#forced tf

Your father always said you needed to learn how to change a tire but you always laughed at him. Now you werent laughing. Your car is stock, all four tires blown after driving over something sharp in the road. Its mid day but the closest sign of civilization is miles away, you need to start walking now if youre going to find anyone before it gets dark and the creatures come out. Youre not built for this, youre a classic 20something twink, thin, weak, long hair, and no body hair. Youve spent years of your life getting laser to remove any sign of stubble. Youre smart, an academic, and a big beard or hairy ape arms dont go well with the imagine youre trying to potray. You want to look civilized, smart, not like these blue collar long bearded country guys. Theyre only good for one thing, the occasional hookup. After walking for a bit you come across a cabin surrounded by a few small sheds. An older man is sitting on his porch smoking a pipe. Great, hes one of those blue collar guys, big beard, pipe, baseball cap. His beard is mostly white with streaks fo brown still holding on by the cheeks and upper lip. Theres no visible skin on his lower face, no lips, nothing, everything is drowning in thick wire hairs. If the context were different youd think about trying to hook up with him but better not to, some of the guys out here are homophobic.

"Hey kid! You lost?"

Kid? Youre not a kid. "Im 26!" You say.

"26?" The guy laughs. "You don't look it. Where's your face fur?"

The word 'face fur' makes you shiver first with ick and second with something else... something nice? No. "I broke down! Can you help out?"

"Didnt your daddy ever teach you how to change a tire?" He asks. He taps a chair next to him on the porch. "Sit with me while I finish this pipe and Ill get you fixed up." You, not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, join him. "Want a pipe?"

"No, Im good thanks."

"So youre a stogie man?"

"No."

"Cigarette?"

"Nothing."

The porch reeks of tobacco from the man's pipe. You sit with him and he asks where youre from, you tell him the city. You try not to gag on the smell but the longer you sit with him the more you get used to it. You're getting hotter too so you take off your jacket leaving you in just your tank top.

"At least you broke down on a nice day." The man says.

"Yeah," you say, "could be worse." Does your voice sound different? Does it have a bit of an accent? Does it sound deeper? More manly?

The man leans in. "Sure you don't want to smoke anything?"

His face is so close to yours, you cant stop looking at his beard. Its so long, you wonder how long it took him to grow it. Your dick begins to harden in your pants. The man notices.

"Getting excited, big boy?"

The words 'big boy' shoot through you like a shot of vodka. It makes you feel great. You get even harder. Then you realize where you are and try to move to hid it.

"No, no," the man says, "show daddy." He smiles and you get harder.

"Can we just," your voice is defiantly different, it catches you off guard, "uhhh."

The man smiles. "Hard to think?"

"No! No! I'm smart!" You say, but you dont sound smart... you sound dumb. You look at the mans pipe, his beard.

The man holds out the pipe. "Take a hit, big boy. You think so hard, you should take a rest." The smoke tastes manly. The man is holding you as you smoke, one hand scratching your chin, one around the throbbing bulge in your jeans. "That's it, big boy."

You just make grunts, stupid pleased sounds like an animal. You dont notice the hair growing your arms, or the way they inflate turning into solid trunks of muscle. You realize how the sound of the mans scratching changes. When he first started scratching your chin it sounded like flesh on flesh but now it's different. You bring your hand up to your chin... is that hair?

"What are you doing to me?" You stand up, your voice deep and accented now. "Stop it!"

The man smiles. "Come on Big Boy, you love your beard." He points at a window where you can see your reflection. Its your pride and joy."

You don't recognize the man looking back at you. His expression is so dumb. His face has lines from working in the sun, his hairline is receding, and a thick bush of a beard spills out covering the lower half of his face. Its thick, dense, with a mustache covering his upper lip. Only his lower lip, your lower lip, is visible. You bring your hand up to touch it, to make sure it's real. It is. This is you. Your face is drowning in beard. You want to scream, to fight it, but with that same dead fish eyed look you watch as your hand rubs your bulge. You want to fight it, your brain wants to fight it, but your body only cares about one thing, sex.

The man, your new daddy, smiles. "Good think I put those jacks out on the road. I didnt think Id catch such a wonderful big boy. Youll be perfect." Your last memory before you fully give in is of your rubbing your bulge, looking at your new self with a dumb expression, and saying "Thank you Daddy."

When his mom remarried, Tommy was excited about having siblings for the first time. He had always been an only child, and he wanted to know what it was like to have a brother or sister he could talk to. He knew it would take time to develop a relationship with his new stepsiblings and stepfather, but he remained optimistic. On paper, Chuck seemed like a great dad, raising his two boys, Adrian and Lukas, on his own while keeping a stable job. But Tommy soon learned that, while they were the perfect family for his mother, his life at home wasn’t the picture-perfect dream he had hoped for.

It seemed like the new side of his family enjoyed putting on two fronts. On one hand, Chuck was the sweetest, loving husband to his mother. He romanced her, took her out on dates, and whispered sweet nothings about the future they were building together as a blended family. Adrian and Lukas were respectful and helpful with whatever she needed, earning her praise for being such good boys. But Tommy was certainly seeing a different side of them. Whenever she wasn’t around, Adrian and Lukas would often torment him by making him do all the chores and errands they didn’t want to do. Even though he was older than Lukas, his stepbrothers had spent years pumping iron and building their bodies into absolute tanks. In fact, if he didn’t know any better, the two of them looked like they embodied the idea of toxic masculinity. It didn’t help that they would speak such vile things to Tommy in private, calling him slurs, smacking him around, and repeating the same alpha-male, conservative, pussy-slaying bullshit they heard on those manosphere podcasts. They spoke about all the women they were sleeping with, as if it were a game to them.

