UnabashedTF

A commission story for all of you to see!! Inspiration taken from my previous Himbo Zombie Series with a bit of dialing in on the commissioner's taste! If you all want to see commission stories, normal stories and captions early join the PATREON 's exclusive discord. You get access to all my previous work, voting on all future stories polls and access to some other perks very soon (the base tier of $5 bucks gets you all of that!! I also am opening up comms as i catch up on everything so if you'd like to join the que slide into my dms! Now time for horny! _______________________________

Milo needed a pick me up. My gay best friend, my roommate, the guy I had known since eighth grade had just gone through a terrible breakup and needed to not think right now. Now I need to preface this: while he was my gay best friend I didn’t know shit about the gay world, it was an entirely different ecosystem, a different universe to what I understood. Hell the first time Milo showed me grindr and I saw that you could see how far away dudes were by feet I was out. They were crazy freaky like that. But I didn’t play about my boy Milo and that jackass Marcus broke his heart deserved to get his ass whoop. But I was told to play nice so this was the next best thing.

Help my gay best friend get some dick and make Marcus jealous. Now Milo would never tell me he was a bottom but just by looking at him that he was the one who took dick. Whether it was the well manicured hands, the flawless skin and always done hair. Or if it was his slim build, thick ass and tiny waist, all of him screamed “ I need dick “ and with those plump lips he was gonna get some tonight at the club. I had googled the closest gay bar on campus and found that we had more than a few so I just found the highest starred one hoping that he would have a good time. I didn’t know if had drag shows, or gogoboys or even what it looked like!

It took us way longer to get ready though because Milo was in a mood, changing out of every outfit, too self conscious and in his own head. When he finally settled for a mesh top and booty shorts (that he had originally picked out) we were finally out the door. He had tried to run back in to change but I made sure he didn't. He looked great. He looked fuckable, if he was a chick I’d tap that.

“Jason , like I said, you don’t have to do this? I know it's not really your scene!" Milo was being so sweet as we ubered our way there. I felt bad for the little guy, trying to make me feel good even though this was supposed to be his night! He always put others first, always, so i wanted to try and do this for him. He was like one of the most important people in my life, he deserved the same equal treatment he gave.

“Oh Come on milo, I’m here to be your wing man and get you some. Don’t worry about me, worry about whose dick you're going to be bouncing on!” I give him a quick shoulder punch and smile. He makes this aghast face, the same one he always makes when I rightfully accuse him of being a bottom. I mean I could totally see him literally bouncing up and down on a guy.

“These bottom allegations are getting fucking old dude. Just cause I’m femme doesn’t mean I'm only a bottom!” He says, quietly probably because he doesn't like the fact another person can hear us.

“ONLY, so you do bottom, so glad we finally admitted that, even if it's only partial.” I had to be a dick, it made him smile and laugh. I remember when we had come out to me, it was one of the few times he had been so serious and scared. It was so unlike him, but he was nervous and scared it would change things, that I would hate him or seem him different, as lesser. But Milo wasn’t lesser than me, no, far from it. Of course I had to ask if he had a crush on me, I couldn’t resist but Milo stated firmly that no, never me, we were always going to be friends in his mind. It hurt my ego but it was very sweet and made me love that dweeb all the more for it. How could I not when he got all sappy like that.

It's why when I got into the bar, all those eyes turned to look at me because let's face it I was hot. The perfect all american jock at 6’2 with clear skin. I wasn’t some muscle beast but I kept myself in shape, never missing arm day, babes always loved and commented on them and even Milo would every once in a while. The rest of me was perfectly proportional to make sure I was balanced out. I had the face, perfect nose, thick lips and maintained eyebrows, I did my hair like tiktok suggested, wore nice fitting clothes that hugged my body and ABSOLUTELY SHOWED OFF THE STAR OF THE SHOW. Which of course was my raging six inches of pure pleasure. I loved getting to rail some blonde bimbo when I had the apartment to myself, sure do I wish I was less considerate of my roommate. Sometimes it gets me laid more often but he also lived there.

All of this to say that I was definitely the belle of the ball here, most of the guys tracking my every move as we made our way, some of them catching the vibe immediately that I was straight, and half of them weren’t even deterred. I would be drinking for free tonight that was sure, and hopefully because a lot of eyes were on me, more eyes would be on Milo as he stuck nearby me, he at first was saying it was just to make sure I was comfortable but I could tell that my bottom of a best friend was really nervous to.

“Listen, if you're not careful, all that primo dick is going to think we're together and then you aren’t going to get ANY, is that really what you want?”.  It was a genuine question with a dose of my disarming humor, I was down to just hang out but Milo had to get out there if he wanted any shot of getting over his ex. He was a hot twinky bottom or whatever he was called. His tight thin body, short stature, smooth skin and an ass to die for. If he had long hair and tits he would be perfect for me to fuck the shit out of. It had crossed my mind super crossfaded one time but I was too straight for that.

I could see him squirm a little, maybe it was hitting a different type of nerve. Maybe I have pushed him too quickly to go out and do something. But I see him shake his head back and forth like he is snapping himself out of it and he lets out a big brave sigh and chirpy smile looking up at me. That positivity that was somewhat forced but still so fucking radiant, you couldn’t help but admire it.

“I get what you're saying, you try and find a “SAFE SPACE” in here, I think I see a few other bros walking around. Maybe you guys can go on pussy patrol if I end up snagging some ass!” He pointedly says ass making sure he ASSERTS he could top tonight, his hand pointing out some jacked dudes entering the bar. All the men tan, shirtless with giant muscles showcased and on display for everyone to stare and gawk at. Sweaty, musky i could see the twinks and other gays turning their noses, face scrunching up as they got near em, before they shook it off, their expressions changing back. Or maybe they looked super giggly. I couldn't exactly tell I didn't know gay boy baselines, their tongues lulled out, their posture shifted almost like they were leaning closer to the smell. Some of them looked like dogs and puppies after, hungry animals waiting for their masters… that was an odd thought. Too bad none of them would be scoring anything by the looks of those men.

The idea of straight guys having a safe space in a gay bar or club made me laugh, so when Milo walked away I thought sure why not try and shoot the shit with these guys. Didn’t matter the background, a bro is a bro, and if they went to the gym like these guys did they were definitely going to be bros. They might be gay and maybe I could bring them back for Milo, I knew he had a thing for middle eastern men and they could definitely put that ass to work. God I was getting too involved in this shit I needed to get pussy as soon as possible and maybe these guys were an answer for me too. Hell even if they weren’t I could always use more guy friends.

I approached them slowly, I took note of their gait, their posture. When they walked it was this wide legged swagger walk, like their bulge pushed their legs farther apart standing up. It was cocky, arrogant like they owned the place. They were standing perfectly upright, straight with no hint of slouching. Their eyes scanned the area as they slowly, “subtly” flexed, drawing people in. Now that I was closer I could smell them, even from fifteen feet away it was strong. MASCULINE, overpowering musk wafting in the air going right into my nose. It made my brain feel foggy, my movements felt more sluggish. It made me take a deeper whiff as I felt the pull and tug to get more. They had stopped at some point, standing with drinks. Some glazed eye twink got them before literally bowing his head like they owned him or something. Their eyes landed on me and it was like they were staring directly into my soul.

They said something to that twink, I couldn’t understand them, they were speaking some other language from english but I could tell by how they said it, it was derogatory. Hell the older brother i think even spit as he said something to the twink. The twin actually bent all the way down to the floor to lick it up. Fuck i knew this was a gay club, but getting this freaky in public was crazy especially for someone who probably just called you a slur. I should speak up, should say something…. BECAUSE I ADMIRED THEM?! What no i don’t, I mean they were big. 

I had never seen men so huge, their muscles all glistening under the light, that coupled with the smell that I couldn’t help but follow, it made me dazed, confused. I couldn’t stop myself from getting right in front of them, not to engage, not to say something to tell them to respect these people and their space, my head immediately scanning between the shirtless masculine gods, mouth watering in a  way it never did before. They seemed to a quick scan of me, an up and down taking in my entire form, while I wore more clothes I was still fit enough to maybe compete with them - How can you compete with perfection- who the fuck, why am I calling a man perfect -just take another whiff- fuck that was a good idea.

There was this voice in my head, it sounded like mine, but more sleepy, lustful and deeper. Almost commanding if it wasn’t so calm, it disarmed me, made good points. I took a deep whiff, my shoulders relaxing, vision blurring for a second before the men spoke. Their voices are so clear, easily louder than the nonsensical gay music playing. Don’t listen to that dribble, thats for lesser men, for fa- What the fuck were these thoughts. 

Its like the closer I got to them, the more I breathed in their musk the harder it was to think. My nose, my skin, it was all burning. My face even felt sweaty, like I was catching some sort of sickness, some virus by being exposed to them. God what was happening to me?

“It seems we have another convert! Brother, is it your turn or mine?” The taller one, with the bushier beard asks turning to his brother? I mean they looked alike, I wasn't one to just assume anything but they seemed more related then bros. Their faces were almost mirrors of each other, it honestly WAS SO HOT? Think of how masculine their faces were, the way their perfect jawlines and strong noses were framed by facial hair. Their deep, dark brown eyes just pulled you in close. I saw his Brother who called him Ahmed just smiled. A smile that could send anyone into a daze from how perfect it was… THEY WERE PERFECT.

“You got the fags at the door, my turn with the man Ahmed!” His eyes pull me in close, his arms go over his head and this strong, desecrated decadent musk blasted from his pits as his biceps flexed over his head. It was like a gym AND locker rooms were distilled into one man then that man had raunchy sex for hours. My eyes watered as my nose took a DEEP inhale. My feet directly in front of him now were unable to stop myself as he used one hand to pull my face right into his pit. My eyes no longer blurry, or glazed. A brief moment of clarity, much too late as the shock doesn’t stop the effect. This deep heady scent chokes me out, taking over my airwaves and brain as my eyes clothes. The last real thoughts I had. My own real thoughts are what the fuck is this gay shit, i should beat their asse-

His hands in my hair felt nice. The way that my long… long? Was my hair long? Nah i always got a fade yeah, the way his strong hand felt going through my fresh cut felt amazing. My deep black hair felt amazing especially as he got a tighter grip. My nose fully smooshed into his pit, as my hands immediately went to feeling up his perfect, sweaty body, his trim waist that led up to perfect pillowy pectorals was wonderful to grab onto. I felt my mouth fall open, my tongue lulling out against my will, my thoughts too disoriented to control any part of my body. I began lapping away at his armpit, my hands moving up his cobblestoned abs as my own body began grinding into him. Wanting to be as close as physically possible, it was the only way I was going to feel better.

“Good start Adheem, his hair is already up to standard, but he is much too pale!” Ahmed groans, his hand moving across my body. This flush heat fills me up, this deep, pulsing pleasure arching through me. That heat that started all of this even more present, a virus taking over my body, rapidly changing me into one of them. My skin, this pale white starts to deepen, till it's no longer sun kissed, but bronzed. I feel my lips plumping as I start to make out with this man's dense, bushy, delicious pit, my nose widening as I take deeper inhales. My eyes, once green start to darken, the glazed look getting stronger as my cheek bones rise. My eyebrows get bushier as my face, my new, handsome, strong, masculine face is covered with a thick layer of sweat, permanently marking me with this incredible musk. Seeping deep into my pores, never letting me go.

