Subscriber milestones : 100, 200, 400, 1000 - Thank you so much for your support !
================================================
If you're curious about what I like, don't hesitate to check my "main blog", @ykrui73 !
(If I contact you or send you an ask, chances are it's from this account ^^)
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Inspired by watching the Truman Show for the first time and the resulting discussions with @fredwkong ! Don't hesitate to check out his stuff !
God, I hate hangovers. They make the little time I have with my real self feel like a chore.
See, Iâve been living in the show "Haven Island" for a few months now, but I didnât quite understand how it worked behind the scenes. When I applied for a role, I imagined myself playing a random young adult filling out the cafes when a scene would happen there, like we would see in the actual show. Simple, no line, no anything.
But the reality of it was oh so different. There is no true extras, everybody has fleshed out lives and routines that they actually follow, even if only their commute is ever seen on screen. A whole complexity that gives the whole life and drama that keeps Haven Island as the most watched Reality TV show in the world.
Now, you might think that it would be very long and expensive for the writers to give everybody complex lives and routines. And you would be correct. But the writers had a plan which meant that they could give each role minimal thought.
They transformed us into our roles.
This means that, everyday, when 8AM ticks and the show starts, everyoneâs personality suddenly shifts into that of the role they incarnate. For my part, I play the role of a middling manager at the bank. Not especially remarkable, but classy, extroverted, and oh so ambitious and arrogant. Iâd hate myself if I ever met him.
This means that everyday I go to the bank, get myself a cup of coffee and terrorize my employees for their low productivity at their fictive job. And when Iâm not at work, I go to the gym, eat at a restaurant, and in the evening go to drink with the colleagues. Whence the hangover.
Fuck, itâs almost 8AM, I havenât had time to do stuff the real me likes, like video games and reading mangas ! I didnât even have time to talk about how they changed our bodies, making me grow a stubble I never could have grown, and giving me muscles, andâ
âŚ
God, I hate hangovers. But the party yesterday was great, and I like booze too much to stop. I guess Iâll just go harder on the coffee.
Ugh, itâs already 8AM and I havenât started getting ready ? My pomp needs so much time to be set up right, I canât be wasting it doing who-knows-what ! Time is of the essence !
I put on some expensive cologne, touch up my elegant beard, and then put on my suit. No tie, today, Iâm feeling casual today. I want to improve team cohesion, after all.
Moving to Haven Island has been the best choice in my life. Everything is so orderly over here compared to the outside world ! And the career opportunities are phenomenal !
I take my bag and step into my sports car. Like every other day, I drive towards my job, taking the same path as always, an essential but secondary part of the lively town of Haven Island.
I can't believe I just woke up and it's already almost 4 PM. How late was I out last night? Ugh, and I forgot to plug in my phone, too. Not that I want to look at that douchey selfie I put as my lock screen that the producers won't let me change.
There are 6 shifts here on Haven Island, so the viewers at home always have something to watch. Your 16 hour day starts at 8AM, 12PM, 4PM, 8PM, midnight, or 4AM. I thought volunteering for the 4PM-8AM shift would be great, I'd sleep for half my workday and then have all day to do whatever I want. Instead, I got assigned this fuckboy character. I'm a dishwasher at the golf club the whole dinner shift, and then I always go out and party until at least 4AM. I'm lucky if my character doesn't go up the hill on the island with his buddies, crossfaded, and watch the sunrise.
I just wish I had a little more time at home to work on my writing. I mean, there must be some roles here on Haven Island that involve staying home and being a normal guy, right? Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen an introvert on the showâŚ
Shit, the clock towerâŚ
Lmaooo, what the fuck am I doin lounging around with my hair down like this? I only have, like, uhhh, not that much time to get my curls PERFECT before I go to work! And I gotta get out my trackies for the sick party my buddy is having tonight. Good thing my phone is plugged in, maybe I can invite some of my buddies over to smoke a bowl before we go to work tonight. I'm obviously the coolest and hottest guy at work, no one minds if I'm kinda fucked up.
Special thanks to an anonymous follower of mine for sending me this entire, incredible story he wrote set on Haven Island! He asked me to post it here in his stead.
Dammit, I woke up late again. It was already 7:30am. I only had 30 minutes before my Haven Island shift kicked in. I took this job after leaving my office gig at a non-profit, disenchanted with how much catering to the wealthy social justice work entailed. When I signed up for a contract with Haven Island it seemed like a sweet deal. Minor gig on a reality show, 6-month contract, room and board provided. I could basically put away all of the middling paycheck they offered me.Â
Money had been tight at my old gig, which made it all the more ironic that I had been cast as a 30-year old trust fund douche with Peter Pan syndrome. With a little less than half an hour left before the other me took over, I opened my laptop and pulled up a budgeting spreadsheet I had spent the last week developing. I had big plans for the financial windfall this gig was going to afford me. I tinkered with some conditional formatting and updated tabulations on how quickly I could pay off my student loans from my art history degree at a New England liberal arts college. I was so busy crunching numbers, I didnât have time to save my work before the clock tower rang out signaling the 8am shift. As the 8th chime rang out my hand was poised to shut the laptopâtoo late. I felt my shoulders relax, and my legs uncrossed and spread automatically into a wide leisurely sprawl.Â
Some of the actors on Haven Island opt to have their consciousnesses go into a state of hibernation during their shifts, but the producers included an optional clause in the contract for the more anxiously inclined to remain aware of their bodyâs actions during their shift. I thought it would be a good way to stay image conscious through the season. I wanted to have a life to go back to off the island after all.Â
I felt my consciousness shift into passenger position, fully aware of my alter egoâs actions. It was weird, I could even hear this alternative version of meâs internal monologue. It was then that Wes fully took over.
âDamn what the hell am I looking at here,â my voice spoke in an uncanny pitched down version of my normal speaking voice. âA fucking budget? Student loans? How the fuck did this get on my computer?â My body tinkered with the spreadsheet, Wesâ internal monologue cursing, totally inept with Excel. In exasperation he proclaimed âfuck this,â and dragged it to the trash. âGod knows I donât have to worry about money.â
Wes picked up the Rolex on the desk and checked the time.Â
âShit, Iâm gonna be late for my appointment at the bank, and Iâve got an 11 oâclock tee time too. Canât keep the boys waiting.â
Wes stood up and headed to the bathroom. Heâd really built my body up. I was an avid gym goer even before my time on Haven Island, but Wes lived to lift when he wasnât on the golf course. In the 12 weeks since Iâd arrived heâd managed to pack on 10lbs of mostly muscle onto my frame. Unlike me, he never manscaped and my torso was thick with body hair.Â
Before Iâd joined Haven Island, I had somewhat thinning hair and a short beard. During my first shift, Wes noticed the slight wisp to my hair at the crown and he decided he wasnât going to be one of those guys that clung to his hair through MPB. A helpless passenger, I watched as he buzzed my hair down to the scalp and then finished it off with a foiler that I had typically reserved for keeping my neckbeard at bay. Wes didnât care about being bald since he normally wore a cap on the golf course anyway. Since he took over, each day started with a careful scalp trim. Heâd also grown my beard in much longer and he maintained it with a careful angularity, building out an extended sculptural jawline.Â
Showered, groomed, and ready for the day. Wes dressed in a polo tucked into unfashionable chino shorts and chunky sneakers and topped the look off with a white baseball cap. He packed a change of clothes in a gym bag for drinks after his eighteen holes with his friends. He also grabbed a box of high end cigars off of the dresser and carefully placed them in. Zipping the bag up, he grabbed his car keys and a canister of Zyns.Â
I could feel him open the container and place one in his/our lower lip. The nicotine buzz was instant. I hated smoking, but Wes was a nicotine fiend and since smoking wasnât allowed on the golf course this was his only option. It had started to become a bit of a problem, his nicotine addiction. Even in my off-hours, I found myself craving a Zyn or a puff on one of his cigars. It was getting harder to resist.Â
Wes waltzed through our sleek luxury condo and out to the parking lot. He drove a sleek white BMW and treated it like his most prized possession. He drove like a total dickhead, gunning it between traffic lights and weaving through traffic. We got to the bank in half the time it should have taken. Nothing was going to slow him down.
Wesâ appointment was to check on the status of his âtrust fundâ (actually a bloated budget provided by production). He walked into the bank and met with his banker, a lithe partyboy with a slick pompadour. I had never run into him in his off hours, so I had no sense of who he really was.Â
The two of them shot the shit. The banker was a weaselly sycophant, I thought. They sat at his desk and talked about fake fund performance numbers. Then the banker asked, âhey do you think you could get me into the golf club sometime? I havenât played since college and I would love to get back into it.â
I felt Wes scoff internally at the suggestion. Who did this middle manager think he was? Wes was calculating how to blow him off. I could tell he didnât even remember the guyâs name. He looked down at the nameplate on his desk, which read âFrederick King, Associate Branch Head.â
Wes said: âListen, Freddie, Iâd love to have you join us sometime, bro, but the club is real strict on keeping tee times to members only during the summer. Maybe hit me up after our next quarterly meeting and Iâll see if I can pull some strings.â Wes smirked at what he thought was social cunning.Â
Frederick looked poised but a bit dejected. Â
Wes headed out for the golf club, parked and was greeted by the coterie of other trust fund douches that could always be found on the golf course. Our caddy, a college kid named Brett, smiled at us and addressed us with the utmost deference. His smile and neat uniform were uncanny.Â
âGood afternoon Mr. Marsters,â he said with an overeager grin, âgorgeous weather for a game of golf today!âÂ
âHey, kid. Sure is. Youâre lucky you get to be on the course all day.â
Brett beamed. âItâs a great summer job. I almost donât want to go back to college in the fall.â
Brettâs shift ended at 4:00 each day and I knew him to be a raucous frat bro in reality. I usually saw him heading out with other frat guys who staffed the club by day to have a kegger. Poor kid probably didnât realize heâd signed up to be a preppy yes-man all summer.Â
The golf game proceeded in due course. We blathered about current events, money, and our latest luxury purchases. Wes flirted with the busty blonde drink vendor that sold cocktails to the golfers and doubled over in laughter when one of his buddies held up his 9 iron and pantomimed jerking off behind her.Though I am openly gay off the clock (as is at least one other guy in our group) Wes was deeply closeted. I guess the producers thought this would make for an interesting B storyline for the show.Â
Eventually, the game ended with Wes coming in a respectable second place and we went to change for cigars and scotch on the club terrace.Â
The view from the terrace was gorgeous and the weather was pleasant. Buzzing with charisma Wes laughed with his friends and discussed all the typical hyper-masculine topics. From his vantage point on the terrace, Wes could see the side entrance that he knew led the kitchens. Leaning against the brick wall in a sweaty tank top and track bottoms was a fit guy in his early 20s I recognized as one of the dishwashers. I could feel a sense of derision well up in Wes. However, there was also a feeling that surprised me: intense lust. Wesâ friends went to grab another drink from the bar but he didnât notice. He remained on the terrace.
