#merging

This could be borderline perfection for me! 🥵 🔥

His coverage/merging fur is a thing of beauty 💜

Sharkpuppy Costume

Sonny had never been the most confident guy in the room. All his life, he’d been the “funny one,” the “nice one,” the “friend you could count on”—but never the one who turned heads.

So when the invitation for his 10-year high school reunion arrived, his stomach sank. He could already imagine it: all his old classmates arriving in expensive suits, glowing with success, while he showed up… just average.

That night, he went for a walk to clear his thoughts. The moon hung low over the quiet park near his childhood neighborhood. In the center of it stood an old stone well—one people used to call the Wishing Well of St. Marian’s.

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Why not?” he muttered. Fishing a coin from his pocket, he tossed it into the dark water below.

“I just want to look… good. Even just once. I want people to see me and say, ‘Wow, that’s Sonny?’”

He sighed, knowing it was silly. Wishes like that never came true.

Or so he thought.

As Sonny turned to leave, he accidentally bumped into someone. “Oof! Sorry—didn’t see you there,” he said, brushing his shoulder.

The man he’d bumped into looked about his age—tall, confident, wearing a half-unbuttoned shirt that revealed lean muscle underneath. His hair was slicked back, his expression calm but sharp. “No harm done,” the man said with a grin. “Name’s Flint. You look like someone who’s wishing for a change.”

Sonny blinked. “What—how did you know?” Flint smirked. “Just a guess. But maybe I can help.”

Sonny frowned. “Help? With what?” Flint’s eyes glinted. “Becoming who you want to be. I’ve got a little invention. Something special.”

At first, Sonny laughed. “You’re not gonna tell me you have a machine that makes people handsome, are you?” Flint grinned wider. “Not exactly. My Combiner machine doesn’t create beauty—it shares it. You can combine traits, strengths… even people.”

Sonny blinked. “Combine… people?” “Yup,” Flint said proudly. “Two souls, one body. You’d be surprised how perfect the balance can be.”

Sonny scoffed. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” “Is it?” Flint raised an eyebrow. “If it worked… would you still call it ridiculous?”

Sonny hesitated. The thought hung heavy in the air. Flint turned, gesturing for Sonny to follow. “Come on. It’s just a test drive.”

Flint’s workshop looked like something out of a sci-fi movie—full of glowing panels, copper pipes, and strange blue light. In the center stood a large capsule-like machine shaped like an upright pod.

“This,” Flint said proudly, “is the Combiner. Everything that enters can become one.”

Sonny stared at it. “You really built this?” “Yeah,” Flint said as he began unbuttoning his shirt, tossing it onto a chair. His sculpted torso caught the soft light, making him look almost unreal. Sonny tried not to stare, but couldn’t help it.

“You… you really take care of yourself,” he muttered. Flint chuckled. “Jealous?” “Maybe a little,” Sonny admitted, half embarrassed. “You look like everything I wish I could be.”

Flint stepped closer. “Then why not share it?”

“What do you mean?” Sonny asked. Flint smiled gently. “If you want to impress your friends… if you want to walk into that reunion and feel proud—maybe using me is the best choice.”

He gestured toward the machine. “Let’s see if two halves can make something even better.”

Sonny’s heart raced. “You’re serious?” “Dead serious.”

The hum of the Combiner grew louder as Flint pressed a few buttons on a console. The capsule door slid open, releasing a cool, bluish mist.

“Come on,” Flint said, stepping inside. “You wanted a wish to come true, right? Maybe this is your wish.”

Sonny took a deep breath. Then, without another word, he joined him.

The door closed. Lights flashed. The entire room filled with a low, rhythmic hum. Energy pulsed between them—warm and electric—like two songs syncing into one perfect note.

Sonny felt strength flood his veins, confidence rising like sunlight breaking through clouds. Flint’s composure, his posture, his calm—all of it flowed into him. And from Sonny came warmth, empathy, humor—an emotional heartbeat that balanced the boldness Flint carried.

For a few blinding moments, they were one endless burst of light.

When the capsule door opened, only one man stepped out.

He was taller than Sonny had been, but softer than Flint—an ideal blend of grace and strength. His hair shimmered in shades of bronze, his jawline sharp but approachable, his eyes bright and kind.

He looked at his reflection in a piece of polished metal nearby. He smiled, and it wasn’t just confidence—it was wholeness.

“Hold on. Is this me?…” he whispered.”

His voice was deep but gentle, a fusion of both tones. For the first time, he didn’t feel envy or doubt. He felt complete.