“Brother, he’s almost big enough already, should we indulge?” Their voices ringing, I feel Ahmed move my face from his brothers right pit to the left, worshipping, and licking this one clean. I could hear satisfied grains. The feeling of pin pricks across my face as facial hair grew till I had a perfectly groomed beard. It would tickle any sluts' skin as I took them for myself. My tongue lapping more at my brothers… brother?! My brothers pit at the thought of driving some whore crazy with just my tongue.

“Why yes, yes indulge, it's our night out! It’ll just take more of his mind!” I took a deeper whiff, my mind pulsing, on fire, eyes glazing further as I felt everything in my body start to snap, and crack. My bones become longer, more dense, nerve endings more sensitive, electric. My spine elongates as my height grows, my head and neck leaning further down to stay underneath my new brother's arm. Memories, a whole life that I once lived was flowing down from my brains and into my balls. As images of the new me, the me my new bros, my brothers, were creating started to take its place. No more education, just lifting, partying,. Fucking and spreading a gospel and hierarchy that I would enforce everywhere I went. One slut and fag at a time… fagg… I don't say that. My best friend, my roommate was.. A FAG! 

Memories of college, of my desires, the girls I had dated, my gay best friend miles caught in the fire and were turning into ash. My back and shoulders broadened as my chest heaved forward. Two mountainous pecs appearing like slabs of muscle, my abs become more defined, popping up till I have an eight pack. My shirt rips apart as my biceps finally bring them to the edge, bulging biceps with veins that could easily be small snakes. My back was incredibly defined, arching as my ass grew to perfect globes, as ass that you could bounce quarters off of. An ass that No fag would ever touch if he knew what was good for him…. Fuck what am I thinking. I was thinking the truth for once brother.

I could hear my new family, my band of brothers speaking above me but they were muffled. My hands feeling up their muscles as I fully just gave in… I had to give.. Give nothing, there were still things to fight for. To believe in I could… I could PULSE.

 Pushing the denim of my pants to their limit, my member, something no woman had ever complained about got hard. Harder than it ever did, leaking precum as it started to grow, snaking down my pant leg as it went from a solid six inches… Fuck a big pair of bouncing boobs… seven inches… fake dsls choking on it… eight inches… fuck a fag on his knees worshipping it… fuck not… nine inches…. Not gay… wouldnt call … fuck milo belongs down there… ten inches….. Fucking fag pretending…. Pretending to be a man… be a person… just a fucking… eleven inches… a fucking hole for real men to use… God Brain on fire.. Can’t give in…. Fuck so close… Milo on knees.. Serving real.. 12 Inches of man meat pulsing in briefs that are clinging onto me by threads…. SERVING REAL ARAB MEN…13 INCHES ready to breed and cunt bitches lesser than me.

As I came up for air from my brother's pits, his musk, my musk mingling in the air I knew my purpose, the purpose I had been given and would fulfill. A need to assert the hierarchy and put the men in this bar, in this city in their place beneath me and my brothers. My slick with sweat skin glistened in the club's light, my hormones raging in my body and my mind muddled with an endless urge to dominate, consume and breed. My past, the pathetic life I had lived before brewing in my balls waiting for me to expel it in the first bitch I’d make tonight, and I knew exactly who.

“Welcome Brother Nassim!” Ahmed pats me on the back stating my new name, his sturdy hand making a thud against the wall of muscle I had become, a big, shit eating grin crossing his face as I don’t even show a sign of being phased. His strength possibly paled to mine with the conditioning they’d done. I took note of the fags, the bois they had collected around them, different degenerates instages of submission, clothes disheveled or tighter on them, their body’s becoming physically more fit but also compact, shorter then us. They were lesser men, their stature should fit that, lean and small. My new name fit me just right and so would everything else.

“Yes Nassim, I'm sure you already have a target in mind, someone you wish to serve you?” My other brother said. He wasn’t wrong my thoughts drifted to my faggot, the one I had brought with me to this sin pit. The one who I had cared for deeply. That care was still there, twisted, no not twisted, fixed. Instead of viewing him under some false pretense and letting him believe he was something he was not. I would show him the way, it was my right and it should be me and not some other alpha, I wouldn't allow it no matter how much I cared for my brethren. Milo was MINE to claim.

“Yes brothers I’ll find you after I’ve claimed my prize!” Milo wasn’t a person to me anymore, his body, his holes, they were objects to use for my pleasure and I would make them so. There would be no doubt in his empty little head when I was done with him about what his purpose was. Flashes of him claiming to be a top, him insisting that he wasn’t just a bottom flash through my head, all of it irritating me. All of it fueling my steps, each one a loud stomp on the club floors, my musk, wafting from my own hairy, sweaty pits attracting onlookers. Men of various shapes… no not men, fags all staring at me before their eyes grow glossy, minds more malleable, waiting to be tamed. They’d get their turn, just not yet. Not till Milo.

It took me a second to find him, he was on the other end of the club, at a smaller bar, talking to some tall muscular white BOI. A pathetic excuse of muscles, wasted on someone who would never be able to use it the way it was intended. I decided to raise both my arms up, both fags almost immediate, sniff the air. Their heads shaking as eyes start to glaze. Milo, smart, especially for a faggot looks around for the source, i can tell from his face, the lack of a slacked jaw that he thinks something is wrong. I can’t help but smirk. Our eyes meet, a part of him thinks he recognizes me, but dismisses it, he has never met this form. But after tonight he wouldn’t remember a life without it.

“MOVE” I tell the obstacle, I can see his eyes glaze further, his face trying to press against the hot, sweaty, musky skin of my pecs. To feel the hairs on his face as he takes deep long whiffs of my musk. But my commandment is law and he moves across the room. Milo looks at me, both in horror and awe. My deep gruff voice stirring something within him that I can’t help but chuckle at. His pants, those booty shorts he wore to get attention, obviously only my attention, which were pathetic, bright and too tight show exactly what effect I have on him. His pathetic… why isn’t it smaller, it was like seven fucking inches, that bottom had a bigger dick then i did originally? THIS HAD TO CHANGE!

“Who are … what… what is happening?!” He asks as I get right in front of him, invading whatever pathetic personal space he has. I can see his beautiful brown eyes looking up into mine. So submissive and slutty already. I can’t wait to make them glaze over and roll into the back of his head. Make him into a dumb mindless slut, an object, a toy to play and fuck and use.

“Its me baby, can’t you see NASSIM!” the word rings out of my mouth, my voice light as I move my hands over him, before they settle on the small of his back. His tight, lean body is perfect to hold. Calling him baby makes him blush, he’s moving in closer, his breath on my chest. It was heavy, desperate, he looked so confused, pathetic, cute.

“Nassim… i dont… i don’t know a Nassim? Who… who are you?” His hands found their way to my shoulders, slowly, sweetly massaging them. My hands went down to his ass, his tight short shorts left nothing to the imagination as I grasped them. Fingers digging into the fabric and supple flesh, my sweaty fingers sinking into him. He lets out a soft moan as I pull him closer, smearing his face, his open mouth against my pecs. My musk seeping deeper into his pores, he can’t help but moan against me.

“But Habibi, of course you do, you live with me!” The pet name falls out of my lips so naturally, to call him something so sweet is wrong, but I’m happy its me who shows him his place. That I get to have this moment and all that it leads up to. To see his eyes go wider, as memories of me flash through his head, all conflicting with who I am now, till they start to burn away, fueling the thing in me, this virus of masculinity and hierarchy. I can see him try to push off of me. Try to use what pathetic little strength he has to get away but soon his hands stop pushing or shoving and start groping, traveling down my body tweaking my nipples and then tracing my abs

His eyes fully glaze as he mutters away, everything unintelligible, moans slipping out more as my fingers find their way under his shorts, one hand in the front, the other in the back. My hand slick with my sweat as I grip his lengthy cock. I can feel it PULSE in my hands, his member, hot, throbbing, but as I squeeze, he lets out this guttural moan and its length starts to shorten. His once girthy, above average package retreats inch by inch. Leaking precum the entire time as everything he once was starts to get stored down in his balls. Till there is nothing left but a pathetic nub, less then one inch and a constant leaking faucet of precum. The entire time my fingers frantically search between his now plumping cheeks. His hole winking, inviting my fingers in as he thrusts back. My mouth right next to his ear as I’m whispering obscenities to corrupt his mind.

Telling him his place below me, his need to serve me. How we were never equals, never friends. He was just a hole, a plaything, a thing to please and serve me whenever I needed. His hands got more voracious, moving down to my tight denim jeans, ripping them down as I continued to subjugate his mind. Muttered protests leaving his lips for the last time as he sinks to his knees.

His teeth pulling off my underwear, my cock smacking him across the face smearing hot precum on his cheeks and lips. Those lips plumping up, his body, the mutation, whatever it was that changed me making him the perfect pathetic plaything for me. Not some alpha, no it worked different on fags, it made them servants. God I loved this life.

Seeing him lick his face clean before asking “master, master please can i suck you? Please!”His eyes slutty, glazed over, lost in the fog of submission, looking up at me on his knees. My hands fell to his hair, resting gently on his head as I smirked and nodded at him. My eyes then trailing down to that ass of his, how it was barely contained by that embarrassment of fabric. That would be for later.

He gently grabbed my cock with his hands, reverently holding it before bringing his lips to meet my cock head. Slowly, sensually kissing it, his hands gliding along my slick shaft as he starts to move around, my shaft getting a few kisses before he quickly licks my balls making me shudder. His tongue then laps up and down my cock before it wraps around the head. His mind fully gone as he kisses it one last time, his teeth not even a threat (why would he ever be able to harm his master, they are perfectly behind his lips as he slides all the way down my monster schlong. My fuckstick makes his throat distend as he gets all the way to the hilt. My hands grab the side of his head as my eyes roll back, my instincts taking over.

“FUCK SLUT!” My voice a deep growl as I pull him almost all the way off before thrusting all the way back in. No ga reflex, just moans as I thrust in and out of this faggot. Skull fucking him as both of us give in to this new life, both our balls full, my ready to shoot load after load down his vibrating, milking throat from dominating him. He was getting off from being used, getting ready to cum hands free from being throat fucked and dominated, sealing his fate.

With a few more final thrusts I let out a deep moan before shoving myself so far down his throat, his nose smashed against my pubes, my musk frying his new brain as I fire load after load. At least twelve beautiful loads claimed him as he fired off his pathetic load sealing his fate. His body shuddered, not wanting to let go of my cock but also needing air. 

I was benevolent, I pulled out of his gasping, needy throat, much to his whimpering disappointment and let him breath. His shorts stained, his shirt ruined from the sweat and saliva. His hair absolutely messed up from my rough play but he was delicious this way on his knees. Especially since there was not a single ounce of cum outside his lips. We had attracted so much attention at the bar, so many faggots drawn to our scene desperate to even get a look at the privilege I had just given my favorite slut. They would serve me, and maybe a few of them would EARN it. But they would all learn who was in charge, and who got what they wanted.

Me and my brothers.

Four friends debate the latest gay dating app to hit the market. Four friends inevitably become walking advertisements for the very same app. Remember, What’s Good for the Gandr is Good for You!

Here's one for all you droney himbo fans! Average gay friend group into four Adonises literally molded to be the perfect men for Gandr’s supernaturally expanding user base. Hope you enjoy! -Occam

(L to R) Sven - Blaine - Clint - Guy

“It’s called Gandr! I’ve heard nothing but good things! Besides, I’ve been obsessed with the founder since he guest judged on Drag Race!” Clint held out his phone showing an ad for the newest dating app to hit the mobile store. “And it’s not even just for dating! It’s for the lifestyle!”