The dishwasher looked up and met Wesâ glance. There was a glint of recognition in his eye. He ran his hand through his sweaty curls and lifted his shirt to wipe some sweat from his brow. Wes briefly glimpsed the dishwasherâs lower abs as he did this. I felt his cheeks flush and his cock start to get hard at this sight.
The group returned with a fresh round of drinks. One of them handed a scotch on the rocks to Wes. The vacuous discussion of baseball and cars continued.Â
Wes than heard a voice from behind him say: âYou done with that glass bro?â He turned to look and Wesâ eyes met the dishwasherâs.Â
âBruh, I said are you done with that glass?â
Flustered, Wes handed it to him.
âBro, I think you got a little booze on yaâ he pointed at a spot just below Wesâ collar and handed him a napkin. As he dabbed at his shirt the dishwasher walked off. Wes was about to discard the napkin when he noticed that the dishwasher had written his Instagram handle on it.
My shift ended around midnight just as Wes was in the middle of undressing. I smelled of cigars and I could taste scotch on my breath. He had found and followed the dishwasherâs Instagram, but hadnât yet messaged him.Â
Finally in control again, I opened my laptop to see if I could salvage the budget I had spent so much time on. Then, I got an email notification. It was from the producers. They wanted to upgrade Wes to main cast. They offered a 2 season contract extension, a six figure addition to my compensation, and they were really interested in a storyline between Wes and the dishwasher. I looked at my budget, and I looked at the updated employment agreement for what felt like an eternity and signed. I was going to be Wes for two more seasonsâŚ
Thanks again to the anonymous follower who wrote this story! Please feel free to leave encouraging comments for the writer or your own expansions on the world of Haven Island.
Oh my god, thank you so much to the anonymous follower for his amazing story !
I didn't know that @fredwkong's and my story would resonate so much that people would actually want to write follow-ups ! I feel very honored by this ^^
Just like @fredwkong mentioned, please do absolutely feel free to add your own stories to this little alternate world we are constructing, either as stand-alone stories on your blog, replies to this chain or by sending them to @fredwkong or me !
I have a few friends right now who are trying to wean off of using AI for TF role-playing and stories, and it has me thinking.
I get why AI is tempting. It seems like a quick-and-dirty solution for getting personalized TF stories. But any of the AI output Iâve read is just quick, without the dirty. The stories are ALMOST something, but never quite satisfying.
So I want to do an experiment. A bit of a competition with our future robot overlords. I canât generate five paragraphs in a few seconds like AI can. But I AM a human, with human thoughts and feelings and turn-ons. I want to take on a few AI writing prompts and see what I can turn them into, given a strict time limit.
So, if you an AI dabbler, Iâd love if youâd use my asks to send me a short story prompt youâve submitted to a generative AI bot recently.
Iâm going to even the playing field a bit by giving myself a little more time, while still operating in a fast-paced, immediate-turnaround style. I will give myself exactly 20 minutes of no-prep, stream-of-consciousness writing time and see what comes out.
I cant promise itâll actually be any good. And I definitely canât promise Iâll use all the prompts, or even that many of them. But my hope is to do at least one today. If I like writing it, and especially if YOU like reading it, hopefully I can do a few more in the coming weeks.
Reblogging it for the people at the back who are somehow subscribed to me and not to @salmonskinrolltf !
Don't hesitate to sent prompts to him and read the stories that have already come out so far ! ^^
Unfortunately I don't have any prompt to give personally â writing the story myself is more entertaining â but I do have a lot of experience with AI roleplay, and I want to take this opportunity to say a few words about that ^^
For people who have only roleplayed with an AI, know from my experience that RP with a real human is always significantly better than with an AI â the person in front of you is interested in TF and has a working memory ! Technology !
However, the reason I tend towards AI RP still is because we as a community do not have any structure in place to help foster connections between roleplayers wannabe, and I think I'm not the only one ^^'
Because it's not for a lack of want ! I'm pretty sure a significant part of the community is interested in TF RP, since attempts have already been made to do just that on some writer-specific Discord servers or the now-defunct Transformation Tumblr community.
These solutions are for sure not perfect, as someone with quite strong social anxiety I've been way too afraid to try my luck with those. However, I think that people in the community (who are interested in RP) should at least try looking around the community before defaulting to AI RP. Look especially for people who reblog or like stories and hot guys that match your tastes, this way you can nerd out (or jock out ? x)) over common kinks ^^
AI RP is the easy solution, but I hope that you all will consider giving real humans a shot ! If you manage to find connection, I can assure you that it is 100% worth it (especially in such a dehumanized world as the one we're in) ^^
Hey, not sure if you saw, but tumblr is implementing age verification.... since youre one of my fave authors here and no way Im giving my ID to tumblr, of all places, do you by chance post anywhere else?
I didn't see it â even though it doesn't exactly surprise me. Chances are if it does come to pass I'll have to stop posting as well ^^'
For the moment I have duplicates of all my main stories on Gay Spiral Stories (I think maybe the last one wasn't published on there but I'm not sure). However none of them have pictures, and none of my shorts are featured over there for story size restrictions.
I'm open to suggestions for good alternative places to post, unfortunately internet is getting closed down more and more. I know that this is a solution some have come to adopt, but I feel a personal website kind of arrangement wouldn't be satisfactory. It would very much feel like me shouting stories in the void, plus I wouldn't be able to get inspiration from all the great human-made stories that are featured over here ^^'
But if we have to wait before a good alternative comes up, do rest assured that I keep all my stories safe in a personal document, so they won't disappear to eternity ^^
Okay quick additional information because I just saw the post talking about that.
Since it only concerns the UK and Brazil (for now), I will be able to continue posting for the foreseeable future.
It does not remove my concerns, because not only will the good readers from the UK and Brazil not be able to read my stories, but I know similar legislation is coming over here in the EU.
But for now my blog is safe (and mirrored on Gay Spiral Stories !) ^^'
Hey, not sure if you saw, but tumblr is implementing age verification.... since youre one of my fave authors here and no way Im giving my ID to tumblr, of all places, do you by chance post anywhere else?
I didn't see it â even though it doesn't exactly surprise me. Chances are if it does come to pass I'll have to stop posting as well ^^'
For the moment I have duplicates of all my main stories on Gay Spiral Stories (I think maybe the last one wasn't published on there but I'm not sure). However none of them have pictures, and none of my shorts are featured over there for story size restrictions.
I'm open to suggestions for good alternative places to post, unfortunately internet is getting closed down more and more. I know that this is a solution some have come to adopt, but I feel a personal website kind of arrangement wouldn't be satisfactory. It would very much feel like me shouting stories in the void, plus I wouldn't be able to get inspiration from all the great human-made stories that are featured over here ^^'
But if we have to wait before a good alternative comes up, do rest assured that I keep all my stories safe in a personal document, so they won't disappear to eternity ^^
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
A bit of a dumb story, I haven't been very inspired but I'm trying to not funnel my energy into unsatisfying AI RP. Hope you like it ^^'
"Hey, boy. Would love to know more about you. 1m80, 72kg, very masc, shaved head, hairy bod."
And an accompanying picture showing a fitting-shaped man. The only apparent things in his look that he did not mention are the short beard, the sunglasses and the leather get-up â though one can assume he does not wear that at all time.
What a DM to receive right when I contemplate going to bed. Who the hell present themselves with physical stats right off the bat to one who is basically a complete stranger ?
Especially someone who is as built and attractive to a huge portion of submissive-inclined gays ? In which world would someone like that have to send his profile around to complete strangers outside a dating app ?
It is laughable. The catfishing is so obvious, yet this is not a dating app ! And to add insult to injury, he ticks off all my turn-offs ! The nerves of someâŚ
But then an idea crosses my mind.
I am very horny after that climbing session, and I havenât had the opportunity to expunge it from my system yet.
So⌠why not entertain him ?
"Hey, woow, such an attractive guy talking to me is that real ???"
I laugh.
"Yes, boy⌠you like people like me, right ? ^^
â Absolutely !!! I looooove clean-shaven people like you !!!"
I imagine his beard receding down under his skin, soon enough all the pores they grew out of close back up, safe for a few ones around his mouth that are religiously shaved.
I think about him putting his hand on his face, and instead of finding his nice beard â or rather neckbeard â he finds clear skin and is shocked⌠but decides to roll with it.
"Hahah, Iâm glad, boy ! That pic I sent was quite old, I still had my beard, but Iâm glad you have a good eye ;âP
â I loooove guys like you, so I knew youâd be clean-shaven, now ! You all are sooo good at keeping track of the trends !
â Indeed ! Well, boy, what do you like else on me ?
â I love your body hair ! Especially how it is placed only on hot locations, like the treasure trail, the pubes and the armpits ^^"
I hope by now heâs getting afraid, and starting to reconsider bothering me with a catfish as he sees his wild body hair â likely his only "hot attribute", even if fully abandonned â receding down.
