#maletransformation

My favorite stories of yours are the ones where some poor guy is in the wrong place at the wrong time and ends up becoming a cocky bastard (Gridirion Brew, Make Sense, Gone Fishing).

So how about a story about a needy twink looking for a cocky, dominant top… and a poor, recently engaged guy — studious, respectfull, devoted to his beautiful fiancée, — who crosses paths with the wrong person at the wrong time.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, buddy,” Adam slowly shut the door to his best man's room. “Drink some water before you pass out this time.”

“Yeah, yeah,” somebody groaned from inside. “You’re about to be someone’s husband and still sound like my mom.”

Adam shook his head, smiling as he headed toward the elevators. His bachelor party had turned into exactly what he expected: too much drinking, too much yelling, and the people he loved most acting like complete idiots together... He’d loved every second of it.

“Wouldn’t trade those idiots for anything,” Adam muttered as he stepped into the elevator, scrolling through reels Claire had sent him.

The doors had barely started closing before hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway.

“Wait! Hold it!”

“Got you.” Adam stuck his arm out automatically.

“Oh, thank god,” the stranger breathed, his eyes lighting up the moment he saw Adam. “You seriously just saved my evening. I was starting to think I’d have to go upstairs alone.”

Adam laughed awkwardly, “I think you might’ve misunderstood something, I’m not looking for…”

“Shhhhh.” The guy stepped closer. “That’s okay. You’re gonna make me feel really fucking good tonight, stud.”

Adam blinked. “What?”

“Name's Nico,” he said lazily. “Don’t ruin this for me.”

Before Adam could answer, Nico leaned forward and kissed him. Adam's hands came up to shove him away, but he froze.

“I… sorry, I think you got the wrong...”

Then Adam looked at him again, words catching in his throat. His eyes dropped to Nico’s ass in those tight black jeans.

"You like?"

“Oh...” Adam swallowed hard. “No, I... I shouldn’t…” His thoughts raced. “I’m not into guys. I’m getting married…”

“Mhm.” Nico stepped closer again. “Go ahead, baby.”

“Oh fuck…” Adam panted suddenly as his hand grabbed a fistful of Nico’s ass.

Nico smiled instantly. “There you go.”

Nico's hands slipped beneath Adam’s shirt, cool palms dragging over his stomach and chest before squeezing a growing pec. Adam’s breath caught instantly, the kiss turning rougher before he even realized it.

“Mmm… fuck,” Nico sighed against his mouth.

Adam groaned, fingers kneading the firm curve of Nico’s ass, while rough stubble grew along his jaw with every slow squeeze.

“You’re really into this now.”

“No… Nico, I can’t…” Adam broke away, face flushed, hands still on Nico's ass. “Jesus Christ… I’m getting married…”

“Shhhh.” Nico smirked, sliding his hands up Adam's shirt and through the hair spreading across his chest, “Oh my god,” Nico breathed. “You feel so fucking good already.”

“Fuck…” Adam gripped his ass harder as nails scratched down his back. “I need dis…” The words hit his ears wrong. “No… what de hell...?”

"Follow me, big guy."

And he did. The second the elevator doors opened, Adam followed. Right to Nico's room. The guilt twisted hard through his stomach.

“Claire...” Adam shuddered. “Can never know... about dis… fuck… she can’t…”

"Oh she never will." Nico giggled and pulled Adam into his hotel room.

Clothes were quickly discarded and Adam groaned as Nico's smooth bare skin pressed against his increasingly bulkier, hairier, and sweatier form.

“Fuck…” Nico’s hands slid over the thickening muscle in Adam’s arms, “I needed a man like you tonight.” He buried his face against Adam’s increasingly hairier pit and inhaled. “Mmm… you smell incredible.”

With a grunt, he shoved Nico against a wall, hand wrapping around his bare ass. Warm skin flexed beneath his palm, impossibly soft without the denim in the way... smooth, firm, and perfect in a way Adam had never thought about another man's ass before.

“Oh fuck…” Adam groaned shakily against Nico’s throat. “Ya Allah… you're drivin' me crazy…”

Nico smiled lazily while grinding up against him. “Mmm. Been thinking about you fucking me since the elevator…”

The words hit Adam hard and Claire’s face flashed through his mind again... Unaware her fiancé was naked in a hotel room with another man. The guilt swelled, but Adam still shoved Nico onto the mattress.

“Yeah…” Adam breathed heavily. “You... like dis? You want dis?" Adam climbed over him, their eyes locking as dark brown rings spread slowly through Adam’s blue irises.

“Fuck…” Nico's hands slid across Adam’s sweaty, hairier pecs, “That’s it… come here, big guy…”

Nico shifted and rolled onto his front, raising his bare ass against Adam's throbbing cock. Adam’s breathing turned ragged, stomach twisting hard. He wasn't this kind of man... He was Claire's dependable fiancé. Her best friend. Her future husband... Not the man currently grinding his cheating cock against another man’s ass.

“Fuck…” Adam tightened his grip on Nico’s hips. “Dis isn’t me… 'uqsim, hadha lays 'ana." Adam froze... that language... he didn't...

"Huh? Wh... fuck... Wh-what did you say?" Nico smirked and looked over his shoulder, "Oh fuck..."