Weeks Later

When the day of the reunion came, everyone froze as Sonny entered the hall. “Is that—Sonny?!” someone whispered.

But he just smiled, greeting everyone with effortless charm. He wasn’t the same awkward boy they remembered. He was magnetic, kind, and confident.

He laughed, shared stories, danced, and inspired others. People saw him and felt warmth, not intimidation.

That night, standing under the same moon where he’d tossed his coin, Sonny chuckled softly.

I was inspired by a gif I saw from @mucleinmovement and so this story came to be! It’s good to be back 👍

Jack had been obsessing over a guy at the gym he was going to. He'd shown up out of the blue and become quite popular. At first Jack hadn't minded, he was there to work on his cardio for marathons, but this guy bothered him for some reason.

The guy looked like the average Tiktok influencer, always benching, always shirtless. Having a tuft of dark hair and a handsome smile, irresistable. If only his ego wasn't as big as his jiggling pectorals.

For months Jack was used to the regulars he knew hanging around the guy getting to know his business, perhaps they wanted part of that Internet fame. Being the observant type, he noticed that whilst the guy was definitely shaping up, his abs weren't exactly developing at the fastest rate. In fact, he reckoned a good punch to the gut would cut him down to size. But then again Jack wasn't the type to be violent usually. He'd just roll his eyes and get on with his running on the treadmills. He surely had better things to train for than let some influencer live in his mind.

It happened one day that Jack had finished up a session and headed into the changing room to get changed. But it just so happened he walked in on the guy in the process of getting dressed himself. He was wearing nothing more than a pair of black Calvin Klein underpants.

'Oh, sorry' said Jack, looking away quickly. The guy looked at him and smirked. 'All good lad, don't be shy' he chuckled. Jack looked at him, his skin glistening and shrugged. He headed to his locker to change out of his gym kit. 'Say, you're that marathon guy on the treads aren't you? Jack right? I'm Aaron' he said, offering a hand to shake. 'Oh your fanboys told you did they?' Jack asked, taking off his tank top and folding it, ignoring the extended hand. 'Oh the others? Yeah they're cool. They told me about the charity runs you do, that's pretty awesome' Aaron said, lowering his arm and walking over to him, eyeing Jack's back.

'Yeah it's what I do, guessing you've got a good gig going on?' Jack asked, opening his bag and stuffing his tank top in and moving to unlace his trainers. Aaron sat next to him on the bench, watching him. 'Yeah it's alright, people watch my progress. I'm not quite where I want to be, but I'm not too bad, right?' he asked, grinning and flexing. Jack looked to his arms, no doubt they were muscular, and so were the sides of his waist with the abs starting to show, but it was let down by the lack of leg muscles.

'You should work on more than just your upper body Aaron, your stomach needs work too. A good punch to the gut and you'll be on the ground before you know it' said Jack, placing his trainers in his bag and peeling off his socks. Aaron started to laugh. 'You really think so? Wanna test that theory?' Aaron asked. Jack raised his eyebrows and looked at Aaron. 'You serious?' he asked. Aaron nodded. 'How about a deal. You floor me, I'll join in on marathons with you' said Aaron. 'And if I don’t, you'll go find another gym?' asked Jack. Aaron raised his eyebrows. 'You don't like me being here?' he asked. Jack sighed. 'Honestly not a bit. Since you came here everyone's been obsessing over you. It was a better place before' said Jack. Aaron took a moment to think, then he looked at Jack and nodded. 'Very well Jackie Boy, I accept your terms' said Aaron, and he hoisted himself off the bench, walking over to the far wall, turning around to face him. He clapped his hands together and beckoned for him to come over. 'Show me what you've got' said Aaron calmly.

Jack stood up and approached him, not taking his eyes off Aaron's eyes. As he arrived he noticed that he stood slightly taller than him. Aaron looked at him searchingly. 'Fine, brace yourself' said Jack. Aaron closed his eyes and faced away and Jack delivered a strong punch to the middle of his abs. Aaron's pecs jiggled from the impact, he tensed up, winced and fell forward slightly.

'Told you so' said Jack smugly in his ear. He stepped back to pull his fist out but he couldn't. It was stuck in place. Aaron finally breathed out, a satisfied moan escaped his lips. 'Oh man, I've been waiting for this' said Aaron, biting his lip and looking up at Jack's puzzled face.

