#dumber

*The 500-special, a boyfriend TF

---

"And so anyway that's what happened."

"Uh huh."

Jack's trying very hard to be a supportive friend but it's just difficult right now because his jeans are so uncomfortable. Who the fuck made this shit? They're both too tight in some places like his ass and crotch, and too loose in the legs. The clerk who checked him out said it was a special material. Boyfriend Material. Whatever that meant. Anyway, it made his nondescript ass look decent so maybe a couple of chicks would hit on him, like the hot new intern who just started.

But right now he's listening to Bret talk about his own breakup. Another in a long string of failures.

"Where the hell are you finding these men anyway?" Jack asks. Bret signals and they're turning into his driveway. The plan was to just play Mario Kart, smoke a shit ton of weed, and then pass out.

"I don't know. Maybe I need to raise my standards."

"Anything's better when your standards are in hell."

Bret laughs as he takes the key out of the ignition. "I love you, man."

Suddenly, Jack's doused in scalding hot water. It's like the season switched from fall to summer in .5 seconds. Sweat beads on his brow as Bret gets out of the car. Jack wipes his forehead and follows him.

"Like you should be talking," Bret unlocks the front door as Jack tries to maintain his balance. He's sweating profusely and he's certain he looks like he's got something contagious. His heart skips a beat as he looks at Bret's thick thighs jutting out of his shorts. He clears his throat and tries his best to hide the fact that he's acting all flustered. Which is weird because Bret's been saying that for years. He loves Bret. Just not in that way.

So why -

"You just broke up with, uh, damn. Um, what was her name again?"

Jack swallows. His nipples for some reason are hard as fuck. He shudders as a chill races down his spine, his body temperature confused as his crotch literally pulsates. He can feel his balls quiver as if they've just gotten a megaton worth of cum in them. He clenches his legs and tries to think about his ex.

"Alana," he manages. He can't picture her for some reason. He can see that gorgeous face of hers, those defined cheekbones and her soft jaw, but anything below her face is all foggy. His nipples throb beneath his shirt, chafing a little uncomfortably against the fabric.

Once inside the house, he expects to cool off, for this infernal heat to just rid itself. But when he crosses the threshold into the house, his body gets hit with more heat. Damp patches spread from his armpits as his balls pulse and ache. They tingle and so gently inflate, brushing against the fabric of his briefs. He masks the moan that bubbles out of his throat with a cough.

"You're not getting sick on me, are you?"

Jack shakes his head and tries smiling as he stares at his friend's bubble butt. It jiggles and bounces beneath the thin fabric of his basketball shorts. God, they look painted on. When Bret opens the fridge to get a beer, Jack yearns for him to bend over to spread his cheeks, get a glimpse of his hole, or his bulge from between his legs. Jack's mouth falls open and he's breathing heavily, like he's fucking. His fingers move automatically to his nipples and the hot spike of pleasure is enough for his cock, half-hard, to spring to full erection. Bret's doing all of this to tease him. To make him horny enough to bend him over the sink and rip a hole in his shorts and fuck him senseless, fuck him until there's a puddle of cum on the floor in front of them and -

The fridge slamming snaps him out. Bret hands him a sweating beer. Jack somehow manages to thank him.

"You okay?"

He really wants to ask Bret if sexuality really is that fluid. He's looking at Bret, appraising his tight pecs, as if he were a woman. God, what is wrong with him? Why is his cock so fucking hard? Why do his balls feel so big? Bret crosses into the living room, seemingly unaware of Jack leaning over the counter, dripping sweat and breathing like he just ran a marathon. He lifts the hem of his shirt and is hit with such a strong, musky odor it catches him off guard. Usually, he has a good handle on that but it's like the sheer amount of sweat, and more testosterone from his bigger balls, has now made his musk stronger, more powerful. He looks at his slightly flabby gut as dark hairs sprout from his waistband and travel up, becoming a tried and true treasure trail. He can see his cock print bulging against his jeans, a couple of damp spots appearing on the front as his cock leaks pre.

Whimpering, he touches the freshly grown hair. His balls pulse again as they swell bigger, and heavier, the size of two large eggs tucked beneath a boner that strains harder, so much blood pounding into it it adds an inch of girth to his 5-incher. As it jets pre at an alarming rate, he can't swallow the moan that explodes from his mouth when he touches his gorgeous, new treasure trail.

"Hey!" Bret calls. "Stop touching yourself and come here."

Gritting his teeth, he tries to will his boner down. This is absurd at this point. His body is still on fire and now the musk wafting from him gets stronger as thicker tufts of dark pit hair spill out of his follicles. He can't walk properly without his thighs brushing against the sensitive head of his cock. He watches it widen, stretching against the fabric as more pre gushes from it. He's so close to orgasm his balls hurt, and that allows him to feel how truly massive they've become. He tries to angle his body away from Bret, sitting far away from him on the couch.

"Can we watch a movie instead?" Bret says, apologetically. "I'm not in the mood to game."

"Yeah, sure, whatever."

Bret sniffs the air. Jack expects embarrassment but instead he feels ... pride? Something like it. He does smell kind of ... good. If he really thinks about it, he smells -.

"You smell good, babe."

Jack's whole body thrums with energy. When Bret touches his arm in a playful swat, he nearly cums right then and there. He gasps in pleasure as Bret begins scrolling to one of his streaming services. He looks down at his cock and covers his mouth at the shock of seeing at least 6.5 inches of cock against his thigh. It pulses and throbs, needy as fuck. His brain is awash with sensation as his thumb grazes the head, his whole body tingling, and he can feel it flare and he's practically screaming into his palm as his cock grows another full inch, the fabric buckling and stretching to accommodate the nearly 8 inch cock he's sporting. His musk increases in intensity and Bret closes the distance between them. Jack tries closing his legs to prevent their knees from touching but his balls are so big that he moans as his thighs touch them. He manspreads and his leg brushes against Bret's which makes his cock throb again. Now, feeling the flesh stretch and inflate, that glorious swelling that's like the world's most talented mouth giving him a blowjob, he knows he's at a little over 8 inches.

"Bret," he says, sounding like a moan. He can feel the hair race up his torso and carpet his chest. His nipples throb as the hair carpets them and he covers them with his hands as best as he can. Bret doesn't respond, he's reading off the titles of Hallmark movies and selects something about a bookstore. He then turns and looks at the blushing, flustered Jack whose arms are lifted enough to get a direct hit from his glorious pits.

"Fuck, babe, your pits."

Jack nearly screams as Bret gets so close to his pits to get a greedy huff, but not enough to touch. Bret's cock, large but definitely smaller than Jack's new piece, stiffens in his shorts. He feels a little disgusted at the sight but his cock throbs anyway and his nipples surge against his palms as his gut sucks in, the fat melting and hardening, a little traveling down and landing in his ass. He grunts and moans as the fat pours into his ass. Both cheeks tingle as muscle covers some of the fat, the cheeks becoming perkier and blowing up with muscle and fat. He can feel the weight of his fat muscle ass, as his eyes cross, and his vantage point is raised slightly from the sheer size of his ass. His belt strains as his hips crack and pop, strengthening to handle the burden of his voluptuous ass. The skin stretches to accommodate his hefty ass as his briefs can't, and he can feel the waistband stretch and finally snap, his fat ass blossoming against the tight fabric of the jeans. It feels so good, the skin so sensitive, that he nearly blacks out. Then Bret buries his face in his pit, and this is enough to make him cum.

A huge wet spot forms in his jeans as his abs tighten and grow. Small, lean abs that grow beneath his jutting nipples. Any remaining fat siphoned from his gut lands in his growing pecs, the muscles expanding into slabs of beef as Bret worships his pit, the other hand slides onto Jack's growing pecs. He hisses with pleasure as he soaks the jeans with his thick, musky cum. He wants to shove Bret away deeper into his pit, make him let go knead his massive pecs. The end of the orgasm and the settling of a strange haze over his brain makes him push Bret away. Bret looks dazed, dopey with lust, his cock straining his waistband.

"What is happening?"

Now Bret looks confused.

"I was worshipping you, Jacky."

The haze thickens. It feels entirely composed of hormones. He's horny as fuck. His cock twitching and throbbing despite the massive load he's just dumped. He can't think straight, like he's drunk or high or both.

"I thought you liked it when I worshipped you."

Bret sounds so hurt and confused it makes his heart tenderize beneath his growing chest. He huffs and moans as his abs grow bulkier and thicker, deeper ridges cut into the formerly chubby stomach, waist widening as his back and shoulders round. His sweat-soaked shirt splits across the collar as his pecs keep growing, a deep V-shaped tear forming as his pecs heave larger. Two thick slabs of muscle and fat, with two big pink, sensitive nipples capping them. He wants to rub those pecs of his. Wants Bret to do it. He tries thinking of Alana or any of the other hazy girlfriends, but they're all slowly being replaced by men. Burly men, hairy men, bulky men, twinks and twunks, topping them and bottoming for them as his prostate grows more sensitive and swollen. His cock leaks pre like a busted water main. His balls churn and bloat just a tiny bit bigger.

"Let's watch," he sighs as his pecs grow some more, back splitting his shirt, the muscle piling on quicker than he can keep up, "the movie."

"You're not mad at me, babe?"

His throat tingles as his moans suddenly turn more guttural, more like deep rumbling growls. It makes him even hornier, his brain feeling like it's in a hot soup. God it's like he's going through puberty again. He tries desperately to not hump the air in front of him, his cock dripping more pre onto the drying cum-stain on the jeans. The tingling moves to his arms.

"No, of course, NGHHHH not."

Bret smiles and then rests his head on Jack's shoulder. The contact is enough to make his shoulders wider. His back splits the rest of his shirt and now, bare-chested, sweaty and hairy, his musk hits the air unfiltered and his eyes flutter.

"God, how do you get yourself to smell like that?" Bret places his hand on his thigh and Jack can feel the muscles twitch beneath it.

Jack needs to get out of here. Away from Bret. The opening credits roll as Bret lets out a contented sigh. He needs to get up, right now. He presses his hands against the sofa and begins to gingerly rock forward. He moans at the sensation of his cockhead dragging against his jeans. He might look a little weird when he leaves but he'll just go to the gym, right? Balance out his half-transformed body. But right now, he needs to-

"You must produce so much testosterone, Babe."

Flex his bicep.

Muscle piles on, adding to the cubby limb and making his bicep look bigger. His other arm bloats and stretches beneath Bret, who does nothing but readjust his position as the arm he's lying on inflates like a balloon. Jack's bicep blows up and strains the shirtsleeve, pounds of muscle and fat pour into his arms with some overflow dumping into his forearms and thickening palms, the hands becoming big fat mitts. His cock throbs and he moans like a whore as his fat bicep becomes big enough to split the shirtsleeve. He relaxes the muscle and then flexes again, the muscle pulling his skin taut as a little more piles on. It feels so hard to think. He tries to muster the resolve he felt earlier. He feels himself relaxing into the sofa as his cock feels ready to blow again, just seeing his bicep flex and bulge beneath the skin, just to feel that strength and power go all the way down to his massive hands, which crack and bloat bigger, the fingers extending and thickening. Bret wraps his arm around his thick abs and torso, a finger dangerously close to one of Jake's sensitive nipples.

