell musky and are still damp with sweat from this morning but I haven’t washed them in weeks and Chet still hasn’t told me to clean them. I won’t put them on now though, I’m gonna fart on him when he walks in, it’ll be so funny. I can’t stop chuckling thinking about it.

After badgering director's to perform As You Like It for years Toby finally gets what he wanted. Well, besides his favorite part that is. Cast as a wrestler, Toby is going to steal the stage in the only way he knows how: losing himself to his role.

Don't be alarmed but this is my longest story yet! Toby's true love of theatre trickles away and fuels his quick and intense growth into the perfect wrestler. Aided by his soon to be 'best bro' Cal, singlets that never seen to fit, and waning knowledge of stagecraft Tony's trip to the ring is my favorite yet. Hope you enjoy ! -Occam

They do one Shakespeare play on mainstage every year and without fail, every year, Toby has made a case to perform his favorite play: As You Like It. And at last, at this super-senior’s absolute final chance he has convinced them to put it on.

While obviously a fan of the play, the real reason he had been pushing so hard was so he could finally embody the ever-melancholic Jacques. To give the ‘All the World’s a Stage’ speech has been a dream of his so long that it is basically always looping in his head. The casting directors are well aware its verses are engraved upon his heart. 

Longingly imagining being the actor to teach those humdrum layfolk in the audience that they too are players in this farce that we call life as he walks in for his audition, Toby smirks knowing this charade is all just a frivolous formality. The cast list may as well already have his name written next to the most pensive character in the Bard’s canon.

Clint was warming up and stretching when he heard the first shout of his name, glancing over his shoulder Clint could see the football coach and Clint couldn't help but roll his eyes. He had heard the football team had lost a few of its members to injury and that the coach was looking to replace them and Clint could not think of anything worse. Clint was a track star, he had been sprinting the 400m for years and had won several national competitions. That's how he managed to get a scholarship to a top university along with a generous donation from his parents. There was no way he was going to lower himself and become a 'bulldog' and be around the other lumps of dumb muscle. Clint heard his name being called again and still he pretended like he didn't hear, once he was stretched out he would start running and there would be no way the dumpy little coach would catch up to him. However, if Clint had bothered to acknowledge the coach then he would have seen the already out of breath middle aged man jogging over to before standing in front of the sneering Clint.

"Clint Simmons? Yeah I thought it was you. I was calling ya champ, did you not hear me?" the coach said red-faced.

Part 3: Iron

Leaves crunched underfoot as Brad paced back his apartment. He had just finished picking up some energy drinks at seven eleven. He had taken the liberty of changing the cashier a bit. He had taken one look at the poorer run down older man, and changed him into an athletic, well dressed, silver fox of a man. The new cashier had handed him his Bang and invited him to come back anytime in a deep, commanding voice. Brad cracked open his drink and took a sip. It’s called making the world a better place one new life at a time.

“Hey Kid!”

Brad stopped mid sip as his veins turned icy cold. He recognized that voice. He slowly turned to face the figure standing casually a few meters behind him. Tony Stark, one of the slightly more competent avengers. Brad did his best to feign excitement,

“Oh my gosh! Iron Man! What the hell are you doing here?!” He said putting his hands over his head in what he hoped looked like surprise.

Tony, who was dressed in casual were and not the suit thank god, sized up Brad with a dark look. His chest piece growled faintly under his tee shirt.

“was wondering if I could ask you a few questions,” he said taking a few steps forward. “You’re Bradley Jabobsen right?” The avenger waved brad off before he could answer anything “I mean I already know you are, I pulled your file.”

Oh shit shit shit shit shit shit

The Tony continued, pointing nonchalantly at Brad.

“You know we’ve been taking a look, and it seems for some reason, Messages coming from your IP addresses and cell phone signals have been the last things received by both Thor and Cap before their disappearances.” He paused to pulling a small unrecognizable device from his pocket.

“That’s pretty weird don’t ya think kid?” He said, staring Brad down with Cold piercing eyes.

Brad could feel himself trembling as he blurted out the first thing to that came to mind!

“I know right?! I’m literally such a big fan of you guys and when I heard that Thor and Cap went missing, I couldn’t help but reach out! I Fuckin love you guys!”

Even as the worlds left his mouth Brad new how ridiculous they sounded. He tried to calm down, getting ready to use his power.

Iron man put on an unenthused face. “Well kid since you’re such a big fan I’m sure you wouldn’t mind coming with me and chatting about it?” “You’ll get to meet a lot of really interesting people I promise.”

Brad took a step back, loosing his nerve for a moment. “Actually I-“

“That’s what I thought” said Tony. He flipped a switch on the device in his hand and it began to crackle with electricity. Almost like a taser.

Brad bolted, hauling ass in the opposite direction. He just needed enough time to Power up before he could use his abilities on the avenger. He was vaguely aware of Tony chucking the crackling device in his direction. Brad turned over his shoulder and willed the Sparking projectile to evaporate out of the air. His eyes flashed and the device rippled in and out of existence. Instead of disappearing, the tech morphed itself into a half full bottle of Fiji water and smacked brad in nose knocking him to the ground.

“What the hell-“ Brad heard tony exclaim as the water bottle clattered to the floor. Brad had no time to think as he sat up to face the avenger, hearing the tell tale sound of repulsors being charged. Right before He was pounded into the pavement, Brads eyes flashed, enveloping the both of them in a blinding light.

Brad watched, breathing heavily as the world melted around them. Tony stood frozen in place, a shocked look plastered on his face as his body began to change. He began to swell, almost like an inflating balloon. out of seemingly nothing, muscle started to pack itself on the avengers middle aged body until it strained against the fabric. Brad watched in awe as Tony Starks chest ballooned outwards, creating an impressive pec shelf. The iron heart sputtered for a moment and then completely fell off of the avengers body, leaving behind a shirt strained against a still growing physique.

The changes continued, with Tony’s legs swelling to bigger and bigger proportions until he stood on a thick pair of muscular thighs. His pants kept up his body, reshaping into a pair of tight workout shorts. Eventually the shirt could hold now more, and seemed to melt into the avengers body. It looked as if someone had taken Tony Starks head and switched it onto the body of a competitive bodybuilder. Lastly his face began to change. A rich sunkissed tan bloomed over his features and traveled down his body. His face began to shift and regress, changing to a more Pacific Islander form. As he continued aging backwards, this glasses melted off of his face, revealing a confident smolder.

Brad shifted to stand, as the new mans hair styled itself into short sporty cut, but found himself reeling. He glanced down at his own hands and saw his own finger tips changing color to a similar shade as the former avenger. Brad absolutely lost his shit internally, what was going on?!

The world stopped spinning around them as the two found themselves in a spacious box gym. The sound of grunts and weights echoing around them. Brad groaned as his own body continued to shiver and change. What was once iron man unfroze in front of him, kneeling down with a confident smirk.

“See i told you you couldn’t handle that weight yet Bradley…”

Brad panted as he felt his own body expanding ever so slightly.

“What… weight..”

The former avenger laughed freely and loudly, grabbing Brad by the shoulders and pulling him to his feet.

“Listen Bro, I know you’re really working hard, but that doesn’t mean that we need to make huge jumps in your deadlift PRs man, It’s all about slow consistent progress.

Brad shifted on his feet as his head ached, he caught a glance of himself in the mirror, not believing what he was seeing. A wirey young athletic man starred back at him, shirtless, sweating, and gawking in the mirror.

he couldn’t believe it! No matter how hard he had tried before hand, he had been unable to change anything about himself! He grabbed his red cap in disbelief and stared himself down. Maybe with the desperate surge of power he had released he had inadvertently affected his own reality as well.

Iron man grabbed brad by the shoulder and shook him a bit.

“Hey bro? you good? We still workin?’” Brad stared back at him as a new set of memories tried to bully themselves into his mind. He recognized iron man now as his older brother Charlie. He had asked Charlie to give him some workout tips and…. They had come to the gym they regularly frequented.

Brad clenched his eyes shut as his brain continued to settle. He was terrified of loosing his identity, but as a few seconds passed he found the memories sinking into the back of his mind, almost like a faint memory. He let out a deep sigh. He was still Brad.

“Hey man,” Charlie said furrowing his thick brow. “Maybe you should take a break bro, I don’t want to have to call mom and tell her you died because you couldn’t handle my workouts.”

Brad collected himself for a moment and glanced over at Charlie between pants.

“Your right bro..” he said, finding new speech patterns coming automatically. “I’m just trying to be like you man, but i think I’ll hit the showers.”

Brad started stumbling towards what he assumed was the locker room. He heard Charlie call after him, “Hey if you want to be like me then you gotta start eating like me baby brotha!” He saw Charlie grab the slightly askew barbell and start working out, out of the corner of his eye.

Brad entered the locker room room and sat down on the bench. he pulled a phone out of his pocket and started to search for answers. How much of his reality had just been changed. As he searched through his apps and his pictures he saw a life he now vaguely recognized as his own. A text messaged appeared at the top of the screen. He clicked and was greeted by a nude. Sent by the former captain America, now Carlos. It read,

Still down to chill tonight babe🤤🍆😘?

Brad sighed....well… at least that hadn’t changed.

Thanks for reading guys! Feel free to comment about wether it was too long or too short or who you'd like to see next

Part 2 - Thunder

Brad munched on the his chips by the lakeside. The cool autumn air blew across the waters surface, scattering light in all direction. He didn’t mind the cold all that much, but he had been waiting here for well over four hours now and a chill had set in.

Brad had been trying to understand the power that he had been gifted. It was interesting how when he altered reality, the world shifted to make a new life for the person he had changed, but didn’t erase the other persons existence from history. Take Captain America for example. Brad had done the world a favor and turned that overly patriotic hero into a college himbo. Everyone now had memories of captain, or Carlos now as a flirtatious jock who was eager to show off his body to any dude who looked his way. But the old captain Americas identity still existed, and the avengers and the world were desperately trying to locate the former super soldier.

Brad shrugged, crumpling up his chip bag. Magic was pretty freaking weird. It had been very difficult getting a private message to the god of thunder without alerting the other avengers. It had taken rigging together a HAM radio, a NMR machine, and a Samsung Phone to send a decent broadcast into space. (Thank god for the weirdos on Asgardin Reddit.) He’d sent a message as a concerned citizen mentioning how he had seen something that looked similar captain americas shield discarded at the bottom of the lake. He had banked on the brash avenger not taking time to question why the hell someone would sent that message to Asgard and not say the police? The sky began to swirl and darken above brad. He nodded, crumpling up his chip bag. Looks like his work at paid off.

Thor descended from the sky In a multicolored blast of light that charred the reeds and the blue grass below. Brad stood up and rolled his eyes. Destroying the natural scenery, yet another reason the avengers were hella annoying. He put on his best concerned citizen face as the Asgardian prince strutted forward with a determined glint in his eye.