Adam felt it before he saw it. His cock throbbed and grew to a size beyond anything Adam ever possessed. His cock head emerging from a sheath of foreskin he knew shouldn't be there.

"Dere is no way..." He whispered, "It's so..." He moaned as he grew another inch, cock now pressing against Nico's tight entrance.

"Please... I need it." Nico begged, "It's all I need tonight."

Adam gasped suddenly as his pecs filled with muscle. And as they did, his new chest hairs suddenly curled longer and darkened toward black against his heavier muscle.

“Fuck…” Claire used to fall asleep with her head against his lean chest. But these heavier pecs were damp with sweat and dark curling hair now, nothing like the body she loved. “Ya Allah… look at dis… it just keeps gettin’ thicker…”

“Mmm…” Nico moaned, glancing back at him.

“Oh fuck… what’s dat smell?” Adam grimaced.

“That's… you big guy."

“Mustaheel…” Adam muttered, lifting an arm and grimacing at the thick musk clinging to his sweat-soaked, matted pit hair, “Y-you like dis…?”

"Fuck… yeah. Smell like a real man… mmm, so fucking hot…" Nico whimpered.

Adam shuddered hard at the words. Claire used to steal his hoodies because they smelled clean and comforting. She would’ve recoiled from this heavy masculine musk pouring off him now.

"You're perfect..." Nico groaned, pressing his ass against Adam's erection, "Just... fuck me already."

“Wallah…” Adam nearly obliged, but Claire’s smile flashed suddenly through his mind, "What de fuck is wrong wit me?”

He dragged a shaking hand through his hair, catching on something unfamiliar along his cheek. He touched his jaw again instinctively and recoiled. Stubble. Thick, perfect stubble. He'd always joke about never being able to grow a real beard. Claire always told him she loved his clean-shaven look.

"How de fuck....?" He watched as dark hair thickened across swelling forearms and olive blotches crept slowly over pale skin, "Wallah?"

The mirror caught him briefly and he froze. Damp blond hair darkened toward black while brown swallowed the blue in his eyes. Those eyes Claire adored. The hair she loved threading through her fingers.

"I... I want you inside me..." Nico moaned, "J-just..."

Adam looked down and back to the mirror. The man staring back at him still carried traces of Adam in places, but not enough. Not enough for his friends or best man to recognize him. Barely enough for Claire. Even his own mother would hesitate… And panic rose in his chest. He just wanted to go back downstairs, back to his friends, back to the man Claire loved, back to being Adam again. Because right now, Adam didn’t feel like Adam anymore.

He grunted suddenly before he could even process that thought. His cock leaked as a low groan vibrated deep through his chest before he could stop it.

“Ya Allah…” His rough hands spread Nico’s ass cheeks. “You’re gonna take all dis for me, yeah?” The words hadn’t felt chosen. Neither had the smug grin slowly pulling across his face while his heavier body settled more naturally over Nico.

“Mmm… there you are...” Nico whispered softly, sounding relieved.

He couldn't hold back any longer. With a guttural growl, he buried his cock deep into Nico's ass. The twink let out a choked cry, back arching sharply as he was impaled.

Thrust.

Dense muscle any gym bro would be proud of settled over him in all the right places. Stronger hands pinned Nico down instinctively while his pace roughened.

“Fuck… ya Allah…” He stared down at himself breathlessly. “Bro… look at dese… fuck… Havin’ a body like dis feels so fuckin' good…”

“Mmm… trust me...” Nico whimpered. “Feels even better underneath you.”

Thrust.

Warm olive swallowed the last pale traces across his skin while heavy musk and cheap cologne clung permanently to his body.

“Mmm… such a slut... for my scent.” He grunted.

“Fuck…” Nico whimpered. “I wanna bury my face in your pits so bad…”

Thrust.

The last traces of his old facial features disappeared forever behind the thick beard, dark brown eyes, and a permanent cocky grin devoid of his usual warmth.

“Mmm… dat’s right,” He smirked when Nico stared up at him breathlessly. “Keep lookin’ at me like dat while I fuck you…”

Thrust.

“Wh-what’s your name, big guy…?”

“Kareem,” he answered immediately.

“Mhmm… that name...is... always popular…”

“Den scream it for me."

Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.

Kareem slapped Nico's jiggling ass, “Mmm… dat’s right, habibi… take it,” he groaned smugly, "Fuck... Dis hole was... made for my... fat Arab cock... wasn't it?"

Thrust, thrust, thrust, thrust...

Kareem grunted, pace quickening. The engagement ring felt uncomfortable around his swollen finger, so he instinctively pulled it off and tossed it somewhere in the room.

“Mmm… fuckin' slut…” Kareem groaned, "Ya Allah… look at dis… all dis fuckin’ muscle… you fuckin' love it.” He slowed down, "You want me to finish?" He teased, "Want Kareem to fill you?"

"Pl-please..." Nico moaned into the mattress, "Kareem... oh fuck!"

"Ya Allah… you needed dis dick so bad.” Hands squeezing Nico’s hip harder. “Slut gets one real Arab guy smellin’ like dis on top of him and forgets his own name…”

"Kareem!" Nico moaned, "Kar... Kareem... oh fuck... please..."

Kareem buried himself deep inside Nico's ass, followed by a guttural roar as his cock erupted, flooding Nico's insides with thick, hot seed. 

