#special]

Lemme know, and if a lot of you are I’ll do one 🥰

Special - "Wolves can Dance Too!" Vesna: Dogs to Watch Out For - 14/9/25

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*The 500-special, a boyfriend TF

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"And so anyway that's what happened."

"Uh huh."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So why -

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You okay?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, sure, whatever."

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

"You smell good, babe."

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

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

"Fuck, babe, your pits."

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

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

"What is happening?"

Now Bret looks confused.

"I was worshipping you, Jacky."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No, of course, NGHHHH not."

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

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

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

"You must produce so much testosterone, Babe."

Flex his bicep.

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

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

But they don't love him like he does.

"You horny, BABE?"

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

"Damn, BABE..."

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

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

Bret looks at him.

"Hey, stud."

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

"W - wait, I -"

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

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

His boytoy.

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

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

"I love you," Bret moans.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Round 1?" Bret asks, eyes bright.

Joaquin Galan.