“You must be the mortal child who raised the alarm!” He said pointing at Brad. Brad clutched his hands together ,

“Yeah man! Dude thank goodness youre here! I was worried that you wouldn’t show up.”

Thor almost seemed to strike a majestic pose as he replied with a sincere smile, “I may be busy running a kingdom but I’m always happy to assist midgardians like yourself. Now if you could bring me to the man who you know as “Captain America” I would be grateful.” The mans voice reverberated over the lakeside.

Brad dropped his hands and smirked.

“Well Thor… There’s actually been a slight miscommunication man… I know where the captain is, in fact he wont stop texting me work out pics. I actually brought you here for a different reason.”

Thor frowned and lowered his brow. His hands tightening on his hammer.

“What do you mean Mortal? I came here to help a friend.” He looked brad up and down gauging his abilities. “ you should know that if this is some sort of trap, I’ve faced down mightier enemies than you child.” Brad shook his head. He was getting decently fed up of being put down by these hero’s. He could be a threat if he wanted to.

“What I mean man, is that I brought you here so I could help you. I know you’ve been through quite a few losses lately and I thought I could do both you and I a favor.” Brad said

Thors scowl deepened and he began to march forward.

“Listen well child, I do not take kindly to having my time wasted and my personal life shared,” a spark or electricity shot from his finger tips, “Either tell me where I can find the captain or I will start using this hammer as more than an accessory and I-“

*Snap*

Brad didn’t care to hear the rest of the hero’s speech and let a flash of light envelope him. Thor stopped mid step with a shocked look on his face. The world began blurring around the both of them. Same old, same old thought brad, enjoying the process before him.

Thors armor began to ripple and melt together as the changes began. His hammer dropped to the shifting ground and after trembling for a moment, dissolved into the floor. The once impressive chest plate he wore began to shrink down, changing material until it was a simple cotton, hugging his impressive body. His cape began to disappear in fragments, leaving behind faint red smoke.

Brad was both interested and concerned for a moment as he saw the god of thunders eyes glowing bright blue, almost as if he was resisting the changes. Brad squirmed, unsure of what he would even do if Thor somehow over powered him. Did Thor have magic powers or something? He wasn’t sure…He was grateful when the asgaridans glowing eyes fizzled out and a blank expression appeared on his face.

More and more of Thors clothing melted away, revealing his godly body. When his bare chest was finally exposed his skin began to darken. As every part of his former identity was stripped away, Thors body began to soften. Impressive muscles used for war and battle shifted into a physique built simply for looks and instagram likes. He shrunk down, losing 10 centimeters of height. His skin turned a rich dark brown, and the slight stubble on his chin became jet black.

Thors long, golden, gorgeous hair slowly retracted back into his head, the last bit evaporating away entirely, leaving a short buzz of thick black hair. Thors leg armor glided upwards, leaving behind smooth, bulging calf’s and thighs. The material shifted into a thin spandex, that reshaped into a low rising speedo. Thors butt ballooned outwards into to large globes of muscle; that almost overfilled his new underwear. His posture shifted as well, his impressive ass now being flaunted our while still displaying his impressive chest. Brad smiled again as the front of the speedo filled in to impressive proportions. Honestly he was doing Thor more of a favor than anything.

Brad eyed up his handiwork as the world started to come back into focus. No one would recognize the man before him as the former god of thunder. Thor was nothing more than eye candy. A man who was made to workout, fuck, and be loved by other men. The temperature of the air warmed and the world snapped back into focus. Brad blinked against the sunlight, the two men now stood at the side of a pool.

Thor, or Theo now looked into brads eyes. They now stood roughly the same height so it was easier for the new man to saunter forward and place a hand around brads waist.

“Hey baby,” Theo said in a deep lush voice. Before Brad could question much about the new reality he had created, Theo leaned forward locked his soft lips into a deep kiss. Brad gasped as Theo explored the inside of his mouth with tongue. Brad found his own arms wrapping around Theo as the two shared a passionate moment. Brad couldn’t believe how amazing his life was as he squeezed the former superhero’s huge bubble butt. Theo separated and grinned, biting his lip.

“Hey how about you go get changed into your swim suit so we can spend some quality time together yeah?” He reached forward and groped brads bulge through his jeans. Brad blushed and winked at the former god of thunder.

“Sure thing Theo”

With that turned and started heading for what looked like a Miami condo, he found himself incredibly excited to explore this new aspect of reality. Thor was better off this way. No cares, worries, or responsibilities. Brad glanced back at the new man, who was now chatting and posing for other pool goers. Brad quickened his pace to find a swimsuit, excited to find a swimsuit. Maybe the other avengers would have to wait…

"The Captain"

A 5 part story!

Brad breathed a sigh of relief as he finally spotted captain America in plain clothes walk though the warehouse doors. Super heros were never respectful of the time of the people who were trying to destroy them. The broad shouldered avengers walked cautiously though the entry way, shield held gingerly at his side. Brad had submitted a desperate anonymous call for help on a non police frequency and he had figured that the star spangled hero would show up. He smirked from the shadowy crate wall he was hiding in; getting ready to make his entrance. It wasn't so much that he hated superheros. That whole loki buisness in 2012 was super annoying. It's just that he had never forgiven the avengers for using his brand new buic as a shield against the alien invaders. Brad grimaced, standing up and walking out into the light. He hadn't even finished paying off the damn thing.

"Captain! Good of you to finally arrive, I only submitted that call 15 minutes ago!" He said strutting confidently into the open. Captain america froze. In a confused almost battle stance with his head cocked to the side.

"Are you with the young lady that submitted the tip that their was human trafficking activity in this warehouse?

Brad gave an annoyed look. His voice didn't sound that feminine. Yet another reason to dislike these Neanderthals of superheros.

"Yes sir, I'm glad you're here. I've been dying to meet you."

There was no way for the super soldier to know this, but Brad had been gifted with supernatural abilities ever since he had saved a cosmic being from being discovered by the media. The gross looking little alien had told him to only use the power to make the world a better place or some bullcrap like that. Brad grinned as his eyes started to glow bright green. The way he saw it, fixing the avengers like this was doing everyone a favor.

"Son," captain america said in a tired voice. " if this is for another Instagram stunt I am very disappointed"

Brad rolled his eyes as he prepared to rework captain America's reality. The superhero continued on

"I'm tired of all the kids your age only caring about their own popularity."

Brad smiled. Bingo

" captain," Brad said with a laugh

"Don't you mean kids OUR age?"

The super hero didn't even get the chance to comment on brads terrible pun as Brad snapped his fingers and a flash of light enveloped the hero.

The hero could only blink as every part of his identity melted away and his reality was rewritten.

Brad always liked watching this process. It was a huge turn on. The heros face started to reconstruct itself as a Latin tan spread up his neck. His previously blonde turned a beautiful black and began to curl. A dark goatee appeared on his face for only a moment as his ethnicity finished changing. Brad was ridiculously attraced to this new latinized super soilder, and debated stopping the reality alteration right there. He sighed and let the transformation continue, sure the end product would be even better.

As the world continued shifting around them, the new and improved captain america began to age backwards. His inflated muscles began to soften to a more aesthetic, cute size. He quickly lost height. Shrinking down until he stood roughly 5 foot 8. A pouty smolder appeared on his face as his clothing shifted. The plain fabric he had been wearing changed material to a more sporty nylon. A college ruby logo appeared on his shirt. Finally the pants he had been wearing traveled up his bulging legs and became a pair of short work out shorts that framed his now soft bubble butt nicely. His shield collapsed in on itself until it was a musky gym bag.

The room around them blurred and transformed into the local college gym. Brad smiled and snapped his fingers as the transformation finished. The new 22 year man in front of him shook his head, as if waking up from a trance. Brad spoke up

"Carlos! Dude it's good to see ya bro!"

The new man in front of him grinned and came in for a side hug.

Brad bro! It's been forever, I didn't know you worked out here! Hey you still thinking about joining the rugby team here? Me and the guys could use someone like you!

Brad shook his head, happy the transformation had resulted in this new hottie he could get along with

" naw hernandez, I know your the captain of the team but I'm not really built for that haha."

The new carlos laughed it off and winked at Brad.

" fair enough big guy, hey let's hang out later? I gotta hit the showers before classes. "

" Sure thing dude, just be sure to send me a post workout pic. You know I love seeing the pump."

The once supersoldier, now college hunk smiled and gave the thumbs up. With that he strutted away to the locker room. Brad was happy with the work he had done and started looking for the exit of this gym he had been transported to. It was always hard for him to get used to the new memories the reality altering brought about.

As he made his way through the university his phone buzzed. A message from a number he didn't recognize. He opened it and immediately blushed and grinned. the new Carlos did in fact send over a post work out pic. Brad kept walking towards the exit, trying to ignore the tightness growing in his jeans. For some reason whenever he altered reality the new people usually ended up attracted to him. Not that he was mad about it.

It was incredible how only a few moments ago that stud was an american hero. Now he could serve his community in a different way. As he neared the exit of the building he focused up and started to brainstorm on his phone. Which avenger would he take down next?

Thanks for the interest in the stories everyone. I'll be doing 4 more of these so keep your notifications on haha. If you have any ideas or suggestions feel free to comment or message! Hope you enjoyed.

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 ?

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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

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

YTA btw

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

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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 ;)

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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 ! ^^

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Dalton was at his prime. He had been in the Marines for nearly a decade at this point, rising through the ranks and succeeding in every mission he’d been deployed on. He was in the best shape of his life as well, with the daily workouts and protein packed meals showing in every inch of his body. He love it, the physical prowess, the prestige from the military ranks, the comradery with his fellow Marines, it was all perfect.

His heart jumped when he was pulled into a clandestine meeting one morning. His sergeant stood towering over even him, making even Dalton unsure of what was coming his way.

“Dalton, you’ve been of great value to this nation in recent years,” the man started, “It’s time for what I believe to be your most important assignment yet.” Dalton’s eyes widened a bit, he’d already done plenty of daring missions and vital reconnaissance, what could possibly top that?

“We’re soon going to execute a covert operation overseas, and you’ll be leading the task force to achieve absolute success. However, this will require some more in depth preparation than normal, and as such I’ve brought in Doctor Massoud, who will ensure you are properly acclimatized to the region before departure.” 

The sergeant stepped to the side and opened the door behind him, and the doctor entered the small room. Dalton was caught off guard by the man, who he would not have taken for a doctor besides the tight scrubs he was in. Massoud was a hulking man, rivaling even the sergeant in terms of sheer size, with muscles stretching his clothes to their limit. His deep brown skin was nearly completely coated with thick black hair, with a forest erupting from the deep v neck of his outfit. He was clean shaven, but a dark shadow reminded anyone of the monstrous beard that threatened to sprout each day. 

“If you would both follow me to the other room,” he said with an authority in his voice. Dalton rose from his chair and entered through the doorway behind his sergeant. The room was dimly lit other than a bright overhead light above what looked like an operating table. Dalton’s skin crawled, what exactly was this mission he was being put on?