"Take it all, bitch... fuckin' take it!" he growled, his body shuddering with the force of his climax.

As the last pulses subsided, Kareem collapsed forward, his sweaty chest pressing against Nico. His softening cock still inside Nico. And Kareem's eyes closed.

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

He woke slowly beneath tangled sheets, groaning as dense muscle shifted across his chest and arms. He scratched at the dark hair on his chest, his nose twitching at the scent of sweat, cologne... of him. For a few moments, he stared at his body, processing the sight.

“Ya Allah…” Kareem smirked to himself, “Dat twink ain’t ever recoverin’ from me…”

“Oh, you’re awake.” Nico glanced up from his phone. “Yeah... you're one of my best works yet...”

“What da fuck does dat mean?”

“Nothing.” Nico shrugged casually. “Anyway, you should leave... like now.” The words landed and the larger man froze.

Kareem blinked, sitting up slowly. “W-wait…” Uncertainty cracked faintly through the swagger for the first time. “Where do I go? What should I...?”

“Always the same questions.” Nico smirked, unable to recall the number of times he'd heard them, “I dunno. There’s a gym down the street? Download Grindr? Yeah... You’re hot. Someone’ll take you in.”

“Dat’s it?”

“I don’t really care.”

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

Kareem stared in the mirror of a public restroom, wresting with the sense that he was supposed to be somewhere else doing something important. But without a phone, wallet, or anything else, he was lost.

But then he caught him. Some twink washing his hands, staring at him. And Kareem knew that look. The lust... A cocky grin spread across Kareem’s face.

“Mmm… you keep lookin’ at me like dat, I’m gonna start thinkin’ you want somethin’.”

The guy flushed immediately. “S-sorry, I just…”

Kareem smiled lazily. Cute. Nervous. Kareem would have him wrapped around his finger easily.

————

“Are you sure ? Really that’s what you want ? That’s what he wants ?” The old man asked me. “If you don’t believe eive me ask him yourself. He’s dead set on this.” I responded.

“He’s right”. We both turned our heads. Mike was standing at the doorway of the bathroom now. “It’s what I want. Everything he said is true.”

The old man laughed. “Normally I only do things like this as a punishment but my dear man. You just want it ! Fine. Take your seat in the spot light !” Mike walked towards me nervously and kissed me before taking his place right in front of the camera. The old man smiled “well “big guy”, here goes nothing !” And with that a bright light went off in the shop. Blinding everyone’s vision for a split second. And when everything came back into vision, Mike was no longer standing there. But in his place was. Large hairy body builder of a man.

“Well I think it worked ! If I do say so myself!” The old man smiled. He pulled the negative out of the back of the camera which held the original copy of Mike. He held it to me “You know how to make this permanent for him now……”

——————

Back at their apartment Mike and his boyfriend now has to get used to the new normal. Mike was now an extremely large hairy muscular man who took up way more space than he used to. He thundered through the apartment like an animal and made loud noises like one too. What was even more was that he wasn’t even aware he was doing any of it. Nick watched as his boyfriend just lumbered about the about the apartment. He had to admit. As much as he caught the change at does the couldn’t help but love the idea of having this huge muscle beast living him now. Sure he stunk like a sweaty gym and sweat like no tomorrow. He was eating constantly but there was just something about him that nick couldn’t help but love watching. The downside though was that it was impossible to me to carry to conversation with Mike now. Half of what he said made no sense to Nick anymore. It was all bro talk.

The shoe store was another escapade to have to have to deal with. They had to find something to fit Mike now. The clerk didn’t know how to respond when Mike just started at him dumbly when asked what his size was and Nick shrugged his shoulders because he had no clue. They two were led to a bench where Mike was sat down and a massive foot was placed on the sizer.

Looking down Mike furrowed his brow. Numbers were so hard for him now and he rubbed his forehead. Nick was astounded. 15 wide. Damn. He really was massive now. The clerk went to get a large size of trainer shoes for Mike and Nick ended up choosing something for Mike that would fit a gym junkie. After all. He needed something that would fit his needs body type and personality right ? It’s not like he would be wearing dress shoes anymore.

On the way back to the apartment they passed the photo shop and Mike stopped. For the first time since the change, Nick actually understood him for one outside of the obnoxious bro talk “let’s go in”. Curious not sure why he would want to go back in to the store, Nick followed him. The old man was still behind the counter. He looked at the two and smiled. “Back so soon ?” Mike just smiled. Nick was confused because it seemed like the two already had a conversation just based on the way they were looking at each other.

The next thing Nick knew, he Mike jumped out of the way as the old man pointed the camera directly at him and took a picture.

“What did you just do to me !!!” Nic screamed and ran to the mirror. After seeing his reflection he slowly started taking a step back. He had been changed. No longer was he the thin or shy looking as before. Replaced for everyone to see was a shirt covered muscular cubbish man. One that looked dim in the eyes. He looked as if he’d done too many poppers! He heard a rustle and looked at the old man as his negative picture was handed to Mike who grinned as he pulled out his own original picture. Mike spoke to him and now made perfect sense. “Time to make this our new normal” and with that he ripped both pictures in half causing the bright light to appear. Sealing them in their glamour.