His friends are nonplussed. Swirling a drink in his hands, Blaine rolls his eyes. “Have you heard anything about it that wasn’t from an ad? I mean- Girl. Obviously it’s not made with guys like us in mind? Like, fuck look at those guy, they wouldn’t seven give Sven a second look unless it was to laugh at him!”

Clad in his usual deep v-neck and squinting at the screen, Sven shrugs in agreement before speaking up himself. “Dunno about this one Clint, something about it feels off? But you know me, I’m not really about apps and shit.”

Huddled around the phone in their favorite haunt, a lowkey gay bar-cum-brunch spot, the group continues bickering about their interest in reality star Chad Gleeson’s latest venture. Taking little part in the chatter, while his cohort debates whether or not this is a cash grab or a genuine attempt to build community online, Guy is simply staring blankly at the disembodied oiled up torsos still scrolling past on Clint’s phone. 

Oliver had been even quieter than usual for the past ten minutes. Which wasn’t unusual per se, but this silence felt different than usual. He looked between his friends. 

Noah looked like a Barbarian king with how he sat draped across his chair like it was a throne. Ethan lounged against him, basically hanging off of the ginger hunk’s bulging muscles, his hand sometimes even finding its way towards the overwhelmingly large outline of his cock. And Marcus? Marcus resembled a seven-foot holy knight straight out of a stained-glass artwork.

Oliver adjusted the sleeves of his oversized sweater nervously.

“You guys seriously don’t think tonight feels… weird?”

Three pairs of eyes turned toward him.

Noah blinked slowly.

“Weird how?”

Oliver opened his mouth.

Paused.

Because the problem was impossible to explain.

According to every memory in his head, Noah had always been enormous. Ethan had always looked like an elven thirst trap. Marcus had always been built like a cathedral guardian with the personality of an overfriendly saint.

And yet, some small part of Oliver’s brain insisted that the room hadn’t looked like this before. That Noah hadn’t always accidentally crushed door handles and chuckled dumbly about it. That Ethan hadn’t always spent so much time caressing the Barbarian’s muscle chest while talking. That Marcus hadn’t always looked like he could just throw someone over his shoulder and carry them through a battlefield.

Adrian watched from behind his DM screen. Every time he wove magic, the last person to transform would always notice something subconsciously. There was always some resistance to incomplete narratives.

“Probably just sensory overload.”, Marcus offered as a solution. 

“Yeah, the musk from those two must have you feeling light-headed again.”, Ethan added, one of his delicate hands tracing circles around Noah’s nipple. Noah just nodded, his hand slipping towards Ethan’s ass, his fuckbuddy leaning closer towards him immediately.

Oliver frowned. Sure, the two of them were always incredibly flirtatious with one another, but tonight felt even worse than usual.

Adrian just smiled. “You turn, Ollie.”

Oliver flinched, hating it when people called him that.

“I’m gonna play a Bard.” 

Adrian just smiled, definitely agreeing that a charming Bard would round out their group nicely. “Okay, then roll for Strength first.”

Oliver nodded and rolled the die.

12

There was no dramatic change like what happened to the other three. Some muscle was added to his frame, but in contrast with the muscular powerhouses that were Noah and Marcus, his body stayed leaner and more toned. 

Oliver relaxed in his seat. The sense of tenseness that had been hanging around him finally eased, now that the magic was directly affecting him. He didn’t mind people looking at his body all that much, not feeling the need to hide it away any longer. Not that he thought he ever had.

“Dexterity.”, Adrian said, nodding at his friend’s body language.

16

The transformation flowed through Oliver beautifully, reshaping his body with artistic precision.

His waist tightened slightly, while his muscles leaned out with athletic definition. He still didn’t have the bulky size of his two friends, but he also wasn’t as small and lithe as Ethan. His body somehow found the perfect balance between looking invitingly soft and masculine.

Oliver had become a twunk, a picture book definition of one even. His legs had lengthened slightly, his height now sitting a comfortable 6’1. Not so tall that it was intimidating, but tall enough to show he wasn’t a pushover. His movements now carried a certain fluidity, grace and sense of control with them, just enough to subtly draw the eye of anyone watching.

Noah leaned a little closer to inspect him, in a way that made Ethan look slightly jealous.

“Are you seriously checking out Ollie’s ass again when I’m right next to you?”, the twinky elf complained, Noah leaning back and shrugging his shoulders apologetically in response.

Oliver didn’t recoil at the nickname quite as much this time. And Noah did have a point in checking out his butt. While not quite as large or bouncy as Ethan’s bubble butt, his own ass was pert, perfectly harmonizing with his graceful movements. It was the kind of ass that looked both breedable and like it could throw some serious force behind a pounding.

Adrian looked amused at the situation, already liking the new group dynamic before the changes even fully finalized.

“Constitution.”, he said softly and watched the die bounce on the hardwood.

18

The change hit him like a freight train. Oliver always had had an unimpressive dick, but that was a thing of the past now.

While the transformation also made him look like he was brimming with vitality, his skin seeming warmer and less pale, his posture looser and his body language more confident and downright tempting, the real change was happening between his lean legs.

He didn’t quite have the size of Noah and Marcus, having rolled slightly lower, but there was no denying that the monstercock growing on the Bard was one of the biggest around, only half an inch shorter than Marcus’ and slightly thinner than Noah’s. Undeniably huge, but somehow seeming more manageable next to the two of them.

And not only that. The transformation had also given him an infamous libido. While Marcus fucked anyone who asked and Noah mostly stuck to plowing Ethan’s experienced ass, Oliver had become something of the man whore of the group. While still being pretty shy overall, his perfect build and incredible cock and ass never failed to secure the versatile lover a date for the night.

Adrian just smiled behind his screen. He hadn’t planned for this, but definitely welcomed his friend coming out of his shell to secure some experience. Especially with his character sheet only half finished. “Intelligence.”

Oliver grabbed the die quickly, eager to get his friends to stop staring at his now obvious bulge, even though his 10 incher was the second smallest of the player group.

14

The transformation settled behind the Bard’s eyes instantly.

He wasn’t hyper-intellectual like a wizard would be. Or strategically brilliant like Marcus. But he became a quick thinker, incredibly articulate. And definitely more creative. His room back home changed, several half finished songs and poems appearing. His quick wit also gave him sharper humour.

And he almost instinctively got better at reading people. Understanding emotional nuance felt easier now. Like he always knew at a glance what people needed. How to handle a conversation better. With his new intelligence and humour, the Bard became almost socially magnetic, despite his unchanged charisma.

Something that became very obvious when Noah, who had been rather focussed on Ethan before, started looking at Oliver more, causing the shy Bard to blush and get flustered, the attention of the overwhelmingly manly Barbarian still a bit much for him.

But that’s what the last two stats would be there for.

“Wisdom.”, Adrian prompted from behind his DM screen, watching as his changing friend rolled the die.

13

The change was subtle.

Unlike Noah or Marcus, Oliver’s sense of self remained strong. His emotional awareness sharpened further rather than collapsing. He became more perceptive of moods, tension, attraction, discomfort.

More emotionally intelligent.

And significantly more aware of what effect he had on others.

Oliver looked around the table slowly. At Ethan practically sprawled across Noah. At Noah’s huge hand still resting possessively against Ethan’s thigh. At Marcus unconsciously smiling whenever anyone else looked happy. Then at Adrian calmly observing all of them.

Oliver tilted his head slightly. “…You know,” he murmured, “the vibe at this table has gotten extremely charged.”

Ethan immediately lost it laughing. Noah grinned. Marcus looked confused for about two seconds before understanding abruptly dawned on him.

“Oh.”

His ears turned red.

Oliver smirked as reality settled around them. He had always been great at reading the vibe of a room. And right now the tension in the air was basically palpable.

And now only the decisive stat of his class remained. “Charisma!”, Adrian announced sharply, with unusual drama in his voice, the magic user urging his already gorgeous friend on to finalise the changes made to the group.

In a fittingly long slow circle the die spun across the table before settling.

20

“Critical success!”, Oliver cheered as the atmosphere in the room changed.

The world seemed to hold its breath as Ollie’s face became as gorgeous as his body, ass and cock. High cheekbones, strong but graceful brows, a strong but pretty nose, thick kissable lips. He didn’t have the ethereal look of Ethan the Elf or the overpowering rugged masculinity of Noah. He somehow sat in the perfect middle spot. Like someone had looked up masculine beauty and decided to crank the definition up to 11. 

And it wasn’t just his face that changed. Everything about him seemed flirtatious and welcoming. His sparkling white smile, that was more than the smile of every boy next door from every teen rom-com. His voice that became rich and musical at the same time, masculine and melodious without sounding artificial. Even the eye-contact with his expressive brown eyes now oozed with warmth and playful awareness, a single glance enough to make people feel desired, seen and interesting.

His every gesture became charged with intentionality. Not in a teasingly flirtatious way like Ethan, but rather in a way that felt awfully magnetic and almost impossible to resist. His every laugh made people feel like their best self.

And the memories of Ollie and his friends reflected that. Ollie was the undisputed heartthrob on campus, even the straightest of jocks falling for him constantly. It was just impossible not to. 

The Bard would constantly disappear from parties with strangers, take guys and gals home whenever he went to a bar and leave only well deserved legends and rumours behind. He wasn’t a fuck machine like Noah or a power bottom like Ethan. He was like the Kamasutra had decided to become human and evolve new tricks.

The mix of his absurd Constitution and perfect Charisma had fused in the best way possible. Ollie always gave people exactly what they needed, even if they didn’t know it themselves. Helping a girl get over her toxic ex-boyfriend with the most enthusiastic romantic fuck of her life? Helping a homophobic jock come out of the closet by giving him the best ass he’d ever have? Or helping a shy nerd come out of his shell by feeling desired and popping his cherry in the most loving way? All of those were now stories that were absolutely true about the extraordinarily skilled, endlessly versatile lover that was Ollie. 

And the best part about it was that the Bard didn’t leave a trail of broken hearts. People genuinely liked him and treated him more like a treasure that they wouldn’t dare to keep for themselves, genuinely happy with the experience they had with the urban legend sex magician.

And while everyone else found themselves lost in those memories, Marcus found himself trying and failing not to stare. His own terrible Wisdom role had left him absolutely vulnerable to Ollie’s incredible Charisma. Something the Bard was very much aware of.

Not in a predatory way. Marcus was the one person that Ollie allowed himself to tease … a lot. And since the paladin found himself agreeing to basically anything if asked nicely enough, the two of them had had their fair share of nights together in the past, something even the group’s gigolo found himself enjoying endlessly.

Oliver winked at the blushing paladin and smiled. Maybe tonight would be another one of those nights where he’d end up with Marcus. But who could really tell.

—-------------------------------

Epilogue

Adrian quietly sat back behind the DM screen, watching the final party dynamic settle perfectly into place.

The barbarian and elf draped across each other openly now.

The gigantic gullible paladin blushing whenever the bard smiled at him.

And the bard himself sitting confidently at the center of the emotional gravity well he’d become.

Four completed archetypes. Four very changed men. Four people still passionate about Dungeons and Dragons, now more than ever since they had somehow ended up incidentally creating characters that were basically themselves.

One rewritten reality.

And only Adrian remembered how ordinary they had all been a few hours ago. How unhappy they had been with their lives. 

Noah, who had been relentlessly bullied by the football team just this morning had become bigger than all of them. No more getting shoved into lockers when your shoulders are wider than three of those combined.