“Please lie down on the bed,” Massoud said with little emotion in his face. Dalton had little choice but to comply. “I’ve been tasked with making sure you will find success in your mission. To that end, I’ve developed a technique to ensure complete camouflage with the operative area.” He did not elaborate any further on the subject, but instead produced a small syringe.

“This will likely hurt,” he stated bluntly. 

The doctor pulled up Dalton’s sleeve slightly and stabbed the syringe into his arm. The needle went deep, and Dalton winced as the liquid was injected into him. He had a high pain tolerance from years of training and injury, but somehow this had reached beyond that. The doctor quickly removed the needle and wrapped his arm with a light gauze before stepping back.

“It should begin fairly quickly,” he said, providing no context. Dalton had a swarm of questions in his head. What was that injection? What was all this about? He hadn’t even been briefed on the mission yet, and he was quickly becoming stressed about the entire situation. His thoughts were interrupted by the doctor.

“Please remove your clothes, corporal,” he said coldly. Dalton looked to the sergeant standing next to him, who gave a nod to confirm. He sat up from the bed and pulled off his shirt before unbuckling his pants and sliding them off as well. “I would advise your undergarments as well,” the doctor added.

Dalton was truly confused by this scenario, but he was in no position to disagree with his superior at the moment. With some disdain, he slid off his underwear, revealing an averagely sized flaccid cock and the stubble of a recently shaved groin. He then sat there on the bed, naked, with harsh lighting beaming down on him. Seconds felt like hours as a few goosebumps appeared in reaction to the chill of the room around him. Just as he was about to voice his apprehension for the entire ordeal, Dalton felt a small pinprick on his chest, pulling his attention downward.

He looked down on his large pecs to find a thin, wispy hair poking out from the edge of his nipple. It was nearly transparent, glowing in the light as it grew longer, curling into the air. Dalton slowly moved his hand up to touch the hair, feeling its length between his fingers as he watched another hair slowly emerge nearby. His nipples grew hard, perking up as they became wreathed in hairs, strands growing thicker and wiry as more and more sprouted from his chest. The growth radiated outwards, hairs spreading across his pecs and into the valley between them, growing darker and denser there. Hairs popped up further and further from his nipples, clambering up towards his collarbone as the skin beneath tingled from follicles activating for the first time. Within moments his chest had been covered with a light but puffy coating of brown hairs, more than he’d ever had before.

Dalton could hear the sergeant and doctor whispering from a few feet away, unable to concentrate on what they were saying. The tingling in his pecs quickly turned to itching as the hairs continued to flood in, filling in the gaps, growing thicker and darker. His nipples darkened in color as the hairs surrounding them thickened into dark, wiry coils. The growth reached outwards, and Dalton raised his arm to confirm his worries about the itch appearing in his pit. He watched as his light tuft of hair was quickly overrun with thick, wiry hairs. They erupted from the smooth skin of his pit, growing longer and thicker than anything previous. The old wispy hairs followed suit, darkening as they grew thicker, follicles doused in whatever the doctor had injected into him. The hairs kept pouring out of his pit, curling together into a deep jungle that clawed its way out from the bounds of his underarms. The hairs blended into his chest fur and threatened to encircle his arms entirely, with lone strands popping up around his bicep. Dalton could feel a similar mass growing under his other arm, filling in with wiry fur to match. He lifted the other arm, the mass of sweat soaked hair pulling apart as hairs continued popping up further and further out. A wave of thick masculine stench hit Dalton’s face, the sweat coalescing in both his pits combining with his raging pheromones. He reeled backwards in disgust, even when deployed he’d made sure to keep himself clean and shaven.

Dalton’s attention was pulled back from his pits when he felt a throbbing in his underwear. It pulsed, a pleasurable but intense sensation taking over his groin, his cock inflating as it grew harder and harder. The formerly flaccid cock stood at attention, but the tingling sensation continued, turning into an itch. He stared at the stubble coating his groin as it began to darken. The freshly shaved hairs pushed out slowly, inching out from his skin as they took on a darker hue than ever before. Within moments his modest bush, which hadn’t seen the light of day in years, had returned, but that was just the beginning. Dalton felt blast of pleasure as his bush surged outwards. Coarse dark curls erupted from his skin, tangling with older hairs into an impenetrable jungle. The hairs spread across his groin, burying exposed skin beneath wiry strands, claiming more and more territory as his inner thighs and navel area fell to the masculine threat. Hair surged upwards from his bush, coating his stomach with fur, a treasure trail would be underselling it. The line of hair shot straight up to his chest, blending into the darkening rug up north. He didn’t even notice the doctor taking notes in the background as his bush thickened once more, wiry hairs twisting together into suffocating coils, the triangle filling out and then some as his entire lower torso vanished beneath the growing hair. 

Dalton’s cock was buried beneath the voluminous bush sprouting continuously from his groin. He shoved his hands in to try and find it but the tight curls of pubes caught him at the surface. With a gasp, Dalton suddenly felt like he’d been kicked in the nuts, but there was more to the sensation. His mouth agape, a moan trickled out as he felt his balls inflate, going from invisible beneath the jungle of pubes to creating a mountain in the forest. They swelled to the size of apples, immediately flooding Dalton’s body with even more testosterone. His sack darkened in color, itching up a storm as he could feel the prickles of the same thick hairs sprouting. Wiry black hairs exploded outwards, burying his hefty balls beneath a dense thicket. The hairs curled together, blending into his pubes above and slowly crawled south over his taint, with lone hairs popping up in advance. He could feel his balls churning as they began building up a storage of cum, but Dalton didn’t notice the darker skin tone beginning to spread from his groin, drenching each hair with black pigment as it washed over his growing follicles.

As his bush continued to writhe with growth, the wave of deep brown tone washed down over his thighs, seeding thousands of follicles in its wake. Seconds later, like popcorn beginning to pop the hairs sprung out from his skin. A thick, black hair shot up, followed by another. His thighs itched as the hair claimed all open territory, darkening skin becoming buried beneath the thick strands tangling together. The growth passed his knees, growing hairier than he’d ever seen another man’s. His shins were next, as thicker and thicker hairs erupted down his legs, curling together and puffing out, wrapping them in fur. He heard a crack from his feet as the bones shifted, widening, pushing against his socks as they expanded. Fabric stretched to its limit as his feet nearly doubled in size, another involuntary moan escaping his lips as the growth finished. With his feet taking all the possible room inside his socks, the growing hair could only push outwards. He watched as long black strands popped up through the fabric, first on his toes before spreading across the tops of his now massive feet. They looked comically large, but still vaguely proportional to his massive calf and thigh muscles he’d worked so hard to build over the years. He barely registered the new darker tone consuming his skin, hardly visible under the thick pelt of hair coating every inch of exposed skin, thickening more and more as he stared in awe at the sight.

Dalton was overwhelmed, his body felt like it was on fire from all the follicles trying to push through his skin. But at the same time, his new massive balls were flooding him with hormones, translating everything into a sensation of pleasure. It was a conflict of reality; what did his body want to be, who did he want to become?

He couldn’t linger on such thoughts, as his face started to itch, primarily on his upper lip. Dalton had always kept clean shaven due to being in the military, and even before that he remembered shaving his newly grown peach fuzz away at every opportunity. He was suddenly interrupted by the doctor, who had remained silent in the background until now.

“You might like to use this,” he said, pulling down a large mirror from above the table. Dalton was furious, wanting to demand answers from the man who’d subjected him to this ordeal, but before he could get out a word the vision in the mirror captivated him. His reflection betrayed him, the smooth chiseled face he’d known for years darkening as a thick shadow blanketed his cheeks and chin. His upper lip prickled as that shadow emerged as dark hairs, thicker than the peach fuzz he’d last seen grace that skin. Black hairs pushed out from his lip, thick and dense enough to block out the skin below in mere moments, curling together and down over his lip. The rest of his face ignited, follicles burning as they roared to life. His cheeks darkened as the shadow came to life, a solid wall of hair pushing out all at once, burying his skin below an ocean of wiry, tangled hairs. The growth radiated away from his mouth, his hairy cheeks connecting down to his chin burgeoning with newly sprouting strands, black hairs that pressed out longer and longer, his nascent beard growing wilder by the second. The hairs blended up to his sideburns and began creeping down his neck, fluffing up and thickening as the growth flourished on the canvas that was his face. 

Dalton was stunned, unable to make any noise as he saw his hairline recede slightly, pulling further up his forehead. The testosterone flooding his system was only increasing, and the hair near his temples slunk even further back. The effects of his heightened hormones were not constrained to his head, as the fluffy down that had sprouted across his pecs began to adapt as well. Drenched in androgens, the follicles shifted, producing thicker, longer, darker hairs. The rug grew denser, new growth filling in between the old hairs, tangling into an impenetrable jungle of chest hair. Underneath the new growth was the spreading of his new deeper tone, creeping up from his groin, spreading out across his beefy pecs. Where the darker skin tone went, the hairs thickened even more, becoming intense black coils that could not be controlled. The deep brown color seeped up his neck, his newly invigorated chest hair following closely behind. Hairs emerged above his collarbone and continued climbing, quickly connecting up with the beard hairs that had started migrating south. In mere moments there was a continuous bridge of thick fur from his jaw all the way down to his feet. As his face darkened to his new complexion, he felt sharp pain as his brow thickened, jaw widening to match. His face contorted to a new, more masculine form, befitting the hair that covered most of it. His eyebrows even thickened, nearly forming a unibrow as testosterone wreaked havoc upon his body. 

Dalton’s body groaned as muscle and bone shifted once more. He looked helplessly in the mirror as his shoulders widened, his back growing in mass as his frame pushed out, stretching his body to its limit. The vast, deep brown expanse was unblemished but for a moment. He breathed deeply as he felt a deep itching sensation appear at the small of his back, followed by the all too familiar prickling he’d come to know. A thick patch of hair grew in, before spreading upwards, climbing up his spine like a hirsute vine. The hair spread out over his shoulder blades, first as patches of fuzz before thickening, matting together into black fur. The hair spread and sprouted across the wide expanse, coating his muscled back, connecting around to the thick fur blooming on his stomach, and creeping up over his shoulders. His traps tingled as thick hairs popped up across them, knitting together into a seamless pelt that coated Dalton front to back. His ass itched as well, the patch of hair just above had begun to spread downwards, his meaty cheeks becoming dusted with wisps before the surging hormones forced them to take root. His ass became a field of growing fur, curly strands popping out one by one until they too were hidden beneath a fur coat. He couldn’t help but reach around to scratch as his crack became filled with thick wiry hairs bursting out, his pristine hole becoming engulfed by possibly the thickest, darkest hairs that had sprouted yet, surrounding the delicate flesh with testosterone laden fur. Dalton could see in the mirror how his wide silhouette grew fuzzy, hairs popping up all over and crawling across his body.