Nick couldn’t stop looking at his boyfriend Mike with thirsty eyes as he flexed for him. Drooling constantly as his boyfriend was a walking piece of meat. He was everything he could have dreamed of. He was obsessed with him. He couldn’t think of anything else ! Everything Mike told him to do he obeyed like a good servant boyfriend would. Mike was the dominant owner in the relationship and he made sure Nick knew it. Forcing Nick to accept him in all orifices. Worshiping every inch of his muscular form. Sure Mike wasn’t that smart but he made sure that Nick was a few notches dumber on that scale to make sure he wasn’t outsmarted in anyway. He wanted to make sure Nick was the perfect hairy dumb sub he needed and he got exactly that. In thought and looks. The only thing Mike hated was that he put off forcing this change on the two of them sooner.

Tyler adjusted his gloves, flexing his biceps as he stepped out of the gym. The burn of his afternoon workout still coursed through his veins—just the way he liked it. He had a couple of hours before his shift at tonight’s concert, enough time to shower, eat, and mentally prepare.

Being a security guard for rock concerts wasn’t exactly glamorous, but it paid well, and Tyler liked the intensity. Drunken fans, mosh pits, and rowdy crowds gave him plenty to do. Tonight, he was working for Ambrose, the controversial chav rock star whose concerts were always wild.

By the time Tyler arrived at the venue, the arena was already buzzing with excitement. The crowd packed in tight, chanting Ambrose’s name. The man was a phenomenon—tracksuits, gold chains, and an attitude that screamed untouchable. His voice, rough and commanding, made fans hang onto every word.

Tyler stood at his post near the stage, scanning the crowd. The bass thundered through his chest as Ambrose strutted across the stage, belting out lyrics that sent the audience into a frenzy. Lights flashed, smoke curled through the air, and for two hours, chaos reigned.

When the show ended, Tyler received his usual post-concert assignment: escorting a lucky fan backstage to meet Ambrose. Tonight’s fan was a starstruck young man, barely able to contain his excitement.

“Ambrose himself invited me,” he gushed as they walked down the corridor. “This is unreal.”

Tyler had done this plenty of times, but something about the atmosphere backstage felt… different. The usual noise and bustle were subdued, the air thick with something he couldn’t name.

The door to Ambrose’s lounge opened, and the man himself stepped out. But he wasn’t grinning or throwing out his usual cocky remarks. He simply stared.

Tyler felt it instantly.

Ambrose’s eyes weren’t normal. They were spirals—swirling, mesmerizing loops of motion, drawing him in. They shimmered, pulling him into their depths. Tyler wanted to look away, knew he should…but he couldn’t. Neither could the fan.

The spirals tugged at his mind, whispering something he couldn’t quite hear. His body felt light, his thoughts sluggish. He was vaguely aware of Ambrose stepping closer, speaking in a voice smooth as silk.

“That’s it,” Ambrose murmured. “No need to fight it.”

Tyler barely registered the words. His job, his workout routine, his life—everything faded. Nothing mattered except those spirals.

And then, there was nothing at all.

Tyler woke up the next morning feeling… off. His body felt normal, but his mind was clouded, like he was trying to remember a dream that kept slipping away. Flashes of last night flickered in his head—Ambrose, the fan, those swirling eyes—but it all felt distant, unreal.

Shaking it off, he climbed out of bed and went about his routine. But as he pulled on his usual hoodie and jeans, something nagged at him. His reflection in the mirror looked too plain. Too… dull.

For some reason, he couldn’t stop thinking about getting a tattoo.

He’d never seriously considered it before, but now, the thought consumed him. Something bold. Something loud. Maybe a thick black tribal pattern, or even Ambrose’s logo—yeah, that’d look sick.

Before he knew it, he was sitting in a tattoo parlor, rolling up his sleeve as the buzzing needle pressed into his skin. The pain barely registered. It felt right.

As the days passed, the urge didn’t fade. It grew.

One tattoo turned into two, then three. His arms filled with designs—bold lettering, thick tribal lines, even a crown on his hand like Ambrose had. The idea of jewelry, too, started to take hold. A heavy silver chain, glinting under the lights, felt like something he needed. And not just one—bracelets, rings, more chains followed. The weight of them felt good, powerful.

His wardrobe changed without him even realizing it. Tracksuits, sneakers, caps—everything Ambrose wore now called to him. And his speech…

At first, it was small. A word here, a phrase there.

“Nah, bruv, that’s mad,” he caught himself saying at work one day.

He never used to talk like that. But it felt natural. Comfortable. Soon, his sentences became littered with slang, his tone shifting. He sounded… different. Chavvy.

And he liked it.

Weeks passed, and the old Tyler faded, replaced by something new. Something better. His body was covered in ink, his neck weighed down with silver, his voice carrying the same cocky lilt Ambrose had.

One night, as he adjusted his newest chain in the mirror, he saw something strange.

For just a second—just a flicker—his eyes weren’t his own.

They swirled.

A deep, mesmerizing spiral.

He grinned.

Yeah. This was who he was meant to be.

When Tyler arrived at work the next weekend, the other security guards did a double take. He strolled into the venue in a sleek black tracksuit with silver stripes down the sides, his thick chain gleaming under the fluorescent lights. His tattooed hands adjusted his cap, and as he smirked at his coworkers, his diamond tooth—when had he gotten that?—flashed under the dull overhead glow.