Jake places a big hand on Bret's shoulders. He massages Bret's back and moans as Bret's fingers idly caress his sensitive skin, attention torn between the cheesy movie and his horny boyfriend. That boyfriend, Jake, couldn't care less about what's happening on the TV. His big, thick neck tingles and pleasantly burns as tattoos ink themselves on his skin. He opens his eyes and moans at the sight of the beautiful tattoos forming along his huge arms, a few tattoos forming on the backs of his hands, a huge tat spreading across his massive back. His cock throbs more urgently. He feels like he's one of those dudes that Bret is always fawning over. Constantly horny, dim-witted, possessive. He could pass as one of these ex's distant cousins.

But they don't love him like he does.

"You horny, BABE?"

The intense burst of testosterone causes a moustache to form on his lip. And with that, his face numbs as his hair begins styling itself. He knows, dimly, that this is slowly becoming irreversible. If he was unrecognizable before, as he feels his lips plumpen and begin thick and kissable, his eyes emptying of intelligence but looking oh so horny and dopey, he will be a whole new person. His heart seizes with lust-tainted fear as Bret rubs his cock through the jeans. Jake's head lolls against the couch as his huge, sensitive cock feels molten, lit on fire from the sensations of Bret's warm hand on it. The memories of their friendship begin shifting as reality gives way. He goes through the carousel of exes but occasionally, he can feel Bret's hole clutching around his cock which makes his cock spasm and shoot pre laced with actual cum.

"Damn, BABE..."

Jake's thighs burst with muscle. His quads thicken and inflate as his ass grows a little bigger. His belt strains through the hoops. Frustrated at the sound of creaking leather, Jake undoes his belt buckle, his bigger fingers moving clumsily. He's not used to how heavy he feels as his thighs strain the jeans, fattening and inflating to carry the burden of his swollen upper body and the massive dumptruck ass he's now sporting. His calves become cut from diamonds. He squeezes his thigh as the muscle multiply, thickening until he's sporting a pair of genuine thunder thighs, and feeling the fabric stretch around them gets him so horny he does start humping the air.

His brain feels just as leaden as his limbs as he can feel his IQ drain into his balls. He feels the intensity of all the "I love yous" they've ever uttered pile on top of his numbing brain like concrete. Each one more intense than the last, as he clutches onto Bret's body, literally squeezing his body tight against his bare chest. His man. His. His - his -

Bret looks at him.

"Hey, stud."

Jake grabs a handful of muscle tit, massaging the flesh and feeling his thicker palms drag against his nipples. His face collapses into horny, handsome perfection, his sense of smell awash with his rich, powerful musk as his nose thickens, nostrils flaring. Bret unbuttons the jeans and unzips them. A quick note of panic seizes Jake as the torn remains of his underwear fall to the floor, joining the scraps of his shirt. His chest heaves as he sees his huge cock, pointing straight into the air, thick with a dense head slick with pre, and he can feel the weight of his hairy tennis balls hanging between his legs.

"W - wait, I -"

Bret takes his cock whole. Jake could bust. Fuck, he needs to bust so bad. It doesn't feel like Bret's simply sucking his cock, it's like he's worshipping it. He looks at his boy - friend and feels love swell in his chest in time with his feet. He lays back as Bret begins worshipping his swollen, backed up balls as his feet grow from size 7 to size 8, cruising to size 9s as the soles split the shoes in half, the thick toes ripping through the front. He throws his arms up and exposes his pits, and flexes his bicep. The love he feels to Bret is so intense it feels possessive. Like he owns this man at his knees, looking at Jake with puppy dog eyes, licking and slobbering all over his pole.

His feet finish growing. Size 12 stompers. Thick and musky. Hair curling between his toes as the sensitive feet slide on Bret's floor. He reaches down on instinct and picks up Bret as easily as a sheet of paper and soon, they're making out, sloppily, messy. Jake places his hand on Bret's throat and gently squeezes and Bret literally shudders from the pleasure. Bret moans into Jake's mouth, cock gushing pre. God he didn't know Bret tasted this good. Made him feel this good. A surge of protectiveness and tenderness flares through his brain as the last few digits of his high IQ drain out of his monster cock. He wants to hit the gym after this. He wants to lift. He wants to puff out his chest to the other bros. He wants to show his boyfriend off.

His boytoy.

Wonder what his ass tastes like? He's got this big rough tongue now, he can feel it when he French kisses Bret. The perfect tongue to play with Bret's hole.

He spanks Bret's delicious bubble, and works his hand down his shorts and briefs, extending a meaty finger to his puckering hole.

"I love you," Bret moans.

Jake smirks. Whatever is left of the old Jake is sure to get drained. Along with the new Jake as well. He chuckles at the horny desperation in his man's eyes.

"I know you do." He spanks his boyfriend again. "I love you too."

Then, he guides his man back to his cock. Buries it down his throat.

Bret's hole twitches in anticipation of the fucking yes about to receive. He doesn't even gag.

In the morning, Jake wakes up to his boyfriend entangled in his arms, his morning wood begging for attention and leaking against Bret's ass. He doesn't remember how many rounds they went last night, but it felt like he hadn't buried his cock in Bret's ass in ages. He's not the sharpest tool in the shed but even he knows that's dumb to think. He and Bret go at least 3 rounds a day, maybe more if they've squeezed in a good workout and worship session before Bret went to work and did smart people things like "finance" or whatever he did, and Jake gamed but mostly fucked his fleshlight to relieve his aching balls.

He kisses Bret's shoulder as his man stirs. He wraps his arm tighter, pulling Bret in close. There's marks on his wrist where he tied him up using a belt that, for some reason, didn't fit. Bret could be such a rope bunny when he was in the mood for it.

He gently grinds his hips, sandwiching his cock against Bret's bubbly ass.

"Round 1?" Bret asks, eyes bright.

Constantly annoyed by his androgyny, David stumbles onto a spam ad that leads to his first facial hair and unknowingly condemns his latest overly masc ex to the twinkdom he's leaving behind.

Pretty standard role swap/masc theft! Twinky bottom to hairy top though much of the opposite changes happen off screen. At any rate, hope you enjoy this tale of Twink Theft! -Occam

And so began the same argument that has led to the end of each and every one of David’s previous relationships. Sure, he knows he’s beautiful. Angelic many of his one night stands and observers from afar frequently point out. He’s a model by default and his face card is perfect bait for men to just fall at his feet.

David frequently finds himself with men almost stereotypically masculine, alpha bros and DL hoes are always drawn to his androgyny. But rarely do they ever consider anything but his looks. When the cherubic man can no longer hold back his ire at being considered just a pretty face they fight and then abandon him for some other waifish twink. Leaving him feeling like nothing more than a soft-skinned doll for them to play with and abandon.

Curled up in the passenger seat of his current horndog fling’s car, David looks from underneath his tangle of perfectly coiffed curls as Mattias just stares down the open road. Glancing at the hairy jungles covering the man’s torso and pits, David yearns to feel the scratch of hair against his body. The closest thing he can ever experience to growing it himself.

For half a moment the model believes that perhaps Mattias is reflecting, thinking about their argument. Considering David’s point of view at all. When a hand drifts to adjust a bulge clearly visible in his pants it’s clear there’s only one thing on his mind. And David is certainly not going to let that happen tonight. 

Being a gay Asian guy who didn't look the part was something Jin was extremely familiar with. With beauty standards and stereotypes going around, the guy had a hard time finding a partner. Now, he wasn't bad looking, if anything he had that 'cuteness' to him. That's what every guy he was with told him. But being a top who was constantly undermined for his looks, such compliments felt like a slap in the face.

He wasn't particularly tall, standing at 5'8, but... He wasn't short. Or at least he didn't consider himself short. He was average... A bit below average but still-! Unfortunately for Jin it wasn't just his height that he had problems with. His round face, soft eyes, skinny body... And 4 inches member were all seemingly working against him. God knows how many times he heard the question "Are you really a top?" And similar. People assumed he was a bottom just because of how he looked and he hated it.

And today? He had the same experience again. After sending his selfie to a guy he met online through an app, the guy almost immediately cancelled on him just because Jin "didn't look the part". And the guy wasn't even shy about it. He told Jin everything in his face and poor guy was both speechless and fueled with anger. But just as he was about to block this guy he saw a new message from him.

lankylavander: Sorry dude, no offense, but you are like shorter than me. I could never date someone below 6ft lol

lankylavander: Here is how a top should be

After which he sent a link to some website. And in fit of rage, Jin just clicked it without thinking as he was brought to a page that showcased a bunch of absolutely jacked hung jocks. He hated to admit but they all looked great. But that didn't matter now, as he was about to close the site he saw a pop-up add. It was some kind of app called "Be The Part" promising to help people change into who they truly are meant to be.

Normally Jin would ignore such obvious scam but today for some reason he clicked it and downloaded the app, without even replying to the guy on the app. That jerk could fuck off.

Opening the app, Jin was met with a few questions asking him about what he wanted and what was his problem. Writing how he wishes he was more like a top. A stereotypical one. And how he had enough of people looking down at hom just because of his looks, Jin was disappointed to find the app just seemed to send you words of encouragement and support for you to achieve your goal. Pretty stupid. But what did he honestly expect from such thing...?

Closing the app, Jin sighed, tossing his phone to the side. He needed to take a break from everything and calm down. Stuck with his thoughts, he heard a notification from his phone. Weird, he was pretty sure it was on silent mode. Whatever. Taking a phone to see what it was, Jin saw it was the damn app. How lovely let's see what it had to say...

"A Good Top spends every day in the gym, working on his body to make sure he looks good for his bottom. And you big guy? You look great. Hunk like you loves the pump and sweat. You relish knowing others envy you and wish they looked more like you. And nothing comes close to the feeling of your clothes stretching over your body, trying their best to hold on and contain all that brawn you carry "

Suddenly Jin felt a warn sensition take over him. Something was wrong but he couldn't quite name it. The feeling spread though his entire body as it began to pulse and grow, both in muscle and height. It was like his entire body was on fire. Groaning in what was a mix of pain and pleasure Jin could feel his clothes stretching over his muscles, his skin feeling too tight. With every second he was bigger, as if someone was pumping air into him. He could feel his spine getting longer until he was 6'5, his limbs growing and lengthening to accommodate the needs of his new body. His legs grew first, feet growing to support the new height as his old size 8.5 quickly moved up a scale to 15, with his hands turning from smooth and small into big rough paws from all weight lifting. Suddenly, his shirt gave up, splitting to make room for his growing pecs, unable to hold them in any longer. Letting another moan as he felt air on his chest, his sensitive nipples exposed, hanging from the meaty muscles, Jin was in state of completely bliss for a moment.

Looking himself in the mirror, he couldn't help but flex. He looked good today. The pump from the gym still didn't wear off. Taking a few pictures, he admired his abs as he was rather proud of them. Fuck he was proud his entire body. All that training with the team and many hours spend in the gym paid off. Many people assumed he got academic scholarship because he was Asian, but the truth was - he was a total atlehete. Big, strong and proud.

Looking at his phone he saw a message from a twink he was talking with earlier.

lankylavander: We still up for tonight, big guy?

lankylavander: Can't wait to see you in person and touch your amazing body.