Dalton’s attention was drawn back to his groin as the intense sensations of growing hair coalesced around his manhood. He could see his pubes pushing out, growing longer and curlier, responding to the hormones sweeping through his body. The sensation was euphoric, causing his cock, which had been hidden beneath the waves of hair, to proudly emerge as it grew to match the rest of his body. His body pulsed with pleasure, each inch his cock pushed out caused Dalton to gasp, letting moans slip out in a baritone voice he didn’t even register was different. His hand reached down with a mind of its own, grasping his growing manhood as his shaft swelled, veins growing prominent. He slowly slid his grip down the length, his hand nearly vanishing in his bush to find the base. The head of his cock flared out in response, another moan escaping his lips as the shaft thickened, his large hands not even fitting around its girth anymore. Beneath his fingers he could feel hairs climbing up his shaft, thick wiry hairs erupting up its length, pressing through the gaps between his fingers as his bush threatened once again to claim his cock. Dalton groaned as he began to stroke up and down the shaft with his hand, feeling the prickles of growing hairs beneath. Precum erupted from the swollen head, pouring down the shaft and into his bush, adding to the developing musk emanating strongly. 

Dalton began breathing intensely as his stroking quickened, his instincts taking over as the pleasuring sensations grew to a climax. He could feel every hair on his body growing, thickening, tangling together into an erotic pelt covering every inch of him. His cock pushed out another inch, the fountain of precum unceasing as it fertilized more growth in his groin. He could hear the hairs erupting as they scratched against old ones, joining into the wiry jungle. Looking for just a moment back into the mirror, Dalton saw the reflection of an entirely different man, one that was no longer any part of his old self. His balls dropped another inch in that moment, releasing their pent up load. He roared as the climax took hold of his body, a flood of cum erupting from his cock, blanketing his reflection in the mirror. He continued to stroke, rope after rope of thick cum shooting out as his old self drained away with it. The flow diminished down to a trickle, dripping down his shaft as his hand finally let go.

The doctor and sergeant finally returned to the table. “It appears this was the most successful adaptation yet, Doctor Massoud,” the sergeant said, seemingly pleased. The doctor turned to face the man on the table.

“You are now known as Saif,” he said, “Your superior will inform you about your mission now.” With that, the man turned and left the room.

“Saif,” the sergeant said, this time with a barely visible grin on his face, “I look forward to your success on this task.” Saif nodded, he was ready to go home.

——————————————

Cory quickly realised he’d made a mistake.

He just couldn’t help it. Cory was enjoying an evening coffee at one of those small classic neighbourhood coffeehouses in Istanbul, the kind frequented mostly by aged locals, not young tourists like him. He felt and looked out of place, sure, but it was fine. Sitting at a far corner of the cosy establishment, no one bothered him and he bothered no one. It took him a little while, but Cory was just starting to feel at ease.

And then he entered. Clearly a regular, judging by the way he swaggered in and interacted with the owner and other customers. But he stood out among the others in that he wasn’t old like the rest of them; in fact, he and Cory seemed to be the only men under 40. He sat at a table at the other end of the place, placing him on Cory’s line of sight.

Cory was immediately captivated by this stranger, not fully understanding why. Maybe it was because the guy contrasted so strongly with himself. Not that Cory wasn’t attractive — of course he was — but something about the man transfixed him. “Fuck, he’s hot,” Cory thought. Maybe it was the gleaming light brown eyes to Cory’s own icy blue, or the meticulously-groomed heavy stubble the guy sported that accentuated his sharp jawline; maybe it was his athletic physique, his well-defined body betrayed by a shirt that was clearly a size too small, or maybe it was how hairy he was, the dark hair very conspicuously thickly covering his sturdy legs and arms offering a stark contrast to Cory’s blond hairs barely visible from a distance… Whatever the case, Cory just couldn’t take his eyes off that Turkish guy. He wanted him, to feel him, to taste him, and imagined all sorts of scenarios.

That’s when Cory realised: he was shamelessly ogling the man. Snapping out of his reverie, he noticed the hairy hunk staring right back at him, completely emotionless. Shit. Flushed and embarrassed, Cory hurriedly paid for his coffee and left, all the while the man continuously and intently observed his every move. Just as he exited, the guy whom he mentally violated also got up to follow him.

His cheeks still ruddy and warm from the unfortunate encounter a while ago, Cory briskly made his way through the labyrinthine streets of the hilly city, desperate to return to his accommodation. The Turkish guy wasn’t too far behind him; Cory meanwhile sensed he was being pursued so he quickened his pace. In an attempt to throw him off the trail, Cory turned a corner into a quiet narrow alleyway flanked by an empty lot and vacant buildings.

Right then, a deep voice called out from behind Cory.

“Hey, you.”

Cory froze, his face drained of the redness. He stood in silence, not knowing whether to respond or run away. He was terrified and felt faint. Only the fresh cool evening maritime breeze kept him on his wobbly knees as he shuddered, half because of the chill, half because he feared what would happen next. Ultimately, after a tense while which felt like an eternity, Cory turned around to see the man approaching him. Although Cory still was scared, he weirdly felt an emergent sense of excitement as well.

Soon, Cory stood facing the Turk. A dimly-lit streetlight was the only source of illumination through which Cory could better appreciate the figure before him. He noticed how the guy was even more hirsute than he realised, with chest hair spilling over his too-tight shirt. Cory’s cock twitched.

“I saw you look earlier,” the guy drily said, maintaining intense eye contact with Cory.

“Ye… No! I mean, yeah, I was…” Cory stammered sheepishly. Fuck, why was he getting turned on all of a sudden?

“Like what you see?”

Cory gulped and nodded. His knees were about to give in when the hunk suddenly grabbed Cory by the shoulders with his hairy meaty hands and yanked him close to give him a forceful yet passionate sloppy kiss. Cory was taken aback and screamed internally, but at the same time, he liked what was happening. Wasn’t this what he wanted in the first place? He didn’t resist the surprising advances; he simply couldn’t resist. He reciprocated, their tongues roaming each other’s mouths. As the Turk continued to shove his tongue in him, Cory felt like putty — he’d let the guy do anything to him, he’d be happy to be used by this gorgeous hairy man in whatever way.

The man’s stubble scratched and tickled Cory’s soft skin around his lips moistened by the wet kisses. Cory felt strong itching sensations in the same area. He normally kept himself clean-shaven, mainly because he could only manage to grow some wispy hairs on his face. As the Turkish guy momentarily pulled away from the kiss though, the area around Cory’s mouth was substantially darker than it was just a minute ago, the beard growth process being accelerated. Cory ignored the itch and continued making out.

After a while of spit-heavy lip-locking, the Turk pulled down his shorts and grabbed Cory by the shoulders, pushing him down to his knees. Cory, at eye level with the guy’s cut 8-inch cock, was completely mesmerised by the sight and especially the scent; the pubes were so dense, they trapped and collected all the musky sweat and oozing precum. The smell was rather pungent but Cory didn’t mind at all. If anything, the odour had a simultaneously captivating and relaxing effect on him and he felt compelled to inhale it more.

Cory piggishly sniffed the ridiculously hairy crotch, even licking the beads of moisture off individual strands of pubes. While doing so, the hair on his temple grazed the guy’s leaking member, some of the precum sticking onto his blond hair. His hair absorbed the pre almost instantly and began to darken, the change in colour spreading from where the precum had been smeared. The hair on Cory’s scalp lost its sandy hue but retained its sheen, turning browner and darker as the pigmentation spread from the roots to the tips. His face still buried in the thick pubes, Cory felt the man jerk himself, squeezing out more pre from his throbbing cock. “Suck,” he commanded. Cory swiftly obliged.

Cory was dazed; the public setting, the man’s body and scent, his own eagerness… all that was happening was wilder than anything he’d ever dreamt of. After admiring the juicy rod bobbing up and down in front of him, Cory closed his eyes and got to work, savouring the taste of the musky cock with a faint taste of piss. He took the whole length in his mouth and down his throat, blowing to the best of his abilities. He eagerly lapped up the copious amounts of pre from the Turk’s slick pulsating member, coating his tongue.

The more he sucked and swallowed, the more hairs grew on his face. The itch intensified above and below Cory’s lips, little needle-like black hairs pushing out from his smooth skin and multiplying below his nose and on his chin. The beginnings of a luscious beard then steadily migrated outwards, short pointed hairs breaking out all over Cory’s cheeks and linking with his tapered sideburns. By now, Cory had grown a remarkable designer stubble which grew in thicker by the minute and slowly crept down his chin. At the same time, his face took on a slight tan, darkening independently of the hair growth that took over the whole lower half of his face. Cory’s jaw looked more rugged too, becoming more square and masculine.

Cory carried on blowing his new acquaintance, completely oblivious to the changes affecting him. “You like?” asked the man. “Mmhrrrgggmm,” Cory could only nod and let out a gurgled hum of approval to affirm. The Turkish guy then forcefully rammed his cock down Cory’s throat, making him gag. Just as he did, Cory’s Adam’s apple jutted out more prominently. He opened his wet eyes to look up at the hunk; as he blinked away the tears, his blue eyes lost their iciness as the colour shifted from a cold blue to a warmer mixture of green and brown with flecks of gold. With his new hazel eyes, Cory saw the guy with a smirk on his face for the first time.

Cory’s body continued to change. He felt bulkier, the clothes he wore starting to strain against the muscles growing on his formerly slim frame. He also felt so much warmer despite the breeze; he felt heat radiating all throughout his body from the pit of his stomach and was sweating profusely as a result. He also felt his whole body itching uncomfortably by now. Watching the Turk strip and bare his gloriously hairy body, Cory did the same — he certainly wasn’t as hairy as the guy. Yet. The hair growing on Cory’s face continued to travel down, prickly hairs sprouting on his neck, past his collarbones and on his chest. Cory initially only had a faint patch of barely-visible hair right at the centre of his chest, but as the hairs darkened and thickened, they fanned out towards his pits, forming whirling patterns around his nipples and covering his whole chest with stubbly black hair, like a freshly-mowed lawn. The prickly sensation migrated south to his midriff, a trail of nascent coarse hairs sprouting from his chest down to his navel and then his crotch. From there, the newly-formed treasure trail widened and began to spread outwards in all directions, hairs multiplying rapidly until Cory’s whole torso was blanketed in a field of short hair which connected his stubble and still-sparse pubes.