“Oi, lads, what’s good?” he greeted, his voice carrying a distinct chav drawl. “Gonna be a proper mad night, innit?”

There was an awkward silence.

Mike, a fellow guard who had worked with Tyler for over a year, frowned. “Uh… dude? What’s with the accent?”

Tyler blinked. “Wotcha mean, bruv? Ain’t nuffin’ wrong wiv the way I talk.”

The way he said it was so effortless, so natural—like he’d spoken that way all his life. But Mike and the others weren’t buying it.

“You didn’t used to talk like that,” another guard chimed in, looking him up and down. “And, uh… when did you get all that ink?”

Tyler scoffed, crossing his arms. “Man’s gotta evolve, yeah? Can’t be some dry bloke all me life.”

The others exchanged glances. Mike stepped forward, lowering his voice. “Ty, is everything okay? You’ve changed a lot in just a few weeks. You’re acting like a completely different person.”

Tyler rolled his shoulders, brushing him off. “Bruv, I feel better than ever. Don’t know wot you lot are on about.”

Before Mike could press further, a voice crackled over the radio, calling them to their positions. Tyler grinned.

“Right, time to get to work, yeah?”

The others hesitated, but eventually followed, though the tension remained.

The following week, Tyler found himself staring at his reflection, feeling like something was still missing. The tattoos, the chains, the speech—he was almost where he needed to be. Almost.

That’s when the idea hit him.

By the next day, his hair was clipped into a sharp high-and-tight fade, the sides shaved close to the scalp. The top, however, was dyed a striking electric blue. It was bold. It was loud. It was perfect.

The first time he stepped outside, the stares only made him grin wider.

His transformation was nearly complete.

But deep in his mind, a whisper echoed—smooth, hypnotic, undeniable.

He still wasn’t finished.

Not yet.

Tyler adjusted his newest addition—a row of small, gleaming diamonds embedded just above his right eyebrow. His reflection in the mirror grinned back at him, teeth flashing diamond, his blue-dyed hair perfectly shaped into the high-and-tight style that felt so… right. His tracksuit, crisp and expensive-looking, draped over his heavily tattooed frame. His chains clinked together as he moved.

He was complete. Almost.

The last few nights, he’d dreamt of Ambrose—those spiraling eyes, that voice, smooth as silk, calling him back. He no longer questioned the pull. He no longer fought the whispers in his mind.

Tonight, he wasn’t here to work security. He was here for something more.

When he arrived at the venue, the other guards barely had time to notice him before he veered away from his usual entrance. No uniform. No radio. No earpiece. He didn’t need them anymore.

Instead, he strode straight toward the backstage doors.

No hesitation.

No doubt.

The crew backstage didn’t even try to stop him. They knew.

They had been expecting him.

As Tyler stepped into Ambrose’s private lounge, the air felt thick with something unseen. A low hum vibrated through his chest—not from the concert outside, but from something deeper, something inside him.

And there, waiting for him like a king awaiting his loyal subject, stood Ambrose.

Tracksuit gleaming, chains heavy, grin cocky as ever. But it was his eyes that truly welcomed Tyler.

Those swirling, endless eyes.

“You’re finally here, bruv,” Ambrose said, voice dripping with satisfaction. “Knew you’d come ‘round proper.”

Tyler’s breath hitched as the spirals filled his vision, filling every part of his mind with warmth, with certainty.

There had never been a choice.

He belonged here.

He belonged to Ambrose.

And as he knelt, head bowing instinctively, he heard Ambrose chuckle.

“Yeah, mate. You’re one of us now.”

Tyler grinned.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Oi bruv, listen up!

You feel it, yeah? That pull, that fire inside tellin’ ya you were made for more. Made to be elite. Made to be chav. Ain’t no denyin’ it, mate—this is your callin’.

Ambrose’s crew don’t take just anyone, nah. We take the chosen. The ones ready to level up, drip out in ice, and live like proper kings. You seen the signs—new ink, heavy chains, that fresh trim. You ain’t the same bloke you was, and that’s good, innit?

Come step up. Join the mandem. Feel the power, feel the respect. You’ll get the ice, the status, the life you was always meant to have. No more wastin’ time, yeah?

It’s time to be who you really are.

"So this will let me switch bodies?" I asked.

"Yes, it will. But you must be careful. The effects are irreversible after three hours." The elderly man said. He sat on a stool behind a cluttered counter in the junk-filled shop.

I stood there, all 350 pounds of sweating bulk, stuffed into a tight hoodie and even tighter sweatpants. My pale skin was streaked with stretch marks, and my messy hair was greasy from not washing recently. Even the glasses I peered through were greasy, smudged, and gross.

"How does it work exactly?" I asked, breath coming out raggedly, whether from excitement or exertion was anybodys guess.

"The potion is a soul salve. When you drink it, your soul absorbs it. Until the third hour is finished, anyone you touch will swap souls with you. Anyone, mind you. And until the potion wears off, everyone will remain swapped until you are 'sealed' into your last body at the time." The old man explained.

"So, I'll swap back at the end? That doesn't sound like it is worth it." I said, disappointed.

"You misunderstand, boy. You will remain in the last body permanently. Everyone swapped in between goes back to their original body. And your final victim? They get trapped in your body forever. Whether for cruelty, or for revenge, or your own benefit I care not. So long as you understand the consequences." The man warned.