A smirk formed on Jin's face without him even realizing. Like it belonged there. The little shit was eager. And he couldn't help but wonder how will his pretty face would look after he breaks him down tonight. Honestly, all of this was too easy. The moment Jin downloaded any dating app, he found a bunch of matches in seconds. He could afford to be picky and this gut definitely had a nice ass he could fuck to release some tension before the game tomorrow.

rice&raw:Ye Im comin

rice&raw:dw bro

rice&raw:Here is smth while you wait

Jin knew what effect he had on people. He knew the little bitch will be watering from the moment he sees the pic. He could imagine his tight bussy clenching already. And he didn't have to wait long to confirm how effective his picture was.

lankylavander: Omg, you look soo hot! I can't wait to feel you deep inside me tonight

Immediately Jins dick twitched. The guy had a good ass. Round and smooth, he couldn't wait to play with it like a dought before fucking him. Feeling himself through the shorts, Jin felt a small dissatisfaction as his 4-inch member came to life. If only he were more well-endowed. Now, 4 inches wasn't exactly small... But the guy like him should be more hung. Many of his dates were disappointed when he took off his shorts. But it was something he couldn't change...

Suddenly, he got another notification from that stupid app.

"A Good Top needs a big dick to satisfy his bottom. And you have a pretty big dick. Your confidence doesn't come from nowhere, you know you are big all over. Is there anything better than being a new standard setter?"

The warm feeling returned, only this time it was localized in only one part of his body - his dick. Jin could feel it swelling larger as the front porch of his underwear started to swell. Feeling his joy and pride rise to life, there was an obvious imprint against the front of his underwear. Reaching down with his mitten of a hand to adjust it, Jin stopped for a moment, phone still in his hand as he took another picture, before readjusting his dick. The 9-inch shaft now stood proud, a big mushroom head above the underwear and next to his belly button, as Jin casually stroked it while texting, as he leaked a bit of pre over his abs

rice&raw: I hope you can handle me

The lil bitch knew exactly what he was doing with that pic. And Jin couldn't wait to come over and shove his entire dick into them. Probably more than anyone else gave them or will give them. The stereotype about Asian's not being hung? Well Jin certainly didn't fit the stereotype, if anything he went against it. He loved when they struggled to swallow him, chocking as they tried to deep throat him. He could already imagine this fucker on his knees as his tight throat with tears of his eyes, filled with pain and pleasure he never knew.

After a shower, Jin got himself ready, putting on some tank top and jeans as he headed towards little guy's flat. He didn't dress particularly well because... Why should he? Not like they would stay on for very long anyway. Knocking onto apartments door, a short guy, not more than 5'9 opened the door. "Lankylavander?" Jin said, deep baritone voice coming out of his mouth.

"You can call me Noah..." He replied leading the way in. After a confirmation, he got in, ready to enjoy himself before he got a notification. Stupid app-

"A Good Top is doesn't need to think too much. That's reserved for bottoms. A Good Top has that cocky attitude and carefree nature, going through life without thinking. The only thing you worry about it who will milk and drain your balls today since they needed to be emptied quite frequently. It's eat, lift and fuck bro"

Just as he read it, Jin could feel his intelligence draining away, any remaining part of his old self drifting away. The new emptiness felt nice. His head felt hollow but who needed smarts when he did thinking with his other head anyway. All that was left were things he needed the most - how to eat, lift, and fuck. And honestly, who needed more bro?

Turning towards little guy's whose name he didn't remember, Jin smirked. "So like, where is your bedroom bro?" He asked putting his phone away. The annoying appdidn't work at all. But then again, how could he becomes more perfect than he already was? Heh.

Now hopefully this bitch knew how to handle a real men.

"Oh, let's just take a pic for snap before we continue " Noah said with hunger in his eyes. He couldn't believe what a hunk he scored... Tonight was really his lucky day

"You want to show me off? Sure broski, here" he said standing in front of Noah, arms flexed. His dick was already getting hard from the size difference and as little guy took photos, Jin's body completely hid Noah as his dick brushed again smaller guys stomach. "You are like, so small" Jin added, moving his hands onto Noah's waist "I wouldn't want to break you tonight" that was a lie, he definitely would.

Noah’s breath hitched as Jin’s massive hand slid possessively across his waist, the heat of his palm searing through the thin cotton. His own fingers trembled not from fear, but from the sheer size difference pressing against his stomach. The tip of Jin’s cock stood up and next to his abs, already leaking, as it smeared pre onto his abs. Noah’s knees nearly buckled when Jin bent slightly, his forearm muscles bulging as he gripped the back of Noah’s neck, pulling him into a rough kiss. Jin's tongue found, or rather forced its way into the little guy's mouth, conquering it with ease as they kissed.

"Mmf- shit" Noah gasped against those lips, his own dick straining against his pants, as his hands played with Jin's nipples. Meanwhile Jin's free hand dropped lower, fingers digging into the waistband of his jeans, yanking them down just enough to free himself completely. "Fuck, bro. You are getting me all worked up" Jin growled, his voice rougher now, deeper. He didn’t wait for a response as he carried Noah into the bed and spun him around, shoving him onto the bed face-first. The impact sent a jolt of pain up Noah's ribs, but before he could react, Jin was on top of him, his weight pinning Noah down as his cock now fully hard stood there and demanded attention.

"Gonna make you so full of me." Jin rumbled, his mouth hot against Noah’s ear, his breath ragged. The bed creaked under Jin’s weight as he shifted. Jin’s hands, rough and calloused, gripped Noah’s hips, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh of his ass. Noah could feel the thick, veiny length of Jin’s cock pressing against him, the heat of it searing through the thin fabric of his boxers. Jin’s breath was hot and heavy against the back of Noah’s neck, his voice a low growl.

"You’re gonna take it all, aren’t you? Otherwise I won't be very happy broski" Jin murmured, his fingers hooking into the waistband of Noah’s boxers and yanking them down in one swift motion. The cool air hit Noah’s exposed skin, making him shiver, but it was nothing compared to the way Jin’s cock twitched against his ass, the tip already slick with pre cum. Jin didn’t wait for an answer. He spat into his palm, the wet sound obscene in the quiet room, and then his fingers were there, rubbing the saliva into Noah’s entrance, stretching him open with a rough, insistent pressure. "Look at your hole, already clenching. It's hungry."

Noah gasped, his fingers clawing at the sheets as Jin’s thick fingers pushed inside him, the burn sharp and sudden. "Fuck! This feels amazing- You are so good at this" Noah hissed, his body tensing, but Jin didn’t stop. He worked him open with brutal efficiency, his fingers scissoring, stretching, preparing him for what was to come. Noah could feel the way his own body was responding, his cock aching, his hole clenching around Jin’s fingers, desperate for more.

"That’s it "Jin growled, his voice thick with lust. "You are ready for the real thing." And then his fingers were gone, replaced by the blunt, massive head of his cock.

"God, you're taking it all so well," Jin grunted, his intellect completely replaced by a primal, driving hunger for sex. He gripped Noah’s hips and with one powerful, unthinking thrust, he buried his entire length inside. Noah’s world exploded into white light, the sensation was overwhelming, a total invasion that stretched him to his absolute limit.

Jin didn't hold back, his movements becoming rhythmic, heavy, and punishing. Every lunge sent a shockwave through both of them, Jin’s giant chest muscles slapping against Noah’s back with the force of a hammer. The motion went on for quite a while, and as Jin finally reached his peak, he unloaded a massive, hot torrent deep inside Noah, before pulling his dick out. "Ready for another round?" To Noah's surprise, Jin's dick didn't deflate, if anything it seemed more hard than it was before...

And so after an eventful night and many rounds, Jin was finally satisfied as his balls were finally drained. For now. Laying in bed for a bit to rest and catch his breath before leaving after that amazing fuck, Jin heard Noah talking. "You are the best. I don't think I'll be able to walk tomorrow... We need more tops like you. You are a really good one."

Fuck, he really was a Good Top.

Jake Evans hated being late, the kind of late that made his stomach twist because it meant thirty students would look up from their notes the moment he pushed through the door, already judging the sweat on his collar and the slight huff in his breath as he tried to act like everything was under control. Thirty-five years old, associate professor of early modern European history, tenure track so close he could taste it, and today the main campus path was blocked by construction tape and orange cones that forced everyone into a stupid zigzag detour. He’d already lost precious minutes, and when he checked his watch again the knot in his gut tightened further. Eight minutes left. Muttering under his breath, he stepped off the paved walkway and cut straight across the soccer field, dress shoes sinking slightly into the soft grass with each hurried stride, briefcase bumping against his thigh. The humanities building sat just past the far goalposts, a straight shot if he kept moving.

Halfway across the empty pitch a voice cut through the quiet afternoon air.

“Hey professor. Got a second?”

Jake slowed, then stopped, glancing over to see a middle-aged coach standing near the center circle in a black training jacket, clipboard tucked under one arm and a portable whiteboard propped beside him like he’d been running drills earlier. Jake pointed at himself, half-convinced the man was talking to someone else. “Me?”

The coach nodded casually. “Yeah. Quick favor.”

Jake checked his watch again. Seven minutes now. “I really have a lecture starting soon.”

“Two minutes max,” the coach replied, calm and steady. “I’m testing a new concentration drill for the team. Just need someone neutral to read a few lines off the board while I time the responses. You’re staff. Perfect.”

Jake looked around the field again. No players in sight, no practice gear scattered, just the two of them and the soft rustle of wind moving through the grass. He exhaled sharply, already regretting it. “Fine. Two minutes. That’s it.”

He dropped the briefcase in the grass and stepped up to the whiteboard. The coach handed him a dry-erase marker like it carried some kind of weight. “Read each one out loud. Nice and clear.”

Jake scanned the first sentence and let out a short, disbelieving laugh. I am nineteen years old.

“Yeah, no,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m not reading that. I’m thirty-five.”

The coach said nothing, just waited with that same patient expression.

Jake opened his mouth to refuse again, to walk away and salvage what was left of his schedule, but the words slipped out smooth and effortless, like they’d been waiting there all along. “I am nineteen years old.”

Heat bloomed across his face and spread downward in a slow wave, skin tightening as faint lines around his eyes softened and vanished completely. His jaw sharpened under the stubble that retreated almost imperceptibly, cheeks lifting into a smoother, fuller shape. Hair that had started thinning at the crown thickened noticeably, dark strands pushing forward to fall messily over his forehead in that careless, just-rolled-out-of-bed style. The slight hunch he’d developed from years hunched over books disappeared as his posture straightened naturally, shoulders settling back without effort. He grabbed at his face, fingers trembling. “What the hell…”

His hands looked younger too, skin smoother, knuckles less pronounced, veins less visible under the surface. Everything about his face felt fresh and tight, like someone who’d never known the drag of late-night grading sessions or faculty meetings. “No. No, I’m thirty-five,” he said, but the words came out in a lighter register, almost boyish.

The coach tapped the next line without comment. I train every single day.

Jake took a step back, shaking his head harder. “I’m not reading another word.”

But the sentence forced its way up through his throat like it had already been decided. “I train every single day.”