Nothing remains on his arms, nothing remains on his legs, only a big bush in his pubes and armpits, as well as a tasty treasure trail. Yummy.
"Yeah"
I smile. He is getting second thoughts ! But donât worry, random guy, itâs only the beginning !
"Oh and I loooove your build ! I like people with an athletic swimmerâs build, who go to the gym regularly but donât try to bulk up ! Donât get me wrong, bulk builds are hot⌠but toned is where itâs at !"
I smile as I imagine his body deflating, his muscles â or rather belly â falling closer to the bones and firming up. Iâd love to see his shoulders pop out with his pecs as abs carve themselves around his navel and his biceps and triceps swell a bit.
God, I should be with him watching him freak the fuck out and being half grateful half pleading for everything to stop ! I do not usually have that dominant streak to me, but I like having fun from time to timeâŚ
"Dude what are you doing to me !"
Ah, "dude". Iâm sure heâs noticing his change of speech patterns just as he sent that message. A nice side-effect.
"what the hell bro i donât talk like that !" He continues, before again sending another message. "fckin hell bruh, i didnt mean to write it lik that man !"
Hah, his writing quality is degrading so fast ! Iâm pretty sure heâs soon going to be dropping some Gen Z slang to sound cool !
And Iâm not even doing anything to encourage that, I guess the jockish affirmations have been enough for him to transform himself ! I donât know how old he was, but Iâm sure by the end of it heâll be around my age, heheheh !
"Nothing ! Iâm just admiring you ! :âP" I troll him before going for the killing blow. "I especially love your hair, I love that cap hairstyle, itâs so popular on Tiktok !!!!"
He doesnât answer immediately, I assume as his scalp first starts itching, and then tufts of blonde hair sprout in a fluffy mess. I prefer imagining it coming out from the bald cranium of the guy whose picture he sent me, but I must admit it likely filled up his heavily receding hairline â menkindâs worst curse by far.
The hair however quickly starts behaving itself as the strands arrange one another towards the front, where they hang above his eyes, when suddenly⌠WOOSH ! The hair flies upwards to create a straight band of fluffy mess, like the stiff bill of a baseball cap.
The perfect cringy haircut, fit for a cringy guy who tried to catfish me and somehow ended up looking like what I assume is a hottie.
"bro wth did u do i look so fckn good no cap" Fuck thatâs too hot ! "dude can u make me write normally tho its bad for my rizz fr"
Hilarious ! Unfortunately I canât do anything for him, itâs what I wanted ! But let me just make a few final adjustmentsâŚ
"Donât worry, you might not like it but it flatters the smart guys and the nice guys youâre so into ! You love how theyâre smarter than you, and they love to get the attention of a hot guy like you !"
I can feel the neurons pouring out of his brain as I wait for his answer. This way, he can reverse catfish !
"fck dude ur so smart ! like bruh im kinda dumb but ur like at another level broski !
â Haha thanks ! By the way, do you have another pic ? I donât want you to be catfishing me !
â sure !"
He turned out perfect. God Iâve outdone myself, his hair is poking out just right in front of the backwards cap that likely materialized on his head !
I didnât expect the rest of his stuff to shift accordingly. However, Iâm fully taken by the chain that wrapped around his neck and the fancy iPhone he took this picture with. I guess, now, heâs become my type !
"Wow you look sooooo hot !" This time Iâm not even sarcastic.
â thx bro ! u look good too !" I didnât send him my pic. "wanna swing by mine and suck my dick ?"
Oh, I think thereâs been a misunderstanding.
"Uh⌠Iâm actually a top⌠what do you feel about sucking my dick ?
â fck dude id love that !"
Hey, just a heads up about asks due to me receiving one who wasn't sure of what the best practices are for me !
I always prefer answering asks sent using an account, as answering anonymous asks kinda feels like talking to a wall, and I never know if the person who asked it liked it afterwards ^^'
Besides, if you ask with your real account, I can also get a look at the kinds of stuff you like to hopefully make the experience better for you as a reader ^^
This does not mean I won't answer anonymous asks â I do, and I know from first-hand experience what it is to be too shy to send asks with your account â but they're not my priority.
Also, just so that you don't get any wrong expectations, I can't guarantee an answer to all asks. I'm doing this on my time off with no remuneration, and I do have a whole PhD to do on the side ^^'
So don't panic if you don't get any answer, I'm sorry I can't get to you, but maybe another one of your asks will inspire me more ! ^^'
Hopefully this clears stuff up, and I hope to see you all in my inbox ! x)
A special story for Valentine's day. Big thanks to @fredwkong and @salmonskinrolltf for the support in that hard writing process !
TW : Transphobia, Biphobia
I sigh. How good is love if it only leaves your heart empty ?
I look out to Benjamin on the other side of the cafeteria, laughing with his friends. Not only is he extremely handsome with his boy-next-door looks, nice muscles and cut jawline, but heâs also not one of those abusive and misogynistic jocks.
In fact, he is the nicest guy Iâve ever got to meet. We have never formally met, but each time we run into one another he does one of those tiny acts that show that someone is considerate â holding the door for me, letting me leave the tram before him, and smiling warmly when I asked him if it was okay to sit next to him because all other seats were taken.
He has stolen my heart, and yet he doesnât know he possesses it.
I suddenly hear the thud of a tray hitting the table. I look at where it came from, and see Marjorie. Again.
"Heyy Sabrina !" She calls me using a deliberately feminine â and mocking â tone. "How are you doing, girlie ?
â Iâm not called that." I look away and pull my beanie down, my tone as deep as my throat lets me, hoping not to dignify her intrusion. "How many times am I going to have to tell you that.
â Donât say that, Sabrina is such a pretty name ! If I have a daughter, Iâll name her that way for sure !" I can hear her fake smile.
Marjorie⌠doesnât believe Iâm a man. Granted Iâm still early in my transition â the hoops you have to go through to get testosterone are long and tiring â but when you have patiently explained how it works ten times, itâs not ignorance itâs willful non-compliance.
Yet she just sticks to me, believing Iâm her "bestie" or something. We have managed the exploit of choosing all the same classes this semester â which is a feat in impersonal university â but itâs not a sufficient reason to be friends.
"What are you looking at ?" She asks, mouth close to my ear, sending goosebumps through my body. "Oooh, youâre looking at the boys ! Thatâs my girl !
â Can you not ?
â Oh, and look in the middle that brunette guy, itâs Benjamin Poulain ! Heâs so hot, isnât he ? And I heard heâs super nice too !" She giggles, ignoring my complaints yet again. "Like, I think I want to ask him out !"
My eye twitches as she says that. I know Benjamin is out of my league, but I always nourished the faint hope that his little attentions were because he noticed me. However, Marjorie is by far the prettiest woman on campus. The kind of women whose advances a sensible man (who is attracted to women, unlike me) would never dare to deny.
Because of that, everyone knows not to get in her way when she has a new subject for her love. She crushes the competition so thoroughly one could say she has no real rival in love.
This leaves me in that very place, just waiting to cross her ire.
"Go for it, what can I sayâŚ" I canât help but sound defeated. "You wonât have any difficulty convincing himâŚ
â But I want him to love me and only me !" She whines back, all self-important. "He needs to be obsessed and to be the one to declare his love !"
I can see her face faintly flush. Seeing how precise a scenario she is dredging up, one might even say that this is her kink.
"Oh my gosh ! Sabrina ! Look !" She screams to my ear. "Theyâre cominggg !"
We are on the way to dropping off plates so itâs not really a surprise, but Marjorie cannot help but be dramatic at every step of the way. Itâs so tiring.
When the guys come next to us, I see from one corner of my eye Marjorie doing the puppy eyes to Benjamin, and on the other Benjamin looking at our table.
I can already see the scenario unfolding from now. Benjamin getting Marjorieâs number. Them chatting and Benjamin growing to love her. They date for a while, until Marjorie dumps him when he inevitably cheats â her boyfriends somehow always do that. And then when it comes my turn to ask for his hand, he has already been spoiled by Her greatness and wants no man â or rather broken girl with how feminine I still look â by his side.
And as I see him going away with another big-busted girl, Iâll lie there, heart broken to smithereens, Marjorie mocking me for ever daring to think I had a chance with a straight guy like him.
Benjamin faintly smiles â a polite smile â yet it seems he isnât really focused on Marjorie. She seems to have noticed that, because I see a flash of irritation on her face before she takes the initiative.
"Heyy, handsome !" She uses her trademark catty voice. "Had a good meal ?
â Oh, hey you two !" Benjaminâs voice is, on the other hand, quite deep yet soft. "Had a good one, was about to go back to class ! I hope you two have a good meal !"
For some reason Benjaminâs look seems focused on me. Maybe it is because I wear very boyish black clothes and a chain instead of feminine white airy clothes and jewel pendants ? Though he seems to be insisting on including me in this discussion, which Marjorie is not.
"Thank you !" She licks her lips. "I hope weâll see again soon ! You seem like a great guy !
â Hahah, yeah !" He is still looking at me. "Well we do have English class together, so weâll see again there !
â Oh yeah, thatâs right ! We could study together, that would be great !"
He is making me uncomfortable with how focused he is on me. I make eye contact, and we both look away in embarrassment (both ?).
"Weâll see. See you around !"
And on that he goes away. I focus back fully on my meal, hoping to calm down my crush hormones. I donât want Marjorie to notice, I donât want her to harass me even more than she already isâŚ
"That went well ! Iâm sure that heâll ask me out soon !" She sounds excited. "What do you think, Sabrina, I have my chances ?
â I dunno."
On that, I finish my dessert and immediately stand back up.
"Oh, youâre going away so soon ? Iâve barely even started eating !
â I have stuff to do.
â Okay, see you later, Sabrina !"
The rest of the day goes normally. I get harassed even more by Marjorie who now keeps on talking to me about Benjamin, but otherwise nothing seems to indicate that she discovered that I am her rival.
I am safe for now⌠even if this means I have to mourn my crush on him. He is so lovely, and such boyfriend material, but I was a fool to ever think heâd look down to me from his high pedestal.