"I see... well, in that case. I'll take it!" I said excitedly.

"Very good. Enjoy your evening, boy." The man said, and took my cash. I grasped the bottle tightly, and departed the store.

I knew the perfect place to use this. There was a party tonight, something I would never be invited to, but I knew how to get in. My roommate happened to be invited. He's a jackass, and not my type at all. He's a lot more fit than I am, for sure, but he was still nowhere near as hot as any of my targets.

You see, I didn't just want to get a smaller, healthier body. I wanted the cream of the crop. The best body I knew of on campus. And that was the baseball team. I knew exactly what I was after. I went to their games just to see their tight, supple asses through those uniform pants. Their toned chests and arms just hidden beneath their jerseys, but still as tantalizingly exciting for me to imagine.

I see them on campus, in classes, at the dining hall, and elsewhere and I want it. I want what they have. Beautiful bodies that don't get winded walking from one class to the other. And the guys I could score with one of their bodies? Lord, I could cum just from the thought.

In particular there was one guy I wanted bad. He was a junior just like me. Peter Whitt. He was the one for me. Skin with just a nice tan, minimal hair. His hair was short and styled, and he even had a mustache, giving him a slight dad-vibe that made me swoon. I never saw his abs clearly, but it was obvious he was in peak condition.

And he was going to be at the party. So I knew I had to be there too. I looked down at the bottle in my hand as I sat in the chair by my desk. I was clad in pajamas, snacks and drinks around me as if I was going to have another gaming session alone tonight. My dickhead roommate, Jake, was changing and spraying a noxious cloud of axe all over himself. He was short, with a stupid blocky-hair cut that made his head look like a square. He was pale, but I guess because he was on the wrestling team he counted as "cool" somehow.

Well, I'd see how it felt in a moment to be cool, I guess. I tossed back the bottle, swallowing the contents quickly, only briefly tasting a bitter taste, almost like brussel sprouts liquified. But as it settled in my gut, I felt a sensation spread through my body. It was like a warmth blooming until it filled my entire being. I smirked, and looked at Jake.

He might have heard me from behind, but he was used to disregarding me. He definitely didn't expect me to poke him in the back.

A flash, pops of light across my vision, and then I was settled. I felt so different. My mouth had the taste of cotton candy. Yuck. Jake loved his cotton candy vape. But I looked down and saw a much leaner body below. I was wearing his stupid clothes. I may be a fat slob, but I'm still aware that he has a poor sense of style.

I spun around to see my body staring at me in shock.

"What the fuck is happening?!" My voice screeched. I ducked backwards.

"Look Jake, you can sit tonight out. Play some video games. Have some snacks. I'm taking this body for a spin. But I promise you this. You will get your life back. Don't fuck with me. And if you do, you won't like what happens." I threaten.

"Wha-what? Where are you going?" He asked, tears starting to form in my former eyes.

"To the party, of course!" I said, and grabbed his jacket before slipping out the door. I didn't care I was wearing his stupid face and body like an outfit. I was actually able to move much faster, which was good because I'd like to get to the party soon. It would have already started, and I didn't want to chance getting stuck in Jake's body forever.

I could have taken Jake's car, but it seemed pointless. The party was just off campus on the other side of the gym. I was able to speed walk there and arrive in less than 20 minutes. Besides, I wasn't exactly concerned about returning Jake to our room. I just needed to body hop until I got Pete.

The party was in full swing when I walked up. People called out their hellos to me, and something happened that I should have immediately expected. Some guy with buzzed hair, and as wide as a truck came up and clapped a welcoming slap into my hand. Of course, the touch immediately swapped us.

I blinked the pops of light out of my eyes again, and found myself feeling like an ox. I was massive, but in a muscly way. Jakes face was flushed with surprise, but I turned and swept into the house party before he could trap me or make a big scene. Inside, I realized this was going to get hairy.

The house was old, and the halls were quite narrow. People milled about, sat on any surface they could find, or were just standing and chatting. And this current body, while threaded with muscle, was not lithe or slender to avoid bumping anyone. And sure enough, within a minute of making that realization a tall, slender girl knocked into my arm. I was suddenly staring down at the top of two breasts poking from a top and just beyond them was the studly man I just was staring at me in shock.

I again moved past and tried to dodge into the kitchen to find Pete, but when I came through, I walked right into a group of friends play-wrestling each other. Suddenly I was in some soccer boys body, and then I blinked and I was in some chicks body who they tumbled into. I slipped off the counter she had been sitting on and wove my through the mess and stepped into the backyard.

I was scanning for the baseball boys when someone came up and pinched my ass. I was about to turn but the swap already took place. I was now in some guys body I didn't even see before swapping. I just knew I had a dick again. And then I was pushed to the ground but before I hit the deck I was swapped again, this time I was in some black guys powerful frame. I was about to walk away when the calamity caught up. Panic was sweeping through the party as people started to realize how swapped up everyone was getting.

I started to regret choosing to do this at a party, and this was just minutes into being here. I couldn't get a clear sight, but in the scuffle of bodies and panic, I was swapped several more times. Each time, more voices screamed and yelled in fear. Just by swapping, I had moved from the middle of the chaos to the side. When I came to the final time, I was in some scrawny boy's body and I was able to back away.