His stomach pulled inward sharply, the soft layer he’d carried around his middle for years melting away as if it had never settled there. Skin stretched tight over newly flat, lean abs that weren’t carved for show, just smooth and tight from constant movement instead of desk chairs. His shirt shifted against him, fabric lightening from pale blue to bright athletic white, buttons dissolving as the material reformed into a lightweight Puma jersey that clung lightly to his chest. Across the back bold black letters stitched themselves in place: BAUER 17. Jake stared down at it in disbelief, fingers clutching the hem. “I don’t even like sports…”

The coach tapped again. I am built lean and fast.

“I’m a history professor,” Jake said quickly, words tumbling over each other. “I have a doctorate, tenure coming, I don’t—” “I am built lean and fast.”

His legs reshaped next, thighs compacting as soft weight redistributed into long, lean muscle suited for quick sprints across grass. Calves hardened into clean lines. He lost an inch and a half of height in a subtle shift, settling at a balanced five-nine that felt lower to the ground, more agile. Jeans softened and lightened, creeping upward until they became white soccer shorts resting high on his thighs. “This isn’t real,” he muttered, voice unsteady. “This isn’t happening.”

The coach pointed to the next sentence. My feet are made for the pitch.

“Stop,” Jake said, voice cracking slightly. “Just stop.” “My feet are made for the pitch.”

His dress shoes creaked as leather twisted and narrowed around his toes, soles hardening into rigid plastic. Metal studs emerged one by one with small popping sounds until twelve dotted each bottom. The shoes became filthy white cleats, mud already crusted along the sides like he’d spent the morning sliding through tackles just for the hell of it. His socks stretched upward along his calves, thickening into long white athletic ones streaked with grass stains and faint sweat rings.

Jake stared down at them, pulse hammering in his ears. “This can’t be happening.”

The coach tapped again. My cleats give me the perfect foot stink.

He tried to clamp his mouth shut, but the words came through anyway. “My cleats give me the perfect foot stink.”

The odor rose immediately, thick and warm, cheesy and tangy, the ripe smell that builds after hours of running on hot turf. It filled the space around him, sharp enough to linger on his tongue. Jake wanted to retch but his lungs pulled it in instead, the scent settling into something familiar, almost comforting. “That stink…it’s awful,” he whispered, yet the protest felt weaker, like the smell was already part of him.

The coach tapped. My height is perfect for the game.

“I’m not…” “My height is perfect for the game.”

His frame locked in lighter and lower, exactly the build for a regular guy who played soccer just because it felt good to run around with friends.

The coach tapped again. My ass is firm and athletic.

Jake clamped both hands over his mouth, eyes wide with fresh horror. “No.” The sentence came muffled but clear. “My ass is firm and athletic.”

His butt lifted and rounded at once, flat soft cheeks tightening into high, firm muscle that filled the white shorts perfectly without any sag or overhang. It felt powerful, springy, ready to drive him forward on every stride. Then a small wet fart slipped out as everything settled, thick and pungent, earthy grass mixed with warm sweat musk. The stink hung heavy in the air, strong and ripe like someone who’d been on the field all morning. Jake’s face flushed scarlet, but the odor didn’t turn his stomach the way it should have. It smelled right, like it belonged to him now.

The coach tapped. My dick is small and fits perfect in my shorts.

Panic flared in his eyes. “Please, not that…” “My dick is small and fits perfect in my shorts.”

Everything down there drew inward, softening and shrinking until the length shortened and the weight lightened, sitting neat and compact inside the tight black Calvin Klein trunks. No extra swing, no noticeable bulge, just tucked snug so nothing shifted when he moved. It felt simple, normal, like it had always been that way.

The coach kept going. My upper body is lean for speed.

“I teach history…I have a boyfriend…” “My upper body is lean for speed.”

His chest narrowed slightly, ribs showing just under the skin as the remaining softness melted away into a flat, efficient build with faint abs shaped by constant running rather than gym sessions. Nothing bulky, just lean and light.

The coach tapped. My arms are strong for the ball.

“Stop this now,” Jake begged. “My arms are strong for the ball.”

The soft flab on his biceps and forearms slimmed into wiry, lean muscle suited for precise passes or casual throws. Shoulders rolled back into a natural, relaxed posture.

The coach tapped. My armpits sweat like a real athlete.

Sweat poured heavier, soaking the jersey in wide dark patches under his arms. “I can’t…” “My armpits sweat like a real athlete.”

The pit stink bloomed sharp and salty, thick masculine odor that lingered after hard sessions and never quite faded. It blended with the foot stink and the lingering ass musk, heavy and real around him.

The coach tapped. I only want girls now.

Tears stung his eyes. “Chris…we live together…I’m gay…” “I only want girls now.”

The flip came fast and complete. Chris’s face blurred and dissolved like it had never mattered. Instead thoughts filled with short skirts, long legs, glossy smiles, the simple rush of knowing girls were watching him after he scored just for fun. Straight. Straightforward. Normal. The old attraction faded entirely, replaced by something basic and direct.

The coach tapped. I am laid back and simple.

“My mind…my life…” “I am laid back and simple.”

The serious, analytical edge he’d honed over years of study dissolved. No more overthinking every detail. Just easy, chill, going with the flow, laughing with the guys, living for the next casual game.

The coach tapped. My hygiene is just the field sweat and stink.

Sweat cooled on his neck as the smells mingled—pit stink, foot stink, that faint ass fart musk. “I used to shower every day…” “My hygiene is just the field sweat and stink.”

The idea of scrubbing it all away felt strange now, unnecessary. The odors were part of him, comfortable, normal, like they’d always been there.

The coach tapped. I am Ryan Bauer. Just a regular guy who plays soccer for fun.

His voice cracked on the protest. “My name is Jake…I have tenure…” “I am Ryan Bauer. Just a regular guy who plays soccer for fun.”

The old identity slipped away completely. Lectures, research papers, Chris, the careful thirty-five years of building a life around intellect—all overwritten. He was Ryan now. Nineteen. Straight. Boring. Athletic in the most average way. Played soccer because it was fun to run around with friends, nothing more, nothing serious.

The coach tapped the final line. My mind is focused only on football and basic things.

Thoughts slowed to a crawl. History dates and complex theories turned fuzzy and distant, pointless. “I can’t remember any of that…” Ryan murmured, the words already feeling far away. “My mind is focused only on football and basic things.”

Everything sharpened into simple priorities: passing the ball, when to sprint, girls smiling from the sideline, hanging out with the guys. No room for deep thoughts or heavy books. Just dumb, straightforward focus on the game and whatever came next.

The coach tapped the very last sentence. I am a football player.

No resistance left. “I am a football player.”

The last traces of panic vanished, replaced by calm, empty clarity. His stance shifted naturally, cleats pressing into the turf without thought. Body felt light, ready, perfectly balanced for messing around on the field.

The briefcase sitting a few feet away looked absurd now, some relic from another life.

The coach folded his arms. “How do you feel, Bauer?”

Ryan rolled his shoulders, an easy grin spreading across his face like it had always belonged there. “Feels good, coach.”

A ball sailed toward him. He trapped it cleanly with the inside of his foot, no hesitation. Flicked it up and started juggling, touches lazy and instinctive. Without thinking he lifted the hem of his jersey and wiped the sweat from his face, black Calvin Klein waistband showing clearly above the muddy white shorts. Socks sagged slightly from dirt. Hair stuck to his forehead in wet spikes. The foot stink, pit stink, lingering ass musk—all of it mixed together and felt perfect, normal.

“Training starting now?” he asked, already shifting his weight, already moving.

The coach nodded once. “Right now.”

Ryan took off at an easy jog across the field, cleats clicking softly against the turf, every step simple and right. Behind him the briefcase remained open in the grass, papers rustling in the wind, completely forgotten.

He didn’t look back. Didn’t need to. His mind was quiet now, clear and focused on the basics. Soccer for fun. Hanging out. Girls. That was all there was.

He was exactly where he belonged.

Dorian was on his way home from work with a pit in his stomach. Unfortunately, there weren't any traffic jams, so it seemed Dorian would have to face his boyfriend without delay.

Dorian and Patrick loved each other more than anything, but somewhere along the way, the sexual spark had started to fade. To Dorian, this was fine, but Patrick's libido was much higher. Dorian agreed to an open relationship, but Patrick always said he wanted Dorian more than anyone else. To try and reignite the spark, they made Wednesdays their sex day — and ever since, Dorian dreaded going home on Wednesdays.

As expected, Dorian got home right on time. As he opened the door, the usual smells from the kitchen were already missing. Patrick always made the most delicious meals for them both. Today, no noise came from the kitchen.

As Dorian walked towards the kitchen, he heard some murmuring from upstairs. When he arrived in their bedroom, Dorian saw a behemoth of a man standing next to their bed.

When James got the link from his friend about a silly personality quiz, the young man found himself looking at a site that reminded him of a late-2000s Buzzfeed quiz. The graphics were pretty lame, a mix of stock photos and AI-slop that looked like it was done by a bored middle-schooler. The font was all sorts of whacky assortments, and the music was playing some vaguely, slightly racist sounding music that bordered on offensive. James quickly muted his laptop speakers, just in case his mom came in and started probing into what he was doing instead of his schoolwork. The young man quickly spotted that the quiz was only a few questions long, and, with nothing better to do, he figured he could pass the time until he found something else.

Reading over the online quiz, James tilted his head at the stupid, clickbait-y title meant to drag people in. Even the caption was extremely cringey, to the point that he could only text his friend a brief message full of question marks.

What Zodiac Spirit Animal are you? Find out here! Are you ready to unlock the beast hidden inside of you?

Still, his friend only replied with a few thumbs up emojis and a “promise that the quiz was life changing,” whatever that really meant. James sighed as he began tapping through the questions.

What’s your favorite color?

Red

Blue

Green

Black

James frowned at the options, his brows knitting together in mild annoyance at the rather limited options. Why were there only four? And where the hell was purple or maroon? He preferred something darker-toned that contrasted against his blonde hair and paler skin. But there wasn’t anything better to pick, so the young man opted to click on the ‘red’ choice. It seemed the closest to what he would actually prefer anyway. That or black.

Rubbing at his eyes, Jian brushed aside the dark locks of his black hair from his face to see the screen better. He really needed to get a haircut sometime soon; his mom was always bothering him about how long his hair was getting and how disheveled he looked. Jian sighed, only slightly annoyed at how bothersome his mom was about his appearance. But apparently, she thought it was important for him to look presentable before the rest of the extended family came for the Lunar New Year celebrations. At least he had some downtime to spend on his laptop before he was inevitably called downstairs.

It’s the New Year! What sort of gift are you hoping to get?

Sweets - nothing is better than getting a handle on that sweet tooth

Jewelry - bracelets, necklaces, rings. It’s all mine!

Red envelopes - who can say no to some cold, hard cash?

Clothes - what better way to start the new year with a brand new fit?

There was really only one obvious choice to Jian, and that was the red envelopes. He had memories of his grandparents, aunts, and uncles always giving him red packets to celebrate the new year. As a kid, his mom had always told him that he was supposed to refuse it to be “polite” and “respectful.” But seriously, who was going to refuse extra, free money? Clicking the option for red envelopes, Jian couldn’t help but fantasize about all the things he could do with the extra money. Maybe one of those new video games that his friends had been talking up to him at school.