After a few minutes of Cory sucking, slurping and gagging on the fat Turkish cock, the guy made him stop. Cory reluctantly agreed. The guy then grabbed Cory by his wavy, shiny black hair and got him up back on his feet. Cory was in a state of utter bliss, drunk on pre and musk, drooling uncontrollably. The Turk lifted his arm, exposing his smelly pit completely covered in tangled wiry hairs. The dark hairs were so incredibly dense and tightly-spaced that Cory thought he was staring into the void. “Sniff and lick,” he told Cory. Who was Cory to say no? He stumbled forward, faceplanting right in the sweaty jungle of pit hairs. The pit musk was surely at least ten times as potent as the musk from crotch! The pungent scent was overwhelming; it burned Cory’s nostrils, and yet his cock throbbed even harder, dripping pre all over. What would have been torture felt more like heaven to Cory. He grunted as he took a deep whiff of the rank musk and licked the matted hairy mess soaking wet with sweat. It was absolutely acrid, and the sharp sourness also scalded his throat, making him cough. Cory was immobilised though, his head held in place in the Turk’s reeking hirsute pit; he let out muffled moans, struggling to breathe. Inhaling the musk and gulping down obscene quantities of rancid sweat accelerated Cory’s changes.

Cory’s body ached all over as he increased in size, growing a few inches and gaining muscle mass. His muscles pulsated and expanded; it really looked as if someone was blowing air into him. His chicken legs inflated to become sturdy trunks, with hard thighs and bulging calves. His arms too grew larger, the veins protruding, his forearms thickening along with his biceps and triceps which doubled in size. Cory’s shoulders and chest broadened, providing him with a more robust, rugged physique. His abs also became prominent, the tight muscles emerging with several popping sounds. Cory was granted a temporary reprieve from piggishly eating out the Turk’s pit, leaving him to gasp for fresh air. The guy then tugged sharply on Cory’s nipples, making him let out a simultaneous yelp and low moan. As if some mechanism had been activated, Cory’s pecs ballooned and jutted out forward, his nipples looking thicker, longer and juicier than the goose-pimple ones he had before. Along with his pecs, his ass also expanded; what was once fairly flat and sad-looking was now globular, the firm cheeks jiggling with every move.

Cory’s puppeteer shoved Cory back into his other, equally hairy and musky pit. With his face buried in the nasty armpit, Cory panted and grunted as the intoxicating scent continued to work its magic. Cory’s brows became wider and bushier. The stubble on his face grew darker and thicker, the hairs coarsening and lengthening as well as multiplying in greater numbers. Starting from under his nose, more hairs poked out to give him a moustache which covered his whole upper lip. The hairs on his chin grew out in all directions, growing unruly and tangling up as Cory rubbed his face in the Turk’s manly pit. His cheeks underwent the same treatment, thick beard hairs pushing out from the follicles and cascading down, following Cory’s rugged jawline and covering the entire area of his face below his nose, the new bushy growth connecting with the moustache and the hairs below his lips. The growth continued to give Cory an incredibly thick medium-length beard that he’d only ever dreamt of having, now coated with a layer of musky sweat and Cory’s own saliva owing to his ravenous worshipping of the Turkish man’s pits. The man held Cory firmly in place, as if to cure the scent onto him.

This second explosion of hair travelled down Cory’s heaving body. Where the first wave of hair growth resulted in hairs which looked trimmed, the wiry, curly growth this time gave him a natural look, the hirsuteness of a man who had never shaved in his life, possibly unable to, due to how densely and much the hair grew. Coarse hairs burrowed their way out of Cory’s shoulders, leaving a forest of curly fur surrounding his neck, and flowed down his swollen upper arms and to his forearms, forming whirls and wave-like patterns, the wild, dense growth of black hair obscuring the view of the skin underneath — his arms looked as if they were wrapped in steel wool. Cory’s hands cracked and popped as they grew meatier and burlier, his fingers rough and calloused and speckled with thick hairs, giving him an almost beastly appearance.

The rapid growth of hair continued unabated, Cory feeling an intense itch under his arms. Soon, dark pinpricks appeared in his shaven pits, increasing exponentially. From those black dots, long wiry hairs shot out, growing thicker and longer, seemingly watered and fed by the sweat that had accumulated in his pits all this time. Radiating from the centre of the pits, the hairs blanketed a larger area, connecting with the hairs on Cory’s chest. Much like the Turk’s pits, Cory’s pit hair grew unwieldy and matted, the strands twisted and twirled from both the growth and the dampness. The moisture trapped under the massive tufts of pit hair emanated a smell. Indeed, accompanying the growing hairs was a stink, the same kind of rank smell that Cory had been inhaling for some time now, which grew increasingly more powerful as the fur grew in. Cory’s chest hair also began to lengthen at the same time, the hairs coiling out and curling and bunching up. Any remaining empty space was filled with thick wiry hair springing out in rapid succession. The amount of hair was grotesque; the eruption of wiry black hairs created a rug of fur on Cory’s toned body, completely enveloping his torso such that his pecs and abs were hardly visible at all, only his engorged nipples barely poking out from the dense field of hair.

Together with the massive hair growth and coupled with the increased pigmentation in his hairs, the light tan which had developed on his face also migrated down. Cory’s pale complexion on his face was already completely replaced by a natural tan, a light sun-kissed brown. The colour seeped down his neck, his back, his shoulders, like someone had dumped a bucket of oil on Cory. The dim orange streetlight made his tan appear darker, what little bits of skin peeking out through the dense hair glistening with the light reflecting off the sweat. Soon, all of Cory’s skin was a luscious earthy tone, not that much of it was visible under all the fur carpeting his whole body.

Cory’s raunchy pit sweat guzzling was interrupted when the Turk made him turn around and stand facing the wall of the vacant building. “Ass out,” the guy ordered. Cory immediately obeyed, panting like a dog that’s had too much sun. He was excited by the prospect of getting railed by this hot Turkish hunk, not having realised all the changes that affected him. Beads of precum dribbled out of Cory’s aching cock, which in the meantime had also darkened to match the rest of his complexion. His balls, larger than before, also churned. Cory felt the Turk holding him from behind, grinding his wet slick cock against Cory’s ass crack filling with hair. “Ready?” asked the man. “Fuck yes,” Cory responded. The guy spat right onto Cory’s tight puckering hole. Wiry black hairs blossomed around the pink ring, spreading out alongside the hairs growing on his crack. The light dusting of hair on his bouncy glutes was swiftly overtaken by curly dark hairs.

The Turk slowly inserted his cock lubed up with Cory’s saliva and his own precum into Cory’s inviting hairy hole, making Cory emit low moans and animalistic grunts sounding deeper than the previous ones. The man thrust in and out of Cory in a rhythmic fashion, Cory’s hole wrapping around his cock, basically milking him of his pre. With every thrust and pound and depositing of the Turkish guy’s precum in him, Cory changed further. His furry mounds ballooned even more. Pound. Fuzz grew in from the area of his coccyx and crept up the entire length of his spine, connecting with the thick curly hairs on his shoulders. Pound. The same fuzz then fanned out from the backbone, coating the lower back and colonising the previously hairless area of the shoulder blades. Pound. The wispy hairs on his whole back turned darker, growing longer and thicker, thousands of individual strands unfurling as they burrowed out of Cory’s smooth skin with great strength, leaving him with an impenetrable pelt of fur on his back. Pound. The wiry hairs erupted in greater quantities on his legs and snaked down, growing all over and wrapping around his thighs and calves and shins. Pound. The midnight black hairs on Cory’s legs thickened considerably that they were now visible from a distance, in stark contrast to before when he still had barely-visible light hairs against his pale white skin.

The pounding increased in speed, the Turk’s hairy low-hanging golf ball-sized balls slamming and smacking sonorously against Cory’s voluptuous hairy ass, also making his balls increase in size to those of tennis balls. Each frenzied slap caused Cory’s bush to fill in and spread beyond its confines at the base of his penis. He had previously kept his crotch trimmed, but that was history now; his pubes more closely resembled black fur due to how dense and tightly-packed it was. It was impossible to see the skin underneath the bush which had basically spread to the navel and also around Cory’s hips, even having crawled a little bit up his shaft. The wild, unkempt matted fur on his groin, much like the coarse tufts of hair under his arms, collected both musk and moisture, rendering it damp and especially pungent. It was only this time that Cory realised how much he reeked, with his arms outstretched to prop himself against the wall as he was fucked by his dream man. He didn’t care that he stunk; no, it turned him on, even. His dick responded accordingly, pulsating painfully — as the Turkish guy continued to thrust rigorously, Cory’s leaking cock grew larger incrementally, as did his balls which were engulfed in wiry hairs, and Cory produced more and more pre which trickled down his shaft and onto his extremely tangled mess of a bush, stinking it up even more.

Very little of Cory as he once was at the coffeehouse remained. At this point, he resembled an extremely hairy, beefy Turkish man, handsome and masculine, oozing testosterone out of every pore, blessed with the perfect manly genes such that luscious fur carpeted his body front and back, head to toe. After a few more thrusts and plunging and poking, the Turk erupted with one drawn-out growl and heavy panting and flooded Cory’s insides with his hot, sticky seed, depositing load after load in him. On Cory’s part, he too was close to cumming. As his cock reached a fully erect length of at least 9 inches, his foreskin retracted down his pulsing shaft and vanished altogether, leaving him with a newly-cut slab of meat. Cory blasted — hands-free — at the same time as the other Turk, leaving a puddle of splooge on the ground and painting a fair bit of the wall he propped himself up against. As he came, so came out the last vestiges of his former whiteness, his balls now filling and churning with Turkish cum.

The guy pulled out of Cory with a shlorp, cum dribbling out of Cory’s manhandled hairy hole and clinging onto the thick curly hairs on Cory’s ass and legs. Both men were breathing heavily, completely spent. They momentarily stood in silence punctuated by the sounds of buzzing insects and the occasional evening breeze. The other Turkish man, now slightly smaller in build than Cory, pulled Cory close for a kiss, gently and tenderly this time, not minding the pre and drool that had stuck and dried onto Cory’s majestic bushy beard.

“What’s your name?” the guy asked, thumbing Cory’s still-hard protruding nipples. Cory opened his mouth to respond but he hesitated. He suddenly realised he didn’t remember his name — what was his name? What a strange thing to forget! He knew it started with a C… no! It wasn’t a C, silly him. It started with a K, of course, and there was an R in there. K… Kor…? Ker…

“Kerem,” he finally answered. Yes, Kerem; that was his name, the name that he’d obviously had all his life. He’d always lived in Istanbul, hadn’t he? He liked the sea and the hills, his native culture, and the men, especially the men — those hirsute and masculine like him, of course — how happy is he who calls himself a Turk!

“I’m Semih,” said the other man who had followed Kerem all the way from the coffeehouse in the hopes of having fun with him. He certainly did get lucky, even out in public like this. “Evimde bir kez daha?”

“Peki, kanka.” Kerem was so ready for round two with Semih.

—————————————————

It was finally June, and Alex could barely sleep. He’d worked his ass off the last year in college to avoid having to take summer classes, which meant he could join the rest of his family on their trip to Greece. His mom had apparently won tickets or miles or something through her job, he couldn’t remember. All that mattered was he was going to Greece! It was finally time to relax and unwind from the insanely stressful last few months. He’d gone over his packing list six, seven times now; he was absolutely sure he was ready. His family was meeting him at the airport, so he was just pacing now, waiting on that text to start moving. The phone on the countertop buzzed and he lunged for it. It was time.

