#masculinization

"C'mon, it can't be that bad," pleaded Alex from behind the bathroom door.

I didn't dignify that with a response. He'd heard just how low and gravelly the first one was.

"You know what, fine. Maybe it is that bad. But I need to see it to understand. And... see what you're gonna look like from now on."

Fuck. That's what I was worried about.

We'd found the spell on the internet. Neither of us were particularly spiritual or witchy, but Alex thought it would be fun to do something "esoteric" (as he put it) for our anniversary. It was supposed to be roleplay. We'd picked out a photo of this hot jock from the internet, we go through the mumbo jumbo, and then I rail him wearing a jockstrap and backwards cap calling him "dude" and "bro" the whole night.

Except... the spell was real. And the photo was from a much longer time ago than we'd anticipated.

I gingerly maneuvered my hairy bulk out of the tub, then undid the lock on the door with one meaty hand before plopping myself back into the water. It made me feel safe. Which was quite incongruous given I barely fit in the damn bath tub now.

"Alright," I said, in this deep new voice with a thick European accent. "You can come in."

The handle turned slowly, and, inch by inch, the door slowly opened to reveal the stunned face of Alex, my boyfriend of two years.

He looked absolutely gobsmacked. Also... was he blushing?

I couldn't help but chuckle. "Are you seriously getting hard right now?"

Anyway. I didn't really expect to go from average to a muscle beast that's covered in hair and looks like he's been cycling T since the age of 15.

But surprisingly... Alex loves it, and I do to.

Sure, it's not the campy dudebro roleplay we planned on. But I gotta admit that it can get pretty wild in the bedroom now that I can pick my boyfriend up with one hand, or pin him without (or with, if he wants to lick it) breaking a sweat, or straddle him and ride him through multiple finishes until I've wrung everything I can out of his softened bulge.

And hey, from time to time, it's still very fun to shave off all my body hair, pop a backward cap on my head, and call Alex "dude" and "bro" (in a gravelly East European voice) while I ride him like a bronco.

Maybe our anniversary was a blessing in disguise after all.

The reality hit you like a car, fast and quick. Everything started to make sense, you knew exactly what was happening but it was too late to do anything about it.

You had always wondered what your boyfriend saw in you, all his exes were hairy men with big beards, thick pelts, and receding hairlines. They were stronger, tougher, more masculine than you. You were like your boyfriend, hairless, effeminate, a twink. A few months into your relationship he tired to get you to grow a beard, told you to stop using nair on your arms and back. You said youd only do it if he did the same but he would always respond "I dont want to look like an animal!" Eventually you gave in, did a no shave november as a birthday gift for him. You looked horrible, with only a light dusting on your upper lip to show for it at the end of the month... your boyfriend was expecting more. You tried to tune him out, he kept talking about supplements and testosterone treatments. There was something you could add to water, a pill you could take, a cream. You didnt want to hear it. You liked being a twink, you liked being a bottom, you didnt want to be like you boyfriends exes all dilfy and straight passing. They watched sports, treated your boyfriend like a house wife, and worked blue collar jobs. You wanted to stay in your field as a scientist, you wanted to have an equal partnership with your partner. Though there was a part of you, an animal part of you, that wanted to let go and devolve into the kind of man your boyfriend wanted you to be.

Today, on your day off, you decided to take a shower. Your boyfriend had already been up, cleaning the house or something. You stumbled to the shower, half awake and not thinking. You didnt stop to ask why your wet skin felt itchy and why your morning wood didnt get ofter with the water, in fact, it was getting harder and harder. You were planning on saving your load for your boyfriend but you couldnt help it. You needed it. You wrapped your hand around your cock and began stroking only a moment later realizing that it wasnt your think twinky hand stroking your cock but a thick bearish man's paw, covered in thick black hairs. You screamed in a deep manly voice, its not your own voice or at least it wasnt. Your boyfriend came in, half scared half excited. He looked at you as you rubbed your hands over your body, as you felt the hair growing in, the beard, the pelt, the growth. The reality hit you like a car, fast and quick. Everything started to make sense, you knew exactly what was happening but it was too late to do anything about it. You were becoming what he wanted, a bear of a man. Its starting with your body, the hair on your head beginning to fall out, the beard pushing out of your skin, the layer of fur, and then its going to be your mind. Your boyfriend must have snuck those supplements, the oils, into your shampoo or something. You look at him over your shoulder, if its true that he put the oils in your shampoo maybe theres still enough on you.