But then again, when someone was as rich as Jian, it was hard to decide what else to spend his money on. He had everything he wanted, could get anything he wanted, and oftentimes spent money getting gifts for his friends instead. It wasn’t his fault that he was born into one of Asia's wealthiest families. Sometimes, Jian liked to think he was just lucky, since it was his grandparents and father who gave him this life of luxury. Still, his dad always taught him the importance of money, even if it seemed silly to want more amid his excess wealth.

It’s dinner time! You’re feeling extra hungry today. What are you having for a main dish?

Hand-pulled noodle soup - putting in all that hard work definitely pays off.

Steamed fish - for all the good fortune and luck for the upcoming year

Dumplings - gimme some of those beefy, soupy dumps!

Crispy roast pork - fatty and juicy, it’s got all the flavor.

There was a little grumble in Jian’s stomach as he looked over the options. He could catch a whiff of that big dinner potluck downstairs, where his mom was cooking with the private chef. There were still a few more minutes before he had to join in, but he could at least think about what he would want to eat in the meantime. All the options seemed particularly tasty, but there was something so mouthwatering about having beef dumplings, either fried or steamed, that made Jian click on that option.

Jian brought one hand down to rub at his bumpy stomach, only chuckling as he ran his fingers along the ridged abs that popped out against his shirt. No matter what shirts his mom kept trying to buy for him, Jian always made sure to pump up his muscles and grow his body until they were kept skin-tight on him. The young man smirked at the feeling as he raised his arms up to flex, showing off his strong, baseball-sized biceps. God, he loved being the hottest dude in school. Being rich and muscular definitely helped, but Jian was just glad all his hard work at the gym paid off. He kept a pretty strict diet when it came to protein intake, and if he ended up being a little vain because of it… Well, who could blame him?

Pick a side dish to go with it!

Spicy rice cakes! Goes perfectly with every meal

Stir-fried bok choy - gotta stay healthy with some veggies in that diet.

Imperial rolls - fried goodness fit for a king/queen

Chow mein - something simple and easy; we’re here to eat!

Glancing back at the quiz, Jian’s eyes fell towards the spicy rice cakes. He licked his lips as one hand absentmindedly squeezed and groped at his own pecs. The young man smirked as he felt the muscles bounce underneath his touch, only choosing the side dish to accompany his dumpling dinner. Jian loved the tingly, spicy heat from the rice cakes, and he could only hope the private chef was making something spicy for them to eat later.

Of course, he was lucky that his parents bought him his own penthouse apartment when he was old enough. Jian was only swinging by his family home for the Lunar New Year celebrations, but he had plans later to go clubbing and hit the bars with some of his friends. Even after high school and undergrad, he was still the life of the party, and people were always dying to spend some time with him. Family always came first for Jian, but after that, he was ready to live his life! What use was there being in his 20s if he wasn’t going to live it up to the fullest?

And finally, what are you feeling like for dessert?

Coconut jelly

Red bean buns

White rabbit candy

Tang yuan

He wasn’t really much of a sweets guy; eating sugars and carbs wasn’t always best for his strict diet, and Jian had a body to maintain for all the girls to fawn over. With the number of women who were coming over to his place in the evenings, Jian barely had enough time between his partying and exercising to snack on desserts. But tang yuan was at least a staple of his growing up, and it fit with the whole “new year” theme. His favorites were the black sesame or the peanut tang yuan; his mom always made them for him each year.

Tapping his choice, Jian sat back in his chair, glancing away from the screen for a moment. His phone vibrated, and the young man reached over to look at his lock screen. His lips curled up in a small smirk at the sight of three new text messages from all the thirsty gays that were hoping to hook up with him later that day. Of course, Jian was pretty strict with his partners. They had to be just as fit as he, and preferably someone big and burly. He always got hard when it came to those DILF-y daddy types. Something about them smacking their thick log of meat on his face while he sucked on their balls made Jian’s hole twitch in anticipation for that night.

You’re a powerful creature! What mythical creature best represents who you are inside?

Nine-tailed fox

Dragon

Qilin

Phoenix

Jian could only raise a brow at the question, half snorting at the rather asinine questions in this quiz. Of course, he wasn’t expecting much, but wasn’t this supposed to tell him what he was? Why did he have to pick for them? Still, of the four options, only the dragon seemed like the coolest option. He wasn’t sure what some of the creatures were anyway, and it wasn’t like he was going to spend any more time on this quiz looking up what each word meant.

There was a slight jingle around his neck, and Jian glanced down to see a familiar silver chain hanging around him. The young man brought one hand up to his earlobe, feeling the piercings that he had gotten so long ago. It was a conversation that his parents hadn’t fully understood, but after so many years of Jian dressing up in expensive jewelry and bling, they had gotten used to it. When Jian chose to get tattoos several years later, his parents were used to his choice of fashion and style. His friends always marveled at how well he could dress and style himself, although Jian secretly knew that most of his fashionable choices came from his having access to practically unlimited funds.

What’s one activity you’re sure to do as part of the New Year celebrations?

Watch a lion dance - time to see an impressive athletic display!

Visit a temple - it’s always important to respect your elders.

Lantern making - want some good luck or for your wishes to come true?

Karaoke and mahjong night - a classic late-night activity with your friends

As fun as karaoke and mahjong were for Jian to just hang out with his friends, he tended to always do that for someone’s birthday. Lion dances were more rare to see except for select holidays, so the young man naturally selected the more exclusive and unique activity for the celebration.

Shifting in his seat, Jian sat up a little taller as he felt his plump ass cheeks grant him a couple more inches of height. He could feel the silk thong slipping up along his inner thighs, and the young man groaned at the feeling rubbing along his smooth legs. Given his profession as a dancer, as both an onstage performer and a club go-go boy, Jian had to keep his body smooth. It made oiling it up a lot easier, and people loved the look on him. The dancer grinned as he rolled his hips on his chair, loving the way his clothing teased and caused friction against him. Jian was grateful that the club gave him the day off for his family celebration, but he knew he’d have to work some overtime headliner shifts on the weekend to make up for it. His commitment to the job had less to do with money and more with his love of the activity, and the undying fanaticism of the clubgoers drooling and ogling his body.

You’re spending the rest of the holiday with that special someone. What is the final date spot for the night?

Picnic spot in the fields where we can stargaze together

Movie night, cuddled up under some blankets.

Strolling by the riverside and watching the fireworks burst in the air!

Going out dancing and partying it up together! YOLO!

Watching some fireworks sounded like a great date idea, and it was something that Jian had always fantasized about doing with the right person. He picked the fireworks option, already thinking about the popping noises that were bound to come up later that night, once his family was done with dinner. People loved setting off fireworks and firecrackers around his parents’ neighborhood. But given that all their neighbors were also celebrating the Lunar New Year, it was to be expected.

Jian’s thoughts began to pop and fizzle away, much like the festive fireworks. With each passing second, his head became far emptier than before. Of course, thinking was never his strong suit to begin with, and the only things the dancer really thought about were his late-night shows, his daily workouts and nutrition, and all the beefy hunks that were going to fuck him silly each week. He shuddered at the idea of being smart and stuff. Jian was far happier living his life as it was. He had his friends to sit around and think for him, or better yet, be simple-minded like him. All that smart, nerdy stuff just didn’t really fit a guy like him.

His eyes darted back to the screen as he saw the test results from the little quiz that he took.

Congratulations! Your actual Zodiac Spirit Animal is…. The Horse!

Scooting up on his chair once more, Jian let out a low grunt in surprise as he found himself dressed in only his tight underwear. Of course, the young man loved showing off his body whenever he got the chance. But nothing was better than letting his extra-long, girthy horse cock dangle before other people’s eyes. Even when he had pants on, Jian knew that people were eyeing up his hefty, sizable bulge in public. Jian was always half-chubbed at the idea of people’s mouths watering over his thick piece of meat. Whether it was those straight, bro-y finance guys that adjusted their pants every time they passed him by on the street, or the beefy cops that would eye him up whenever he walked past their patrol routes, or even the bodybuilder daddies that let their eyes linger a little too long on his cock head peeking out from his shorts at the gym, Jian was sure to give all the hungry boys a taste of his horse meat.

As a Horse, you are spirited, energetic, and have an independent personality. You have great confidence and a strong drive for freedom and adventure.

The mere thought of the men fucking and sucking him made Jian squirm in his chair, his hands already sliding down to rub and tease at his throbbing cock through his silk underwear. He was already leaking through the fabric, yet Jian made no attempt to tug it off. In fact, he was hoping to make a mess of himself before he had to go downstairs. Luckily for him, his parents still kept a full-length mirror in the corner of his room, giving the young man an ample angle for him to view himself as he played with his beefy, muscular body. Some of Jian’s fingers slipped past his fat cheeks, fingering and probing at his hole as he thought about the hunky bouncer at the club who had sexted over some lewd pics about what they would get up to later that evening.

You can be impulsive and quick-tempered, often struggling with patience or long-term commitment. Some people might see you as stubborn, or your confidence as cockiness, but that’s when you know you are your true self!

Jian’s eyes rolled back in his head as he watched himself in the mirror. He was hot. Sexy. Fuckin’ irresistible, and he loved every second of it. The dancer moaned as his body jerked and jolted, and he began to spurt out thick ropes of cum all over himself. It was a hefty load, almost as if he hadn’t cum in a few days. Jian’s tongue lolled out of his mouth, a few strands of drool falling onto his heaving pecs as he came again and again. The front pouch of his thong quickly became stained, a wet spot forming as a puddle of cum arose from the fabric. The Asian man chuckled dumbly at the white mound, only reaching down to scoop some up with his fingertips.

Bringing up his cum-coated finger to his lips, Jian greedily sucked down his own seed. He savored the salty and sticky taste, only eyeing himself in the mirror with a wolfish smirk. Picking up his phone, Jian took a photo of himself in the mirror, with his scantily clad, cum-dripping thong on full display. Texting it over to his friend, Jian followed up the image with a few texts of his own.

horse boy: that quiz of yours got me real horned up, dude horse boy: u gonna come over and take care of this later?

Jian smirked as he saw the instant reply from his friend, accompanied by their own photo of a throbbing cock held between two hands.

da goat: u know it. better not waste any more loads for me to swallow

That was right, Jian was born in the Year of the Horse. This was his year, after all. And he was definitely planning on making the most of it.

You knew you should just throw it away. Put the small box of stupid chocolates in the nearest garbage and forget about it. The box itself looked like it was handcrafted with cardboard and tape. The chocolates inside? Probably made in one of your student's kitchens. Sloppy, made hastily- being homemade alone didn't make something good. As a teacher, you did get gifts on occasion. But in all of your years of teaching, this one was certainly the absolute worst.

"Alright, alright." You mutter, "I'm a teacher, not a food critic."

You relent and grab one of the small truffles, inspecting it closely. It was obviously coated in milk chocolate, a few red, white, and blue sprinkles garnished the top.

"CJ." You think, "Yeah, bet it was him."

Loud, obnoxious, patriotic- the ultimate stupid all-American jock who probably spent the same amount of time drinking beers as he did in the gym. With a sigh, you plop the truffle into your mouth and start to chew. You taste the milk chocolate and get a few notes of peanuts and apple pie. Not the worst thing you've ever eaten, but definitely not...