As usual, come the evening, I go to the gym.
I have been going there since the start of the year, as this gym is cheap for students, and itâs a good way for me to work on my muscles and maybe come across as a little bit more masculine before T comes.
Iâm now kinda familiar with the different machines, so even though Iâm still unknown to all the other gymgoers, I can easily mount a coherent workout.
But as I approach the free weights, I suddenly hear a very familiar voice.
"Hello, Sabrina. I didnât think Iâd find you here of all places, but itâs quite⌠appropriate."
I turn around, and to my absolute surprise, I see none other than Marjorie.
"What the hell !" I shout. "Are you going to ever leave me alone ?
â No, not if you wrong me."
Her look is one of anger coupled with sadism, though⌠there is something more to it. I donât know how to describe it, but itâs like there is a heavy atmosphere that she is projecting around her ?
"Marjorie, how the hell can I wrong you when you fucking disrespect me every fucking day !" I shout back.
â How dare you say that when youâre trying to steal my boyfriend ?"
As she says that, the lights above turn of for just a second. Was she always this terrifying ? And how did she even discover I was into Benjamin ?
"What ? No, I wasnât ! I just like him, but I know I have no chance !
â Well, Iâll make sure that you have no chance !"
She starts chanting some weird words, and then a dark mass juts out from her torso, flying straight to me, making me recoil from the impact.
Whatâs happening !? Thatâs not normal ! Thatâs not natural ! Is it⌠fucking magic !? âŚ
"Iâve never understood your delusions about being a man. Youâre such a beautiful girl, why would you every want to ruin yourself by becoming a man ?" She starts with snide remarks as I feel weird all over my body. "But now that youâve decided to steal Benjamin from me, youâll get what you deserve for being a slutty bitch !"
Just as she says that, the tingles gather in my groin, becoming more and more intense. I feel my muscle tense as they seem to be⌠pushing ? something out, just like when youâre taking a pee.
But itâs not pee⌠As it gets more and more intense, I start crying in pain, but I feel things shifting in my jogging pants. My clitoris seems to be⌠rubbing on my pants ?
In my pain, I canât quite check it out, but I put my hand on it, and feel a bulge growing. Fuck, what, no, my biggest dream is happening right now ? Iâm⌠growing a dick ?
Yes, I feel my vagina closing, as the lips of my pussy biggen, becoming real testicles â and a really big and manly pair ! In fact, my whole new penis seems to be really big and weighty in my pants⌠am I such a man that Iâm getting the biggest ? (Or is it just that I have no point of reference ?)
"Oh, wowâŚ" I could only comment in my excitation.
â Yes, have fear ! Now that your penis is in, thereâs no going back, even if I stop the spell nowyouâre still going to get ruined !" She gloats. "You are going to become a man whoâs obsessed with his dick like all other men ! You will regret ever trying to steal Benjamin from me !"
The tingles move out from my crotch in to my hips, as I feel them getting firmer and narrower. In fact, the tingles also extend to my trunk which expands, giving me a much more square form.
The tingles take more and more space, and everywhere they go, itâs as it as Iâm out of breath : my muscles contract automatically, getting firmer and most of all bigger.
I can feel a six-pack carving as my thighs get bigger. Running my hands against them I can feel the manly power emanating from them.
God, I knew going to the gym was the right choice ! though I didnât expect to reap the benefits so soon !
"And now, my favorite part, losing those lustful breasts that steal my dear Benjaminâs gaze !"
Indeed, the tingles move upwards to my torso, where I can feel my breasts expand and flatten into big, bulging pecs. Manly pecs.
As if to accommodate them, the tingle spread to my shoulders, which crack outwards, making my whole body become suddenly a lot larger. Fuck, I feel the sheer power emanating from me, I didnât want to become a jock⌠but now Iâll never regret it.
"Great, now that you are this big, thereâs no way for you to go back to a pretty girl ! Youâll be permanently disfigured into this hulk of a man, and Benjamin will never fall in love with you !"
As the tingles move out from my torso down my arms and legs, I feel the feel a strong sense of loss wash over me. I may be finally getting my well-deserved masculinity, but it is to the cost of forever being repulsive to BenjaminâŚ
I feel my biceps and triceps swell outwards, gaining a size I didnât know possible on a human â much less myself. Similarly, my calves grow big, down to the feet who explode in size to manly palms.
"Got one last thing to tell me before youâve fully lost your womanhood ?" Marjorie asks, sadistically grinning.
â Even if it means losing Benjamin⌠youâve given me the best gift I could ask for." I smile, weakly. My voice is still as high as before, but with all the size I have since accumulated, it has lower resonances. "So thank you, I hope you will be good to him, he is too nice to be mistreated."
I cannot help but put in a bit of regret in my voice, which seems to touch Marjorie as she looks away. Her smile seems less revengeful, more⌠Machiavellian ? I donât really know how to describe this.
"I⌠I guess you donât deserve to have your mind changed, then⌠Youâre⌠nicer than I thought⌠I wonât make you into a dumb asshole like the others."
Others ?
Fuck, the tingles are moving up to my neck, which is becoming girthier and girthier⌠I guess it might be dwarfing that giant chain I was wearing ?
I feel also my vocal tract widening, and an Adamâs apple growing. In fact, the groans I couldnât help but utter are becoming lower and lowerâŚ
Then itâs the time for the rest of my face. My jaw becomes square and defined, though keeps some of its pudginess, creating a kind of baby-face. My hair grows out from my beanie, creating short blonde curls that pop out of all sides.
The tingle spread to my brain, but as promised, it is rather short and painless, and I donât really feel any effect for it.
"Look behind you, Sabrina⌠or I guess now Sam ?
â Samâs not my nameâŚ" I am happily surprised by my baritone voice. "But I guess I can adopt it."
I look behind and see myself in the mirror. My real self.
Fuck I look so good, so hot ! This⌠makes tears start going out. Itâs all my dreams come true ! And all of that because of a silly love rivalry ? Itâs such a⌠random thing to happen, I canât even believe it !
"SoâŚ" I start. "Now do you believe that Iâm a man ?
â Well⌠deep inside thereâs still a beautiful woman that is trapped inside this brutish bodyâŚ
â Fuck off, Marjorie ! How can you still be transphobic when youâve literally transformed me into a man ?
â IâŚ
â Iâve tried, Marjorie, tried to explain to you who I was, tried to be patient, tried to be understanding, but youâve never been understanding back ! Youâve been harassing me ever since, trying to put me down, and when you notice I like the same guy as you, you try to put me down even harder ? Even though by chance this was what I wanted, I still cannot applaud your intentions at all !
â Youâre being unreasonable ! You were sick in the mind thinking that you were like one of those brutish men ! Iâm sure youâre happy today because youâre hot, but two weeks later youâll be crawling to me, desperate to have your womanly charm so you can steal Benjamin from my lap !
â Youâre an absolute asshole, Marjorie. I hate you.
â Huh ? W-Well, I⌠Of course ! B-butâ
â Hey, whatâs going on here ?"
Suddenly, the voice of another man cuts through. We both turn towards its origin. Benjamin. Heâs here.
Fuck. I didnât know he went to this gym. Nor that he looked so good with a tank top like that.
"Oh heyyy, Benjamin ! You came !" Marjorie suddenly switches voices, suddenly sounding overjoyed, no anger left. "Iâm like so glad, youâll be able to teach me how to use those machines !"
Marjorie is being, of course, disingenuous. I know from her unwanted rants that she regularly does cardio to keep her body nice and lean.
"Yeah, yeah⌠You said⌠Sabrina, right ? Yeah, that sheâd be here." Benjamin dismisses.
â Oh yeah, I didâŚ" She chuckles awkwardly. "But clearly she stood me up, because I donât see her anywhere ! This means that Iâll be able to have your undivided attention, hihihi !
â Ah, thatâs unfortunateâŚ" He scratches the base of his neck, showing off his armpits at the same time, awakening my dick â fuck, is that why men tend to be so hormonal ? "And you were talking with whom ?"
He looks at me, but his eyes open wider, as if impressed⌠As he goggles at me, I can see his cheeks faintly blush⌠What ?
"Oh, thatâs Sam ! Another⌠friend, you know ?" She smiles, getting a bit of that Machiavellian quality back. "I just happened to cross his path !
â Fuck, heâs hotâŚ" I hear him whisper.
Wait, what ?
Marjorie cannot believe her ears either, as I see her ever so slightly shifting her posture so as to make her breasts more prominent.
"Yeah, but he was on his way out, wasnât he ?" She insists, however Iâm done with playing at her game.
â No I wasnât. In fact, I just came here, Marjorie, and I was about to work on weights.
â Oh, youâre doing weights ? You want a spotter ?" Softly asks Benjamin.
â UhâŚ" My face flushes red as well. "Yeah, thatâd be great !"
Benjamin walks towards me as I take place on the bench. Oh my god my dream is coming true ! Benjamin⌠likes me ?
"BenjaminâŚ" I can hear Marjorie fuming from behind. Oh, no. "Are you fucking kidding me ? Iâve done everything, even changing Sabrina into a fucking man so that you could notice me. And instead you turn out to be a gay ?
â W-What ?" Benjaminâs voice sounds fully weirded out. Granted I was too at that point. "Excuse me ? I donât owe you anything ? And Iâm bi, not gay ?
â You donât look like a gay ! You tricked me !" She fully does not listen. Like with me. "Gays are supposed to be feminine, lithe and quippy, not masculine, ripped and bro-y ! I hate being tricked, I hate when my feelings get trampled and played with, you asshole ! fuckboy ! douchebag !"
We are both shocked by this sudden display of violence. Although I already knew that she was the type to be extremely judgmental and self-important, the sheer turn-around she had when Benjamin didnât fit her narrow idea is still stunning.