You grab him, pulling your fully clothed twink boyfriend into the shower with you. Hes panicking, "youre supposed to be the daddy not me!" Its too late, as your body gets bigger, hairier, older, so does his. He's crying as the oils, stuck in your thick pelt of fur, get all over him and begin to work their magic. You probably would have cried too, probably would have fought it, but by the time you realized what was happening your mind had already been changed. The old you was already gone and in its place was a mans man more interested in sports than in his appearance.

In the end there wasnt enough oil left to change your boyfriend completely but you made sure to get his face. He might look a few years younger than you and be less hairy but that beard makes up for it. You can imagine the old him screaming trapped inside his new jock brain. You boyfriend used to only care about makeup and boys, now all he cares about is beard care and gains. As for you? Youve settled into your new lifestyle as a daddy. Youre a sold man now, with a nice beard and good pelt of hair. Every night you and your boyfriend watch a football game to get you in the mood before you rail him like the good daddy you are.

"Sorry Byungwoo, I'm afraid you won't be debuting in this team..."

The sound of foot stomps and sneaker squeaks filled the lonely practice room, each move filled with a mix of disappointment and frustration. Byungwoo couldn't get the words out of his head, no matter how loud the music was, or how many times he danced, it kept distracting him. Messing up the steps again, his foot made a loud screech on the polished floor, "C-Crap!" he yelped, tumbling down to the ground.

Byungwoo winced, massaging his sore legs as he got up. This wasn't the first time either. If he had been cut from line ups in the past, he usually would tell himself to practice more. Training till dawn, taking advice from his seniors, to keep ranking near the top in their countless monthly evaluations for another chance. But this time it stung much more.

Another trainee named Jinu had been primed to take his spot - tall, broad, with a mesmerizing voice and thick black hair, he was essentially an idol already.

It was strange. Byungwoo felt like he had never seen the guy before, but here he was taking his position and ranking first in all the memories of his training. Maybe it was just the jealousy getting to him. Sure, he didn't reach 6'1 like him, but he had good proportions for his lithe frame. And it's not like he lacked looks, he just had softer facial features compared to the sleek cut Jinu.

"I'd do anything to debut." He sighed, gazing longingly in the mirror

As soon as Byungwoo said those words, he noticed something shift in the room's reflection. He squinted his eyes, turning back and forth from the mirror to the rest of the room, the lights on the reflected side had strangely become... purple?

Not only that, but he could swear he heard something behind the glass, almost like someone speaking-

You don't have what it takes to debut.

Byungwoo stumbled backwards, shocked by hearing his own voice talk back. A million thoughts wracked his brain, the words cutting deep into his soul. It sounded like him, but more distorted, more… cruel. In an instant, the entire mirror was set ablaze with violet fire, bursting from the overhead lights and surrounding the mirror-room with flames.

You're too weak, and too ordinary. You'll never stand out from the rest.

The disembodied mimic spoke in tandem with the rising flames, forming a smile through its tapered edges, as it surrounded the mirror-him. He was too entranced to even react, stuck between fear and fascination. It was as if he could feel his own skin burn just from looking at the mirror-him surrounded by fire. Not painful. Not uncomfortable. Just arousal.

But I can help you... be special.

Byungwoo fell over, gasping for air as he struggled to breathe. No longer limited to his reflection, the flame penetrated into the real world, his muscles pulsing with warmth as the color seeped into his veins. He could see purple patterns beginning to take over parts of his body, forming thorn-like lines all over his throat as it slowly tinged his skin with purple.

"What's...ha-happening to me?" he struggled to speak, feeling his vocal chords become huskier with each punctuated word, permanently laced in a sultry undertone. Never mind singing, he could easily hypnotize a crowd with just one word from this sexed up voice. The patterns kept up their relentless assault, moving towards his upper body and leaving behind a trail of growth with every jagged line. His back exploded into view, instantly filling out his baggy shirt along with his broadening shoulders.

"Someone help..." Byungwoo tried to scream, this couldn't be happening to him. Oh god, he groaned, it felt like his torso had doubled in size. His lats were so big, he had to push his arms to the side to even make room. It wasn't just width but his height had grown as well, quickly shooting past 6'0 and settling on a nice 6'2, making him dizzy from the sudden change in perspective. Unbelievable, he was getting his dream body in the blink of an eye, taller... bigger... but a part of him stirred with fear.

it was a baseline, a standard: if you were in the frat, or even just rushing—if you were to even cross the house's threshold without being stopped—you had to look the part, and this was the bare minimum. khakis. a tucked-in button-down. a belt. leather shoes. a haircut and a clean shave.

the brothers of sigma nu groaned and complained they looked like dorky, old-fashioned clones, but the frat's president had seen enough t-shirts and basketball shorts. enough sneakers and slides. enough mop tops and mullets and fades. it was time for tradition, a classic style, the masculinity that real brotherhood can foster with proper encouragement, structure, and discipline.