"Oh fuck..." You grunt and catch yourself on the nearest table, "Oh fuck it hurts." You grab your stomach and wince, "Wh...?"

Your eyes widen as you watch your dress shirt start to shred into pieces, unveiling more and more of your average frame. You let out another yelp as your dress pants start to come undone, leaving you in nothing but your underwear.

"What the fuck?" You grunt as the room begins to spin around you.

The humble walls of your classroom give way to a raucous tailgate. The smell of brats, burgers, and beers fill your nose. The sound of boisterous laughter, cheering, and shit talk fill your ears. But as you stumble in confusion amidst the new setting, you gasp as you look down at your hand.

"Brody, bro!" One of the jocks yells out, "You good man?"

You watch in terror as your hand thickens and becomes calloused from all those lifting sessions with your bros at the gym. You watch as the muscle expands rapidly in your forearms, before your biceps explode with it. Your triceps aren't spared either as your previous twigs-for-arms thicken from all the lifting, creatine, and protein powder you've been using. But you quickly found out your arms were just the start. The air was knocked out of you as your pecs swelled rapidly, back cracking and widening. You stumble, still trying to get used to your increasing bulk.

"Woah, bro..." You mutter, giving your swollen pecs a squeeze, "All right..." You shake your head, "No... no what am I saying?" You can feel a weed sprouting in your head- another voice, another being.

"Yeah this is the shit." It says using your mouth, "Grow baby, grow."

You laugh, deep and dumb. And as you do, your gut packs on more weight and muscle, pushing out with the firmness of extra bulk. Your abs covered by a soft layer of fat brought to you by all the late night snacking and beers you've downed with your bros.

"Check this, bros." Your voice is slower, dumber, and clearly tipsy from the alcohol. But you don't have time to consider that as you let out a massive fart, "Bro! You hear that? Fuckin' legend, dude!"

You grunt as your ass beefs up, swelling with muscle and fat. Jiggling with each step you take. Your thighs and legs bulk up, as your feet crack and expand into wide, size 15" monsters.

"Alright bros!" Brody says, pumping his fists, "Let's fuckin' go!"

You can't do much as Brody has the best fucking time of his life. You do a keg stand, make-out with some blond cheerleader, wrestle with your bros, and bounce your muscle tits while your dick chubs up. To Brody, its the fucking life. But to you- trapped in this smelly, brutish frat bro- you're in hell. Was this the lesson? Was this what your asshole students wanted to teach you? To...

"Yo what're those?" Brody drunkenly makes his way over to a small box of chocolates, "Don't mind if I do." He guffaws and grabs one.

He plops it into his mouth and you can taste it. Cardamom, cinnamon, and dates. Brody wrinkles his nose as he chews it.

"The fuck kinda flavor is that?" But he doesn't have much time to think more on it as the world around him starts to spin, "Oh fuck, too many beers..."

You can feel it too. The world spinning. Its disorienting, terrifying. And you can feel a burning and itching sensation across your chest. You watch in horror as a patch of coarse black hair sprouts from Brody's chest, spreading rapidly like wildfire. It itches intensely as it grows thicker and longer, soon covering his entire torso in a dark pelt. Brody lets out a grunt, rubbing his hands over his new fur.

"Wh-what's going on, bro? I'm so fuckin' hairy."

Meanwhile, the burning sensation spreads to your face. Black stubble erupts on your jawline, quickly forming a thick, unkempt beard. Your once fair skin blotches with an olive tint.

"Dude, I'm American. Why do I look… fuck…"

Every inch of your skin is now olive tinted. There's a grunt as you pack on a little more extra weight and muscle to your previous jock-bro frame. A wave of vertigo hits you hard as reality warps and shifts yet again. The tailgate scene dissolves into a sleek sports car interior. This new man grips the steering wheel tightly, weaving through traffic at dangerous speeds. His bulks grows more, as do his muscles.

"Yallah, move it bitch!" he yells, honking aggressively at a minivan.

"Samir, chill bro." The other Arab man in the passenger seat says.

"Chill? We got places to be, yaar." Samir replies, revving the engine.

You can only watch as this new version of you pulls up to a hookah bar. And as Samir enters, you can smell it too- the air is thick with fragrant smoke and the sound of Arabic music pulses through the speakers. Samir struts in confidently, his broad shoulders, hairy chest, and musculature on full display.

"Marhaba, habibi," he greets the hostess, flashing her a charming smile. She giggles and leads them to a plush booth in the back.

As they settle in, Samir leans back and lights up a large hookah pipe. His arms stretched behind his head. The smell of his musky pits invading your sense.

"Ahhh, perfect," he sighs contentedly. He takes a long drag, holding the sweet smoke in his lungs before exhaling slowly. His friend nods in agreement. "This is the life, yaar. No worries, just good times with the boys."

And as Samir takes another drag, you can feel your mind swimming. The smell of hookah, the laughter, the pride in your middle-eastern heritage. It hurts your head as your identities mix. Teacher? Frat bro? Prideful Arab man? Who are you? What are...

"I... Please, I want this to..."

"Yo who're you?" You freeze. Brody was still here. In your head. Talking to you, "Brah, this whole shits fucked. I got a party to get back to."

You find yourself nodding slowly, "Yeah... a party..." Makes sense, right? You should be partying... at the tailgate... But... you're a teacher, you're a...

Samir takes another long drag from the hookah, blowing the smoke out slowly. "These Americans, they don't know how to live," he says, shaking his head, "Americans, they're weak. Greedy and self indulgent. But us? We're real men, yaar. Strong, proud." He takes another drag, "Inshallah, may Allah bless us with more days like this."

And as the hookah invades his lungs, you too feel it invade your mind. The smell, the camaraderie. The sight of your olive skin, the scraggliness of your beard. And as your buddies pat Samir on the back, you feel like you're part of something more. Something greater.

"Feels nice." You think, "This... this is living... how it should be..."

And as your mind swims with your newfound appreciation for Samir's culture, Samir's attention is captured by a box of chocolates. He smirks and grabs one of the truffles plopping it into his mouth. And almost immediately you can taste it. The bourbon. The hint of vanilla. Maybe even some lavender.

"Wha-" he starts to say, but the words dissolve on his tongue.

You can feel it again. The world spinning around you. Faster and faster. And with it comes the changes. You can feel the heftiness around your midsection starts to dissolve, while the abs underneath are molded perfectly, leaving you with an impressive six-pack. You can hear Samir yelp as his pecs start to puff out further with dense muscle, the hairs starting to dissolve away, leaving behind clean shaven, smooth skin.

"Ugh so pathetic." He groans, running his increasingly meatier hand against his smooth skin, "What is this?"

His skin suddenly begins to lighten once again. His dark eyes become blue, and narrow as a new attitude starts to swell up in your increasingly more crowded mental space.

"This is disgusting."

"Brah, check these muscles."

Your head is spinning with all these different voices. Your body aches as the bulk continues, giving you the body of a greek adonis. Arms swollen, chest solid, abs proudly displayed. The hookah bar finally vanishes, replaced by the glittering expanse of a private pool. Sunlight glints off the water. And you find yourself coming up for air, water falling from your brunette, styled hair.

A girl in a skimpy bikini approaches, carrying a tray of drinks. "Here you go, Mr. Westley," she says, batting her eyelashes flirtatiously. This new man takes a drink without even looking at her, already bored. Just another servant. Just another pretty face.

"Get me another one while you're at it." He calls out. He watches her walk away, smirking as he stares at her ass.

He takes a swig of the martini and sighs. Everything looks so bright and crisp. Like the world had been put through a filter. The sky is bluer, the grass greener. Even the water sparkles. And his physique? Toned, tanned, and dripping wet. Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

"Yeah... I can... I can get used to this..." You mumble as if in a trance.

"Same brah." Brody joins in.

"Fuck that." Samir lashes out, "Spoiled white boy."

The new man exits the pool, tousling his hair, and finding the nearest lounge chair. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, basking in the sun.

"Chad?" He turns towards a man in business attire, "Your father would like a word."

"Tell dear old dad I'm busy." Chad replied dismissively, "And while you're at it, find the groundskeeper and tell him to get this place cleaned up, its a fucking disgrace."

"But sir, your father..."

"You fuckin' deaf or something?" Chad stands up, towering over the man, "I'm. Busy."

The servant scurries away, while Chad just flashes his signature, entitled smirk. And as he gets back to lounging, you feel disgust welling up inside you. This guy was an asshole. A totally self-obsessed douchebag. Even Brody seemed to quiet down, while Samir went on ranting about spoiled Americans.

"I just want to go back." You feel so lost, so hopeless, "I don't want to be this... I want to be me..."

But you're trapped. Trapped in your own mind with Brody and Samir. Trapped and forced to feel everything Chad did. Watch as Chad sends some shirtless selfies to a few blond bimbos. Made plans with an older married woman down the street to meet up when her husband leaves for the day. He messages his friends about using his father's private jet to travel to Tahoe for the weekend.

"Get what I want, when I want." He stretches his arms behind his head and sighs, basking in the sunlight reflecting off his greek god physique.

And that's when you feel it. The power. The musculature of his body. Each flex of his bicep. His massive pecs. You understand now. Understand just how easy his confidence comes to him. Understand why he deserves it. And it felt... good. Yeah... It felt real good. But as you got drunk on everything that was Chad, you were interrupted.

"Chad!" Chad's eyes widen as his father walks over- a man of similar build, height, but older, "You lazy piece of crap!"

"Dad, what... what're you talking about?"

His father's eyes narrow, "I told you before." He points at him, "You want to live like this? You want to use my money for trips to Europe, fuck any bimbo that moves, and lounge around." He frowns, "Then you got to get a degree. An education. Prove you can take over the family business."

"You can't be fucking..."

"Oh I am."

You can feel the anger boiling up in Chad's body. A degree? Having to go to school? With what? A bunch of stupid, poor, ugly freaks that have to work a 9-5 to experience just 1/1000 of Chad's lifestyle.

"That's... not fair." You whisper, as your mind is overwhelmed by Chad's emotions.

Chad stands up, eyes narrowed and pushes past his father. The older man couldn't be serious. Couldn't really be thinking of making him go to college. He stormed past a servant, who simply smiled.

"Would you like a chocolate?"

Chad freezes, "Yeah, sure, why the fuck not?" And plops it into his mouth.

The world around you shifts once more as the flavors of the chocolate hit your tongue - artificial sweetness, fruity candy, and a hint of energy drink. You can feel your muscles beginning to shrink and change, the bulk melting away.

"Whoa, what's happening to me?" Chad's voice whines.

The opulent halls of the mansion are closing in, shifting into that of a studio apartment. Clothes and empty energy drink cans litter the floor. The air smells stale and musty. You glance down at your changing body - the muscles thinning out, becoming leaner and more defined rather than bulky. Body hair recedes until your skin is smooth and hairless. Your face feels tight as it reshapes itself, cheekbones becoming more pronounced, jawline sharpening into an angular cuteness. Curly locks sprout from your head, styled in a trendy, slightly messy fashion. Your beard starts to fall away, leaving you clean-shaven.

This new form - young, attractive, and youthfully energetic - bounds over to the bed. Sitting cross-legged, and pulls out his phone. The lock screen displays a grid of selfies and short video clips, all carefully curated to showcase his best angles and moments.