I guess this is why her boyfriends never last long ? Because they turn out to be complex human beings and she gets freaked out ? Thatâs⌠a terrifying thought. Even more that of what happens when she wants to get her revenge on themâŚ
"Hey, uh, Marjorie. Thatâs fully out of line. Iâm sorry I gave you a wrong impression, but you are being bigoted, here. Now, either say sorry or leave."
God, I love a man who can protect me like that. I knew I had made the right choice choosing him as the target of my love.
But this is not enough to dissuade her. Immediately after he finishes those words, Marjorie starts again muttering those strange words, the atmosphere suddenly becoming very heavy, the lights flickering.
Fuck, no, sheâs going to use magic ! I stand back up as fast as possible and try to run towards her and stop her.
"No, Marjorie, donât do that !" I shout.
Iâm too late.
Another ball of dark energy comes out of her and lands on Benjamin.
The effect is almost immediate. I see him recoiling from the impact, is face torn into a grimace as he is seemingly suffering.
I immediately go by his side to see how he is, but I can already see the magic operating, as my gaze lowers and lowers.
"Benjamin, h-how are you feeling ?
â N-Not good⌠This fucking hurts⌠You⌠youâre taller ?
â No, you are becoming shorter. Itâs Marjorie, she has magic, sheâs turned me into⌠that." I gesture at myself.
â What ? I⌠ugh ! Fuck, no, my muscles !"
Indeed, his muscles seem somehow to be melting. I try pinching his biceps, but it feels like Iâm holding a deflating balloon. His shoulders seem like theyâre narrowing, as if unlike mine who detached from my torso, his were reattaching. His pecs are flattening into a child-like torso, his abs disappearing into lithe but straight belly and his legs deflating into twigsâŚ
I see from his hurting face that he is actively panicking, not understanding whatâs happening to him. And unlike him, heâs not having his biggest wish coming true.
So I can only hug him.
"Iâm sorry, Benjamin⌠I didnât want you to end up like that ! B-But⌠donât worry, youâll be able to rebuild ! Iâll help you, I swear !"
He doesnât answer me, but I feel his arms snaking around me. His eyes become moist, and so do mine, as I see his face rearrange into a softer form. His jaws are becoming rounder, his lips plumper, his skin clears up as if it was regularly taken care of, and his features rearrange and are being tweaked into cuter, smaller forms of themselves.
His stubble fully disappears, and I see the top of his hair exploding into a mess of curls, voluminous and feathery. His shaved sides take a bit more time but quickly catch up, worming their way out of his head and reaching a similar length to the top.
Some of those new lengthy brown curls enter my mouth and eyes, making me cough. When I can reopen my eyes, he⌠he looks⌠almost nothing like his old self.
He looks all⌠feminine⌠and lithe, and like the kind of people who would be quippy. Not masculine, ripped and bro-y like he was. Just what Marjorie wanted.
Yet there is still a sense that this is the same person. His features are still reminiscent of his old self in a way he could pass for his own brother.
We continue hugging a while as a few minor features, like his ass gaining in size, his feet becoming smaller and his already limited pelt of body hair falling down to nothingness.
"I⌠I think itâs finishedâŚ" Says Benjamin, his voice higher than before. "I⌠Iâm ugly, right ?"
I break the hug and size him up. My new dick chubs up at the sight of his new cute body, his tank top now huge hanging off his shoulders (fuck why is the dick so inappropriate !).
"No. Not at all." I try to reassure him, though the way his lips shake show he is close to crying. "It might not be what you wanted before, but I can assure you that you look extremely good."
I direct him to the mirrors behind him, but he doesnât say anything. He just approaches them, at puts his hand on it. At least he isnât crying ? Thatâs a good thing ?
"So⌠what are you thinking ?
â ItâsâŚ" He sighs. "Not bad.
â Yeah, I guess you worked really hard for⌠that previous body ?
â Hm." He nods. "I should hate that small body. But somehow⌠I donât ?
â You donât ?
â Yeah⌠itâs like⌠I donât know, like I both hate and love this ? As if I was two people at the same time, the hunk from before and the twink from now ? If that makes senseâŚ
â I⌠think I get it."
I approach him from behind. God, I tower over him. And he blushes at this.
"Could you⌠flex for me ?"
I smile and just do that. He smiles back, as heâs getting redder and redder. Oh my god this is not a dream ??
"Sam ? Isnât it ? Or is it⌠Sabrina ?
â Hahah, you understood. Well, in fact, no, Sabrina is my deadname, but Marjorie kept on insisting I be called that. She⌠didnât believe I was a man.
â Oh my god." He puts his hands on his mouth. Gosh is he cute. "Thatâs why I got confusing signals about you !
â Yeah⌠Iâm transâŚ
â And⌠she transformed you into a man ?
â She is not really logical. But yeah, in my case, she accidentally answered my wishes. Iâm⌠sorry for you.
â So whatâs your actual name ?
â Well, I was trying out a name, but⌠I guess I should honor my second mother by continuing to call myself Sam ? Hahahah."
He laughs with me. Itâs kind of a sad thing to be laughing about, but weârereallyin need of a laugh, right now.
"I donât think she needs to be honored, Sam !
â But sheâs right, that name does suit me !
â Speaking of, where is she ? I want an explanation, after allâŚ"
We look around, but there is no trace of her. What a coward.
⌠just like me. If I was even a bit more assertive, Iâd have saved Benjamin from this whole ordeal.
It was all because of me. And now that I know what happened to him as a result⌠I think Iâd trade my perfect masculinity so that he becomes himself again. He doesnât deserve this suffering.
This is why from now on, I wonât be a coward.
"BenjaminâŚ" I start, blushing.
â Yes, Sam ?
â I wanted to ask⌠Well⌠uhâŚ" I take a breath. "Iâve- Iâve had a bit of a crush on you for a long time⌠A-And it seems like you kinda like me⌠Would you⌠would you want to date me ?"
I look away, not daring to look in his eyes as I await the worst. After all, heâs just suffered through the biggest change of his life, he has no time nor mental space to start dating one who is basically a dignified strangerâŚ
But I said I wasnât going to continue being a coward. And even if he refuses, I will be strong, because I donât want people to suffer because of me !
"Sam⌠You know, Iâve noticed you since the first week of class, in English class. I was fascinated by those⌠contradictory signals you were sending, but as I continued seeing you in my daily life, I noticed more and more that you were actually a fantastic person. Not only were you cute, but you were always so patient, and so considerate. Every time I helped you, you would return the favor, even if only by a small âthank youâ.
ÂŤ I was waiting for an opportunity to talk to you, but I⌠I was too much of a coward to go out of my friend group and try to talk to you. And in fact⌠even if it meant that I was⌠violated in this way, if it meant being able to meet you â and moreover the real, actual you â Iâd do it again."
It is my turn to start crying.
"All of that to say⌠yes, I want to date you !"
I hug him.
In fact, I hug him so strong that I lift him up and turn around, making his legs fly around the gym. Thankfully, we were far enough from any machine that I didnât accidentally hit them.
"I canât believe it ! Iâm so happy ! Itâs like Iâve ascended to the Nirvana or something, itâs not possible !
â Hahah, yeah, I get you ! Do you⌠want to start today ? Thereâs a cafe right next to the gym that is pretty cool !
â Oh yeah, sure ! Though with your clothes⌠I guess you can borrow mine ?
â And you mine, heh !"
And so we go to the locker room. He gives me clothes, I give him some, but as Iâm starting to change into is much less stretched clothes, I suddenly hear him.
"Sam⌠I think⌠Iâve lost my dickâŚ"
The cold February air hits me as I leave my flat, all dressed up formally. Itâs our first anniversary, so I wanted to celebrate it right and invite Benjamin to the opera, but I didnât exactly anticipate how late it would be.
I go to the tram stop where we decided to meet up, and after a few trains I finally see him, all cute dressed up in his favorite leather jacked (that he stole from me !).
"Sammy ! Youâre here ! Oh my god the trams were so full tonight, I had to let three of them pass !
â Thatâs what you get for living right after the high-traffic station !
â But thatâs the only place cheap enough for me to live inâŚ"
I ruffle his hair as we start walking towards the opera. We continue talking about random stuff, until, naturally, the topic of what happened last year comes up.
"Youâre not too angry over having gotten a vagina ?
â Nah, I like it. It really puts into perspective how things felt on the other side⌠and it makes me understand what you felt before !
â Be glad youâre not getting periods, theyâre absolute hell.
â Donât worry, I measure my luck." He opens his eyes more as if to stress that point. "But now you donât have to worry about it !
â Oh yeah, it was magical. Plus it gave me the courage to ask you out !
â Iâm so glad you did, I donât think I would have had it !"
He hugs me, and I hug back. Fuck, I love hâ
Wait. I remember. I should be not a coward.
"I love you, Benjamin.
â Awww⌠I love you too, Sam ! Iâm glad we met, youâve been the best thing to happen in my lifeâŚ
â You too, you tooâŚ"
And so, we went inside the opera, having a mountain of fun for our first anniversary. First out of many.
It was very hard to write, and was also way too ambitious to be released on time for Valentine's day. So I hope everybody (who could) had a good time with their significant other ^^
I also hope you've been enjoying the recent stream of captions (with one full story in-between), it's been a lot of fun to try things out without any expectations of length ^^
Unfortunately, I currently don't have any caption in stock, so you might see a bit of a pause until I next post â I don't know how my inspiration will end up looking like, I do have tons of stuff to do right now ^^'
So yeah, I'm happy that you read that story till the end, and I'll bid you a good tf ! ^^
I just wanted to take the time and thank you for your stories, they make me yearn for a life I never had. Growing up I always wanted to perm my hair, make it really curly and bouncy. Something about that always made me envious. I knew guys in my middle school class who clearly got perms and then weeks later would show up with highlights or full on bleached or dyed blonde to fit some skater or surfer boy aesthetic. It was really cute, I wanted to do it so bad but my parents would definitely not have been okay with it. Even my childhood friend permed his hair at a young age and adopted a skater aesthetic in middle and high school. I was so jealous of him. I was such a rules follower, bland white kid and never expressed myself or rebelled in school. Once again, thank you and keep up the spectacular work and for your time.