Bringing it up to Chuck didn’t help either. His stepfather didn’t seem to even know that Tommy existed, or care that he had these sorts of troubles. In fact, he seemed more protective of his own sons, believing that there was no wrong that they could do. It became quite clear to the young man that his stepfather had bought into the same kind of thinking his sons had. If he had to guess, Tommy figured Chuck was the one who taught them to think like this. The gruff, older man always talked about how he wished Tommy’s mom didn’t have such a wimpy kid like him and how he was a disgrace to the family. Chuck loved to point out that he was someone who didn’t even deserve to be called a “man.” He didn’t even have a name, only being called “boy” at best, or some other heinous, vile slurs whenever his mom wasn’t around to hear. It was nothing like he had expected when he had hoped for a new family.

His complaints to his mother in private only reaffirmed her belief that “her boys just needed to bond.” So, amidst Tommy’s silent protests, she had asked Chuck to bring Tommy along for the annual boys' trip they held over the summer. Since she was going out of town for a business trip, Chuck had agreed to the request. He made sure to invite along some of the guys who usually came on the trip, including their next-door neighbors. Tommy could only guess what sort of people they were as the trip approached.

The weekend was full of those “All-American” activities, with the rest of the group enjoying a roughhouse game of football, shooting guns, and swimming in the lake. Tommy was at least enjoying his privacy in the cool water, slinking away into one of the more shaded corners of the area while he watched his stepbrothers and their friends goofing off with the water jet skis. He was hoping to wait until they had all left so he could climb out of the water in peace, but then something metallic caught his eye beneath the surface. There was a silver, glimmering sheen, like a swarm of something underneath. Tommy paddled a bit closer, only to see a cluster of glimmering tadpole-like creatures circling each other in the water. The young man reached his hand out carefully, chuckling softly to himself as he watched the tadpoles slide over his fingertips. There was a thrumming, almost electric-like quality to them, but nothing that stung or hurt him. Each time one of those small, strange creatures brushed over his skin, he could feel a thought starting to emerge from the corners of his mind. It was like a bubble pressing up from the water, forming and swelling until it burst at the surface.

Sanctuary. Home. Vessels. Seeking.

It felt strange to Tommy when those intrusive thoughts surfaced. And yet, he couldn’t seem to shake the feeling or think of anything else. From an outsider’s perspective, it was almost as if his eyes had glazed over, with a silvery film causing his vision to be a bit cloudy. He hurried over to his pack of supplies, which he had brought out here with him, and grabbed his metal water bottle. With it already empty, Tommy unscrewed the cap and scooped up all of the glimmering tadpoles in one fluid motion. The vibration seemed to shift over to his head, and he found himself stumbling out of the lake and hurrying back to the cabin. He had to find a suitable place to put them so he could observe them better. Maybe he had discovered something new, some scientific discovery that could let him escape this town, so he didn’t have to be under the same roof as his alpha-driven family.

On his way to the back door of the cabin, he passed Chuck and their next-door neighbor, Frank. The two older men were busy with the grill, laying out a wide assortment of meats, including burgers, hot dogs, and steaks. There were already quite a few empty beer bottles lying around, although neither of them looked phased by the day drinking. If anything, they barely noticed Tommy stepping by, the sopping-wet young man almost making a clean escape into the house. But Chuck snapped his fingers, glancing over his shoulder from his spot in front of the grill with a narrowed gaze.

“Boy, go grab Frank and me some more beers, will ya? And pass them out for the rest of the house. I told you, you’re only allowed to stay here so long as you keep the drinks flowing.”

A brief, silent nod, and Tommy stumbled toward the kitchen. His mind was too busy thinking about the need for VESSELS and how to find someplace suitable so they could SPREAD and INFECT. He didn’t even notice that he had pulled out a fresh pack of ice-cold beers, his hands already moving on autopilot to crack off the bottle caps. He was just about to pick them up and take them outside when his eyes fell on his water bottle sitting next to the beers. Tommy didn’t even remember when he fished it out of his backpack. But his lips curled up into a small smirk at the idea of playing a little prank. Maybe there was some way he could get some revenge on all the torment he had been facing over all this time.

Carefully holding his bottle steady, Tommy poured out the lake water until one silvery creature slipped into each beer bottle. It was perfect to CORRUPT anyone who drank down TAINTED liquid now. He grabbed a few and quickly hurried out the back porch to the two men grilling away for dinner. The young man handed over the beer bottles, his silver eyes lingering on the way Frank’s chest pressed against his shirt, and his tattoos were on full display. Tommy could feel a growing hunger in his chest, in a way that was hard to explain. But the older man seemed to catch a glimpse of his gaze, and Frank’s expression narrowed in a steely look as he snatched away the cold beers from the young man.

“Keep your eyes off me. I didn’t come on this trip to be ogled at by some little freak,” Frank spat out, before turning back to the grill to hand Chuck his own bottle. The two men clinked their beers together and took a hearty swig, already ignoring and forgetting that Tommy existed. Satisfied with their lack of interest in him now, the young man quickly moved back into the house to give out drinks to the rest of the group.

There was a pulsing sensation that seemed to make his head ache and throb a bit more with each successive step he took. Tommy grunted as he grabbed the remaining beer bottles, making his way upstairs where the rest of the guys were after their water activities. Turning the corner into the hallway, the young man was quickly blocked by a broad, heavy chest that blocked his view. His eyes slowly moved up until he was staring up at Garrett, the older of Frank’s sons who lived next door. The big, beefy man stared down at Tommy with an annoyed look in his eyes, a towel wrapped around his thick waist from having just gotten out of his shower.