Jack tried to move his arm again, but it sunk in to Aaron's body a little more. Aaron leaned back against the wall. 'Always love this part' Aaron said, turning his attention to his tenting Calvins, gently stroking his dick. Jack looked down in horror, this sick fucker was turned on? 'What the hell's happening?' Jack demanded, his elbow beginning to sink into Aaron. 'I loved this body, but it gets even better each time. I said about progress, and I reckon those thighs are going to fill me out nicely' said Aaron, removing his dick from his pants and moving his hand up and down his shaft, looking at him. Jack tried again to remove himself, but he was almost up to his shoulder in him.

'Don't fight it Jack, you might enjoy it' said Aaron, moving his free hand to stroke Jack's back. 'Oh yeah, we're gonna be so fucking sexy you and I' said Aaron softly. Jack's panic slowly yet surely began to turn to pleasure. He looked at Aaron's sweaty face and realised it was the face of the most gorgeous man he'd ever met. He moved in to lock lips with Aaron, his free hand stroking Aaron's hair. Both their breathing intensified as their crotches began to gravitate towards each other. Their mouths pulled away and they both gasped for air, Aaron still panting from masturbating. Jack shook his head and smiled, grinding himself more into Aaron and locking lips with him again.

Aaron slid down the wall as Jack's legs merged with his own, his inflating ass straining the fabric of his Calvins, beginning to tear them. This was ecstasy. Soon enough Jack was fully inside Aaron and he began to audibly moan and strain as he shot a thick rope of his seed from his tip. Panting and brushing his hair away, he looked down at his lower body. He moved his slippery hands up and down his navel and his dick still at full mast had grown a few inches. He spotted Jack's shorts and boxers that had fallen off and picked them up, inhaling them deeply. He exhaled breathily and grinned.

*PING* Rocco looked down and smiles. He'd been wondering what Carlo and their father had been up to for the past week. Ever since their mother left a couple of years back, their father had been relatively distant- choosing to spend his hours away from the office at the gym instead of at home with his sons. To be fair, Rocco had left the house at 18, and now at 24 he wasn't home as often as he'd hoped. Nonetheless, it took both boys by shock when their relatively distant father decided to take a month off of work to spend some "quality time" with his sons. Carlo got the first two weeks, and Rocco would have the second. What they were in for, their father wouldn't say.

Hey, Roc. Dad wants us all to meet up tonight. We're at the gym on Broad Street, meet us there in 30 minutes.

The text was odd, definitely different than the normally chipper tone his brother is known for having. There wasn't even a single emoji... Rocco had hoped that everything would go well, but from the curtness of Carlo's message, it wasn't looking good. He sighed, walking his lanky ass over to the closet and throwing on some clothes, wasting no time making the 20 minute walk down to Broad street. The dim neon glow of the Planet Jacked sign illuminated the front of the strip mall; at 9PM on a Wednesday, the gym was the only business open compared to the vacant suites and GameStop next door.

Rocco pulled open the door, pulling out his phone to text Carlo that he'd arrived. The response was immediate:

In the kettlebell room. Hurry up.

Something did feel off, but Rocco had dismissed it as an irritated Carlo trying to pawn their gruff and macho dad off on him. Neither were "manly men" by their father's standards, not that he'd ever treated them poorly by any means. It just meant that they had little to nigh in common with eachother, and little to build a very "buddy buddy" relationship on. But, at least he was making an effort.

Rocco made his way through the gym floor, weaving through benches and weight machines to the double glass doors that houses the calisthenics room. He pushed open the door, and walked inside. Right off the bat, his suspicions that something was off were proven to be justified as he saw his brother flexing in the mirror. Or at least, he thought it was his brother. The man had Carlo's likeness: his short stature, his green eyes, the black and green headphones... but this was not his brother.

Carlo was easily 100 lbs of muscle heavier than when he'd left with their father on Monday morning. His hair was buzzed short, his formerly friendly face now scowled an aggressive smoulder, his arms and legs were bursting with hard muscle. Compared to the 5'2" skinny 19 year old Rocco had known, this man might as well have been a stranger.

"Get my bag over there, gotta shower and change." His voice was harsh, gruff... as if he'd smoked eight cigars before working out. He remained flexing in the mirror, as Rocco stood there gobsmacked. His eyes quickly shifted from his physique to his brother standing perplexed at the door. "You gonna sit and stare or are we gonna get going?" Rocco slowly walked over to Carlo's gym bag, picking it up and straining to shlep it over his shoulder. "Jesus, Roc. We've got to get you into the gym. C'mon, let's go." Carlo turned and walked out of the room, with Rocco hastening to meet his pace.