Heheh, thank you so much !
Now, I see you eyeing that puffer jacket I have next to me. I just bought it in this mall at a fair price, but if you let me presume what you are thinking... Iâd say that you are longing for it. However, I know your type, you know youâd never be caught dead in public wearing one of those, no matter how tempting it may be.
I donât blame you ! I may have bought some gear myself, but it stays locked up in the stash, not to be let out except when I know that no one is going to see me. I, too, am deathly afraid of the otherâs gaze judging me for my kinks.
But let me tell you. Youâre not getting the same luxury.
Donât look at me with that shocked expression. Donât pretend like you have a job to do. Donât pretend that you donât want friends and family to get shocked by that new getup. I am the one who gets to worry about things like that. You donât.
Oh, and donât bother trying to escape. Youâll find that a few people over here are ready to block your path â donât you see their shiny puffer jackets ? You will be wearing that wonderful piece of clothing in public whether you like it or not.
Hah, you noticed ? How one of those brutes has just restrained you from behind ? Donât bother arguing with him, heâs way too dumb to understand â and even if he wasnât, he would be gleeful at the idea of giving a dweeb like you one of those special puffer jackets.
Now, be nice, Iâll put on the first sleeve. You notice how the feel of the plastic ruffles on your skin, how heavy the jacket feels, how cumbersome it isâŚ
And itâs not just the jacket, below it your muscles are growing into a lean but athletic build, getting rid of any body hair that might distract from the glory of your muscles.
I see at your face that you are confused â donât worry, youâll get used to that. But maybe when the puffer jacket hits your back and grows your pecs, your neck scratching against the fake fur, you understand : your future is not that of a dweeb. Not anymore.
You will want to scratch your hair with the hand now enclosed in the puffer jacket â making the sleeve run against the rest of the jacket, creating that high-pitched sound that you wonât get sick of. But when you reach your hair, youâll find that it is not like usual.
For some reason, it is shifting into a short cut, that tapers aggressively into a stubble below. You have never worn anything like that. Youâve always found those kinds of styles ridiculous and show-off-y, but like it or not, itâs now your style, and youâll find yourself go back to the barberâs every two weeks to touch it up.
And as you feel your hair on top shift, you know exactly why you need to go back regularly. Indeed, your hair is moving, slowly but surely curling on itself, into perfect little coils⌠No longer is it the nice straight hair that you had. It was unassuming, but it was boring, compared to getting a perfect perm full of perfectly uniform curls that can only come out of a barberâs shop.
It leaves you with a weird feeling that both turns you on and heats your cheeks in a mix of arousal and shame. Heats it so much that it regenerates your skin, makes it tighter, blemish-less and stubble-less. Iâd say you look 18 or 19 again, if I was to guess !
So focused you are on that hair that you donât actually realize that Iâve put the second sleeve on, completing your look. This sends a power wave in your body, as you feel your pants and old clothes stretching into a set of gray tracksuits.
You feel both of the tracksuitsâ pockets suddenly getting heavier. In the left pocket there is a bunch of jewelry : a ring, a fat chain and some cool ear studs. You quickly put them on â a hole pierced as you pick the stud in the lobe of your ears â before you inspect the other pocket.
The latest iPhone. Of course you know the exact model name, as a sense of pride of having bought the hottest trend fills you â though I canât be bothered to learn it. And as you turn it on, you see a slew of notifications from Instagram, Tiktok and Snapchat attack you.
As you inspect them, you feel your brain slowing down, as if all your neurons were being vacuumed up by social media. Checking more and more of these notifications, the only thing that stays important to you is your style and a fake sense of superiority as you are reminded of your 126-strong follower base (none of them are bots, you swear). You are at the brink of worldwide fame !
Hahah, yeah, I can immediately see your posture getting more confident and masculine ! You are no longer the dweeb who was afraid of getting a perm, now youâre a real cool guy who does not fear but rather craves the othersâ gaze.
Youâre willing to put yourself on any bandwagon if it means youâre noticed more. Itâs why youâre rocking the shiniest jacket, the richest fur, the cringiest perm and the most garish phone !
But let me tell you a little secret. You see the puffer jacket youâre wearing ? Itâs just like you. Big like the muscles youâve been gaining in the gym, shiny like the products and care you put in your look, and most of all empty like the contents of your brain.
So, do you like this new life ? If you do, the only thing you have to do to make it official is to take a selfie with your new phone.
If you want to go back to your old boring life full of intelligence and respect, just have fun strolling around the mall for a few hours until you naturally turn back into yourself !
Hahah, who am I kidding, of course you will took a selfie while I was busy explaining all that.
Gotta update the socials before anything ! You need it to be emotionally whole !
"Hold it right there, young man ! I am the hair fairy, and I find you in violation of hair law !"
I look at the feisty little being who appeared floating in front of me. Its most distinctive trait is for sure its hair that goes from the tip of its head down to its tiny feet in a long mane only separated by tiny transparent wings. Though you canât quite decide whether itâs male or female, with its otherwise very baggy clothes.
"Iâm sorry ? I was just trying out caps I donât know what youâre talking about !
â My man, havenât you noticed ? Youâre bald ! Such a crime for a nice-looking young man to be deprived of such an essential part of beauty ?
â UghâŚ" I sigh. I didnât want to reopen old wounds. "I know, Iâve been balding ever since I was 16. Going bald was the best decision Iâve ever done, and look !" I put on a green cap from the rack next to me. "With caps like that, who needs hair !"
I cross my arms, taking a confrontational stance. Going bald also helped me feeling better with myself, starting to wear jewelry and fashionable clothes, looking all the more masculine⌠and threatening when I want it. I am just waiting for my facial hair to be dense enough to grow into a nice beard, at this point !
"I admit that you look very good with caps⌠Well, I tell you, be glad it is I who will help you, because Iâm nothing if not creative !"
The fairy then takes out a thin ivory stick, and waves it around. A cloud of sparkles leave its tip and heads directly towards my head.
Reflexively, I pull my arms up to protect myself, but it goes though my puffer jacket and inside my scalp, which immediately starts tingling.
"What did you do to me !
â Well, look at the mirror !" The fairy points at the small mirror in the cap rack.
At first I donât see anything, but as I feel my scalp itch more and more, I go scratch the back of my headâŚ
Which encounters hair.
Before I even have the time to turn my head, I can see curls peek out of the base of my neck. And indeed, when I turn my head, I see a wild bush of curly hair growing on the back, nothing on the sides, at the to obscured by the cap â though it is also itchy under there.
I take my cap out and the scalp under it explodes into a mop of curls, from the crown of my head up to my forehead. I put my free hand in it and scratch the scalp, as if to confirm that this is real. And it is.
I put my cap back on and look at my⌠at my mullet. It looks so weird⌠But so hot at the same time !
I⌠I love it ! How did I even live without that on my head ! No need for beards, I look 100% hot and masculine !
"So, do you love it ?
â Fucking yes ! Where were you before, when I started losing my hair !
â Ahh, I was helping other people who were doing crimes against hair ! Unfortunately, there are too many humans for me to treat all of them in due time !"
Yeah, balding is such a common issue⌠and seeing what it is talking about, itâs also correcting for bad hairstyles, the workload must be so big !
"Well⌠Iâm glad you came so late !" I admit.
â Huh ?
â If you came earlier, Iâd have never started wearing caps, and youâd have never created such a hot style !
â Oh my !" It blushes. "Well, thank you, young man ! I will remember you !"
And on that the fairy disappears, likely to help yet another person.
I canât contain my joy, and laugh of glee in front of the mirror, attracting the other customersâ gaze. But I donât care ! I have hair again ! And I look so hot with it ! Look at me all you want !
And now⌠I guess I have one more reason to complete my cap collection !
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Thatâs what my latest hook-up has told me, and it has been bothering me ever since.
I donât know why, as Iâve always abhorred the idea of having a mass of hair on my face. Iâm happy enough playing to the fem side of me, being lithe and hairless, but yetâŚ
The next morning, I find a shadow on the lower half of my face. I donât have strong body hair genetics, and this shadow definitively appeared in areas it never did before. I was even tempted to⌠let it stay there.
But I was decided. I wonât let that guyâs words get to me. I shave it.
Barely a few hours later, I feel a tingling all over my jaw. I put my hand to it, and feel the scratch of hair. How did it grow so fast ! I donât want it !
But real men have beardsâŚ
By midday, I have a stubble. I am at work, unable to shave it down, but I donât feel as panicked as I expected to be. In fact, scratching it while thinking proves surprisingly⌠satisfying. After all, I am a man.
After lunch, my colleagues notice that I changed. They ask me whether I have gone to the gym recently, because my gains are very visible. I look down at biceps. Fuck, I am a man (?).
As the hours pass, my fingers grasp more and more hair when they unconsciously worm their way on my face. Iâm wearing what may more and more be called a beard, and I feel like Iâm taking more and more space, my shoulders cracking outwards.
I even smell some kind of funk⌠no, thatâs too nice to be called that, some cologne filling out my room. Colleagues who enter donât hesitate to complement my pecs, my tight waist and my nice ass for the most fruity of them.
By the end of the shift, I stand back up to a higher posture and caress my still growing beard. As I throw my body around with a heavy gait, I canât help but be the center of attention. Everyone watches me and my tight shirt bursting of muscles, elaborate tattoos with artistic motifs and imposing aura. After all, I am a man.
And real men have beards.
When I arrive back home, I find my flatâs atmosphere utterly change. No longer is it the dwelling of a gay twink, rather it is the den of a real man. I look at the mirror, and see a real man. After all, real men have beards.
But not me.
I go in the bathroom to take my razor and shave down my beard source of all my problems. But instead my razor veers up, and start shaving down my afro into a simple and masculine french crop.
Looking at the real man in the mirror, I canât help but accept the truth.
I have a beard.
Real men have beards.
Ergo, I am a real man.