"Okay, gotta up my game," He mutters, scrolling through TikTok trends. "More followers mean more clout, and clout means everything."

He spends hours creating and posting videos - dance challenges, skits, pranks, and thirst traps. Each upload is meticulously planned and executed to maximize engagement. Between posts, he constantly refreshes his feed, comparing likes and views to his peers.

"This is exhausting," the old you whispers weakly in the back of your mind. But the new you barely registers the complaint, too focused on growing your online presence.

"Hey there! Zac here!" He starts.

You watch helplessly as this new version of you, Zac, throws himself into the world of social media with reckless abandon. Hours blur together as he creates and posts video after video, thirst trap after thirst trap, desperate for that sweet validation of likes and comments.

"Ugh, this sucks," Zac grunts in frustration, deleting yet another failed attempt at a viral dance challenge. "Why isn't this working? I'm hot, I'm funny, I should be blowing up by now!"

The other voices in your head stir.

"Forget this noise, brah. Let's hit the gym, get jacked!" Brody chimes in enthusiastically.

"No way, man. This social media crap is beneath us." Samir scoffs, his accent thick with disdain.

"He's so fucking desperate." Chad chimes in, "He's never going to amount to shit. Just wishes he could have a sliver of what I got."

The voices swim in your head. Painfully. Overwhelmingly. You just want it to stop. Just want them to leave you be. To let you go back to... to what? You're realizing with increasing terror that you're having a hard time remembering just who you were. Someone in education? A teacher? Right? Or were you...

"Pl-please... just... stop." But your voice is crowded out by these other selves, all bickering internally.

"Fuck it," Zac mutters, tossing his phone aside in frustration. He flops back onto the unmade bed, surrounded by the musky scent of sweat-stained sheets and stale air. With a heavy sigh, he reaches for his phone again, navigating to his preferred porn site with practiced ease.

"Just need to blow off some steam," he mumbles, stroking himself through his thin sweatpants as the first video loads. The lewd sounds of moaning and flesh slapping against flesh fill the small room.

Zac's breathing quickens as he loses himself in porn, his toned muscles relaxing under his touch. The stench of his own arousal mingles with the aroma of the slovenly apartment. Sweat beads on his smooth, hairless chest as he pleasures himself. The sensations wash over you too, drowning out the cacophony of voices in your head. Your mind starts to feel hazy, thoughts growing sluggish and scattered. The world narrows down to the intense physical pleasure radiating from your core.

"Hnnngh… feels so good…" you groan, as rational thought slips away, replaced by base instinct and desire.

Brody, Samir, and Chad's voices fade to distant murmurs, easily ignored as you lose yourself in Zac's pleasure. All that matters is chasing this peak of ecstasy.

"F-fuck yeah… gonna cum so hard…"

And in that moment… you're just Zac. Obsessed with social media. Obsessed with the latest trend. Obsessed with views and likes and getting famous. And when you're not chasing fame, you're jerking off. Endlessly. In your musky apartment. And it feels good. No worries. No cares. No more voices. Yeah… Zac… you're Zac… it makes sense… it…

You blink, disoriented as the familiar sight of your classroom comes into focus. The musky stench and lewd sounds vanish, replaced by the sterile scent of chalk dust and the dull murmur of students. Your body feels foreign, like it belongs to someone else entirely.

"W-what… what happened?" you stammer, gripping the edge of your desk for support. The lingering echoes of Zac's obsession and pleasure slowly fade, but the memory of inhabiting that shallow, hedonistic existence lingers.

Around you, your students smile. The straight-laced jocks, the fame-hungry TikTokers, the entitled rich kids, and the cultural exchange students. They're staring at you.

"Learn your lesson, bro?"

"No, please! Leave me alone!" you cry out, clutching your head as the voices of Samir, Brody, Chad, and Zac continue to echo and taunt you. "I don't want to be any of you! I just want to be myself again!"

But even as you beg, you can feel the changes starting to take hold once more. Your muscles begin to swell and bulk up, taking on a chiseled, masculine form.

"You're built like a god now. Act like it." Chad's voice rings out, "Walk around like you own the place, 'cause you do. Entitlement is your birthright, remember that."

Your muscles ripple and grow, becoming impressively defined. The bulges of your biceps and pecs send pleasure straight to your heavy balls and thick cock. You stand taller, chest puffed out proudly.

"Fuck yeah, we gotta document this!" Zac squeals excitedly. "Get the camera out, bro! Show the world what we're working with. Hashtag blessed, hashtag gains, hashtag fitness goals! Gotta get them followers, man!"

You pull out your phone with a grin, snapping selfie after selfie from every angle. You look hot. You look good. And you know it. And so will everyone else.

"Look at you." Samir's voice echos in your brain. Dark, glossy hair springs from your scalp, curling slightly. A well-groomed beard spreads across your jawline and chin, "Embrace your heritage, yaar. You're a son of the Middle East now."

You feel warmth as your skin takes on a warm, healthy olive tone. You run a hand through your thick, black hair, admiring how it contrasts with your chiseled features. Your beard feels soft and stylish as you run your fingers along it. You feel a surge of pride in your Arab roots.

"Holy shit dude, we are ripped!" Brody exclaims gleefully, slurring his words slightly. "Time to hit the town and get fucked up! Gonna be the life of the party with these sick muscles, bro!"

You can feel the intelligence draining from your mind, replaced by a happy-go-lucky, dim-witted enthusiasm. Your tongue lolls out as you grin dopily. The voices blend together into a confusing chorus as your body and mind warp to accommodate all four personas simultaneously. You're left standing in the middle of your classroom, nothing more than a muscular, entitled, self-absorbed Arab party bro, with the combined traits and attitudes of Chad, Zac, Samir, and Brody.

"Yo, teach!" One of your students calls out, "You learn your lesson?"

You turn to face him, your muscular physique on full display as you cross your arms over your broad chest. A cocky smirk plays across your handsome, bearded face. You flash a brilliant, charismatic smile at the student, your teeth gleaming white against your olive skin.

"Lesson learned, my dude."

"Jesus Christ, Chloe, you look like you've been crying for a week straight."

Liam kicked the door shut behind him, dropping his gym bag on the floor with a heavy thud. The apartment smelled like stale tears and cheap wine, a combination that made his nose wrinkle in disgust. He'd sprinted over here after getting her barely coherent text message about Chad, that walking, talking steroid injection she'd been dating.

"I have been," Chloe sniffled from her curled-up position on the couch, a pint of melted ice cream balanced precariously on her stomach. "He dumped me. Said I was getting 'too clingy' and that my pussy wasn't tight enough anymore."

Liam's jaw tightened. "What a fucking piece of shit. I swear to God, I'm gonna find that roided-out gorilla and rip his tiny dick off."

Chloe managed a weak smile. "His dick wasn't tiny, and you know it." She gestured vaguely toward the coffee table, where a pair of gray gym pants lay in a crumpled heap. "He left these. Probably forgot them in his haste to go fuck some other poor girl."

Liam plopped down beside her, the couch groaning under his weight. "Forget him. You're way too good for that meathead. The guy had the personality of a brick and probably thinks foreplay is telling you to 'take it, bitch'."

"Well, he wasn't wrong about that part," Chloe admitted with a watery laugh. "God, I'm so pathetic. I actually miss him. His stupid laugh, his constant need to flex in every mirror, even the way he'd leave his dirty socks everywhere."

Liam snorted. "You don't miss him. You miss the idea of him. The hot body, the confidence, the way he made you feel like the only girl in the room... right before he made five other girls feel the same way."

"And the nine-inch dick," Chloe added, her eyes glazing over slightly. "Don't forget the nine-inch dick that could hit my G-spot from three different angles."

Liam rolled his eyes. "Fine, the magical nine-inch dick. But you can get that elsewhere with about 90% less douchebaggery."

Chloe's eyes drifted to the shorts on the table. "You know what would be hilarious? If you tried those on. You're about his size, right? Maybe a little leaner, but close enough."

Liam recoiled. "Hell no. I'm not putting on that asshole's dirty gym shorts. God knows what bodily fluids are crusted in the fabric."

"Come on," Chloe wheedled, sitting up and poking his arm. "For me? I need a laugh right now. Something to take my mind off how pathetic I am for missing a guy who called me 'his favorite cum dumpster'."

Against his better judgment, Liam sighed dramatically. "Fine, but you owe me big time. Like, you're buying me dinner for a month big time."

He snatched the shorts and headed to the bathroom. The fabric was stiff and smelled faintly of sweat and cheap cologne. He stripped off his own shorts and pulled on Chad's, surprised at how tight they were around his thighs and ass.

When he came out, Chloe's eyes widened. "Holy shit," she breathed. "You actually look... hot. Like, really fucking hot. Your ass looks amazing in those."

Liam blushed, preening slightly. "Well, I do leg day twice a week."

"No, I mean it," Chloe insisted, her eyes roaming over him appreciatively. "You've got that jock vibe going on. The way you're standing..." She tilted her head. "You know, Chad used to stand just like that. All cocky and shit, like he owned the room."

Liam shifted uncomfortably. "I don't stand like that."

"You kind of do," Chloe giggled. "And your arms... they're getting bigger. Have you been lifting more? Your biceps look more defined."

Liam glanced down at his arms. They did seem more pumped than usual, the veins more prominent. "Maybe a little. Increased my protein intake."

"God, and your voice," Chloe continued, her eyes glazing over slightly. "It's deeper than I remember. Chad had this really deep voice that made me wet every time I heard it, especially when he was talking shit about some fag at the gym."

Liam cleared his throat. "I don't sound like him."

"No, but you could," Chloe mused. "If you tried. Just... lower it a little. More confident. More... masculine."

Liam tried, clearing his throat again. "What, like this?"

"Yessss," Chloe breathed, her hand drifting between her legs. "Exactly like that. Fuck, that's hot."

Liam felt a strange warmth spreading through his chest. His pecs seemed to be swelling, pushing against the fabric of the shorts. He ran a hand over them, surprised at their firmness.

"See?" Chloe whispered. " Chad used to do that all the time - feel himself up like he was God's gift to women, which honestly, he kind of was."

Liam's hand moved to his abs, which were suddenly more defined than he remembered. "I've been working on my core," he said, his voice dropping even lower.

"Fuck yeah, you have," Chloe moaned, her fingers working faster under her skirt. "Chad had these massive thighs from all his squats. He could crush a watermelon between them."

Liam looked down, surprised to see his thighs had indeed swollen with muscle, straining against the shorts. He flexed them, watching them bulge with new power.

"Yesss, just like that," Chloe encouraged. "Chad had these broad shoulders that made him look like a fucking football player, which he was, before he got kicked out for 'excessive hazing'."

Liam rolled his shoulders back, feeling them stretch and widen. His entire upper body seemed to be expanding, muscles swelling and reshaping themselves into a more masculine form. The seams of the shorts strained against his growing frame.

"his face," Chloe breathed, her eyes fixed on his. "Chad had this really strong jawline that could cut glass."

Liam ran a hand over his chin, feeling the rough stubble that had suddenly appeared. His jaw did feel more angular, more defined, more... aggressive.