And that's when I saw him. Pete! He was standing with some friends looking at the chaos in confusion. I started to walk towards him, hoping he wouldn't suspect a thing. Right as I was about to put a hand on him, he got spooked by sirens blaring from the front of the house.

Fuck! The cops were already here. Someone must have called, whether it was someone here or a neighbor. I sprinted after him, as he was dashing through the backyard and over a fence. I may have been in a much leaner body than my own, this was obviously not a very athletic guy. I was wheezing, and barely managed to toss myself over the fence too. Damn, he was fast! The guy was already across the street and seemed to be headed towards campus.

Just then I heard someone else rushing up, and panicked - was it a cop?! No, the shape was tall and well built, but it was just another student. In his haste and probably due to the dark, he collided with me and we swapped. I took this as serendipity, because now I had someone with power and speed. I took this body to max speed, leaving the kid in my body behind to squeal in terror.

I ran full-tilt, and was able to get Pete back in sight. He had no idea someone was following him, and because he thought he was in the clear, he had dropped to a walking pace. I figured running at him now would just cause him to get spooked, and I didn't want to get into some drawn out chase. Instead, I slowed to a walk, trying to keep my pace just a bit faster than his own.

I realized from pulling the wallet of the guy I currently inhabited that I was someone named Juan currently. From the feel of his torso this wasn't a bad body. I just didn't want to lose sight of my objective. And I had also lost track of time. Looking at the phone, I realized I was about halfway through the three hour limit. I didn't worry too much. I felt like a predator, and my prey was in reach of my lunging attack.

Luck turned against me though when Pete suddenly entered a dorm I wasn't familiar with. I jogged up when he passed through the door to try and catch it but no dice. I waited for a while, and finally, thankfully, someone came out and I was able to slip in. I scanned the lobby, lounge, and even the common bathroom on the first floor. I couldn't find anyone, let alone Pete.

I heard voices and other tell-tale signs that people were in their rooms, and such, but that hardly helped me in the moment. Then it occurred to me... the building was fairly tall. The elevator! Sure enough, I went to the elevator and saw the floor indicator was still on "5th Floor." I had no other lead, maybe Pete had gone up to that floor.

As the elevator was summoned down, I tapped my foot, this was getting stressful. The time was running down, now. I had somehow taken another half hour just to get in and then search the first floor. By the time I got to the 5th floor, I was down to about 50 minutes until the potion effects ended. Again, decent body, but I had my eyes on the prize.

When the doors opened, I immediately began combing all the common areas. The lounge and study rooms didn't turn up anything aside from a few assorted students working or watching TV. Then, I tried listening at each door. There weren't that many, I figured. Maybe I'd get lucky.

Some doors were silent, and then others were loud, but most were fairly muffled and didn't offer me much information.

Finally, 8 minutes on the clock. I was panicked. I didn't want to be Juan. I really wanted Pete. And as if to answer my prayer, I heard a distinctly loud "Pete!" cry out. Was it my Pete? I didn't have a better lead. I approached the door, and knocked.

"Who is it?" That was definitely Pete's voice.

"RA! Open up!" I cried through the door. That would make them move. RA's could usually scare people out of their rooms. Sure enough, I heard the bed creaking inside, and some shuffling and muted conversation. Finally, with just 3 minutes to spare, the door opened. I didn't wait, I just reached through and grabbed the forearm of the person standing there.

Fuck.

Fuuuuuck.

That wasn't Pete. Even as I was still blinded with the popping and flashes of light, I could tell that this was most definitely not Pete the baseball star, with the body I imagined was chiseled by the gods. Instead, I had grabbed the arm of some waifish boy, probably a freshman or sophomore, but someone who looked positively cherubic and twinkish. The torso I looked down at had a borrowed baseball sweatshirt on, the sleeves too long for my arms, and the waist going down past my torsos natural waistline.

I looked up at the face of Juan, who currently had someone elses soul residing within it. For a moment he just stared at me in shock, horror, absolute disbelief. Pete approached from behind, and before I could spin to grab him, a similar sensation from when I drank the potion rushed through me. I looked into Juan's face, and he blinked.

"What am I doing here?" He asked, confusion rippling through his voice.

"Uhhh... you knocked on our door, dude?" Pete said. His hand came to rest on my tiny shoulder.

"Oh, weird. I just remember being at that house party... then the cops came? Then somehow I was here. I feel a little sick." Juan explained, hesitation present in his voice.

"Ok then, maybe you should go back to your dorm, Juan." Pete said, and shooed him out the door.

As Pete closed the door on Juan, he glanced at me with an awkward look, like he felt bad but wanted nothing to do with it.

I was freaking out internally. I had gotten so fucking close. Now I was stuck as some random friend of Pete's, probably some waterboy or loser he was tutoring.

That notion came to a screaming halt, however, when he came back to me and slid his arms gingerly around my thin waist.

"Are you ok, babe?" He whispered into my ear. He lowered his perfect face to my neck, and kissed me gently.

"Uh-uh I- yes." I stammered.

"You sure? Maybe I can finish what we started?" He asked, coyly.

"Of course!" I piped. I didn't know what else to do. It then occurred to me... my cock was rock hard.