Not a feminine twink.
I take the last of my jewelry, two golden chains and a golden watch, and look at myself, for the first time smiling at my reflection.
I am a real man.
And as a real man, my dick calls to action. Looking at Grindr profiles, I see that of a feminine twink with great potential.
I text him to meet me for a good pinning down. And get him ready to accept the truth.
"No, I said I donât want to drive ! Iâm not going to enter your stupid car !
â Bro, relax ! Driving is like sooo useful, it doesnât matter if you wonât use it for like 3 years or 4, when you do need it youâll be glad to have learned it, dude !
â Ugh, you donât understand ! Itâs not a question of it being useful or not, I just donât want to be pressured into using a polluting tin can that wreaks havoc on our city design !
â Again with your smart-ass words, lilâ bro ? Iâm trying to help you !"
I adjust my glasses. I love my big brother, but he can be a bit of a dumb-ass. When he gets an idea in mind, he wonât ever give up, which in some circumstances is good, but in others like that ? Extremely annoying.
"Yes, I know, but canât you see that youâre not helping me ? Iâm fine enough as it is going to university by bus, and I donât plan on moving outside the city !
â But donât you want to be able to drive your future boyfriend around ? Think how cool heâll think you are, bro !"
Again with that. He thinks that the car is such a status symbol that he struggles to comprehend that other people might have a different opinion⌠Weâre in 2026, now, not in the 50s ! The car is now the past, not the future !
And what does he think Iâm like ! As a uber-nerd with short enough hair that I donât have to worry about it and a tight and boring dress shirt, I wonât pull any boy ! Iâm glad my brother was accepting when I came out, but still !
"Okay, fine, Iâll step in it if you want. But youâre liable for any damage I make to your car.
â Donât worry, lilâ bro, youâve got the best teacher ever â me !"
We both enter the car, me on the driverâs seat and him on the other. However, just when I put my hands on the wheel, I suddenly feel a tingling throughout my body. But before I can investigate it, my brother starts giving me instructions.
I place myself correctly on the seat, feet in front of the pedals, but as I do it feels as if Iâm getting bigger. I readjust myself, and look at my arms as they grow light muscles. I⌠guess Iâm bigger than I thought ?
My brother suddenly tells me to start by unlocking the handbrake and changing the gear. As I lower my arm, I feel some tingling on its surface. Pulling my hand back up, I can see the extremity of a tattoo from below the cuff of my shirt.
"Bro, careful, you gotta push the clutch pedal right on the left at the same time as you shift gears !" My brother suddenly stops me, before I have time to think. "Else your carâs gonna stop and youâll have to restart it !"
I pull back my hand behind my head to scratch my scalp in embarrassment. That was one of the few things I knew going in, and I failed it⌠But wait, Iâm holding on to more hair than before ! And⌠itâs growing between my fingers ? Fuck, whatâs happening !
"Heyâ" I start asking, my voice sounding a bitweird, suddenly.
â Now, bro, push on the acceleration pedal to go forward !" He cuts me. "Gently, though, dude, we donât wanna faceplant on the walls !"
I do as ordered, feeling my pants tastefully rip into distressed jeans as I push the pedal. The wind starts pouring inside the car, making my shirt flutter and loosen into a more t-shirt-like fabric. I want to check it out, because I know something wrong is happening, that something not normal is happening⌠butâ
"Nice, lilâ bro ! Now, to stop the car, pull up your feet from the acceleration pedal, and when youâve slowed down enough, hit the brakes !"
I do as he says, feeling the wind on my newly exposed arms. But when it comes time to hit the brakes, I push it too abruptly and we are both thrown forward.
I feel the constriction of the seat belt, and as we both get our back correctly on the seat, I feel a girthy chain hit my torso. Looking down, I find a gigantic pendant on that ridiculous chain. I donât own anything like thatâŚ
"Heyâ" I start, before once again being interrupted.
â You did great, lilâ bro ! A bit too strong, but youâll learn ! And also looking good, I didnât know you were finally growing yourself a beard !"
I take my hand to my face, and feel roughness on my upper lip and on my chin. Hair growing as if I hadnât shaved for a week. Thatâs so wrong, no, it canât go on like that !
"Hey !" I finally assert my deep voice. "I didnât used to look like that entering the car, didnât I ? Whatâs happening to me !?
â Lilâ broâŚ" He sighs, an air of pity on his face. "You were so pathetic, you looked like you had your head inside books all day and didnât see the light of day, dude !
â Thatâs because itâs true !
â Yeah, yeah, whatever. I needed to help you ! Otherwise how are you gonna pull chi- I mean guys ? Looking like a dork ? Chi- guys want real cool masculine guys like me, bro !
â You donât know anythingâŚ
â No, you donât know anything, dude ! And I didnât want to have a brother who gets blue balls, thatâs just pathetic !"
I look down at myself. White t-shirt with writing, obnoxiously big chain with gigantic pendant, muscular frame, tattoo sleeve and distressed jeans. Looking at the rear view mirror, I see a goatee and mustache, as well as long puffy hair that is nicely framed and faded. I look like my big brother, thatâs for sure⌠the only thing that remains is my pair of glasses.
"Now, lilâ bro, Iâll just need to take this outâŚ" He takes a hold of my glasses, and snitches them out. "and youâll get the right mindset, dude !"
Everything goes blank.
âŚ
Fuck, what was I doing ? I was⌠in my big broâs car⌠still am⌠and heâs here⌠Fucking hell, whyâs my brain so foggy today !
"Bro," I ask, my voice undoubtedly gravelly out of an effort of sounding more masculine. "what were we doing ?
â I was teaching you hot to drive, lilâ bro !
â Oh⌠yeahâŚ"
I stay there, thinking. Something feels wrong, but I canât quite put my finger on itâŚ
Oh.
I see what.
"Why the hell havenât I learned to drive sooner !
â Beats me, but youâll get tons of dudes with that !
â Bet !"
As you enter the gym yet another time, you sigh of regret, remembering with shame that twink you met two months ago.
He asked you what would be the best exercises to grow some muscles â you were the only one there that seemed both experienced and approachable enough. However, he looked so cute with his twinky features, you felt it would be a waste for him not to play into it.
So you talked to him about cardio and squats, to keep a flat stomach and grow fat glutes ad nauseam, ignoring all his complains that he wanted to become tanked. You still regret being this narrow-minded.
Because at some point you both lost patience. He told you that he didnât care about these kinds of exercises. You answered that itâs not his place to do the almost mythical mega-workout, the one where you do every single exercises this gym can offer, when he had such great genetics. He answered⌠by cursing you.
He recounted an incantation in what you later understood to be Old Slavonic, and everything became dark in an instant except for the twinkâs eyes⌠until you knew something dark had taken root in your heart.
He laid out the principle of the curse : every day, when you go to the gym, youâll turn into someone random â but never yourself â and when you leave the gym, you turn back to yourself.
Youâll be working out that personâs body, not yours, and the only way to break the curse is to do the mega-workout â at which point youâd stay inside the body you currently have permanently.
And as if by magic, you suddenly turned into a middle-aged balding fat man. Panicking, you ran outside, but when out, you were back to yourself⌠and when you re-entered, you again that middle-aged fat man.
You came back the day after, you transformed into a busty blonde woman. You tried changing gyms, you transformed into a cringy 18 years old fuckboy with ridiculous hair. You tried working out at home, you transformed into a skinny hipster with a man-bun.
Meanwhile, you saw your gut grow pudgy, and the lean muscles you spent years growing out of a want to become attractive to other guys.
And so you cursed the name of that anonymous twink you wronged. And went everyday to the gym, hoping to find a way to break that curse that didnât involve becoming a MILFâŚ
⌠until today.
Entering the gym, you find your muscles feeling suddenly tense, and your frame suddenly wide.
Itâs not the first time it happened, you still remember your excitement when it happened last, until you saw that you found yourself in the body of an old man on steroids or a bodybuilder woman. So before getting excited again, you need to find a mirror.
And the mirror doesnât disappoint.
Your muscles look thick, your hair full, black and silky, a thick beard hides what is likely a cut jawline, your features are youthful and handsome, skin tan, and body hair peak out of your clothes.
Youâre like a bulky demi-god ! Youâre the image people have in mind when thinking about Hercules ! You have your ideal body.
You touch yourself, feeling the creaking facial hair under your fingers, and the strong muscles under your palm. Fuck, itâs real.
You change yourself in the locker room, and ready yourself.
Today, youâre doing the mega-workout. Whether you have it in you or not.
I put my earphones in, as I prepare the latest Jocknodaddy hypno file. I have never gone to the gym â I am but a scrawny nerd âbut from what I heard, this file is so good at putting into the mood of a jock that you get a good feel for the different exercises. Hopefully that is true, âcause I paid for an inactive Patreon to get it !
I start the file, and as I hear the first words I suddenly feel a bout of fatigue. I sit at a nearby bench to recover, but soon enough it passes. Weird, I thought I slept well yesterday night ! No matter, I go to the main room of the gym.
Suddenly, in my head, a thought runs telling me that I should start with some cardio. I step on the treadmill, and start running, a fittingly dynamic music suddenly starting in my ears. I find that weirdly exhilarating, as I feel the years of fat melting off my belly.
Then, I get the thought that I should go on the abs crunch machine. I wander over there, feeling myself a bit light but proud of my achievement. I start using it, finding it disturbingly easy to use, and feel as my abs compressing into a six-pack.
Another thought crosses my head without me actually thinking. I should go to the fly machine. I do just that, and I feel my pecs swelling each rep. I would find my rate of gains weird, in normal circumstances, but Iâm lazy to think about it more, right now.
And so I chain the machines. First the leg press, making my quadriceps feel like steel, then the elliptical, causing my shoulders to pop out and "wings" to appear on the sides, the hip thrust machine, strengthening my ass into a strong, firm and fat shape, and finally the free weights, swelling my biceps into monsters.