Alex grabbed his oversized suitcase and lugged it down the stairs of his apartment building out to the street. He hopped on the bus and found a seat. He was giddy, this trip was his dream trip as a kid, and now he was finally getting to go. He’d helped plan out their whole itinerary, from the Acropolis to the ruins at Delphi and so so many more. Before he knew it, they were dropping him at the airport. Inside the chaotic lobby he managed to spot his parents, his dad was already wearing a massive sun hat which helped. The next hour was a blur getting their bags checked, through security, and corralling everyone to the gate. Then began the longest part of the trip: the flight. Alex had brought noise canceling headphones and an extra strong dose of melatonin that he prayed would do the job. And miraculously, it did. Nearly ten hours later he woke up to the sounds of the plane landing, and next thing he knew they were in a cab headed into Athens.

The cab pulled up to their hotel, depositing them and their bags at the foot of a beautiful white building with a grand entrance. This part was his mother’s domain. She ushered everyone inside and got them to their room in no time. Alex was unpacking and setting his stuff out when he realized he couldn’t find his phone charger. He tore everything out of his suitcase and backpack, trying desperately to find it. Nothing. He must’ve left it in his haste getting out the door, after all his phone was plugged in while he was waiting. 

Shit, he thought, before solemnly announcing the news to his family.

“We’ll stop by a store or something and get you a new one, it's fine,” his mother said, buried in her own suitcase. What a start to the trip. Alex sat on the side of his bed looking out the window at the building next door, kicking his legs waiting for them to get going. Finally, after another 30 minutes, they were getting back out the door. 

Alex and his family started wandering through the massive metropolis of Athens, surrounded by white buildings and the intense noise of a city. Only a few blocks away they came upon a massive street market, with locals selling everything imaginable. Fruits, street food, bags, shirts, phones, you name it. Surely, Alex thought, they would sell a phone charger here. He squeezed up and down through tight corridors of shops, flooded with people. He was deep into the market when his path was blocked with a crowd. He turned around, only to find the way he came in also packed tight with tourists. He was stuck. As panic started to set in, Alex heard a deep, husky voice from the stall behind him.

“You there, tourist boy,” the voice said, and Alex whipped around to see a large man with dark olive skin, and the hairiest body he’d ever seen. It was on his fingers, hands, forearms, and crawled out of his open shirt solidly up to the thick bushy beard on his face that nearly hid all his features. Alex was frozen, taking in the sight of this man. He was snapped out of his daze by the man speaking again.

“You look tired, boy. Did you just arrive?” he looked Alex in the eyes.

Alex was jumbling his words, “Uh, yes, yea I did. But I slept! I shouldn’t be tired.. I don’t think…” 

The man grabbed his hand and pulled it towards him. “Here boy, this will help you,” he said in his thick accent. He took out a small beaded bracelet and slipped it onto Alex’s wrist, tying it tight. 

“Uhh, thanks?” Alex remarked, a little confused about the whole situation. The moment was interrupted by his mother’s voice piercing through the crowd.

“Alex!! Alex!! Are you over here?” Alex jerked his head towards the voice, starting to back away from the man.

“Enjoy your trip, boy,” the man said, releasing his arm and giving a slight wave. Alex turned away and pushed through the throng of people in his way, eventually reaching his mother.

“Alex! Thank god you’re okay, we lost you immediately. Here, we found someone selling chargers,” she handed him a cord, not even noticing the bracelet on his wrist. “Alright, let’s get back on track today, shall we?” she put some pep in her voice. As the family squeezed through the crowded Athenian streets, Alex failed to notice a slight itch where the bracelet clung to his wrist.

The summer sun beat down on them as they slowly made their way up the hills of Athens. Alex was sweating buckets, the back of his shirt absolutely drenched. He looked over in envy at his dad’s sun hat that he had mocked earlier. After what felt like an eternity, they made it to the base of the acropolis. Alex’s dad groaned at the sight of not only immense crowds, but another massive rock they had to climb. Alex was undeterred however, his eyes lit up with the sight of the ruins atop the hill. This was what he’d been waiting for, and he let nothing get in his way as he dragged his family into the crowd to get closer. The slight itch under the bracelet continued, unbeknownst to Alex. His skin under it was darkening to an olive shade, slowly creeping up his arm and down towards his hand. Where the darker tone had spread, hairs began popping up, thick black hairs in contrast to his light brown wispy hairs. They continued to sprout, growing in between the last, creating a dense, curly coat. The back of his hand was next, the same black hairs wriggling out. Soon enough, his forearm stuck out like a sore thumb next to the rest of his pale body, yet no one seemed to notice.

The next couple hours were heaven for Alex. He explored the acropolis with his family, pointing out everything he’d researched and explaining even more. Between the numerous ruins and museums, the rest of the day was jam packed with artifacts. Alex even found himself remembering facts about spots he didn’t remember researching. The other constant of the day was the sun. It beat down on them from above with the full force of a Mediterranean summer, sweat constantly dripping from his forehead. It seemed like significantly more than usual for Alex, but he chalked it up to the different climate, and how much they’d been walking. Under his soaked shirt, however, his body was adapting. The deep olive color had spread all the way up his arm, with the forest of hair following, coating his upper arm. The hairs crawled over his inflating shoulder, sprinkling it with black wisps. His bicep has also grown substantially, almost like he was a regular gym-goer, matching his now beefier hand and forearm.

The sun-kissed shade continued to spread, imposing itself over his chest. Not long after, his chest began growing. It pushed out two meaty pecs, skin stretching to accommodate the immense muscles growing in slowly. His chest was sore as years of workouts applied themselves at once. The crisp definition melted somewhat as his form softened, fat layering itself onto his chest and further down as a thick muscle gut grew in. His stomach pressed tight against his shirt, stretching it to its limit. As the muscle pushed out of his frame, so did the hairs. Small black hairs began rearing their heads around his growing nipples, pushing out like thick shoots of grass. The hairs radiated away from his nipples, surging across the open fields of his pectorals, burying them in a black, curly forest. They grew longer and thicker, matting together into a rug across his chest that scratched against his shirt. The fur coat grew denser in the center of his pecs and right below, making them look like real pillow cushions. His gut tingled as the hairs began erupting, swirling together and giving his belly a thick black coat to match. By the time Alex and his family were headed to dinner it looked like he’d eaten plenty, putting on dozens of pounds.

They sat down at a street-side restaurant that Alex had recommended, exhausted after a very active first day. While they browsed the menu, Alex scratched loosely at an itch above the neckline of his shirt. The wave of darker skin tone had slowly been inching up his neck, leading a wave of black hairs. His chest fur had overtaken his collarbone and continued to spread. His neck remained bare until, suddenly, a single dark hair sprouted above his shirt. It was black, thick, and curly. Seconds later, a second hair joined it, shooting out from his shirt collar.  More and more began sprouting, giving Alex a thick dark tuft of hair curling over his shirt. This was just the beginning, though. The dark hairs climbed up his neck, following the wave of olive complexion. Alex’s lean face cracked as it widened, jaw growing thick and square. His brow jutted out and his nose grew more prominent as his face took on the darker tone. His wavy brown hair pulled back some, turning black and more curly. The itching grew as a shadow developed across his jaw, darkening as thick stubble emerged from the bare skin. The scruff seemed to age Alex up a good few years, he seemed like a real adult with the stubble, hairy forearms, and chest hair pushing out of his shirt.

As they ate, Alex briefed his parents on their plan for the next day, starting with an early bus out to Delphi. He already knew the exact times, costs, and routes to take for the perfect day. His parents were impressed at how well researched he was, not noticing the dark scruff covering their son’s face. They finished up dinner and caught a cab home, knowing they had to be up at the crack of dawn the next day.

The next morning came quickly, and with some disgruntled grumbling from his parents, they were off on their bus to Delphi. It was a three hour trip, so they settled into their seats and his parents tried to get a little more rest. Alex stared eagerly out the window, watching the mountains rush past with the sea behind. As the ride went on, he found himself shifting uncomfortably in his seat, like his body was agitated and he couldn’t figure out why. He tried to focus on the beautiful scenery and the maps of their destination instead. In reality, beneath his clothes, the slow moving wave of Mediterranean skin had crossed his muscle gut and reached his groin. It swept through his crotch, seeding the growth of new hair. His existent bush was sparse, and was quickly engulfed by the torrent of dark curly hairs that erupted from the base of his cock, spreading outward. Black hairs wormed out of his skin like weeds coating the entire area, pushing up towards his navel in a triangle pattern, and out onto his thighs.

Alex tried to subtly scratch at the area as the itching grew intense, using his map to hide his meaty hands groping the area. His flaccid cock absorbed the same olive color, and a thick foreskin stretched itself back over the head. It didn’t stay soft for long, engorging and pushing six, seven, eight inches in his pants. Alex shifted again to try and keep comfortable in his seat, but the growing rod was not helping him, leaving a massive imprint on his shorts. His bush continued to thicken, hairs sprouting between others, curling together into an impenetrable forest. The hairs even started climbing the base of his cock, popping out a ways up. There was a thud on the seat when Alex’s balls suddenly inflated to the size of baseballs, his sack growing furry as the same curly black hairs engulfed them. Alex had spread his legs as much as he could, he was practically on top of the guy in the seat next to him, and he was still feeling squeezed. He was about to reach his limit when the bus came to a stop. They had made it.

Like it was instinct, Alex gathered his parents and started their exploration of the site. He took them to the Temple of Apollo, the museum, and the spring. It was another relentlessly hot day, and within minutes he had started sweating buckets. He ignored it to continue guiding his parents around, but it began to take a toll. Underneath his arms, his paltry smattering of hair was starting to soak up some color, growing thicker and darker. The more sweat dripped from his pits the more hair began to shoot out of them, catching the drops and adding to the stench that began to waft from him. Throughout the morning, more and more hairs poked out from under his arms. His beefy arms weren’t able to hide the enormous tufts of hair that were pushing out of his pits, kept nice and damp from the heat. 

They stopped briefly for lunch at a spot Alex knew and recommended, taking a break from the heat before they continued walking through the town. Alex scratched at his face, his fingers pulling through a little more hair than they had the night before. The meal was a nice reprieve, showcasing some delicious local cuisine to his parents. He took the chance to explain their next destinations, and before long they were back walking up the hills. Alex was glad he’d worn shorts today, it was brutal even for June. His exposed legs had begun taking on the same tone as the rest of him, no longer standing out as pale twigs. Curly hairs brushed against his shorts as they grew en masse, traveling from his pubes downward. The hairs pushed out of his growing thighs, a burgeoning field of dark curls spreading across them. His calves experienced the same, putting on size before getting engulfed with black hair.