"Uh, Carlo... Did you... take something? I mean, I'm not accusing you of anything, but how did you..."

"Get this fuckin' jacked? Dad helped out a bit." Outside of Rocco's eyesight, Carlo smirked devilishly. He sneered, hocking a mouthful of spit onto the garbage can. Rocco nearly dropped the bag and bolted. This couldn't be the sweet, naive little brother he'd grown up with. If anything, he was acting more like their father than himself. As they entered the locker room, Carlo stopped at the mirror again, pinching his chin as if he were checking himself out in the mirror. "Yeah, Dad was saying he wanted me to try some pussy this week, and that girls liked a guy with guns. Heh, it worked." He flexed his massive arms, the putrid scent of heavy unwashed musk wafted from his pits as he did. Rocco pinched his nose, dropping the gym bag onto the bench.

"Since when have you been interested in girls?" Rocco spoke with genuine concern in his voice. Carlo had been an out and proud gay man for years now. Their father never understood it, but it never really bothered him any. To him, as long as his sons were 'getting some' then all was well. But this, combined with Carlo's inflated ego and body...

"Since I felt like it. Thought I'd give breedin' a try. After six girls this week, I'm tuckered out." Carlo sauntered toward the shower stalls, tossing his hat and headphones to his brother before turning to face him. "Dad will be here in a minute, just wait here." With that, he walked into the stall, and Rocco could hear the water starting to flow. He fell backward onto the bench, awestruck. Turning to the bag, Rocco imagined vials and vials of steroids and testosterone hiding within. It was the only logical explanation. Taking a deep breath, he slowly unzipped the bag, and ripped the top open to reveal:

Nothing. Carlos' normal street clothes, albeit a bit stretched out now, and an empty shaker bottle. No drugs, no syringes, nothing incriminating whatsoever. Whatever had happened to him, it wasn't due to roid rage.

"NNNNUGUUHHHH" Carlo's voice echoed in the empty locker room over the sound of the showerhead. Rocco stood up quickly, darting toward the shower stalls. Before he could ask if his brother was okay, the noises began. Wet noises- unaffiliated with the running shower. Rocco slowly crept closer, and the sounds had become clearer. Slimy schlorps and squelches combined with Carlo's moans of seeming pleasure. Was he fucking a pocket pussy? Surely not, he assumed, though in the back of his mind, the brother he'd seen was not the Carlo he knew. "uuuuuuUUUUUUUUUUUUUNNAGHHHHHH!" One final moan and a rubbery slurp, and the room was silent again.

Rocco quickly rushed to the end stall, ready to rip the white curtain open, only for it to open on it's own: revealing the hulking figure of his father. The shock was palpable, as thick as the steam in the air. His father towered above him, as he always did, a massive slab of hard meat with a face. Sweat dripped from every part of his hulking body, and his face was already plastered with a surprised expression. As if he weren't expecting Rocco to see him yet.

"Dad... Is Carlo oka..." Suddenly, in the corner of his eye, he saw his brother slumped over on the shower seat, passed out under the hot streams of water: still in the shorts and running shoes he'd been wearing moments ago. His muscled body could barely bend at the waist, so his limp torso sat at a slight angle to the rest of his body. Rocco turned to his father, whose expression hadn't yet changed.

"I said I'd be there in a minute, Roc." The limber young man tried to rush to his passed out brother, only for the iron grip of his father to stop him in his tracks. "He'll be fine. He'll wake up just the way you know him, with a couple of extra pounds. Don't you worry."

"Dad, what the fuck is going on?" Rocco shouted at his father, whose brows began to furrow. The hulking man grabbed the white curtain, shutting it behind his son. Slowly the look of shock turned to one of seriousness, and a twinge of nervousness shot down Rocco's spine.

"I'm on vacation, Roc. With my boy. And now it's your turn to spend some time with your old man." Rocco took a step back, confused and anxious. "You're what, 24 now? Let me tell you something, Roc. When you hit 50, it doesn't matter if you're the sexiest god damn man alive- women just don't look at you the same. They take one look at you and see a stacked old man. They look at you like you're disgusting, Roc. I just wanted things to be the way they used to, when I was your age." Another step backward, and Rocco felt himself pinned against the wall. "It doesn't hurt. Carlo said it felt damn good. He'll wake up feelin' like a million bucks and go right back to sticking that greasy pole into some man ass. Might even be better than before. But you..." His father leaned in against the wall, the wafting stench of his BO encircling the two. "You swing both ways. So will you do your pop a favor, Roc?" Rocco swallowed his spit, as his father leaned in until they stood inches from eacother, eye to eye.