“Yo, Adrian! The little bitch is out here getting in my way. What, you thought you could get a glimpse of me showering, you little perv?” Garrett growled as he pushed Tommy’s shoulder. His lips curled up into a cruel smirk as the younger man stumbled backward, almost spilling the beer bottles he had in his hands. “Careful there. You better not waste the beers my dad brought for us, or I’ll make sure you lick it up off the floor.” The barely-clothed man reached out to snatch up his bottle, only staring down Tommy as he took a deep drink from it. He practically chugged down the alcoholic drink, only pulling the bottle away from his lips to let out a big, gassy belch right in the younger man’s face.

“Get the fuck out of here, before I beat you with this beer. You’re lucky I’m not as pissed off seeing your stupid face,” he spat out, shoving the empty bottle back into Tommy’s hands. Garrett brushed past him, making sure to shove the younger man with one of his boulder-sized shoulders as he spat out some more slurs while looking for Adrian. It wasn’t until the door was slamming shut behind Garrett’s broad back that Tommy let out a shaky breath of air in relief. He carefully turned around to see if the other was gone, only to be jumpscared by the sight of his older stepbrother staring daggers at him.

Storming over to Tommy, Adrian also snatched up the other beer bottle. He rolled his eyes at the smaller, wimpier form of the younger man, only taking his own sip from the beer bottle. “Don’t embarrass me in front of the bros. It’s bad enough that Dad agreed to bring you along. Just stay out of sight and stop getting in our way.”

Tommy was left standing in the hallway on his own for a moment, and the young man could only sigh once more. He hoped he could just drop the last two drinks off and hide in his room until dinnertime. With his luck, the rest of them would just forget he was there, and he could sneak some leftovers after people had gone to bed. Making his way back down to the kitchen, he stumbled onto the scene of Lukas and the younger brother of the neighbors, Milo. The two of them were practically inseparable since the trip had started, given that they were the “younguns” of the group. But given their size and level of aggression, it was hard to tell that they were younger than Tommy. The two boys had already downed the last two bottles of beer that he had spiked, grinning at him as he walked into the kitchen.

Milo raised the empty bottle, only wiggling it in his hands as he set it on the countertop. “There you are. Took your time getting to us, huh?” The cocky young man was shirtless, having spent most of the weekend showing off his muscles and complaining about how it was “too hot to put on anything.” The jock grinned as he gestured towards the empty cardboard carrier, clearly amused that there was nothing left for Tommy to drink.

“You weren’t planning on having any, right? A sissy like you probably doesn’t even know how to handle his drinks,” Milo snorted. He began walking over towards Tommy, his eyes glimmering with a devious glint. The smaller man felt like a deer trapped in headlights, his eyes widening as the taller man stalked up towards him. In the meantime, Lukas had grabbed his metal water bottle, still sloshing full of the lake water he had scooped up earlier.

The two younger men quickly flanked Tommy and gripped his wrists firmly. Dragging him over to the kitchen island countertop, the two hoisted him onto the cold, smooth surface with relative ease, despite Tommy’s attempts to struggle against it. Lukas stood over him, while Milo was keeping him pinned down and subduing his thrashing.

“Whoa, there, dude. You just looked a little thirsty after missing out on the beer. It’s your first July 4th celebration with us. Why don’t we give you something else to drink instead, so you’re not missing out?” Lukas laughed. And before Tommy had the chance to reply, his younger stepbrother began pouring out the contents of the water bottle down his throat. His eyes bulged in surprise as the influx of liquid and silver tadpoles began flooding his mouth faster than he could swallow, and Tommy couldn’t help but thrash around in response.

His eyes began to blur, black spots appearing as water poured onto his face. He could hear the snarky, snide cackles from Lukas and Milo as they had their fun with him. And then, the overwhelming pressure was gone. There was the distinct clanking of his metal water bottle hitting the tiled floor in the kitchen, followed by two thumps of bodies falling over. Tommy coughed and spluttered up some water, managing to roll over onto his side to look over the edge. On the ground, beneath him, he could see Milo and Lukas clutching at their heads, their eyes rolled back as they convulsed and spasmed on the ground. It looked as though something was BURROWING into their brains, something quite painful. But Tommy couldn’t bring himself to care. Or fear. Or panic. He wanted to, but there was a strange feeling of calm that hovered over him. As though everything was NORMAL.

And then, he felt it. The wriggle into his head. The all-familiar pop in his brain. But the bubble was stronger, heavier. A gentle knock became a full-force, bodily slam into his mind. And Tommy’s body jolted without him expecting it. His eyes bulged, his throat felt swollen, and he tried to grasp at his sudden lack of air. As his eyes began to roll back into his head, the slim man could feel something taking over. His vision began to fade to black when the BREED needed to SPREAD infection swarmed inside his HOST's head. And that was all that was left. All he was good for.

BREED.

SPREAD.

INFECT.

HOST.

VESSELS.

SEEK.

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

When it came to, there were restraints pinning it down to the large mattress in the master bedroom. Searching through its memories, it recognized the room as Chuck’s. A name of importance. Relation. A father of sorts, but not for it. Taking in the sights carefully, it took a few moments for the eyes to adjust. There was so much to take in. The scents. The smells. The bright lights. And sensitivity along its fleshy skin.

Glancing up, there were six figures surrounding it, all undressed and displaying their own fleshy suits for it to admire. The sight was a welcome one, with the psychic presence and hive mind connecting them all. It wasn’t sure what expression lingered on its face, but it was clear from the position of the restraints that its fellow kin had hoisted its legs up in the air, exposing this body’s bare behind. The naked bodies highlighted each of their new hosts’ muscles, and it was clear that they had plenty of time to explore and enjoy their bodies. Each of them was stroking and pulling at their hefty cocks, a visual and noticeable fleshy organ that indicated attraction and arousal to each other. It took in each of their lustful expressions as they gazed upon its hole, and it drew names to faces from the memories.