They’d made it to the stadium and viewpoint at the top. Alex left the couple to take in the vista and address his current problem; his shoes were way too tight. Luckily, it seemed he’d worn sandals for the day. He bent over to loosen the straps, giving some breathing room to his now size 15 feet, not noticing the coarse hairs popping out across the tops of them. Even his toes were hairy now. He stood back up and looked out over the valley, scratching his ass that had been a little itchy. The same thick curly hairs had started bursting out of his crack, creating a furry mass between his cheeks. The hairs spread out, growing like weeds over the expanse of his ass. The sweat dripping down his widening back helped the hairs take root, and they shot upward sprouting from the small of his back. His lats grew darker as black fur erupted before climbing up to his neck and blending with the thick coating on his shoulders. The coarse curly hairs grew dense and long enough to push his damp shirt nearly an inch away from his body all around. Curly black hairs poked out of the back of his shirt collar too, mirroring the front side.

The sun had begun to hang lower in the sky, signaling it time to head back to the bus station. Alex’s legs had bulked up enough to handle the constant walking up and down, as he should be used to it by now. He guided the couple back down to the town and they got on their way back to Athens, another multi-hour journey. He felt his seat was even smaller this time, his body having swelled with muscle and mass throughout the day. As the bus bumped along the mountain roads, Alex stared at his reflection in the window. His short beard was pushing out. Hairs grew longer, curling together. More hairs sprouted to fill the gaps, climbing higher on his cheeks. The beard grew incredibly dense, adding another couple years to his face. He finally gave in and scooted over, taking up both seats. The bulky man then closed his eyes for an hour until the familiar noise of Athens began leaking through the windows. 

They stopped at the station, and he grabbed the couple’s bags from the rack. WIth that motion, his short sleeve shirt that had been taught against his massive chest all day gave out, bursting open. His thick chest and belly and the incredible rug that covered them were exposed, but that was nothing out of the ordinary for him, especially in the summer. He lugged the bags to the curb and handed them over. The woman was exhausted looking, but still had a beaming smile.

“Oh, thank you so much Alexios! You’ve been amazing these last two days.” He swallowed, a large adam’s apple bulging out of his throat, “You’re very welcome. Enjoy the rest of your visit to Greece,” he said with a baritone voice and accent.

The man handed him a large stack of bills as a thank you, and the two headed off towards their hotel. Alexios sighed, it had been an exhausting day. And after all that, he needed to prepare for the new tourists he was to guide the next day.

Recession sucked, that much was clear to Logan even before he checked his email inbox. When he saw a few replies to his job applications from the last days, he sighed. He didn't need to open the mails to know that the news was bad, but he did so anyway.

"We regret to inform you..." - Logan didn't even read on. He had lost his job as an apprentice electrician about half a year ago. The company was going under, and Logan, the youngest and least experienced worker, was the first to go. That's how it was in this business. Since then, he had applied to every single position that came up - but apparently, the current economic situation was so bad that nobody needed another worker.

Logan had hoped that his apprenticeship would get him a job, but the fact that he was only 20 and had not much practical experience hurt him. Slowly, money was becoming a pretty big problem. Whatever savings he had (for some real estate of his own! As if that was going to happen!) had melted away over the last months. His rent was due, and he had no income.

In fact, he was one month late with his rent already, and although his landlord had been cool about it, Logan did not see how he would be able to keep his apartment. He really, really wanted to avoid moving back in with his parents who had their own problems, too.

So, what was he going to do? There wasn't much more to do than keep looking for a job, even though his chances were slim.

He opened LinkedOut and looked for openings, just as he had done multiple times before this week. The sparse list of jobs had not changed, so Logan scrolled on.

He was about to give up again when a listing caught his eye.

"Escape unemployment today! Change™ job agency will find the perfect job, for the perfect you. Apply here!"

He had heard of such agencies before, and the results were not pretty. Usually, they just took the applicants' data and sold it on. They would claim to have found a job for you, but it usually wouldn't work out, and the applicant would have paid money for this useless service. Still, Logan was curious enough to click the link. If they wanted money, he would back out immediately - it was not like he had any to spare.

To Logan's big surprise, when he clicked the link, a new page opened, with a web-based chat interface. Before he could close the tab again, there was already a message in the window. It read:

"Kevin: Hey, and welcome to the Change™ job agency. My name is Kevin. How may I help you today?"

It was a nice surprise that they didn't try to sell him anything or even ask for his data before he had entered the website. Well, no harm done. He might as well give them a try. Hesitating slightly, Logan's fingers hovered over the keyboard before he typed:

"Hi. I'm Logan and I'm looking for a new job."

The answer came quickly, but not so quickly that Logan would suspect the other person to be a chatbot. After some moments, Kevin's reply appeared on the screen:

"Great. What kind of job are you looking for? And what kind of salary are we talking?"

Logan considered the questions. This was probably the point where they would ask him for his data. He silently cursed his excessive caution. Of course, they had to ask these questions. How else should they offer him anything?

"Uhm. My last job was as an apprentice electrician, but at this point I would be pretty happy about just any job. The salary should be high enough to pay my rent."

Logan hesitated before hitting enter. He didn't want to come over as quite so desperate, but the truth was, he was.

"Okay, no problem. Do you have a preferred working sector?"

What a weird question. Why did it matter what industry he preferred?

"Uhm, not really. I guess anything is fine."

"Very well. Before I look up what's there in our database, I would need some basic information about you. Namely gender, age, ethnicity and sexual orientation."

"Wait. What does my sexual orientation have to do with a job? Besides, why do you need to know my ethnicity? Is this even legal?"

Logan had typed furiously and pressed enter before thinking about his reply.

"I understand your confusion. We here at the Change™ job agency strive to find not only a job, but the best job for the best you, so we need to know what we're working with. It wouldn't be very appropriate to apply a person as an actress who is really good at sports, now would it? Of course, you have to understand that your answers are confidential and will not be disclosed to any third parties, especially not your future employer."

That was fishy deluxe. Logan really didn't want to feed some unknown job agency all that highly personal information. On the other hand,... what did he have to lose?

"Well, I guess it can't hurt. Uhm. I'm a male, 20 years old, I would call myself white and I'm heterosexual."

"Wonderful. One last question: Are you comfortable with nudity and public sexual activities?"

"Wait, WHAT? I mean, uhm, sure, I guess? I mean, why should I need that?"

"This question is purely to determine if we should also have a look in the adult entertainment section of our job offerings. Alright Logan, please stand by while I enter your data into our search engine."

Logan leaned back. He felt a bit uneasy about all that. But it was not like his answers could lead them directly to his apartment, so he felt relatively safe.

A minute or so passed, and Logan started to think that he had been tricked after all, but just as he was about to close the tab, a new message appeared.

"Sorry for the delay, I had a few calls. We found two jobs that could be a fit. The first one is an office job in a big insurance company. To be honest, it's not that good of a fit and it doesn't pay very well either."

"That's fine." Logan wrote. He was incredibly on edge now. Could it really be so easy to find a new job? And he even had a choice?

"What's the other one?" he added to his previous message.

"Okay, the other job is a bit more unconventional, but we have the feeling it could be a great match. It's an actor position in the porn industry, at the famous XXX Incorporated."

"Porn? What? Are you serious? I mean, I don't have anything against porn or nudity or whatever, but I'm not sure if this is the kind of job I want."

Logan felt mixed feelings. The prospect of being some office drone sounded pretty uninteresting and a low pay wasn't all that good either. But a porn actor? Logan had to admit, the thought felt somewhat interesting, but he doubted he had what it took for that? Weren't porn stars famously hung and well-built? That was certainly not Logan. Just as he pondered those thoughts, Kevin's answer appeared:

"I understand Sir. So, should we continue with the first job opening then?"

Logan bit his lip, but the curiosity got the better of him.

"Wait. What does the second job entail? I mean, I'm not exactly... equipped for the porn business."

"Well, as I have said: It's an actor position, so you would star in some new adult entertainment productions. While I understand your modesty, our records show that you are more than adequately gifted for this kind of job."

Logan felt confused. He absentmindedly scratched his crotch before he replied:

"Uhm, sorry, I don't think you understand. I don't really think my..." Logan paused. Was he really going to write that? It was embarrassing, but at least he could be reasonably sure he would never meet this Kevin in real life. So, he continued:

"... penis is big enough for such a position."

The answer came promptly.

"Really? Better have a look to be sure ;-)"

A winking smiley? That wasn't very professional. Actually, the whole sentence wasn't. Still, Logan couldn't stop himself from glancing at his crotch. What he saw made him take a double take. His soft cock was forming a visible and ample bulge in his jeans. Logan knew that he was slightly smaller than average, so that was ridiculous. It was almost a... a porn star-sized bulge!

He stared at his package, but it wasn't growing any smaller. With trembling hands, he opened his jeans. Immediately, a well-filled pair of boxers escaped the confinement of his jeans. The dick print of his soft member was clearly visible in his underwear, and it wasn't just much bigger than Logan remembered. It was among the biggest bulges he had ever seen in his life!

His hands explored the impressive manhood through his underwear and felt every centimeter of the hardening dick. He had no idea what had caused this growth, but he wasn't complaining. Before he could interact more with it, however, he noticed another message on the screen.

"Are you still there, Sir?"

"Sorry, yes." Logan hurried to reply. What was he going to write? "I was below average just a few moments ago but now I have one of the biggest cocks in human history"?

Instead, Kevin answered.

"Good! I trust you had a chance to inspect your assets?"

"Uhm, yes."

"So, have you made up your mind, or should I look into the office position?"

Logan was torn. He wasn't sure what he had seen just a moment ago. Still, his enormous cock that was half-hard in his boxers was there, undeniably.

"Let's go with the porn star position." Logan finally typed, and his heart was racing.

"Very good! Now, as I mentioned, the position is in the adult entertainment sector. Do you know the company XXX Incorporated?"

Logan thought quickly about it before replying: "No, sorry, never heard of them."

"That is not at all surprising, since they specialize in the adult sector for homosexual men. According to your data, you identify as heterosexual. I hope that won't be a problem?"

Of course, there was a catch. Logan had heard about these gay for pay people and he hesitated yet again. They paid well, supposedly, but...

"Uhm. Would that mean I would need to be on the receiving end?" He wasn't too close-minded and could imagine kissing another man if he had to, perhaps even receiving a blow job from one. But having another person fuck him in the ass? No, that was way beyond his comfort zone.

"I believe the technical term you are looking for is 'to bottom'." Kevin replied, and added another message shortly after:

"But the company is, in fact, looking for a 'top' actor. They put it like this: 'We are looking for a well-built top for our new productions.'"

Logan was relieved. While he was a gold star gay man (why did he put 'heterosexual'? That was utter bullshit!), he was a strict top. This position sounded better and better. Still, one thing raised some new doubts.

"Hold on. I'm hung like a horse, but I wouldn't say I'm very muscular or even fit. I'm not much of a gym goer."

"Are you sure ;-)?"