The often turned down Ethan finding himself next to someone who actually liked his flirting, revelling in the feeling of being the target of it even. And surely people wouldn’t dare mess with the enormous Barbarian’s quasi-boyfriend.

Marcus, who had been plagued by complexes for the majority of his life, would never hear a word of complaint about his incredible body any more. And maybe people would finally respect his hulking mass and brilliant mind now.

And the shy and easily hurt Oliver? He was now way too busy showing people the absolute heights of sexual delight to care whether people talked shit about his art online. The praise he got for it after showing it off to one of his lovers being the most important feedback he could ask for.

"Just a little something to take the edge off."

That little something was a powder called Ovid's Wet Dream, and it had found its way inside of Eli's morning coffee courtesy of Silas. Now, Silas clutches his legs as he watches his equally nerdy friend explode in height.

"I'm so fucking horny!"

Silas is practically drooling at the sight of Eli's modest erection begins fattening. Eli's sweatpants are so thin and soaked with pre-cum that they're practically see-through, and do little to hide the inflating sausage between his legs. The cock's head flares and pushes out pre at a more urgent rate, as his balls begin churning and inflating with backed-up cum, becoming veritable, hairy baseballs between his legs. Eli's balls flood his body with testosterone. Sweat begins pouring out of his body, his pubes and pit air thickening and growing denser.

"I'm glad it feels good!" Silas says, encouragingly, squirming as his 5-inch erection brushes against his shorts.

Eli only moans in assurance as his frail chest begins inflating. If Eli had the mental faculties to do so, he would be asking lots of questions. But through the drool flooding out of his mouth, it's obvious the mental changes the powder promised are steadily kicking in. The overwhelming flood of hormones makes the loss of Silas's intelligence even more pronounced as he begins mindlessly humping, thrusting his hips, desperate for release as his cock surges to 9, thick, long inches. The head of his cock pumps a steady stream of pre down his knee.

"Fuck, bro!"

"Oh my god," Silas mutters, licking his lips.

Now, the most important question is why. Why is Silas watching his friend play with his fattening nipples, moaning like a whore and groaning with pleasure as his chest begins inflating with displaced fat and muscle? Why is Silas slowly stroking himself as Eli begins furiously massaging his expanding muscle tits, his hands cracking and inflating, becoming thick and veiny, callouses forming on his hands as workout routines replace complex math problems in Eli's shrinking brain? Why is Silas drooling from horniness as Eli flexes an expanding bicep and shows off his fattening arm, the thick hair growing beneath his pits, damp and sweaty, reeking of musk and testosterone?

Well, the poor guy is a virgin.

Still.

Eli stands and grabs his tight shirt, abs carving themselves into his stomach, and rips it clean down the collar. His back widens and thickens, biceps pumping with more meat as he bumps his beyond hard dick against his desk, files deleting themselves from his computer. All of his math homework? Gone. All of his coding programs? Gone. In their place is all the gay porn the gay, horny jock can possibly masturbate to whenever his massive, constantly producing bull balls need draining. The aroma of cum, sex, sweat, and musk fills both Eli and Silas's noses. It makes Silas's hole twitch, clenching in feverish anticipation, and only inflates Eli's burgeoning ego, and his burgeoning ass. The pancake ass begins stuffing itself with muscle and fat just like his pecs, the cheeks filling out whatever room is left in his straining, soaked sweatpants as his thighs, calves, and feet begin growing to match his upper body.

Eli looks at Silas with half-lidded eyes, cloudy with lust. He bites his lip as the cocky streak in him begins growing, seeing the cute twink in a different, much less platonic light as his pale skin begins growing a healthy tan, moaning as his nipples expand further, becoming more sensitive as more heft is packed onto his already meaty chest.

All Silas has ever wanted was to lose his virginity. Eli lost his recently but that's only because Eli was bolder, a little more comfortable using the apps than Silas ever was. It filled him with jealousy as Eli gushed about the experience. How nice the man was. How careful he was. Silas sat there silently fuming and mildly embarrassed at the fact that he was seemingly such a late bloomer. So many people he'd met had fucked already. And here he was, fingering himself and quietly moaning into his hand as he came. Besides, none of the men on the apps fit the exact parameters that Silas was looking for. Sure they were hunky, but did they have such a fat ass splitting the back of their sweatpants, the hairy globes released into the air and nearly clapping from their size? Did they have such meaty, juicy thighs sandwiching their fat nuts? Did they have such huge, musky feet, stretching across the carpeting, the toes thickening and thin hairs growing on the backs of them, the musk adding to the heady smell in the air, making Silas woozy with lust? Did they think with the head between their legs more often than the one on their shoulders?

Eli groans in pleasure, his newly deep voice ricocheting through the small room. His computer bloats into a massive, color-changing gaming computer. Java closing itself and COD showing up on the computer screen.

For Eli, he's never felt so good in his life. His brain totally devoid of worries and fears. No anxieties at all. He's just horny as shit. His brain is a carousel of images involving some bottom in front of him, their hole clutching tight to his thick dick, the massive schlong buried deep in their holes as it gains another inch in length and girth. Or his fat ass being impaled by one of his workout buddies, bent over in the musky locker room, cock oozing on the floor as his eyes loll in pleasure. He rubs his chiseling chin, moaning in approval as a thick beard begins growing on his chin. A baseball cap appears on his head, his wardrobe simplifying into the only attire necessary for a horned up jock like him. Sneakers, tank tops, basketball shorts, sweatpants, tight jeans, tighter polos, nipples and pecs and abs and dense, meaty biceps forever in display. Begging for a worshipper to lick him from head to toe. To swallow his cock down to the base, nose buried in the thick, musky pubes.

His cock strains with backed-up cum. His torn T-shirt (size small? Why the fuck did he buy such a small shirt) draped over the boner that's finally broken free of his destroyed sweatpants.

Silas mouth falls open and he gasps.

"Shit, bro I didn't know you were in here," Eli says, pressing down on his dick and making it bob. His dick pulses hungrily.

"Um," Silas says, speech temporarily shorted out by his own boner and the musk spreading through the room.

"I was gonna game," Eli says, "but then you walked by me with those shorts on." He bites his lip. "That ass looks perfect."

"I'm a virgin," Silas blurts and then blushes.

Eli only chuckles, before standing and letting the shirt slide off and his cock to bob in front of the mesmerized twink in its full, drippy glory. He wonders why he never considered fucking his nerdy friend before, maybe as a reward for doing his homework or something. Yeah, maybe he should start doing that. It's hard to pay attention to some dumb professor when all your dick wants to do is bust a nut everywhere. Maybe his friend and roomy here could help him with his large problem.

Eli cups Silas's chin in his hand.

Jonah had never wanted to step foot in the locker room. He was able to get out of P.E. class by assisting the track and cross country teams all four years of college. Unfortunately for him, he needed to get the head of the athletic department at the college, the wrestling coach, to sign off on the paperwork he needed. He walked inside after his classes were done for the day one day, and surprisingly found no one inside. “Hello? Coach Barnes? I emailed you about signing some paperwork. Hello?” Jonah walked around the locker room, wondering just where the fuck Coach could be, and the rest of the athletes too.

Jonah soon stumbled upon the showers in the locker room. He had never pictured them looking like this, though. The showers were partitioned, albeit with some pretty low partitions, and there was a name of a jock just above each shower head. Jonah quickly realized that the names were all of the men on the wrestling team. Of course, he wouldn’t know this, but each shower was made specifically for each wrestler’s special needs. Another reason why Jonah was a bit shocked by the showers was because of how high-tech they seemed to be.

Everything was chrome-plated, and there were a lot more knobs and even levers than he had seen in most showers before. “Is this were all the school’s fuckin’ money is going?” Jonah asked himself out loud. He was a science major, and the school’s labs were woefully underequipped, with little to no high-tech equipment to speak of. As Jonah continued to walk down the row of showers, hoping the coach’s office was somewhere nearby, he slipped on a puddle of water. He was luckily able not to get the papers wet, but he did end up inside of one of the showers because of his fall.

As he got up, he heard and saw a sliding door to the shower close. Even though the partitions were low, they were still high enough that escape would be quite difficult, if not impossible, especially for someone as weak and small as Jonah was. He soon noticed that there was no handle on the door or anyway to get it to open again. He began looking at the insane number of knobs and levers, hoping to find one that would get him out of there. He couldn’t find one, so he was stuck inside this high-tech shower until someone came along to rescue him!

Jonah was a bit shocked when a Siri-like voice seemed to come out of the showerhead. “Please remove your clothes.”

“Fuck no! I wanna fuckin’ get out of here! Let me out!”

“Please remove your clothes. If you do not remove your clothes, they will be forcefully removed.”

“I am not taking my fuckin’ clothes off. Let me fuckin’ out of here!” The showerhead soon opened up and an incredibly strong vacuum was turned on. Jonah remained standing up, but all of his clothes were vacuumed right off of him, even his underwear. It was a surprisingly painless experience, but Jonah wasn’t really concerned about that right now. “Fuck!” he screamed, dropping the papers to instinctively cover his dick, even though no one was around or even in the locker room still.

“Pre-wash cycle initiated. Wrestler will be covered in water and lathered up in a nice and soothing scent. The process will begin momentarily.”

“What the actual fuck?” Jonah said to himself. It sounded like he was going to be washed like he was just some clothes! Thankfully, it wasn’t as bad as it sounded, as water came out of the showerhead for the first time since he had fallen into the shower. The stream of water was quite intense, the most high-pressure stream Jonah had ever experienced in a shower. Even that didn’t excite him, as he still clawed at the door and tried to find a way out of the hellish shower. His slippery wet body was not doing him any favors.

“Pre-wash cycle complete. Body wash cycle will begin momentarily.”

“Huh, I wonder what the scent was?” Jonah though, before the body wash was pretty much unceremoniously dumped on him. It smelled like Axe body spray and the other douchey colognes the college athletes and even frat bros wore around campus. Jonah, like most people, hated the smell, but there was little he could do about it. At least he had the ability to not lather himself up! Unfortunately, body scrubbers came out of the wall and scrubbed Jonah’s body from head to toe, making sure every inch of him was covered in the stinky-smelling body wash, even his dick.

Then the showerhead blasted the stream of water again, and the body wash went down the drain. As Jonah looked down, hoping it was all gone, he realized that his body had changed dramatically, apparently in the last couple of minutes! “What. The. Fuck?” he said, as he felt up his newly muscular body. It was now a bit stocky, a body type that many wrestlers had. He had biceps with peaks now and tree trunks for legs, as well as square pecs that still jutted out from his body and abs. He looked pretty much like a wrestler now, and it totally freaked him the fuck out!

“Body wash cycle complete. Shampoo cycle will begin momentarily.”

“At least it’s an actual shower routine,” Jonah thought to himself, although he knew that this would probably have some weird side effects to it as well. However, there was surprisingly nothing sexual or even different about this shampoo cycle, as the shower was calling it. Jonah did once again not rub the shampoo around and tried to escape once more, but the hair scrubbers were doing that job for him, and the walls were much too wet now for anyone to have a chance at escaping.

The shampoo cycle continued, and despite the muscle growth, it seemed to be a normal rest of the shower. However, he was definitely not expecting what the voice was going to say next. “Shampoo cycle complete. Mandatory cum deposit is required.”

“Wait, what?” Jonah said, as part of the floor opened up and what looked to be a fleshlight came out and placed itself directly on Jonah’s dick being turning on and jerking him off. “FUCK! FUCK! HELP! Anyone, get me the fuck out of here! Please, anyone, help!” Jonah then heard someone chuckling, and was relieved that someone was finally going to come and save him. However, it was Coach Barnes, and he had a smirk on his face as he looked on at Jonah in the shower.