"W... What kind of favor?"

"Let me be young again. Just for a couple weeks. I'll hop back in Carlo if things get out of hand, he's already said he's good with it. Let your old man take you for a spin, show you how I used to do it back in the day. Then at the end of the month, I hop right out. Deal?" His father stuck his hand out, waiting for him to accept this insane deal. Rocco turned to his brother, slowly coming back to consciousness.

"... One week. And if you don't fuck things up, I'll think about the other two." His father smiled as Rocco shook his hand in agreement.

"Turn around, boy. And just take some deep breaths." Rocco did as he was told, slowly turning around and placing his hand onto the brown tiled wall. He could hear Carlo coming to, and hearing the wet clap of his father's hands rubbing together. "Alright, boy. It's gonna be tight, deep breath!" Rocco took a slow inhale, feeling a strange tingling sensation as he felt his father's hands on his bony shoulderblades. As he exhaled, he could feel the calloused hands slowly sink into his back. "Ohhhh, fuck." His father's gravelly bass voice growled in the cavernous room, soaring above the wet schlorps of his huge arms slowly sinking deeper into his son. Rocco watched as his father's hands appeared beneath the skin of his arms, the outline of his fingers sliding down his biceps and forearms was quickly followed by the sounds of rubbery creaks as his father's considerable muscles slid into his own. Bones cracked and skin stretched as powerful biceps and firm forearms swelled with the invasion, as his father's hands slipped into his own like two tight gloves. His meaty fingers cracked under their own volition, as his father flexed his new triceps.

"Da... Dad? Oh fuck, Roc! It's your turn now, huh, bro?" Carlo's chipper voice cut through the wet sloshing as his father stepped forward, shoving his huge sweaty feet forward into Rocco's heels, immediately swelling to fit his size 14 boats. His father's ripe foot sweat started to pour from his soles while his calves started to sink in as well. "Feels great, right? I mean look at me? Dad promised a rockin' bod, and I mean, fuck! What guy is gonna turn me down now?" Rocco continued his deep breaths, trying to ignore his brother's bizarrely normal demeanor.

"Boy, you remember what your dad taught you. Take control, and fuck hard. They'll be beggin' for that cock." As the words left his father's mouth, he thrust his groin against Rocco's rear, letting his son's skin wrap around his thick ass as he slid his beer can dick into the sheath of his boy's- quickly swelling thick and musky as his balls grew into the size of clementines.

"Roc, just wait. Dad's gonna take good care of you. We're closer than ever, right pop?" His father's hard, hairy torso sank quickly into Rocco, his back expanding as his body fully enveloped his father up to their necks. Massive, juicy pecs and washboard abs pressed against his taut skin, and sputterings of the old man's hair started to sprout across his legs, arms, and chest. Rocco looked down at his massive body, no longer under his control, inflated with his father's stature. He could feel the scratchy scruff of the old man's beard against the nape of his neck.

"Alright, boy. Let me just slide..." He felt his father's nose press against the back of his head, and as it sank in, his vision became fuzzy. "Right..." His neck bulged and stretched, his jaw clenched and sharpened. "On..." His hair grew thick and messy, his eyebrows fuller and lower. As the last of his head was swallowed by the back of Rocco's head, a final crack of his neck and a slow exhale signaled that Rocco had already sank into the recesses of his mind. Facial hair sprouted across his chiseled jawline, as he smiled his pearly white teeth. "In." His father's gravelly tone now bellowed deep from within. He pushed himself off the wall, stretching his now 6'3" body, dripping in his old man's fragrant sweat. Turning to Carlo, he raised his eyebrow.

"Alright, boy. Let's go get some ass."

---

"Yeah, this is my brother's place, we'll be alone here. Don't you worry!" Carlo led the couple into Rocco's apartment, the boyfriend ogling his juicy ass as they walked inside. "Yeah, he's in the other room. This way." Carlo smiled as he threw his arm around the duo, the woman blushing as she turned to him.

"You sure he's down for this?" Carlo only smirked as he opened the door to the bedroom, revealing 'Rocco' in all his glory, swiping through the endless supply of thirsty messages on his Taimi. The couple's jaws dropped at the very sight of him, fresh from the gym, smelling of a locker room right after a basketball tournament.

"Oh wow... Uh, Hi there... I'm Victoria and this is Ollie..." 'Rocco' barely looked up from his phone, picking up his ripe gym shoe and socks, and tossing them to Ollie.