Chuck. Frank. Adrian. Garrett. Lukas. Milo. Each and every one of them had been the source of torment for its vessel’s body. But now, they responded to it. Bowed to it. Worshipped it. Him. HIM.

TOMMY.

That was his name now. He was Tommy. He had always been Tommy. But now, someone new was in charge. And, with each of his spawn burrowed deep inside their minds, Tommy was the one they felt drawn to. Called to. He was meant to breed with them. To foster more offspring so they could spread. Infect. Overtake, until it was all under his control.

His normally slender and timid face shifted into something far more vicious and sinister. Curling and uncurling his new fingers, Tommy carefully spread his bound legs apart even wider, arching his back to entice his followers closer. There was very little that had to be said between them for Tommy to get what he wanted. And the moment he felt Adrian pushing deep into him, the creature practically mewled with delight at the thick, full feeling. Having these fleshy bodies was absolute perfection.

And as the crackle of fireworks began to spark in the night sky, the streaming lights filtered in from the window, illuminating the writhing mass of muscles, sweat, and beefiness. Tommy’s mind filled with pleasure and ecstasy as he was bred thoroughly by each of the men eager to lay their loads deep inside of him. This was perhaps the bonding he had been hoping for all this time. What he had desired. What he had craved.

He wanted it all.

And he wanted more.

Bit of a longer one! Wanted to capture all the hypnosis and race tf. Hope you enjoy!

Colonel Hawkins sat behind his desk, his weathered face set in a grim expression as he gestured for Garrett to take a seat. "Listen up soldier, we've got a situation that needs your attention."

"Yes sir, I'm all ears Colonel. What's the deal?" Garrett was always eager- ready to do what he needed for his country.

"There's been a...truce called with one of the major cartels. Part of the agreement is the release of some high-value prisoners, including someone close to their boss, a fella named Miguel." The Colonel tapped his fingers on his desk, “Miguel has gone missing from our custody. Officially, we don't know how."

Garrett's brow furrowed as he processed this information, his mind racing with possibilities. He shifted in his seat, the fabric of his crisp Army uniform felt comfortable against his skin. Like it belonged.

"Missing? That's not possible, sir. Our facilities are secure." Garrett couldn’t understand how such a high-value target could go missing.

“Precisely. Which is why I want you to lead an investigation into Miguel's disappearance. You'll be working with a senior investigator - Dr. Logan Thorne. He's...experienced in these matters."

Something in the Colonel's tone gave Garrett pause, but he pushed the feeling aside. If the brass needed him on this, he'd see it through, no matter what. His duty was clear.

"I understand, sir." Garrett continued, “But are you sure I’m the best for the job? I’m not experienced in this kind of operation.”

"Private, it's simple really. Your track record speaks for itself. You're one of our most dedicated soldiers, always eager to follow orders without question." Hawkins leaned back in his chair, “You see things through to the end. And I only trust another man from Indiana.”

Garrett smiled, “I appreciate it, sir. I won’t question it and I won’t let you down.”

He always viewed Hawkins with great respect. The man taking on a mentorship role for the young private. Both born in small-town Indiana, both avid baseball fans- the man was like a second father to him.

"I knew you'd say that, son. That's why you were handpicked for this job." He released Garrett's shoulder and stepped back. "Dr. Thorne wanted me to give you these." Hawkins pushed a pair of headphones towards Garrett. "These headphones contain crucial information about Miguel. They’ll be invaluable to your mission."

Garrett took the headphones, placing them on his head.

Hawkins continued. "Remember Garrett, discretion is key here. Not even your wife Sarah needs to know." Garrett nodded, a buzzing static filling his ears, "You're relieved of your other duties for the meantime and will be provided a private room. Questions, Private?"

"No questions, sir. I understand completely." Garrett's voice was steady despite the unease churning in his gut.

Hawkins nodded approvingly, a glint of something unreadable in his eyes. "Good man."

_____

Garrett stretched out on his bed and settled into the privacy of his assigned quarters, the headphones continuing to buzz with static. And then...

..."subject name: Miguel Antonio Mortez..." 

..."born and raised in Juarez, Mexico. Grew up in the volatile El Chavo neighborhood..."

..."Miguel likes fast cars. He owns a black '68 Mustang that he worked on restoring..."

..."Miguel plays acoustic guitar when he wants to relax..."

..."A skilled fighter, Miguel honed his skills brawling on the streets of Juarez..."

“Guess this is useful.” Garrett mumbled, wincing at a dull ache developing behind his eyes, “Fuck...” He yawned and felt his eyes starting to close, “So... tired...”

________

There’s a ball. A soccer ball? He stares at it and then up. Tall buildings around him. A dirt field. Makeshift goalposts. A firm kick. GOAL!

A woman’s voice called out sharply in Spanish, “¡La cena está lista!”

Garrett turns- panting, he sprints inside, catching a fleeting glance in a cracked hallway mirror. He pauses... the face of a young Mexican boy stares back at him. Dark hair, brown skin, eyes that hold a fierce determination.

_______

Garrett jolted awake, his heart pounding as he sits up. He blinks away the last vestiges of sleep, and caught sight of his reflection in the small mirror hanging on the wall opposite his bed.

The man staring back at him was unmistakably Garrett. His short blonde hair, the strong jawline accentuated by his clean-shaven face, pale skin. Relief washed over him as he mentally affirmed his own identity.

"That's right," he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. "Garrett. Born and raised in the Midwest. Played baseball, not soccer. None of that was real."

Despite the logical reassurance, a faint unease lingered. Garrett took a deep breath, steeling himself as he placed the headphones back over his ears. The unfamiliar voice filled his head once more:

..."You were born on July 12th, 1990 in Juarez, Mexico..."

..."Miguel learned to play the guitar at the age of ten from his abuelo..."