“I was wondering why my phone told me one of my wrestlers was in the shower, even though they’re all at a competition right now.”

“Oh thank god, Coach, thanks for being here! This shower is fuckin’ insane, man! It caused my muscles to grow and I’m fuckin’ trapped inside. Please let me out, Coach!”

Coach Barnes chuckled again before responding to the trapped jock. “I’m not gonna let you out, Jonah. You see, I’m always on the lookout for more jocks to join the team. Since my methods are pretty, unique let’s say, not that many actual wrestlers want to join the team. And the side effects of this process aren’t really conducive to keeping the same team year after year. So, I’m actually glad you landed into the shower, however you managed that. You saved me from having to scout another guy next year.”

“I’m, uh, gonna, uh, report, uh, you, to, uh, the, uh, authorities,” Jonah noted, moaning between every word as the machine continued to milk him, waiting for Jonah to release his mandatory cum deposit.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. And the dumbing down process from the shampoo will be happening shortly. You’ve literally been brainwashed into being dumb! Isn’t that cute? I bought this special shampoo a few years ago because the wrestling team was really getting out of hand, and I could barely hold down a coach for a couple weeks, let alone an entire season. But this special dumbing-down shampoo will make sure the wrestlers don’t graduate. Unfortunately, I purchased a dosage that was a bit too strong, and my wrestlers can’t really do much else after this whole process is complete except to wrestle, work out, and eat.”

“No, no, Coach, you need to stop this process. My intellect is tantamount to my being! I don’t want to become just some other dumb jock. Please, Coach, ya need to stop this! Me no want be dumb! Me like it!” Jonah said, as Coach Barnes watched the dumbing down process happen before his very eyes. At the same time Jonah said “Me like it!,” he came as well, blowing his load inside of the machine and giving it its mandatory cum deposit. His cumshot also removed any last vestiges of his intelligence from his system. He was truly a dumb jock now; there was no turning back.

The machine retreated and Jonah noticed that he had a cock to match his new wrestler body now. Well, he looked down and noticed his cock that he wanted to play with; he wasn’t smart enough now to realize what had really just happened to him. The shower then blow-dried him, blowing hot air all around him until no drops of water remained on his person. Then a wrestling singlet was put on his body, the shower helping Jonah to get into it with minimal effort.

The door finally opened, and Jonah stepped out in his singlet, hoping to please his coach. “I see the machine did a perfect job, like always. Your name is Jonah, boy, you need to remember that. You like to hang out with other guys and drink beer, do weed, flirt with hot women, pretty much do whatever they do. You’re a dumb jock frat bro wrestler now, Jonah, and you’re fuckin’ proud of it! You don’t even know what 2+2 is now, and can’t even write your last name correctly, but none of that matters when all you need to do is fuck and wrestle!”

Marcus watched Ethan and Noah bicker across the table with growing disbelief. Somehow the atmosphere between the two, which had always been oddly complicated and loaded with tension, had become aggressively flirtatious ever since they started the character creation half an hour ago.

The barbarian lounged back in his chair, massive arms folded across his titanic chest while Ethan leaned against the table beside him, one hip cocked casually, presenting his butt. Their personalities fit together disturbingly well somehow.

“You keep touching my arms.”, Noah rumbled.

“Because they’re like battleship cannons.”

“They’re not…”

“You’re massive!”

Noah grinned at the compliment.

Marcus stared. Oliver stared. The situation wasn’t odd per se. Ethan always flirted with Noah constantly. And of course Noah liked the attention despite himself. But it somehow felt even more intense than usual today.

The only person who remembered otherwise sat calmly behind the DM screen, watching with calm fascination as Ethan absentmindedly rested a hand against Noah’s solid shoulder while reading over his own character sheet. The Barbarian didn’t react. No one but Adrian noticed  Noah slightly leaning into the touch. 

Finally having enough of watching Marcus rolled his eyes. “Okay … my turn..”

“What’re you playing?”, Oliver asked as Marcus nervously readjusted his glasses. 

“Paladin.”

Noah snorted approvingly. “Oh, hell yeah.”

Marcus grinned shyly at the Barbarian’s enthusiasm.

“Big holy knight aesthetic. Heavy armor. Big mace. The works.”

“Fits you weirdly well.”, Ethan admitted, still half draped against Noah’s chair.

Adrian nodded.

The enchanted parchment shimmered, having already instantly accepted the Paladin archetype. Marcus picked up the dice and Adrian nodded at him to roll. “Strength first.”

The die rolled across the wood.

17

“Ha, still stronger than you!”, Noah barked, ignorant of the transformation hitting his black friend.

Marcus groaned slightly as his body surged upwards in the chair, his old heaviness vanishing almost instantly under slabs of dense, heroic muscle. His already wide shoulders becoming even wider, working together with his broadening chest to stretch out his shirt. His poor shirt almost lost the race to adapt, trying to fit the enormous torso that was quickly accentuated by the thick muscle filling out his arms and thighs. His shorts almost exploded off of the new tree trunk legs before adjusting.

Unlike Noah’s enormous rugged Barbarian size, Marcus transformed into something cleaner, something knightly. Not much smaller than the massive ginger mountain of a man that Ethan seemed hellbent on climbing, but somehow having a more heroic feel to it. He wasn’t even much shorter than the towering Barbarian, maybe only an inch or so in difference in height, which only made him look broader.

And as always Ethan the greedy twink looked between the two like he’d won the lottery. Sure he was mainly preoccupied with the rugged Barbarian Noah, but another piece of major eye candy certainly didn’t hurt.

Adrian smiled, loving the direction his magic was taking the party. “Next roll. Dexterity.”

Marcus nodded and rolled again.

The die stopped.

10

This time the transformation didn’t really have an imposing effect. 

Definitely nothing like the Strength roll. Instead Marcus’ movements refined slightly. While almost as huge as Noah, the Paladin’s imposing frame now moved with controlled precision and grace, contrasting the Barbarian’s heavier groundedness nicely. Sure he wasn’t a graceful dancer like Ethan, but he carried himself with disciplined athletic coordination nonetheless.

Like someone who trained for swordsmanship. Or a mace fight for that matter. His posture looked balanced, stable. Confident even, which was especially surprising seeing how he still had his old slightly awkward personality.

Another indicator of that being that his nervous habit of adjusting his glasses still hadn’t changed. Though now he did it with paw like massive hands while Noah laughed at him for having the posture of a huge boy scout.

“Oh shut up, doofus. That just about makes him the hottest guy I’ve ever seen.”, Ethan countered playfully punching Noah’s dense shoulder that the elven twink was leaning against. And while he barely felt the punch, the statement made Noah frown.

“Rude.”

“You’re still winning overall.”, Ethan calmed him, rubbing the swollen biceps to calm the beast.

“Good.”, the Barbarian said, looking genuinely pleased. Though that might have been because of the fond, rewarding, almost practiced looking smile Ethan threw him with the compliment.

The physical contact between them kept escalating too. Small things. Casual things. Ethan’s hand on Noah’s forearm while laughing. Noah resting a huge arm across the back of Ethan’s chair. Their knees bumping under the table and staying there.

Neither seemed remotely self-conscious about it anymore. Reality had already rewritten their chemistry into something longstanding and familiar.

Marcus watched them with amusement, “They’re gonna be making out by session three.”

“We’re sitting right here,” Noah pointed out.

Ethan tilted his head.

“Would that bother you?”

Noah opened his mouth.

Paused.

Thought very hard for someone with an Intelligence of five.

“…Not really.”

A statement that made Ethan look very pleased, like a child that had just been promised dessert. Meanwhile Oliver couldn’t help but laugh.

The grimoire pulsed warmly against Adrian’s thigh below the table, prompting him to urge for the next change. “Constitution.”

Marcus rolled and the die settled almost immediately.

19

And just like what had happened to Noah before, the transformation surged through him hard.

His already massive frame thickened further, becoming even denser with powerful muscle, making him look more like a superhuman fantasy hero than an ordinary hunk.

He just radiated vitality now. Not quite the dense enormity of the Barbarian, but rather a beacon of power and life, just a picture perfect valiant Paladin.

One part of him was especially radiating life, a part of him that now threatened to burst through the slowly adapting crotch of his shorts as it was ballooning with size.

Marcus shifted in his seat uncomfortably as his mind quickly acknowledged and accepted the sensation of now being hung like a horse. While Noah and Marcus had both nailed the same insane roll, there were noticeable differences. Like Marcus’ cock being longer and Noah’s being fatter. Or the Paladin being circumcised, unlike the Barbarian. Though the Paladin did end up with generally larger loads by comparison. Just the energy of life running through him helping a lot with that.

“With rolls like that, you guys are gonna make me feel left behind.”, Ethan complained, looking between the two towering hunks, pouting, “This little elf doesn’t have your stamina.”

“At least you’re pretty.”, Noah offered, “And tiny.”

“You like that I’m tiny.”

The Barbarian’s ears reddened slightly again.

Marcus stared between them.

“…You two flirt like people who already share an apartment.”

“With how often I spent the night at his place, we basically do.”, Ethan chuckled, resting a hand on the blushing Noah’s obvious cock bulge through the sweatpants.

“Intelligence.”, Adrian interrupted the bickering, nodding at Marcus to continue.

16

Marcus straightened. Not really physically, but mentally. 

Behind the glasses sitting on his square jawed, masculine face his eyes sharpened, his thought processes becoming faster and more efficient. A lot more things suddenly made sense to him, connections, patterns and concepts coming easier to him.

Reality adjusted around them all, making that a statement that had always been true. While Noah had been the lovable idiot, Marcus was the brilliant brain of the group, though still lovable. His mind was simply so strategic and educated. So much so that he wasn’t teaching beginner’s computer classes in this version of reality. But rather highly advanced courses for seniors. And effortlessly too.

Adrian watched Marcus with a lot of interest. He was becoming downright dangerously perfect. With his towering body, handsome face, sharp intellect, enormous cock and calm but commanding voice he was basically shaping up to become the leader of the group. But the DM just grinned, knowing that a third of the stats hadn’t been rolled yet and things could still go awry.

With a smile and a throw at the elf-Barbarian pairing, which now included Ethan having basically abandoned his seat to sit on Noah’s lap, Adrian prompted the next roll. 

“Wisdom.”

Before rolling, one could almost see Marcus running some quick calculations on his odds. 

3

Marcus’ eyes went wide at the disastrously low roll.

But the transformation hit almost immediately after that and the look of shock morphed into a smile.

Not a thoughtful one.

Not a careful one.

Not a dumb one.

A trusting one. An open one.

His posture relaxed dramatically as tension he didn’t even realize he carried simply… vanished. The strategic sharpness remained intact—his Intelligence stayed exactly where it was—but his skepticism disappeared almost completely. His eyes softened. His need to question things evaporated.

He by no means became dumb. But he lacked caution now. The entire table could suddenly recall story after story of Marcus getting into trouble simply because he was too trusting of people. Especially people he knew and liked. Like if Ethan told him there was a buried treasure outside, Marcus would grab a shovel and start digging. He wasn’t an idiot himbo like Noah. Just really gullible, despite all his intelligence.

Adrian smiled behind the screen, finding the newly crystallized character flaw fitting beautifully with the archetype of the devoted Paladin. It also fit in beautifully with the increasingly touchy pair on the other side of the table.

“Last roll.”, the DM said, “Charisma.”

Marcus nodded obediently.