It all feels like routine, like something Iâve been doing for years and years and years, to the point where thinking becomes useless. I just do the same thing every day of my life, no change, no surprise. Just the pump and the glares from the other puny gym-goers.
I walk up to some of the mirrors, my pace slow and heavy like a hunk. I take out my gym t-shirt, cutting the earphones into airpods, and as it morphs into a white cap, I put it back on, backwards.
And when I reach the mirrors... the thoughts suddenly stop.
I stand there, nothing in my head, looking at the hot piece of cake in front of me. Heâs hot, heâs big, heâs all that I want to be⌠yeah, someone strong, who gets all the head he wantsâŚ
But then, after mustering all the neurons that remained, I realize. Of course, heâs me.
I was looking at hot guys on the beach, the last day before I had to go back home from holidays. As you do when you want to relax one last time and youâre touch-starved, like me.
Suddenly, one of those hot guys approached me. I assumed he was going to his stuff somewhere behind me and I was going to benefit from the eye-candy, when he actually started talking to me. Me, the unassuming nerdy guy with a bit of a belly and a mop of unkempt hair.
He was sizing me up, calling me cutie and messing with his tight curls as he was flirting with me in the least subtle way one can take. I had suspicions I was being bamboozled in some way, but my virgin ass was so enamored by this adonis of a man that I chose to forgo every single one of them.
When he started pointing at the nearby beach toilets, making not-so-subtle allusions to having sex, I could answer naught but yes.
He started feeling out my body, kissing me on my neck, while I hesitated even putting my hands on his back, so afraid I was to make a wrong move. But as he started rubbing his skin against mine, I also started to relax. Face fully flushed, but starting to pay less mind to the absurdity of the situation and more to the sheer pleasure of the moment.
As the make out was getting more and more intense, however, I could feel almost as if I was shifting below his rubs. I felt his abs stick tighter and tighter on my belly, as if the latter was receding. I could also feel my arms getting bigger and bigger, tufts of hair growing where it joined up with my torso.
But before I could compute that, he forcefully turned me over, and slid down my swimsuit, grinding his bulge. He took my head with his right hand, squeezing my jaw into a chiseled form and splitting my chin into that of a model.
He then entered his tool inside my ass, sliding right in as if it had already been prepared, and I cried of shock as I felt my brain empty. As if it wasnât enough, he was pulling on my hair, making me feel as if a cloud of ecstasy was going down on my mind.
After barely a few minutes, we both nutted gallons, all of his cream filling my inside as proof of my virginity being taken away. But rather than a cry of contentment, I heard him cry of happiness.
"Iâm finally myself again !" His voice was faster and less sultry than before, though still as deep and masculine.
I looked at him, not really understanding the situation â and actually having a hard time forming my thoughts.
"Oh sorry, I guess now itâs you ! Oh my god you look so hot, thatâs magical !"
I felt a weirdly out-of-place feeling of vanity over that, even though I usually find vanity to be the worst of sins.
"Fuck, I still like guysâŚ" He whispered to himself, before addressing me again. "Well, you are cursed ! You get this hot as hell body forever, for the low, low price of being trapped on that beach ! The only way to leave is to, and I quote, âseed a virginâ."
I look at him weirdly, not really understanding what heâs on about. Fuck, I feel so slow⌠is that the kind of feeling you get after you have sex ?
"Oh yeah, you also become dumb, so⌠ugh, okay, I understand why she had a hard time explaining it to me. To leave the beach â and become smart again â you have to have sex with a virgin. You know, someone who never had sex, just like you !" I nodded slowly, starting to understand the situation. "You have to nut inside them, otherwise you canât transmit it ! Like in the ass, in the pussy or in the mouth, else it doesnât work.
â So, I canât have a, like, vir- virg-⌠ugh, like someone who never had sex nuts in me, right ?" I ask, my voice delightfully deep and sultry, though slow and dumb-sounding. But I could see him blush, so I just smirked in unearned victory.
â No, it wonât work !" He waggles his finger. "But donât worry, youâll also like guys, now â though I guess, in your situation, chicks ? â so you have more choice."
My remaining neurons start firing. I guess it would be good to go outside the beach ? To be back to not having this cloud in my head ? Yeah⌠though itâs fun like that, maybe I could stay for a bitâŚ
"Oh, and remember itâs the last day of holidays. Tomorrow, thereâs only gonna be oldies on the beach. So, better hurry up !"
On that, he left the beach. I tried following him but I found I couldnât get out of the sand to the road. He said the truth. I wouldnât even be able to go to the beach party in the seaside restaurant, what an absolute torture !
I waved him goodbye, as I started scanning the beach to see if there were any virgin remaining. When I finally found someone ugly enough to maybe be a virgin, I approached them, raking back my hot mane of hair and subtly flexing my biceps.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Ahhh, how foolish you were to sit in that chair. You should have known that this brand new barbershop appearing out of nowhere right at the moment you were thinking your hair was growing too long to manage was not normal. But donât worry, youâre in good hands. Now, sleep, boy.
I do love when the men I handle are obedient little sheep like you. Iâm going to start by putting a very special product all over your hair. Feel how relaxed me kneading your scalp makes you. I wonât be spoiling what its effect is just yet, but you might just feel your hair slither around as we focus on something else.
You see, I have a problem with your face. It looks too⌠normal, yeah, thatâs the word. Not worthy of being at the forefront of social media ! So let me move around your facial features so theyâre more handsome and masculine, defined jaw, full lips, perky nose⌠all that ! And let us not forget to also sculpt your pecs, to carve abs on your belly, and to otherwise make you more muscular â but still slim enough to get some of that metrosexual appeal ! Muscles are the key to the recognition youâll crave !
Ooh, I can see the product is already having an effect ! I can see your hair curling on itself, making it into a puddle of large but tight curls ! But we just need them to gain a bit more definition before I can set them up right ! So Iâll just continue working on your face a bit.
Let me apply this cream. It will make your skin smoother and warmer, correcting years of mismanagement. Youâre welcome ! Iâll also sculpt your eyebrows so that theyâre thin but straight, definitively masculine but more refined. Finally, let me apply this other cream⌠yeah, feel how hairs slither out of your skin on your upper lip and your chin. I donât know if you even wanted a goatee, but that doesnât matter, now, does it ! Youâre a slave to the trends, and if the trends call for a thin mustache and a chin patch, youâll grow that !
Ah, great, now your hair is all defined correctly ! Youâre looking so good like that, but you could look even better ! Let me take the top portion of your hair, fasten it to a metal hairband, and there you go, a big mushroom ! Now, we just need to shave the rest down to a stubble, and fix your hairline to be nice and square⌠yes, you look magnificent. Sure, itâs a bit ridiculous to have such a big crown of hair suspended on top of your head, some may even call that cringe, but you know you look good.
In fact, let me tell you a secret⌠youâre the hottest of them all. People mocking your style are just jealous of how fucking good you look. Youâre such a handsome bro, you deserve to be loved and admired. Youâre fueled by recognition from others, and put all your power in making yourself look hot.
Go to the gym, define your hair, do a skin routine, get yourself the latest style ! You canât let others defame you, or even worse, ignore you. In fact, let me fasten those diamond studs to your ears⌠there you go ! Free ear piercing ! These are so big and imposing, people will know to listen to you ramble about sports and your own greatness. Anything else isnât important.
Ah, you look good, now ! Yet another douchebag to let loose on the unsuspecting world ! Caring about nothing but yourself ! Youâre gonna do great out there, bro.
Oh, Iâm sorry, you donât know how you look ? I guess I left you under for too long, I must apologize !
When I woke up, I was in a room I didnât recognize, far more luxurious than anything Iâve ever seen. Looking below the covers of the bed, I was fully naked.
I rushed to the nearby closet, and inside was horrifying : rows upon rows upon rows of suits. I cannot stand dress shirts, yet this was the only thing inside.
After a long time delaying the inevitable, and noticing that I couldnât just bolt outside naked, I decided to bite the bullet and use at least part of these clothes â Iâd never be caught dead with a tie !
But as I put on the boxers, my eye twitched. I had a bad feeling about this, but I knew that I had to continue. I put on the socks, and again, a weird reaction, as if my brain was directly influenced by this.
I looked at the dress pants, wondering whether I should go for it, but the answer was obvious : wear it ! And as I put it on, I finally understood what that foreboding impression was. I was craving those clothes more and more.
So when I looked again at the dress shirt, my arm reached before my brain was ready, and put it on. It was terrible â I felt all stuck, all disgusting on my skin⌠yet turned on.
And even though this outfit was complete enough to be able to discreetly flee back to familiar ground, I was thinking about how great it would be to wear a tie. How hot it would be to look like a proper man, the kind of which Iâve never identified with.
And so, I reached for a pink tie striped with silver. My arms knew how to tie it, and squeezed my neck until I could barely breathe. All tight, all disgusting⌠yet all so desperately alluring.
I felt like a doll when I put on the navy jacket, being forced to take a form that isnât its, yet fainting a smile that cannot be scrubbed out of its face. The outfit was complete, save for a bit of jewelry, and I felt both glee and disgust.
By then, I donât know how much it was me or my body moving, but I put on rings and a gold-plated watch, glinting in the light, sure to broadcast how rich I now supposedly was.
Finally, I took some dress shoes with small heels. I had almost reached orgasm, and I could control almost no part of my body anymore. Everything was moving with a grace that only the son of the high society would bear. Not the son of a normal person.
I did manage to move to a mirror, and noticed how much my physique had changed. My years having been swept away, my stature being leaner and shorter, and my traits being much more handsome.
And when I looked at my hair, I could see that it had become blonder, yet it was flat⌠too flat⌠My hand took gel and with an expert agility created a quiff, neat enough to be distinguished yet messy enough to be attractive.
My brain went blank. The cognitive dissonance was so much, too much that it erased me. Only foreign memories of the son of the Count, a proper man raised all his life in utter luxury, remained.
I smiled, and as I was leaving for the reception, an older man I recognized as my valet hailed me and attached two white flowers at my jacket.