..."You spent countless hours practicing guitar riffs, strumming away your frustrations..."

..."Miguel dreamed of one day singing lead for a big time band, his voice captivating"

A sharp knock at the door jolted Garrett from his trance-like state. Before he could respond, it swung open to reveal a tall, distinguished-looking man in his 50s with salt-and-pepper hair.

"Private Garrett?" The man's voice was smooth and authoritative. "I'm Dr. Logan Thorne, the senior investigator assisting you with the Miguel Mortez case."

Garrett stood at attention, wincing as another wave of pain lanced through his skull. "Sir, yes sir. Good to meet you, Doctor."

Thorne's keen eyes lingered on the headphones. "I trust you've been reviewing the files I provided. I'm sure you find them... educational." Dr. Thorne smiles, "Tell me about yourself, Private. I like to know about the people I work with."

"I... I grew up in..." Garrett paused, "The Midwest. I think? Yeah..." His voice lacked its usual conviction, laced with uncertainty instead.

"Is that all?"

"Uh well... I-I grew up...Juarez? No, that's not right..." He grips his head, "Small town. Flyover country. Had a... a ball field, I think?" He looks up at Dr. Thorne, "I played a lot of... sports. I think baseball, but..."

"Perhaps it would be wise for you to get some rest, Private. You seem... rather disoriented at the moment."

Garrett bristled slightly at the interruption, an irrational surge of anger flaring in his chest.

"Yes sir, probably a good idea," Garrett replied.

"And private. Please continue to wear the headphones. We'll touch base later today."

Garrett closed the door to his quarters and leaned against it heavily, his mind reeling. He took a deep, shuddering breath and began to recite the facts of his life like a desperate prayer.

"I’m Garrett... From... Indiana. Born and raised in a small town. Played baseball, not soccer. Married to Sarah. Served in the U.S. Army. I am American."

He paced the room, his boots striking the floor in a staccato rhythm. "Garrett. Midwestern boy. Baseball, not soc... football...? Not from Juarez. Not a criminal." He stares at the headphones, "Loyal soldier." He places the headphones on his head, the voice reverberating in his ears.

..."You served Papi with unwavering devotion, attending to his every carnal desire..."

..."You found pleasure in submitting to his whims, craving his praise and approval..."

..."You spent long nights kneeling before him, worshipping his body with lips and tongue, relishing the musky taste of his skin and the weight of his thick shaft pulsing in your mouth...”

...“He taught you submission... broke you and exposed who you really are...”

As the relentless voice continued, Garrett felt his eyelids growing heavy. Vivid images conjured, in his mind.

"Not me... Not this... I'm not..."

The words faded into a distant hum as Garrett surrendered to sleep, his head lolling forward.

_____

He’s standing before a nude figure, muscles rippling as his large hand lazily strokes an impressive length of hard cock.

Papi.

"Eres mío, mi amor," Papi purrs seductively in a husky Spanish accent. Dark eyes gleam with lust and possessiveness.

He turns his head away from Papi, his gaze travels downward, seeing himself reflected in the large vanity mirror...

A strikingly handsome young Latin man graces his eyes. Brown skin glowing under the dim lights, eyes the color of rich chocolate framed by thick lashes, wild obsidian hair tousled artfully. His torso is lean yet defined, with a dusting of coarse black hair trailing down from his sculpted pecs to disappear enticingly below the waistband of his jeans.

______

Garrett bolts upright in bed, his heart pounding as he leapt to his feet. He stumbled towards the mirror, grasping the edge of the sink for support as he stared at his reflection with wide, terrified eyes.

"What the fuck..." he breathed, running a trembling hand through his hair. "It was just a dream. Just a goddamn dream."

Garrett stared intently at his reflection, taking in every detail. Blonde hair, blue eyes, fair skin - it was undoubtedly him. Although somewhat disheveled and unshaven. But as he gazed at his own face, a sudden flicker of doubt crossed his mind.

"Why does this feel... wrong somehow?" he muttered to himself, leaning closer to the mirror. "My skin... shouldn't it be darker? Brown maybe?" He gulps, "And my hair... wasn't it supposed to be black? Thicker?" He ran his fingers through the short, sun-kissed locks, confirming their familiar texture and length. Garrett's breath quickened as a confusing jumble of emotions flooded through him, "No, no, stop it!" he growled at his reflection, backing away from the mirror.

Without warning, the door burst open and two burly Military Police officers stormed into the room. They grabbed Garrett roughly by the arms, yanking him to his feet.

"Hey! What the hell is going on?" Garrett struggled against their grip, his heart racing with confusion and growing fear. "I'm Private Garrett, not some damn criminal!"

The MPs ignored his protests, dragging him out into the hallway. Garrett's mind reeled as he tried to make sense of the situation. Why were they treating him like this? What had he done wrong?

They shoved him into an office room where Dr. Thorne waited, his expression unreadable. The MPs forced Garrett into a chair before taking up positions on either side of the door.

"Dr. Thorne, what's the meaning of this?" Garrett demanded.

"At ease, Private Garrett." Dr. Thorne greeted him coolly, taking a seat across the table. Colonel Hawkins stood beside him, his face impassive, "This is...unorthodox, I agree. But I'm afraid we have some concerns that require us to take certain precautions."

Garrett gripped the sides of the chair tightly, his knuckles turning white. He opened his mouth to protest but hesitated, doubts clouding his thoughts.

"But I'm a soldier, aren't I? An American serviceman." His voice lacked its usual conviction. He squinted, trying to recall the specifics of his military career. Flashes of boot camp, basic training, deployed overseas...it all felt hazy, disconnected somehow, "Shouldn't I be treated with more respect? Right? I'm still... I'm a soldier... right?"