13

Unlike Ethan who could tell people the sky was red and they’d believe him simply because of his personality being so magnetic, or Noah, who always seemed to be the heart of a party, Marcus’ transformation wasn’t quite as severe.

His charisma manifested as presence. Authority. Warmth. The air around him suddenly saturated with trustworthiness, inspiration and an overwhelming feeling of kindness and safety. He’s become the kind of guy who people wanted to confess to. The kind of guy people wanted to trust.

His face changed too. It lacked the raw ruggedness of the Barbarian, but had a softer look, one that showed he smiled a lot, despite his lantern jaw. His eyes darkened slightly to the colour of hot cocoa, making him permanently look like a very playful golden retriever with how disastrously low his Wisdom throw had been.

“At least that one’s decent.”, Marcus chuckled, the sound relaxing the group, his aura of warmth grounding the intensity of his Barbarian friend.

Adrian watched the character solidify. A gigantic holy knight with immense strength and stamina, sharp intelligence, almost nonexistent skepticism, and overwhelming inspirational charm. Beautiful in a noble, masculine way rather than Noah’s rugged dominance or Ethan’s elegant seductiveness.

“Guess we’re gonna go with an emotional support tank.”, Ethan grinned, knowing full well that that was how their group dynamic had always worked. Though it was fun seeing their real-life dynamic transition into the game and making Marcus a “big lawful puppy” as Noah so eloquently put it.

Adrian’s eyes drifted towards the last player left as the grimoire pulsed warmly beneath the table.

Ethan pointed at Noah next to him.

“Not fair. That doofus managed to roll himself!”, he accused, taking his own dice.

“Maybe you’re just jealous.”, the Barbarian answered, flexing his massive biceps and chuckling.

“I am jealous!”

“You should be.”

The fact that the line somehow sounded smooth instead of unbearably cringe made Ethan groan loudly into his hands. He had always been envious of Noah’s effortless charisma, his own attitude not even managing to be half as likable as Noah’s.

Adrian was still surprised by how well the spell had worked out. Noah had become enormous.

Not just muscular—overwhelmingly masculine. Thick forearms. Huge chest. Powerful thighs spread confidently beneath the table, framing an unbelievably huge cock. Every movement radiated relaxed physical dominance. Even sitting still, Noah seemed to occupy twice as much space as everyone else

And somehow the ginger giant barely seemed aware of it.

“Alright. I’m next.”, Ethan proclaimed, “If Noah is playing the sexiest Barbarian alive, I’m absolutely not staying human.”

“What are you playing?”, the DM asked.

“Elven ranger.”

“Tiny elf twink.”, Noah chuckled loudly.

Everyone laughed at the joke, just Adrian’s eyes flickering faintly. “Roll in order then.”

Strength was first and with a dramatic gesture Ethan rolled the die.

6

The transformation began immediately. The Asian nerd’s already slender frame started narrowing even further. His shoulders lost breadth, his waist tightening dramatically. Any lingering bulk he might have had simply folding into his frame, leaving him lean and compact instead of weak looking.

His limbs lengthened subtly, elegant and graceful. Even his hair lightened subtly, his features losing some of their Asian heritage as he shifted more towards the aesthetic of a blonde elf.

The contrast between Noah and Ethan was astonishing. While Noah now resembled a Barbarian warlord, the man sitting next to him looked small enough to effortlessly get thrown over one of Noah’s massive shoulders.

Without even needing to be told, Ethan rolled the dice again to determine his Dexterity, his jealousy of Noah’s enormous size fueling his ambition.

17

The effect hit instantly. Ethan’s body refined itself with almost artistic precision, every moment suddenly becoming fluid, catlike and purposeful. His body became even tighter, filling out again slightly with lean athletic definition forming across his slim frame. It wasn’t bulky muscle, but the perfect, proportioned build of a dancer … or a ranger for that matter.

His lower body didn’t miss out on the change, his hips becoming ever so slightly wider, making way for his ass. Ethan twisted in his seat to see why his chair suddenly felt extra cushioned, finding the answer with one look.

The Dexterity roll had given him an absurdly round and firm bubble butt beneath his jeans, almost mythologically perfect. Noah had predicted it earlier, but the rolls were now making Ethan into the poster boy of the Elven twink community. Without the other players really noticing of course.

Noah stared openly now. “Damn.”, he said in his foghorn like voice, readjusting his enormous horsecock through his grey sweatpants..

“Fuck yeah, great roll on Dex.”, Ethan exclaimed, squirming his big breedable butt cheeks into the seat.

Every one of his movements was smooth. Graceful. And teasing the horsehung Barbarian Bull next to him without fully meaning to, Noah’s beautiful green eyes following his every move.

Adrain noticed thiis immediately, finding it incredibly interesting that apparently the magic had decided to connect the Barbarian and the elf archetypes.

“Constitution next, Captain Bubblebutt.”, Adrian chuckled, Ethan picking up the dice again.

7

The change was smaller physically this time. Ethan’s lean body lost some resilience. The athletic sharpness remained, but he now looked more delicate overall—less durable, easier to exhaust physically.

And beneath the table the change didn’t stop, Ethan abruptly freezing. Like Noah before, he noticed something settling, despite reality adapting seamlessly. Noah noticed first.

“What?”

“Nothing…”

“Is it your tiny elf dick again?”, Noah teased, grabbing his own swollen tube of manmeat, “Don’t worry, little guy, I got enough cock for both of us.”

“Shut up.”

The words came automatically, but Ethan’s expression betrayed something else entirely. Because despite the embarrassment, his gaze kept drifting back toward the barbarian. Toward Noah’s huge thighs.

Toward the visible outline beneath the sweatpants.

The attraction hadn’t fully manifested yet, but the groundwork was there.

Adrian smiled faintly.

The elf was bonding to his chosen archetype perfectly, despite Ethan trying very hard to act unaffected.

It lasted maybe thirty seconds.

“Okay,” he said, crossing one long leg over the other while very deliberately not looking at Noah, “next stat.”

Noah smirked knowingly from across the table. The barbarian transformation had left him with surprisingly strong instincts despite his diminished intellect, and one thing was becoming increasingly obvious:

The elf liked what he saw.

“Intelligence.”, Adrian said, watching the die bounce as Ethan rolled.

12

Unlike his physical transformations, this one settled more gently.

He didn’t become mentally simple like Noah, Ethan just finding his mind slightly nudged. He remained clever, quick-witted and sharp-tongued. But his intelligence changed flavour. becoming less academically obsessive and more emotionally and socially intuitive, nicely aligning with his elven twink persona.

He became acutely aware of how his flirtatious and teasing remarks affected people, especially the gigantic simple-minded Barbarian Bull that was Noah. Who had been staring at the newly created twink (who Ethan had always been in this version of reality) as if seeing him for the first time.

Adrian just leaned back in his chair with renewed interest in the pair. 

While Ethan understood what he was doing perfectly well, Noah’s simple mind understood it on a far more instinctual level. A very dangerous combination really.

“Wisdom.”, the DM prompted. Ethan didn’t Ethan watch the die settle, winking at Noah.

10

There was barely any transformation this time. The stat didn’t change Ethan. It stabilised him.

Unlike Noah, Ethan retained his independence and self-awareness. He could still judge situations normally, still make decisions freely, still understand consequences.

Which made what happened next significantly more embarrassing for him.

Because now there was no stat-based excuse. The attraction was simply genuine. 

Ethan looked toward Noah again.

Toward the barbarian’s enormous shoulders and relaxed dominance. Toward the heavy musculature stretching his tank top. Toward the rough copper stubble framing an unfairly handsome face.

And then, inevitably—

Toward the visible bulge beneath the sweatpants.

Ethan swallowed.

Marcus immediately noticed.

“Oh my God,” he said.

Ethan snapped toward him.

“Don’t.”

“You’re down catastrophic.”

“I am not.”

“You absolutely are.”

Noah barked out another deep laugh. This had become a regular point of teasing over the last couple campaigns. 

The sound alone made Ethan visibly flush.

Adrian watched the magical narrative threads tighten further.

“Last roll.”, he said with amusement, “Charisma.”

19

“Awesome!”, Ethan said as his already pretty features refined into something ethereal, almost unreal. 

The last traces of his Asian heritage were swallowed by the elven side with renewed vigor. His skin cleared, glowing flawlessly. His lips softened. His eyes became brighter, more expressive, turning blue as his hair took on a stylish cut, lightening to honey gold, that perfectly accentuated his sun kissed tan. 

Every one of his glances carried intent. Every smile landed perfectly. His voice became smooth and warm like velvet.

And somehow the twinky elven aesthetic crystallized completely around him without becoming cartoonish. He now looked like the physical embodiment of every fantasy archer prince stereotype brought to life: slim waist, elegant limbs, graceful posture, pretty-but-still-masculine beauty. 

And a spectacular bubble butt that Noah was now very obviously staring at, his anaconda of a cock stirring under the table.

The changes to reality solidified and an unresolved, unspoken chemistry settled between the towering mountain of a man and the flirtatious twink.

Ethan leaned lazily against the table looking over to Noah. “So, big guy. You gonna keep staring?”

Noah’s ears burned under the football cap. “Maybe…”, he rumbled with his impossibly manly voice.

The table exploded at his awkward reply, even his immense charisma utterly outclassed by one tiny elf with a breedable bubble butt.

Except Adrian.

Adrian merely watched the rewritten world settle around his completed elf and his barbarian.

The party dynamic was already beginning to form itself naturally.

"Come on Harry, let's play rock paper scissors to see who gets to use the stone first," I said, holding up the mysterious wishing stone we had found on our hike.

"Sure thing, Alex," Harry replied, readying his hand.

I won the first round and wished for us to be rich and smart. Harry followed suit, also wishing for wealth and intelligence. But as we continued to play, the competition between us grew.

"My turn again," I said, grinning at Harry. "I wish for you to be tall and muscular."

As I spoke the words, I watched as Harry's body began to change. His previously slender frame started to bulge and grow, muscles rippling and stretching under his skin. His arms became thick and strong, his chest and abs defined and chiseled. His legs became toned and powerful, his thighs bulging with raw strength.

Harry's transformation was a sight to behold, and I couldn't help but feel a surge of arousal as I watched him grow into a towering hunk before my eyes. His previously narrow shoulders became broad and muscular, his biceps bulging as he flexed them. His previously small pecs swelled and grew, his nipples hardening as he ran his hands over his new body.

"Wow, I can't believe it," Harry said, flexing his muscles and admiring his new physique in the mirror.

"Well, it's my turn now," Harry said, using the stone to make me even more attractive. As I looked in the mirror, I couldn't believe the changes that had taken place in my appearance. My formerly average-looking face had become chiseled and handsome, with piercing blue eyes and a strong jawline. My nose had become straight and sharp, my lips full and sensual. My hair had grown thick and luscious, falling in soft waves around my face.

But things took a turn when we both made jokes while holding the stone. Harry jokingly said were such "dumbasses", We didn't expect the stone to take his words literally, but suddenly we both felt our intelligence slipping away.

As the changes to my memory took place, I suddenly found myself forgetting everything I had ever learned. My thoughts became jumbled and disorganized, and I struggled to form coherent sentences. I couldn't remember anything from my past, including my education and career.

In my new memories, I had dropped out of school and was too stupid to hold down a job. I resorted to being an escort, using my body to make a living. But instead of feeling shame and embarrassment, I was cocky and arrogant about my new career. I remembered feeling confident and sexy as I strutted my stuff, turning heads wherever I went.