Again, with the winking smiley! Kevin sounded so very professional most of the time, but then there were these messages. Logan scratched the back of his shoulder with some effort. Whenever he raised his arms so high the mountains of muscle on his upper arms danced and made it difficult to reach his back. Logan suddenly realized that something had changed - again! His shirt strained against his muscular chest, and as he lifted his shirt, he could see some cobblestone abs on an otherwise flat stomach. His calves had become thicker and strong. His jeans, which had felt slightly loose earlier, now seemed to be getting tighter.

Logan had never been very athletic. His body was lean, but not fit or muscular. That had certainly changed. When he looked at himself, he hardly recognized himself anymore. A huge dick, and a studly body.

Logan shook his head and let the shirt fall again. Whatever was going on, it was not a bad thing, was it?

"Alright, so I'm a buff top with a big cock. Is there anything else?" he smiled as he wrote that.

"Actually, there is one further requirement, but given your cooperation so far I don't believe it will be much of a problem either." Kevin replied, in his professional tone again.

"And what would that be?" Logan was intrigued.

"The company is especially looking for a, and I cite, 'huge, dominant Black top with large dick. Intellectual capabilities are not required'. Are you feeling up to that task? ;-)"

This time, Logan immediately raised his shirt to watch his body change. As soon as he read the words, his skin began darkening, first a golden bronze and then a rich black. It was a gradual change but happened very quickly. His muscles became even more defined, and his body hair thickened and grew even darker.

He didn't know what 'intellectual capabilities' meant, but as his body grew larger and thicker, he felt a strange fog entering his mind. It was a little unsettling at first, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant. His usual thoughts quickly became overshadowed by his raising libido. As he grabbed his huge, Black throbbing cock, a dominant smirk crept on his mouth.

He turned his attention back to the computer and typed:

"Yeah, baby. I think I can make that happen. Just tell me who to fuck and I'll be there!"

He saw Kevin reply with a street address and a date and time, but Logan decided he would read that later. Now, his cock demanded his entire attention. He absentmindedly noticed his webcam turning on but paid it little attention. If Kevin wanted to watch him jerk his fat cock, he was very welcome to. After all, he just helped him find the job of his life!

—

Tumblr yoinked the first post of this, but holy fuck I loved writing this story so much that I refuse to let it die. Here’s one with more toned down pics lol

—

Coach Martin was scouring the university gym’s locker room for any kind of fresh talent. He had been coach of the university wrestling team for a while, but after several mediocre seasons, declining viewership, and general loss of interest, the school was thinking about cutting the budget for his team for the next fiscal year. He’d gotten used to this sort of thing happening to the liberal arts departments, but at his large, notoriously ‘party school’ university, athletics were always the highest financial priority! Coach Martin knew he couldn’t let that happen. No, not after all of the years he spent building up the team.

He knew there were plenty of talented bodies in the gym, but rarely anyone with the willingness to sign up for the team. ‘I don’t have the time,’ ‘My schedule is too tight,’ ‘Sorry, my studies come first;’ these were all the common lines Coach Martin heard from those he asked. Never mind that he knew for a fact that these boys were out every night drinking and partying every weekend, getting their dick wet at every opportunity. He couldn’t really blame them, after all it is a college. But sure, ‘scheduling conflicts,’ let’s go with that excuse. Anyways, it didn’t matter anymore. Coach Martin had his own ways of dealing with his predicament, and they began with finding a worthy candidate’s clothing.

He searched through lockers, flipping open wallets and checking IDs, hoping to find any kind of viable candidate for his plight. Older faculty members, soft/grungy liberal arts majors, exchange students, lab assistants… He searched and searched but was disappointed by the IDs he found. He passed by one of the rows of lockers and was nearly stopped in his tracks by the tangy bouquet emanating from one of the metal boxes. He took a few steps backwards and could immediately tell which locker the odor belonged to. Even before he opened it, he could smell the intoxicating stench wafting out.

He opened it quickly and his sense of smell was blitzed. A heavy, mixed stench of body odor, cologne, and sex poured out of the locker, a hefty gym bag being the only occupant. He didn’t want to get too confident, but Coach Martin was pretty sure he’d found his candidate.

He opened the bag, huffing out laughter as he was further assaulted by the rank smell that puffed out, and fished around for any kind of ID. He found a thin, dark leather wallet and flipped it open, producing the university’s familiar student ID card: Jabari Jefferson was the name printed underneath with a smiling picture of a thick-necked student over it, emblazoned by a holographic stamp of the university’s crest. Not only did he look like a natural athlete with enough confidence to actually smile in his picture—so many of these jocks thought a smile was a sign of weakness—but he had a certain.. something about him.

You ever see those kinds of people who look like they would be the natural life of the party? People who, just from first impression, looked like everyone would either want to be with them or want to be them? How about people who—for whatever reason you call it—look like they’re the type of person who could fuck your right? Just really use any tools at their disposal—mouth, lips, chest, cock, ass, thighs, feet, take your pick—to make sure you walk away feeling like their trophy spouse? That, Coach Martin thought, was the exact vibe he got from Mr. Jabari Jefferson. He checked all of Coach Martin’s boxes and more.

He opened his phone and went into the school staff’s student directory to look him up. After flipping through the expansive list of students by the last name ‘Jefferson,’ until he landed on his guy. Jabari’s smiling picture looked back up at him, and Coach Martin’s knees went weak simply imagining Jabari giving him a slight wink. He was from way out of state, practically across the country, he was freshly 21, he was a social work major… So he didn’t have any immediate family around, he was young and exceptionally fit, and he had a compassionate and empathetic demeanor… Check, check, check. He was, in every way, a perfect fit! ‘Bingo,’ Coach Martin thought, a chill of excitement spreading through his body from his chest.

Coach Martin prayed to anyone that was listening that he could find something to take with him, anything. He knew by the smell that there had to be something in there that fit the job, he just needed to find it. He fished around in the bag some more for anything he could take with him, anything that wouldn’t be immediately noticeable as missing. His eyes landed on it—well, actually his hand landed on it first—and his nose identified it as one of the sources, if not the source, of the smell. Coach Martin grinned and lifted a dirty jock strap out of the bag.

He passed it between his hands a few times, its fabric feeling a tad moist from the last time it was used, and reeking of sweat. He looked into the pouch where its user’s dick would go—where Jabari’s dick would go, noting that it was a sizable pouch indeed—and saw that there was something wet still there. He looked closer and saw that it was limpid and thick, so he reached inside to feel it, half expecting it to be what he thought it was. As soon as his finger touched it and felt the webby, sticky, tacky substance between his fingers, his suspicions were confirmed—it was pre.

Coach Martin couldn’t help himself, he knew he needed a taste, just a tiny taste. He knew he’d have innumerable chances to taste it later, but he was caught up in the moment. He brought it to his face, inhaled deeply, and quickly stuck his tongue out to sample his finding.

His shorts, which were already massively tented, now had a dark spot blooming near the tip of his cock, and he knew that he should just leave before blowing his load in the locker room. No, there would be plenty of load-blowing later. He stuffed the jock strap in his pocket, rushed to his office to gather his hat and keys, and hurried out to his car, his messenger bag slung over his shoulder in such a way that it obscured the front of his torso, hiding the bouncing stiffy in his gym shorts.

You sent a pic to the man you were messaging only to have him turn you down. Thinks were a dime a dozen now. Nothing special. You closed the app being disappointed in your own genetics. If you didn’t want to spend the rest of your life alone you was going to have to get lucky and find someone that wanted a twink for something more than a one night stand. You started searching online for nothing in particular. And that’s when you seen an add cross by. One of those that we’ve all seen before. “Change your life now!” In big red letter flashed and you didn’t mean to hit the click bait but it just popped up right when you were swiping away. Taking you to a random website that had an eerie feeling to it. And right before you was able to close the site down a chat popped up. “Sometimes we don’t know what we want until we say it out loud”. Was the only message that came through on the site. You stare at it not knowing what to think. You try to close it but the message has froze your phone. But you do the thing we have all done on site like that. You write your wish. Secretly hoping it comes true. But knowing that it won’t. And you write “I wish to not longer be a twink”. Your phone glitches a little and the site goes away from your phone as if it never was there. And you are able to just resume your random internet searches. Sure it was weird but that happens to every one right ? You were so so consumed in your phone that you didn’t even notice your feet getting slightly callused.

You fall asleep and when you wake up in the morning that’s when you start to realize that somethings wrong. Your iPhone had issues recognizing your Face and wouldn’t open so you had to use the passcode. But you looked the same as always didn’t you? You checked your messages in your dating app turned up nothing promising. You get out of bed and you back and other joints pop. That’s very odd for you as this never happens. And when you get to the bathroom you see that your complexion has gotten darker. You make a side note to start using some sun screen as your tan looks like it’s going to set in. You don’t even notice the lines forming in the corners of your eyes or beside you Jose as your quickly drawn to the door by a knock. A letter comes under the door and there it’s from the landlord saying that an inspection is coming this week. You busy yourself around the apartment cleaning up and getting the place ready for the inspection. If you do it now you won’t have to do it later. The whole time your body changing. Under your clothes. Without you knowing it. As the hair starts to grow in on your chest and a heavy 5 o’clock shadow sets in. You don’t even notice anything is going on. You look at your phone but notice now through the black reflection of the screen that you look different and you run to the bathroom. Darker hair had started to grow across your body and your hair is getting shorter and thicker. You start to panic but don’t even have time to register the panic before everything goes dark.

And here you are waking up on the bathroom floor. The next day. As the apartment has somehow gotten grungier. You pick yourself up off the the floor and notice the darker skin that has now taken over your body. And when you look in the mirror you look like someone else entirely. Older. A different race. Your ears have gotten bigger. Your nose wider and your hair even shorter and darker. You look down and see the dark hairs that now adorn your still muscular torso. And your feet have gotten even bigger and rougher looking. And your penis has exploding in side getting darker than any other part of your body. A bang comes at the door again and this time it’s the police. Demanding to know if the anonymous tip of illegal immigration is right. You start to respond in your much deeper raspier voice that it’s a lie but in the middle of this you start speaking go with a heavy Latin accent. Harder to understand every syllable you say abs soon even harder to understand the English that is spoke to you. They bust through the door and your taken into custody. You try to tell them that who you are but there nothing that you can do or tell them that makes them believe who you are. Instead you are finger printed and thrown into jail few a few days. Under the name of Francois Bagoda. And when you’re released you are released under that name. One that is t your is. But one you’re forced to use now as it’s the only one that fits your new body.

In jail your body continued to change. Getting darker. More muscular. Each moment ticking by taking you further away from that twink body. As you got older and more weathered looking. By the time you were released there was no way you ever pass for your old self. And now that you’ve somehow legally became Francois, you had to find a way to start life. And selling pictures of your naked older body is the quickest way to get cash right now. All the while your body keeps changing. When will it stop ?