People were never surprised when they learned I was gay. I think it was just the default assumption.

I was somewhat skinny and untoned, I got freckles instead of tanning, and no matter what I did with it, my hair would always end up soft and floppy.

I know that there are plenty of guys who'd be happy to look like me, but... it was just exhausting. No matter how hard I worked out at the gym, or the changes I made to my wardrobe - like the leather jacket I'm wearing - or even putting in work to talk a little deeper and sound less feminine, I would still instantly get pegged as gay by everyone I met.

And I was tired of it.

When I met the witch, I probably should've wished for something else. But at the time I hadn't realized she was telling the truth, and I thought it was all just a prank, or a set up to a game show, or something.

I had a moment of weakness. "I wish I wasn't so obviously gay."

I never expected to wake up the next day to a hairy, overgrown, exaggeratedly masculine body. What was even stranger was how different I acted, just on an instinctual level. My speech was peppered with absent minded "dude"s and "bro"s, I had to hit the gym twice a day to burn off my excess energy, I found myself idly manspreading or cupping my groin in public without even noticing.

Now, when I tell people I'm gay, they usually think I'm joking. I keep getting told that I don't need to lie about being into dudes since it's so obvious I'm either just heteroflexible, "DL trade", or just curious.

I can't blame them, since that's what I wished for. So yesterday I shaved my chest and put in an online order for some pastel crop tops and short shorts.

Never thought I'd miss having my gayness be so immediately obvious.

Jonathan was a very activistic student, joining every liberal protest that would take place in his city or anywhere closeby. The kind of protest he was most passionate about was that against ICE. He saw them as a power tripping conservative cult which needed to be shut down. His anger against it went so far that he even made his own sign, showing his strong opinions on it. As an agent approached him, he went on the offensive:

"How dare you even show your face at a protest like this... you should be ashamed! What does your family even think of you coming home after beating up peaceful protesters... I don't care that I'm weaker than you, at least I have some morality left!"

The agent frowned, half amused, half annoyed by the protester taunting him. He responded:

"Morality you say huh... so you let thousands of illegals roam the streets and commit crimes? You should count yourself lucky, I could easily overpower you... but I have something better for you.

The agent produced a cigar and put it on, blowing the smoke directly into Jonathan's face.

Jonathan had to breathe in the smoke, and confusion took over his brain.

"I... feel... weak... what are you doing..."

The agent, seeing the smoke start to take effect, started to smile through his cigar. He had done this many times, but every time a lib started to fight the woke media's brainwashing was as satisfying as the very first. As Jonathan slowly dropped his SHUT DOWN ICE sign, the agent whispered in his ear:

"Soon you won't be weak anymore... can you feel it? Can you feel the power that's now coursing through you? Feed it, let it take over"

The smoke was not just converting Jonathan's psyche: his hair had started to fall out, until a bald scalp was left. On the outside, Jonathan's clothes turned from colorful to deep black. Completely entranced by the smoke that was constantly entering his system, his eyes rolled backwards.

"No... I have to fight it... but it feels so powerful... no Jonathan... be emphatic... be generous... help the weak..."

Every morsel of Jonathan's brain was trying the brainwashing that was entering his system, but it was all futile. The agent blew another fresh load of smoke into his lungs, accelerating his transformation even more. A beard formed on his lower face, even longer than that of the agent. The face itself became more ragged, his age increasing from the mid-twenties to the late forties.

A new voice arose in Jonathan's mind, and his struggles became more and more apparent in the words he managed to stammer:

"I gotta... resist... resist the liberal media... wait, no! Don't let them win... don't... don't... thread on me... oh god no... god... God bless the United States of America..."

Jonathan's new personality was now settling in his mind, his old memories slowly fading. A small student room was replaced by a suburban home, his activist friends were replaced by the jocks that got him into the Republican party and referred him to his new employer.

"The power... I feel it coursing through me... it's intoxicating... I need more"

The final remnants of Jonathan's old personality were wiped, as his clothes morphed into ICE tactical gear, with a black MAGA hat to top it off. In his place stood Jack, a seasoned ICE agent, who was ready to make sure all Americans would come to love traditional family values.

"Thank you brother... we are well on our way to Making America Great Again! Got a smoke for me? Make sure all of there libs see the light as well yaknow..."

The agent who just transformed Jack shared a smoke with him, the two brothers ready to put down the protest as soon as possible.