It wasn't until I used the stone again that things really got interesting. Being dumb, I jokingly said how gay we look right now. But as we looked at each other, we both suddenly felt a strong attraction to the other. My desire for Harry became overwhelmingly intense, and I couldn't resist using the stone to make him my slut.

"I wish for you to be my dumb, submissive slut," I said, feeling a surge of arousal as I imagined Harry wrapped around my cock, ready to do my bidding.

Harry blushed at the thought, but couldn't deny the thrill of submission. "Yes, sir," he said, his voice dripping with desire. "I'll be your horny little slut, ready to please you any way you want."

With all of his newfound muscle, he easily pinned me down and stole the stone from my grasp. "I wish for you to be a dominant alpha, one who only wants to fuck me," Harry said, his voice dripping with desire.

As the words left his mouth, I felt a sudden shift in my body and mind. My muscles grew even bigger and more defined, my chest and abs rippling with raw strength. I felt a surge of confidence and aggression, my desire for Harry becoming all-consuming.

But Harry wasn't done yet. Just before I could take him, he made one final wish. "I wish for you to have a 12-inch beer can thick cock and massive balls," Harry said, his voice barely above a whisper.

I couldn't believe the changes that took place in my groin. My already impressive member grew even bigger, the thickness and girth almost too much to handle. My balls swelled to enormous size, filled with an endless supply of cum. I could feel the power and intensity in my new member, ready to fuck Harry nonstop and cum every time.

I couldn't wait any longer. I grabbed Harry and aggressively took him, pounding into him with my massive cock. He moaned and begged for more, his submissive desires driving him wild.

Fucking Harry was like nothing I had ever experienced before. His tight, muscular body was a perfect fit for my massive cock, and I couldn't get enough of the way he begged for more. As I pounded into him, I could feel every inch of my member sliding into him, the tightness and heat driving me wild.

As I approached my climax, I knew I couldn't hold back any longer. I erupted inside Harry, my cum filling him to the brim. As I filled him with my seed, we both made a wish that this moment would never end.

Suddenly, we found ourselves trapped in an endless loop of me fucking Harry and cumming inside him, our aggressive sex never stopping. Harry's ass was constantly filled with my cum, the splashing noises echoing in our ears as we got lost in the pleasure.

The entire table gulped audibly as Adrian handed them the character sheets. Even though they didn’t know about the magic, something about the sheets felt weird to them. However that feeling was quick to pass as the excitement of creating new characters took over.

Noah went first, basically vibrating as he grabbed the dice.

“Okay,” he said, grinning nervously. “I’m doing it. Full commitment. Human barbarian.”

Ethan burst out laughing immediately.

“You? A barbarian?”

“I can play against type!”

“You look like you lose fights against folding chairs.”

Noah flipped him off, but blushed slightly, looking at Adrian for the okay to start the character creation.

“Roll in order.”, Adrian nodded softly, “Strength first.”

The D20 clattered against the old wooden table, everyone’s eyes drawn to the shiny piece of plastic.

18

For a second nothing happened. And suddenly Noah inhaled sharply as he sat upright   in his chair, his posture suddenly remarkably straight.

Underneath his hoodie his shoulders shot out to the sides as meat piled onto his frame, the fabric just barely adjusting in time to not get completely shredded under the pressure of the frail nerd’s inflation. His forearms thickened, his biceps bringing the sleeves devastatingly close to breaking point, veins pushing out against his skin. His hands flexing as they grew to the size of dinner plates, powerful and manly. Then his chest expanded, pulling the fabric already struggling with his cannonball arms tightly against his enormous pecs.

The chair creaked.

“Oh my God,” Oliver whispered.

Noah lurched upward as another inch—then another—was added to his height. His knees pressed awkwardly against the underside of the table before the transformation settled. Not monstrous. Not absurd. Just overwhelmingly athletic. Broad. Powerful.

Like a heavyweight fighter hidden beneath a nerd’s clothing.

And then reality adjusted.

The others blinked.

New memories appeared, the image of tiny Noah disappearing like ice under the midday sun, the awkward ginger runt replaced with the overwhelmingly manly mountain of muscle who acted like a tiny nerd. Only Adrian retained his old memories, smiling faintly at the awkward way the towering Barbarian warrior sat there, squeezing his enormous bulk at the table and still trying and failing to take up less space than his intensely huge frame demanded.

Noah himself looked oddly surprised by his new size, carefully balling and relaxing his fists a couple of times, almost seeming unsettled by the size of his own muscles. Only the sound of Adrian’s smooth voice ripped the Barbarian-sized nerd out of his stupor.

“Dexterity.”

Noah nodded and rolled again.

8

The change was subtler this time. 

His posture and movement looked less precise, less graceful. It really appeared like the low roll on Dexterity had grounded the mountain sized geek somewhat. His posture now seemed more confident and solid, heavier even, his behaviour now showing less nervous and anxious shifting. Like someone who relied on power over grace.

A water bottle slipped from his grasp a second later.

“Jesus, dude.”, Ethan laughed, “I still can’t get over the fact that a guy that’s built like a linebacker has finally dipped his toe into playing a Barbarian after all these years. Speaking of which, are you still hellbent on getting on the football team? Coach must be getting fed up with your clumsy ass constantly trying out.” 

Noah just blushed, his ears nearly as ginger as his hair, which he now hid under a cap of the local football team. With his clumsiness he didn’t make for the best player, but he’d tried enough times to like the sport.

Adrian watched from behind his DM screen as reality settled around Noah, curiously observing the mental changes that had begun around the edges. Noah was still Noah … just more.

“Constitution.”, Adrian prompted.

Noah rolled.

The die bounced once. Twice.

19

The effects hit like a freight train this time.

Noah gasped as his frame became denser. Not bigger per se, but more sharply defined, his chest swelling against the fabric and pulling it tight against his mid section, the outline of 6 brick sized abs clearly visible. Even his neck thickened, a prominent Adam's apple pushing into existence and lowering the Barbarian’s voice from a soft tenor to a booming bass.

Even a beard forced itself into existence against his more masculine lantern jaw. Not the teenage scruff he had been able to grow before, but a thick manly beard that looked utterly right on his rugged face.

Noah looked amazing. Not delicate. Not pretty-boy handsome. Dangerously handsome. Like some mythological northern warrior accidentally dropped into a college apartment.

“Hell yeah,”, the incredibly sexy lumberjack said, once again shocking his friends with the foghorn boom of his voice, “Nineteen Con.”

The other three players just nodded. Even sitting down, Noah dominated the room physically now. His shoulders stretched the seams of his hoodie so badly he eventually peeled it off entirely, revealing a black tank top straining across an absurdly broad chest and thick, powerful arms.

The Barbarian shifted in his seat, immediately drawing attention to another result of his roll.

“Dude, can’t you wear underwear for once to DnD? Your sweatpants look ridiculous!”, Ethan complained, trying very hard not to stare at the obvious outline of what was running down his left leg. Noah just blushed, trying to make his footlong soft cock somehow less noticeable through his grey sweatpants. And failing miserably.

Like the rest of him the thing sat heavy, thick and huge off the edge of the chair, even the outline of his bull balls being faintly visible through the fabric trying to cover his crotch.

“Talk about Barbarian Constitution.”, Marcus chuckled.

“Shut up,” Noah muttered.

But he sounded more embarrassed in theory than in practice. The growing confidence from his partially locked-in stats kept blunting his old insecurity before it could fully form.

Adrian quietly watched the magic settle again.

“Keep rolling.”, he said, “Intelligence is next.”

Noah, still feeling high from the absolutely monstrous roll on Constitution, enthusiastically threw the die.

5

The change was immediate.

Noah blinked.

Then blinked again.

The sharpness behind his eyes dulled and he relaxed in his seat. The constant anxious overprocessing vanished instantly as his racing thoughts slowed to a crawl. Adrian just grinned. A Barbarian wasn’t meant to be smart after all. He already had the overwhelming physicality, he didn’t need to think too much.

His posture spread wider in the chair.

Heavy.

Certain.

He looked at his friends with a relaxed and easy smile, confident despite his reduced intelligence.

“Dude, you’re literally playing yourself. Huge in body, but not the brightest bulb.”, Ethan chuckled at his simple friend. Noah just grinned in return and threw up his enormous cannonball biceps in a flex. Reality had settled seamlessly around the giant himbo.

Adrian cleared his throat and nodded towards the dice. “Let’s roll Wisdom next.”

Noah rolled.

6

The effect was subtler but somehow more unsettling.

Noah’s eyes softened immediately.

Not weaker physically—far from it—but more suggestible. More trusting. More willing to follow stronger personalities without questioning them deeply. Especially Adrian. Adrian noticed it at once. So did Ethan.

“Earth to Barbarian,” Ethan muttered. “You’re looking at Adrian weirdly again.”

Noah frowned faintly.

“Huh?”

“You keep waiting for him to talk before doing stuff.”

Noah opened his mouth.

Paused.

Then shrugged.

“Guess he’s the DM.”

Simple.

Logical.

Final.

The room laughed.

Only Adrian understood how profound the shift really was.

Noah’s independent critical resistance had just permanently collapsed. Not mindless obedience. Just reduced willpower. Reduced need to question. The barbarian archetype was crystallizing perfectly. While always physically in charge, he liked for others to take the lead, make suggestions and tell him what to do.

And there was still one stat left.

Charisma.

Adrian folded his hands together behind the DM screen and smiled faintly.

“Last roll.”

Noah rolled the die.

It spun across the wood.

Stopped.

15

For a moment, nothing happened. Then Noah smiled and the entire atmosphere of the room shifted instantly. Not magically glowing. Not supernatural mind control. Just… overwhelming presence.

His posture straightened subtly, massive shoulders rolling back with effortless confidence while his expression relaxed into an easy, rugged charm that looked absurdly natural on him. The lazy grin beneath his copper stubble suddenly carried weight behind it. Warmth. Magnetism.

His face redefined itself, becoming even more devastatingly handsome, manly, rugged. Like his entire look had been designed by someone who wanted to show what copious amounts of testosterone would do to a handsome man’s face.

And reality adapted around him. To the rest of the table Noah had always been overwhelmingly charismatic. He could say the most stupid shit and people would still laugh with him, his entire personality just becoming comfort food, easygoing and welcoming, while never losing the raw sex appeal that made people want to suck his cock or get impaled on his meat hammer within 5 minutes of meeting him.

“Guess I’m just charismatic.”, the massive ginger chuckled dumbly.

The line should have sounded ridiculous.

Instead, all three of them laughed immediately.

Even Adrian almost smiled for real.

The magic settled completely.

The transformation finalized.

Noah Tanner—the nervous valedictorian, comic-shop employee, chronic overthinker—was gone.

Or rather…

Reality now insisted he had never existed in that form at all.

Instead, Noah had always been this. A towering, massively muscular ginger barbarian of a man with movie-star ruggedness, absurd stamina, effortless charm, and the simple confidence of someone who had never spent much time doubting himself. A beautiful brute with long wavy copper hair, heavy stubble, broad hands, thick muscle-packed limbs, and a mind optimized less for critical analysis and more for instinct, confidence, and immediate physical certainty.

And according to everyone’s rewritten memories? He had always been the heart of the group. The guy strangers flirted with constantly. The one who won arguments through sheer presence instead of logic. The one who solved problems by kicking doors open.

Noah himself looked down at the completed character sheet and grinned proudly.

“Damn,” he rumbled. “This dude rules.”