Hawkins and Thorne shared a knowing glance, a silent communication passing between them. Hawkins cleared his throat, fixing Garrett with a penetrating stare.

"The prisoner exchange has been expedited, Private. It will occur tomorrow at 0600." He produced a small pill bottle from his pocket, setting it on the table with a soft click. "These will help sharpen your concentration and recall. Take them as directed."

“No... this isn’t...” Garrett gripped his head, “Please, something isn’t right... Colonel?”

“Don’t disappoint me, son.”

His voice was cold, somewhat strained. Garrett frowned, a sense of failure welling up inside him. He didn’t want to disappoint- he was a good... soldier? Lover? Garrett shook his head.

"You must continue listening to the headphones, absorbing every detail. The information is... vital to the success of the operation."

Garrett eyed the pills warily, his stomach churning with unease. Something about their demeanor, the urgency in their voices, set his nerves on edge. He nodded slowly.

The MPs escorted Garrett back to his room, their grips firm on his arms. As soon as they crossed the threshold, they spun him around and shoved him inside none too gently. The door slammed shut behind him with a resounding clang.

Garrett reached for the handle, twisting it frantically. It wouldn't budge. Locked. Panic started to rise in his throat as the realization sank in - he was trapped. Like a prisoner... Like Miguel... He shook his head.

“Just need to complete the mission.” He whispered, “Just finish the mission...” Despite every fiber of his body telling him no, he places the headphones on his head.

..."You existed only to serve Papi, to bring him pleasure in every way imaginable. Every inch of your body was his to claim, to mark with his touch and ownership..."

..."You ached for his domination. The delicious stretch of his thick cock splitting you open, claiming you most deeply, was heaven..."

..."Being his obedient little bottom, gagging on his cock, hole stretched and leaking his cum - that was your highest purpose...”

Garrett's breathing grew heavier as he listened to the sordid details, his body responding despite his mind's resistance. With shaking hands, he swallowed several of the pills. Warmth radiates from within him and he feels compelled to strip out of his clothes.

“Fuck...” He grunted, staring at his hardening cock.  

He grips it firmly, trying desperately to focus on thoughts of Sarah, on the love and familiarity she represented. But the vivid images of Papi, of submission and raw passion, kept intruding.

"Papi... mi amor..." The words slipped out in a breathy moan before Garrett could stop them. The headphones whispered filthy promises in his ear, urging him deeper into fantasy.

He barely noticed the door burst open. Colonel Hawkins strode in followed by Dr. Thorne and two stone-faced MPs. They carried a strange object between them - a folded, nude rubber bodysuit.

Garrett gaped at the lifelike construct, his pulse racing. The suit was crafted to resemble a stunningly handsome young Latino man, with olive-toned skin and a light smattering of dark chest hair. Intricate tattoos coiled along sinewy arms and a broad, muscular back. Jet-black hair, thick and glossy, adorned the perfectly formed head.

“That...”

An intense wave of recognition crashed over Garrett as he drank in the features of the figure. It was unmistakably the man from his dream - Miguel. Garrett's breath caught in his throat.

"Que demonios es esto?" Garrett's voice cracked, desperation evident. "Why does it look like... like him? Like me...?" He trailed off, realizing the implications, "My name is... was... Garrett. Midwestern boy. Baseball. Army. Right?"

"The pills help release the necessary bodily fluids to allow for proper bonding." Dr. Thorne says to Hawkins and the MPs, "Please help Garrett into the suit."

A second later, the MPs roughly grabbed Garrett's legs, forcing them into the waiting limbs of the rubber suit. As the material enveloped his skin, Garrett gasped at the sensation - it felt almost alive, conforming to his contours. Bonding tightly to his skin... sinking into his pores...

"No please! Don't! Arghhhh." Garrett cried out, trying to pull away. But the MPs held him fast, their grips iron-tight as they slowly worked the suit up his torso.

"You see, Miguel was selected for Operation Rising Phoenix." Dr. Thorne said, "His memories, intimate details were saved. And his body was converted into this suit. He could’ve been used by an operative to go undercover."

"Unfortunately, or fortunately, the truce was made." Hawkins sighed, "But we couldn't return him in well... that state." He looked down at Garrett with pity, "So to ensure the deal can be completed, we needed Miguel back."

Garrett thrashed and bucked as the MPs forcibly pulled the rubber suit up his body, covering his abdomen and starting on his chest.

"Déjenme ir! Por favor, quiero ver a Sarah! Quiero vivir mi vida! No hagan esto!" Garrett’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as his cut cock was encased in Miguel’s uncut member, sending waves of new pleasure radiating up his spine, “Oh fuckkkkkkk..... Papí... I need you... please..." Garrett whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to block out the unwanted thoughts and sensations flooding his mind.

He opened them again to find the MPs standing over him expectantly. Looking down, he wasn’t greeted by his pale skin or light hair. His muscles leaner... more toned... skin darker... the body of Miguel. One of the MPs seized Garrett's chin, forcing his head still as he stretched the mask over Garrett's face. Garrett shuddered violently as the elastic material sealed over his skin.

"There, there. It fits perfectly." Hawkins nodded in satisfaction as he examined the encased man closely. The rubber flesh clung to his curves, indistinguishable from real skin save for a subtle sheen.

“Are you sure...”

“Colonel, the Private’s eagerness to please blends nicely with Miguel’s psyche. They were a perfect match to allow for seamless integration.” Dr. Thorne lifts up the headphones, gently placing them on Garrett’s ears, "Just relax you’ve done so well."

"Sarah... please, I'm sorry, No sé qué me pasa..." Garrett's voice broke.

He doesn’t register the men leaving. Only able to run his hands over the rubbery surface of the suit encasing his body. His fingers dug into the pliant material as he tried to ground himself, to cling to his fading sense of self.