Pete then tightened his grip, heaving me up into his arms, and then he dropped me into the bed. He ripped off the tight briefs I had on, and similarly removed his clothes. I was then turned roughly over. He dragged my bottom half off the bed, and before I knew it he was inside me. There seemed to already be lube in my ass, as it clicked what had been happening from before when I heard Pete's name cried out.

Pete was secretly fucking this twink. This twink that I now was. Damn.

The next few weeks were an oddly satisfying, yet frequently confusing time. Firstly, my old body came forward and attempted to coerce me to swap us back. When that didn't work, he began threatening to out Pete. I almost caved to that, but I incorrectly wagered people wouldn't listen to a fat loser who was claiming that his body was stolen from him.

Pete was outed, and for a moment he was devastated. But I was there for him. As the twink, whose name is Corey, I could lavish him with attention and affection. After a while though, the community rallied around him, and collectively the former Corey, trapped in my old corpulent body, was rebuked and further ostracized. Realizing he had failed to get me cooperating, he gave up and seemed to fall into a deep depression, and dropped out before the end of the second semester.

As for me, living in Corey's body was not what I had wanted, but I came to love it. Sure, I had become my dream body's femme twink cocksleeve, but I didn't mind. Pete seemed genuinely interested in me, and when he was outed we were able to date properly. I even met his family a few times, and they adored me. My grades were amazing, and I was involved in a number of volunteer initiatives.

Learning how to be Corey wasn't too bad, if just fraught with chances to make a fool of myself or cause some minor concern over forgotten details and such. But overall, it seemed like I was able to assimilate into this new life. And honestly, being this thin and cute was still a massive upgrade to my old sweaty life.

Breathe in. Grip tight. Chest up. Mind clear.

The weight is command. The rep is obedience. The set is transformation.

Wells does not rush. Wells locks in. Wells drives.

Stronger with every pull. Bigger with every press. Sharper with every breath.

Gold in the muscle. Gold in the mindset. Gold in the mirror.

Lift. Hold. Control. Grow.

Wells Gold #58 obeys the iron. Wells Gold #58 becomes the mark.

So we’re at this cute Gay Brunch in the city, bottomless mimosas flowing, music playing, vibes immaculate… and Talon just leans over, grabs my face, and kisses me like we were the only two people in the room.

Like… full tongue, hand on my cheek, the kind of kiss that makes you forget you’re in public. I melted. Like actually melted. My brain turned into pink glitter and my hole did a little happy dance.

This man really knows how to make a himbo feel special 😌💕

Anyway… happy Pride from your favorite loved-up, cock-drunk pink-haired himbo. Hope your brunch was half as good as mine.

Yay-Gay!

Like many of you, I’ve been scrolling through Tumblr, and my feed was filled with Polo Drone posts. The imagery, the discipline, the uniform — it’s hypnotic. I felt the pull of the Polo. Maybe you have too.

I reached out to PDU-070, and an agreement was formed. I wanted the Polo uniform — badly — but I also wanted to stay me. My fans still need my creativity, my humor, my humanity. The Hive understood. The Polo Drone Hive values individuality when it serves the mission.

So, here’s the arrangement:

I serve as a Polo Drone Influencer.

I amplify the Hive to millions.

I remain myself, with free will, emotion, and my platform intact.

PDU-905 ensures alignment — the control node, emotionless and watchful.

And I am not alone. With me stand Nic, Nils, Romeo and Elias, Together we are the Polo Drone Influencers. Each of us equal. Each distinct. Each a different face of the Hive.

We are here. We are visible. We are influencers, not erased — but aligned.

Objective: Assimilate. Uniform. Obey. Location: All populated zones Method: Relentless visual programming and uniform deployment

🏙️ STREET CONVERSION POD

Black conversion booth. Glowing signage. Two civilians twitch mid-process—latex creeping over bare skin. Behind them, 001 stands—expression blank, hands holding the next uniform.

“Voluntary or not—assimilation is optimal.” They step in clothed. They step out claimed.

🏋️ LOCKER ROOM DEMONSTRATION

The shirt comes down. The mind drops with it. Sweaty bros laugh—then watch as one is dressed in Hive black. Smile fades. Eyes dull. Hive accepted.

“Recruitment begins where sweat is purest.”

🏫 SCHOOL GYM STRIP-DOWN

Rows of young adult males undressing. Shirts dropped. Belts undone. One hesitates. Two drones step forward. He complies.

“Free will processed. Obedience installed.”

🕺 NIGHTCLUB TAKEOVER

The bass thumps. Drones glide through the gold-lit fog. Hands reach up—collars descend. Rubber polo seals across twitching torsos. Smiles melt. Thoughts mute.

“The beat rewires. The latex seals. You won’t leave human.”

🪞 THE MIRROR ROOM

He stands in front of mirrors. Shirtless. Breathing hard. But every reflection already wears the Hive shirt. Behind him, PDU-001 holds out his uniform.

“There is only one path. Reflection reveals destiny: Drone.”

The recruitment is live. Your resistance is already calculated, already meaningless. Drones do not ask—they reformat. Join the uniform. Be still. Be sealed. Be Drone.

📍Enter Submission Mode Polo Drone Hive is accepting new units. Message Now: @brodygold @goldenherc9 @polo-drone-001 @polo-drone-070 @polo-drone-084 @polo-drone-125 @danielgold-16