"And his hair," Chloe continued. " Chad always kept his hair short and military-style, said long hair was for fags and hippies."

Liam reached up, surprised to find his hair had indeed cropped shorter, styling itself into a severe, masculine cut that felt rough to the touch.

Chloe whispered. "Chad had these piercing blue eyes that could see right through me, usually to calculate my cup size."

Liam blinked, feeling a strange tingling in his eyes. When he opened them again, Chloe gasped.

"Fuck, they're blue now," she breathed. "Just like his. So cold and calculating."

Liam felt a strange detachment from his body, as if he were watching someone else transform. His thoughts were becoming simpler, more focused on physical sensations - the weight of his new muscles, the tightness of the shorts, the growing heat in his groin. His mind felt... clearer, emptier, filled with space where complex thoughts used to be.

"his hands," Chloe continued, her voice growing more urgent. "Chad had these huge hands that could grip me so tight, leave bruises for days."

Liam looked down at his hands, which were indeed larger and more calloused than before. He flexed them, feeling a strange power in his grip, a desire to use that power to dominate, to control.

"And his feet," Chloe moaned. "Chad wore size 13 shoes, said he needed big feet to balance his big dick."

Liam wiggled his toes, feeling them stretch and expand. The shorts felt even tighter now, barely containing his swelling form. He felt taller, broader, more... imposing.

"God, and his dick," Chloe breathed, her eyes dropping to his crotch. " Chad had this massive nine-inch cock that filled me up so perfectly, made me scream his name until I was hoarse."

Liam looked down, surprised to see a prominent bulge forming in the shorts. He reached down to adjust himself, gasping at the size of his suddenly enlarged cock. It felt heavy, powerful, ready to claim, to conquer.

"Yesss, just like that," Chloe encouraged. "Chad was always so confident, so cocky. Like he knew he was the shit, because he was."

Liam straightened up, puffing out his chest. A smirk played on his lips as he looked down at Chloe. "Yeah, I guess I am pretty hot. Bet I could get any pussy I wanted."

"Fuck yeah, you are," Chloe moaned. "And you know it too. That's what Chad was like - always so fucking arrogant, always so sure of himself. Never doubted his right to take what he wanted."

Liam ran a hand over his new abs, feeling the power coursing through his veins. "Damn right I am. Why would I doubt myself when I'm this fucking perfect?"

"You're not thinking about guys anymore, are you? You're thinking about pussy. About how many girls you could fuck in a week, how many would be begging for your dick."

Liam blinked, his brow furrowing. Why the fuck would he be thinking about guys? That was... disgusting. Wrong. His mind wasn't filled with memories of art galleries and witty banter with other men anymore; it was a slideshow of tight asses in yoga pants, low-cut tops, and the desperate looks women gave him. All he could think about was sinking his new, massive cock into a tight, wet pussy and hearing some bitch scream his name.

Chloe breathed, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and excitement. "You don't remember being some gay twink who worked in a coffee shop and read poetry, do you? You remember being the star quarterback, fucking cheerleaders in the locker room after every big game."

Liam nodded slowly, his mind rewriting itself. The scent of espresso beans and the feel of a book in his hands faded, replaced by the smell of sweat and grass, the roar of a crowd, the feeling of a cheerleader's legs wrapped around his waist in a cramped locker room. He remembered slapping his teammates on the ass, calling them pussies when they missed a tackle, and laughing as some nerd tripped in the hallway. Who the fuck was Liam? That was some nobody, some cock-gobbler he probably shoved into a locker once or twice.

"Your personality," Chloe continued, her voice growing more urgent. "You're becoming more aggressive, more dominant. Chad never took no for an answer. He saw what he wanted and he took it."

Liam's smirk widened, showing teeth. He grabbed Chloe's arm, his grip like a vise. "Damn right I don't. Bitches don't know what they want anyway. That's why guys like me have to show them."

Chloe whispered, trying to pull away but failing. "Chad was a real man's man - believed in God, country, and pussy. Thought feminism was a cry for help from ugly women who couldn't get laid."

Liam nodded, his eyes hardening. "Fucking right. Fags and liberals can go to hell. This country was built by real men, not a bunch of soft-handed pussies whining about their feelings. Women should be in the kitchen, barefoot and pregnant, where they belong."

"His intelligence," Chloe breathed, a flicker of regret in her eyes. "Chad wasn't exactly a rocket scientist. He was all brawn and no brains, thought Nietzsche was some kind of German beer."

Liam shrugged, the motion making his pecs bounce. "Who needs brains when you've got this?" He flexed his bicep, watching it bulge. "Smart guys don't get pussy. They get wedgies and spend their Saturday nights playing video games. I get laid. Every. Single. Night."

"Your name," Chloe whispered, her voice barely audible. "It's not Liam anymore, is it? It's Chad."

"Damn right it is," Chad growled, his voice a deep, rumbling bass. "Now get on your knees, bitch. I'm gonna fuck your throat until you can't talk."

Chloe hesitated, a flicker of her old self in her eyes. "Chad, wait, I don't know if..."

"Did I fucking stutter?" Chad snarled, grabbing her by the hair and forcing her to her knees. "You wanted Chad? Well, you got him. Now open wide."

Chloe whimpered, tears welling in her eyes, but she complied, parting her lips. Chad smirked, grabbing his thickening cock through the shorts. "That's a good girl. You're gonna learn your place, just like all the others."

He fumbled with the waistband, his new, larger hands clumsy with the unfamiliar task. His cock sprang free, thick and imposing, the veins pulsing with barely contained lust. He grabbed Chloe's head, forcing her down onto his shaft.

"Take it all," he grunted, thrusting into her mouth. "That's it, choke on it. You love it, don't you? You love being used by a real man."

As he fucked her face, his mind continued its transformation. Memories of Liam's life - his first crush on a boy, his coming out, his gentle relationships - were being overwritten by Chad's brutal conquests. He remembered taking a girl's virginity in the back of his pickup, laughing when she cried. He remembered cheating on every girlfriend he'd ever had, sometimes with two or three other girls at once. He remembered using his size and strength to intimidate smaller, weaker men, calling them faggots and pussies until they cried.

"Look at me," he commanded, grabbing Chloe's chin and forcing her to look up at him. "You're nothing but a set of holes to me. A warm place to stick my dick. You understand?"

Chloe nodded, tears streaming down her face.

"Good," Chad grunted, pulling out of her mouth and flipping her onto the couch. "Now spread those legs. Time to see if this pussy's still tight enough for a real man."

He ripped off her skirt and panties, positioning himself at her entrance. "You're gonna take every inch of my nine-inch cock, you hear me? And you're gonna thank me for it."

He positioned himself over her, but then paused, his nose wrinkling in disgust as he actually looked at her. "Ugh, you know, up close... you're kinda plain, aren't you?" He grabbed a handful of her mousy brown hair. "This hair is so boring. Like, office-worker boring. And your tits? They're basically mosquito bites. I like my bitches with huge fucking knockers, the kind that give them back problems."

Chloe flinched, a fresh wave of tears welling in her eyes. "I... I'm sorry?"

"Don't apologize, just fix it," Chad snapped, his ego swelling with every cruel word. "And your skin? It's so pale. You look like you live in a fucking basement. I like my girls tan, like they just spent a week in Cancun getting railed by rich dudes."

As he spoke, he watched in fascination as her body began to change. Her mousy brown hair lightened, bleaching itself into a vibrant, platinum blonde that cascaded over her shoulders in perfect waves. Her small breasts began to swell, stretching the fabric of her shirt until it was straining against two massive, perfectly round globes of flesh.

"Fuck yeah, that's more like it," Chad grunted, grabbing one of her newly enlarged tits and squeezing it hard. "Now those are some proper titties. The kind you can motorboat."

He watched as her skin darkened, taking on a deep, golden tan that looked like she'd spent hours under a tanning bed. Her waist seemed to shrink, her hips flaring out into an exaggerated hourglass figure.

"And your face," he continued, his voice dripping with condescension. "It's too... smart-looking. I don't fuck smart girls. They ask too many questions, think they have opinions. I like my bitches dumb and giggly, the kind whose only thought is how to please my cock."

Chloe's face softened, her features becoming more delicate, more vapid. Her eyes widened, taking on a vacant, glassy look. Her lips plumped up, forming a perfect pout that seemed to beg for a cock to be shoved between them.

"Much better," Chad nodded in approval. "Now you look like a proper bimbo. The kind I'd take to a frat party and pass around to my buddies."

He positioned himself at her entrance again, but paused once more. "You know what else? Your voice is too... normal. I like my girls to sound like they just stepped out of a valley girl movie from the 90s. All 'like, oh my god' and 'totally' and shit."

"Like, what do you mean?" Chloe asked, her voice suddenly higher, more breathless, tinged with a subtle California accent.

"Perfect," Chad smirked. "Now you sound like the brainless fucktoy you were meant to be."

He slammed into her, making her gasp. "That's it," he grunted, pounding into her relentlessly. "Take it, you fucking bimbo. You know you love it."

"Oh my god, like, yes!" Chloe moaned, her voice a high-pitched, breathy whine. "Your cock is, like, sooo big!"

"Fucking right it is," Chad grunted, his ego swelling with every vapid compliment. "It's the biggest cock you'll ever have, so you'd better appreciate it."

"Like, I totally appreciate it!" Chloe squealed, her massive tits bouncing with every thrust. "It's, like, the best cock ever! Way better than, like, all the other cocks I've had!"

Chad felt a surge of pride at her words. "Damn right it is. I'm the best fuck you'll ever have, and don't you forget it."

He felt himself getting close, his balls tightening. "Gonna fill you up," he grunted. "Gonna pump you so full of my cum you'll be tasting it for a week."

"Oh my god, like, yes! Fill me up with your hot, yummy cum!" Chloe squealed, her back arching as she orgasmed. "I wanna, like, have your babies and stuff!"

With a final, brutal thrust, he came, his hot seed flooding her womb. He collapsed on top of her, his heavy body pinning her to the couch.

"Damn," he muttered, rolling off her. "That was alright. Not bad for a reformed mousy bitch."

He stood up, stretching his new, muscular body. "Well, I'm out. Got a party to hit. Try not to get any smarter while I'm gone, huh?"

He grabbed his shorts from the floor, pulling them on over his still-hard cock. "Later, bimbo. Don't call me unless you're looking for a round two or you've got a hot friend who wants to join in."

He strutted out of the apartment, leaving Chloe panting on the couch, her hand already drifting between her legs. As he walked down the hallway, he caught his reflection in a mirror and smirked. "Damn, I look good," he muttered, flexing his biceps. "And I just made that bitch ten times hotter. I'm like a fucking fairy godmother of pussy."

His mind was already racing with possibilities. The blonde from his gym class, the redhead at the front desk of his apartment building, the pair of sorority girls he'd seen at the grocery store. He could make them all into his perfect bimbos, his personal harem of brainless, big-titted fucktoys.

He was Chad. The ultimate alpha male. A toxic, homophobic, sexist jerk. A womanizing cheating prick. And as he stepped out into the bright sunlight, he felt a surge of pure, unadulterated ego. He was the king, and all the pussies in the world were his kingdom.

"Time to go conquer some more bitches," he muttered to himself, already feeling his cock stir at the thought. "Life is fucking good when you're me."