"Mi nombre es Garrett... soy americano... army..." He mumbled deliriously, his eyelids fluttering. But the litany of his own name sounded hollow, drowning beneath the tidal wave of new memories crashing over him.

Miguel, Papi, Juarez... the fragments swirled in his mind, threatening to overwhelm his last threads of resistance. A smile forms on his face.

As the lines between his lives blurred, Garrett clung to one final, desperate thought before surrendering to unconsciousness.

“I... I'm still here... Inside. I’m still... me...right?”

______

The first rays of dawn filtered through the window, casting a soft glow over the sleeping form sprawled across the bed. As the light increased, Miguel stirred. He stretched languidly, the sheets sliding off to reveal his bare chest and toned abs.

“Mierda...”

Miguel sat up slowly, running his hands over his arms and torso, marveling at the feel of his own smooth, warm skin. Nothing but skin... his skin...

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, padding naked to the full-length mirror. Miguel turned this way and that, admiring the play of muscle under tanned skin, the intricate lines of his tattoos. A slow, sensual smile curved his lips as he appreciated his own beauty.

“Hoy es el dia.”

Colonel Hawkins entered the room flanked by MPs, “Good morning.”

He stopped short when Miguel turned toward him with a blank expression, clearly not comprehending the English greeting.

“I forgot you don’t speak English anymore.” Hawkins lamented.

Miguel squared his shoulders instinctively, his posture radiating street-honed defiance. "¿Qué mierda queréis ahora, putos?" He gestured angrily at the soldiers. "Me tenéis aquí como animal enjaulado mientras mis hermanos están fuera luchando por lo nuestro!"

"Still got that fire, eh Miguel? Must mean the conversion took properly."

_____

The heavily guarded exchange point buzzed with tense activity as Miguel was led out, his wrists shackled. His dark eyes darted around furtively, drinking in every detail. There, standing tall amidst the armed escort, was a striking figure - Papi. His chiseled features split into a radiant grin as his gaze locked with Miguel's.

"Mi amor!" Papi called out, reaching for him. "Ven acá, mi chico malo."

Miguel surged forward as far as his restraints would allow, straining towards his lover. The second the shackles fell away, he was in Papi's arms, crushing his body against the solid warmth he knew so well. The display of submission, of pure unbridled love, was an unexpected sight. But they didn’t care who saw.

"Papí..." Miguel breathed, nuzzling into the crook of Papi's neck.

Hours later, Miguel lay tangled in sweat-slicked sheets, Papi's powerful body curled protectively around him. The events of the day replayed in his mind - the confusion, the fear, the overwhelming rush of memories and sensations. But now, nestled in his lover's embrace, everything felt right. He smiled and looked up at his lover.

Miguel tilted his head to place a tender kiss on Papi's stubbled jaw. "Te amo, Papí. Soy el hombre más afortunado del mundo tenerte."

His voice was low and thick with emotion, the words flowing in their native Spanish as naturally as breathing. In this moment, lost in Papi's scent, his touch, the familiar cadence of their lovemaking... Miguel knew he was exactly where he belonged.

Steven and Peter were living proof that a dream body didn't mean an empty head. Sure, they weren't on the Dean’s list, but their grades were solid, their minds sharp enough, and their professors expected they'd end up in courtrooms — not in trouble, but in tailored suits, winning cases.

And yet, no one invited Steven and Peter for their academic potential. They were events, not guests. Every party lit up when they arrived. But Halloween? That was their high mass. Their costumes were infamous, suggestive, tongue-in-cheek, sometimes indecent — always unforgettable.

This year, they'd accepted an invite from the Delta Gamma girls — notorious for their wild, no-limits parties. Rumors of drunken dares and open-door orgies floated through campus chat threads. Steven and Peter had heard it all. And they were ready.

They made their entrance just before eleven, dressed as shirtless devils in latex and chains. The crowd went feral. Phones came out. Music swelled. Someone screamed. Game on.

By midnight, they’d already been upstairs, downstairs, in the laundry room, and maybe the pantry. One night stands? More like fifteen-minute ones. Fuck and get out, that was their motto. And when the girls were tipsy, it got even easier.

But not everyone was drunk.

Delta Gamma’s president wasn’t just sober — she was watching. She saw the way Steven grabbed wrists too tightly. The way Peter didn’t listen to the word “no.” The way consent turned into choreography.

She saw enough. And she spoke.

Not loudly. Not theatrically. Just a whisper. A curse, woven from fury, old words, and campus legends that nobody took seriously.

Until two statues stood in the hallway, frozen mid-laugh, muscles tense, grins wide. Two bodies, sculpted by gods — and now, claimed by something older.

Their limbs wouldn't move. But their minds screamed.

And then — floodgates.

Memories poured in, overwritten like a corrupted file:

Failing class after class. Getting expelled. Taking lifeguard jobs in Santa Barbara out of desperation. Sharing a one-room apartment with sand in the carpet and no future. Sucking each other off one night, just to feel something. Becoming those guys — tanned, dumb, jacked, and always horny. Locals called them “Eddie” and “Logan.” They had no idea who that was, but it sounded cool. They fucked each other, spotted each other at the gym, saved a few tourists. Rinse and repeat. Day after day. Muscle, sun, cock. Muscle, sun, cock.

There was no college. No law career. No more frat parties. No more women. Only the beach. And each other. And some tourists... And they never even wondered what had gone wrong. Because now — they were too stupid to remember.

The curse had worked perfectly. They were harmless.

Beautiful. Obedient. And blissfully, irreversibly dumb.

You were sitting in a stuffy office in a conference room surrounded by a dozen of your colleagues and a boring boss. An unremarkable Tuesday. Your thoughts were flying far away throughout the meeting. You flipped through the tape on your phone while your boss showed graphs of departments that did not concern you, talked about profitability and costs. Your gaze fell on the window, the boss's projector, on the table, the enthusiastic face of Jake Strey. This guy is weird, always trying to stand out in front of the boss and earn his trust. And now he literally catches his every word and agrees with stupid exclamations.

"So colleagues. The meeting is coming to an end. And I would like to thank Mr. Graves separately. He worked for the benefit of our company for 40 years and is retiring. On behalf of the whole company, I wish him a wonderful holiday." The conference room burst into applause and the old, plump Mr. Graves was handed a large box with a present.

"Nevertheless," the boss continued, "now the position of the head of the department will be vacant. I will hire someone who will do the best job this month." At this point, you had to strain yourself, because the boss's gaze was also directed in your direction. You didn't mind the promotion, but the extra workload didn't appeal to you, although if it's guaranteed to give you a raise, why not. You were also surprised by the expression on Jake's face: genuine discontent and jealousy – that's what was read in the eyes of this thin guy.

Well… The next 2 weeks were difficult. Overtime and heavy workloads. Recycling didn't do you any good. You lived on coffee and stress. One Friday evening, you were sitting late at night finishing a project again when you heard a modest "cough-cough". You thought all your colleagues had already left. Looking up, you saw Jake holding 2 cups of coffee.

"I'm sorry if I disturbed you. I'm working late here too today. I thought coffee would be good for both of us." You thanked Jake and took the coffee. The fragrance was amazing. With strange notes. Lavender? Hibiscus? "Of course I see you as a competitor for the position, but you still need to help your colleagues," Jake's words were soothing, but his expression was distant and slightly scared. The guy nodded and retreated to his desk.

Without giving it any importance, you went back to work. The coffee was delicious and you didn't even notice how you drained the cup. Jake was giving you sidelong glances at the time. A few minutes later, you felt a strange burning sensation in your chest, your stomach rumbled and then suddenly: "Buuurrrppp" a terrible belch left your mouth. You've never done this before. Did your body react strangely to the coffee? That's nonsense. The burning sensation did not go away, you felt yourself getting hot. Your limbs are weak, and your vision is slightly blurred... you leaned on the back of the chair and unbuttoned your tie. What the hell? You saw Jake's figure approaching you.

"Damn, I didn't think it would work so fast. Haha, but what did I expect? The mysterious potions of change from the black market do not contain complete instructions," you heard Jake's voice.

What was in that coffee? Did that bastard poison you? You tried to focus your eyes, reach for your phone, but your body wouldn't listen to you. The stomach rumbled again, but this time the intestines also moved in unison with it. You made 2 sounds at the same time. "BUUUUURRPPRUU", "PPFPFPFTTTPPPPFFFFF" - echoed through the office. You were terribly embarrassed by it.… The smell was terrible. "Haha damn.. The seller did not cheat. This elixir has been accurately described as a suitable combination for stink and stupidity." What the hell is Jake talking about? What kind of potion?

Suddenly, the fever increased, and you felt terrible pain and burning all over your body. Through the haze of vision, you could see your shirt stretching against the swelling muscles. You felt your body getting heavier and more massive. The office chair creaked under the pressure of your body. You could feel your feet starting to stretch, ripping off your office shoes. You could feel the sweat running down your huge feet, soaking into your socks, which immediately became wet... the smell of sweat from the locker room hit your nose. Then you felt your calves and shins swell and literally tore the bottom of your trousers in half. They were straining, and you could feel the muscles playing under your skin. Then the hips and buttocks. They expanded with terrifying rapidity. The seat of the chair became cramped and soaked in sweat from your buttocks in a second. Then your bulge. You felt your average penis begin to lengthen down your thigh, reaching 10 inches, and your balls became almost twice the size. At the same moment, your whole body was shaken by the amount of hormones... you were instantly aroused, soaking the front of your underpants and trousers. Your breathing became faster and with each breath your entire torso grew larger. The pectoral muscles, back and arms tore the shirt to shreds. The musky smell has intensified, coming from your now hairy armpits. Finally, the burning sensation along the ascending path reached your face and head. You felt the facial features begin to move, the bones break in order to fuse at other angles. The ears were enlarged, and the nose was rearranged inside. You felt how it became more difficult to breathe through your nose due to changes in the bones of your nose and involuntarily opened your mouth, giving your new face a slightly stupid look. Meanwhile, the fog in your field of vision has cleared, but the problem has become different. The fog in your brain has intensified. You felt your thoughts running away from you. It was getting harder to think. You saw the table on the laptop screen, but it was almost impossible to concentrate on it… The words in my head were not built into long sentences and thoughts, and strange ideas arose. You suddenly felt the urge to drink beer, lift weights in the gym and have sex in the locker room – this thought revived your penis again. The final chord was again a terrible belch.

"Bro.... Fuck.. Uh. What the hell did you do to me?" - you heard your new voice, which was very different from the rudeness and notes of the stupidity of the athlete. You jumped out of your chair and ran to the office window in your underpants to look at yourself. In the reflection, a frankly stereotypical dumb jock was looking at you. You saw Jake's grinning face in the background.

"Well.. now it will be obvious to the boss who should take the place of the head of the department. Am I obedient and smart, or are you stupid and clumsy. See you tomorrow, asshole," and Jake stormed out of the office with his things.

To be continued…

This story was written as part of a story-sharing game for Ykuri73

a few weeks later you mention that you feel like you have way more hair coming in way thicker and I tell you you're being silly, you probably just didn't notice it until now!

and you assume I must be right even though you're positive you weren't this hairy even just a day ago, and your libido suddenly feels wildly out of control but it's fine isn't it? maybe you're just a late bloomer?

forgot to post this the other day but had this idea for a set of characters details that include tf stuff under the cut lol