“Our resident himbo literally plays himself.”, Ethan rolled his eyes. “Massive super stud football player, massive super stud barbarian. Tomato, tomato.”

“Still taller than you.”, Noah countered and the room burst out laughing.

And Adrian quietly watched the rewritten world stabilize around the completed barbarian.

One player down.

Three to go.

The grimoire beneath the table pulsed warmly against his knee.

I've been playing around with AI a bit and it actually gave me good inspiration to write a slightly longer story again. Or rather a multi-parter. A big thank you goes to @hughmichelsen for proof reading and giving great feedback!

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

Rain tapped softly against the windows of Adrian’s apartment while his five friends crowded against the battered oak table, that was half buried under dice trays, energy drinks, miniatures and enough takeout containers to qualify as biohazard.

It was Friday night and ever since their first semester there was one adamant rule. Friday night was reserved for Dungeons and Dragons.

Ever since their first session another adamant rule was that their talented Dungeon Master Adrian would host their little group of misfits. 

Tall, pale and thin as a scare-crow he may be, Adrian had the unsettlingly intense eye contact of someone who spent too many nights buried in half-forgotten ancient texts and rule books to give his players one hell of an experience with each session.

His black hair was combed back neatly, rectangular glasses sitting low on on his nose, barely concealing the heavy bags under his eyes, as he organised the papers with devoted, almost ritualistic precision and diligence. A running gag among the group was always that he looked less like a graduate student and more like a cult leader pretending to be one.

Unbeknownst to the players that sentiment wasn’t too far off from the truth.

“Okay.”, Adrian clapped his hands and smiled at his friends with that unsettling grin of a maniac with a plan. He handed each of them a blank character sheet. “Since our last campaign finished, I thought some system changes and … adjustments were in order for the new one. And don’t worry I’ve got some big plans for you guys.”

“God, that sentence is terrifying. Why do you gotta make it sound like we’ll be wiped by the end of this session.”, Ethan muttered.

The others just nodded solemnly, naturally agreeing with the loudest member of their group. Even though Ethan was a short, scrawny Asian man who'd spent far too many hours in front of a computer, what lack of physicality he had was compensated by a sharp tongue and biting sarcasm. Usually he stuck to rogues, who flirted with everyone and everything, but the moment someone flirted back he’d fold like wet tissue paper.

Next to him, meekly nodding, sat Marcus. Unlike the small and skinny Ethan, Marcus was a broad shouldered black man. Not in an athletic way, his thicker frame was from that way that formerly chubby guys were since he'd never quite lost that freshman fifteen.  He was constantly pushing his glasses up his nose, trying to make himself as unnoticeable as possible, which wasn’t easy with his respectable 6’ frame. As the self proclaimed lorekeeper of the group he approached the sessions with the same academic seriousness as the introductory programming he'd taught with. Three filled notebooks with NPCs, story interactions and settings sat next to him ready to be referenced. 

“Yeah … I feel like he’ll have us facing a beholder right off the bat…”, Oliver said from across the table, laughing nervously. He was pretty in a way that should have warranted confidence, but despite his messy blonde hair and cute face, he just could never muster up any. Oliver was the artist of the group, his fingers stained with ink from drawing character concepts during his classes when he got bored in class. Which happened pretty often to the honours student. Too bad most of his characters usually ended up being either mages with an overly tragic backstory or healers that got too emotional during battles, something that annoyed his fellow players on the regular.

"Please tell me this isn't another hyperlethal realism campaign," Noah looked like he was already shaking from the thought. As the nerdiest member of the group, it looked like puberty had completely passed him by. It was almost concerning with how his short, scrawny frame never put on any weight. Though, unlike Ethan, he didn't have the same level of confidence. The only time he could push past that nervousness was playing DnD or someone talking comic as the shop he worked at.'

Noah took a breath. "I'm still traumatized by the bridge incident..." 

“You walked into obvious bait,” Marcus said.

“It was roleplay accurate.”

“You licked the cursed obelisk.”

“It looked important.”

As the rest of the group joined the argument about how their last campaign had ended, Adrian smiled faintly. It was good to see his friends relax into their little squabbles. After all, the DM knew that all of them needed a reprieve after the week they’d had. Little Noah had once again been shoved into a locker by the bullies from the football team and hadn’t been saved until hours later. Adrian, after messing with the wrong jock had found himself beaten to a pulp over one sarcastic comment too many. A group of students in the class Marcus taught had been incredibly obnoxious and started calling him names like “lardass” and “fatso”, bringing his old complexes back to the surface. And apparently some jerk online had gone on a campaign ridiculing the art he posted and was very proud of.

Hidden beneath the table, away from the curious eyes of his friends sat an old, leatherbound grimoire, it’s pages humming softly.

He had used it to spice up the campaign a bit, using one of the oldest spells in existence. The character sheets had been painstakingly prepared and enchanted over the last week to make the spell come to life. A spell about stories, identity and numbers who had been assigned meaning. And Adrian had made sure his friends, like the rest of reality, would adapt seamlessly around it.

With an almost giddy smile he interrupted the argument, Noah and Ethan arguing that it was hardly the rogue’s fault they had gotten roasted by the dragon he had been trying to seduce. 

Ravi closed the distance between him and Pierce. Placing a hand on Ravi’s waist, Pierce gently moved him closer. They had come to visit their brothers in the big city and were getting more out of the experience than they ever bargained for.

Their bodies were different. Older. Stronger. Height, muscle, and looks, all enhanced for what was about to happen next.

They could hear the trepidation in the other’s breath as their lips hovered inches from each other. Their movements were instinctual, not practiced, yet they were in sync regardless.

Lips met secretly and their world ignited. 

Musky and stained clothes? In a thrift store? That's odd, I most definitely didn't do that. Someone must have put them there precisely for someone to find them... Quite curious about what hides behind that. A wifebeater and sweatpants, both definitely a few sizes too big for you, what a weird combo.

Oh, putting them on already? I would have done the same, I'm curious as to what will even happen to you.

I had just wanted to be more dominant, but now I was this air headed himbo who couldn’t go ten seconds without shaking my ass for any guy who called me goodboy. I had read online about KOKSTRAPS, about what they could do, transforming you into whatever brand you bought, I even fully believed it, buying the dom top one. It was literally the most popular.. Fuck I hate saying literally all the time it literally sucked.

I was like (there it is again, another word I hate) a true academic before putting this thing on, I literally worked out, kept in shape, and had a few boyfriends. I was fine, but they all said the same thing, even my bestie christie who was a basic ass white bitch, that i was TOOO VANILLA. So I thought I would show them that I could be adventurous, buying the bright red kokstrap and slipping it on. I didn’t read any warning labels, didn’t notice the strangely (definitely not resealed) packaging, I just strapped up, my fit, tight bubble butt perfectly framed by the straps and my average cock waiting to grow in the pouch.

Except when everything PULSED, my body hair that I had properly manscaped and maintained, LITERALLY VANISHED. I was smooth as the day I was born, that wasn’t supposed to like happen. I tried taking it off but instead my hands grabbed both inflating ass cheeks and pulled them apart, my fingers slipping into a now naturally lubed hole fingeringh myself like stupid. My wist trimmed down till i looked like some tom of finland cartoon that like begged to be used. My work clothes all like vanished leaving me with just cute pastel gym clothes that hugged every muscle. My perky tits… no pectorals looked like massive pillows and lips that were begging to suck cocks. When I finally stopped trying to take the kokstrap off to call for help, one of hands left my hole alone to call my exes. I needed something to fill me up

_____________

You sighed softly as your boyfriend poked at your stomach once more, interrupting your ability to focus on the TV show you were trying to watch. You groaned as you glanced over, only sighing as the other man grinned back at you with the devious glint in his eyes. Immediately, you knew that he was up to no good, and he was undoubtedly going to give you some trouble for the rest of the night.

"Hey, babe… so you know how I said I didn't need any gifts for my birthday…?"

Your brows furrowed as you stared back at your boyfriend, your mind flicking back to the pile of gifts you had gotten him to celebrate, even when he asked for "nothing." It was routine for you at this point, although you would have preferred not to go through the extra guesswork. At times, it could feel like your boyfriend was testing you, trying to see if you remembered all the little bits and pieces he brought up in conversation to see if you were listening. But you had gotten better at it over time, and tonight had been a resounding success. He had loved all the gifts you had given, so why was he bringing up the presents now?

"Yes… And I thought you liked all the stuff that I got you," you countered, staring back at the other man with a raised brow.

But your boyfriend only giggled as he reached behind his pillow, pulling out a wrapped box with a bow on top. "I did! I promise, I did. But I was actually thinking about having something else, and I think this could do the trick."

You stared blankly at the box, only taking it when your boyfriend offered it to you. As you unwrapped the slim container, your mind raced through all the different things that your boyfriend could have wanted that you weren't aware of. And if it was a gift for him, why did he want you to unwrap it? Popping open the small box, you saw a pair of glasses sitting neatly in the center. It looked like it came from a reputable brand, originating from a company called "Stud Specs." But there was a flicker of confusion that lingered on your face. Neither of you wore glasses or even needed them. And as far as you knew, your boyfriend didn't have any trouble with his vision. You conveyed as much to him, but the other man only shook his head with a light laugh.

"They're not for me, silly! They're for you!"

A flicker of annoyance lingered in your eyes as you picked up the glasses, looking them over carefully. There was nothing unusual about them; just a standard pair of prescription glasses. They weren't cool shades or stylish rims to appear fashionable. They were just… glasses. Your face clearly showed your displeasure, and you countered that you didn't need them, since you could see just fine.

But your boyfriend was bouncing on the edge of his seat, gesturing at them wildly as it sat in your lap. "Please, can you just try them on? I had them specially made for you! They're custom!"

"Why would I need custom glasses? I can see just fine!"

"But it's a gift for me! I just want to see what you look like with them on. Here, I'll help."

"No, don't put them on me! I don't need glasses. Stop! I don't need prescription stuff. Get it off of—"

You grunted as your boyfriend forced the glasses onto your face. You blink out of confusion, your vision blurry and obscured for a moment. It was pretty apparent that you couldn't see clearly with them on, so you didn't understand why he was so desperate to put them on you. "I don't need these! I told you, my eyesight is fine! Why are you—?"

But your words cut off in surprise as your head began to spin. It felt like you were suddenly thrust underwater, with everything sounding more muffled and gurgling than you were used to. You could make out the inquisitive questions from your boyfriend, with him asking about how you were feeling or if "it" was already happening. But you couldn't bring yourself to reply; he sounded like he was miles away from you. Instead, there was this thumping pulse in the back of your head, a driving drum beat that pounded on your skull. And the beat was growing louder and louder.

With your vision blurry, you slumped back onto the couch with slurred words spilling from your lips. In your mind, it was like you were struggling to swim your way up from an ocean, the outpour of water keeping you from the surface. You could feel the deep pulling at you, but you didn't want to know what would happen if you sank away fully. In the meantime, like a passenger outside of your body, yet feeling every last bit of the changes, you began to witness something strange happening to your body.

The first thing you noticed was the blurriness starting to fade from your eyes. It was like someone was swapping out films in front of your eyes, adjusting your clarity and ability to see until it was crystal clear once more, as if you had never worn glasses in the first place. And yet, out of the corners of your eyes, you could see a hint of blurriness that extended just outside the borders of the rims of the glasses. But you always had 20/20 vision; so why were you suddenly able to see so clearly from the frames your boyfriend had gotten you? And then, more changes soon followed suit, before you had time to figure out the answers to your questions.

It was slow and subtle at first, nothing too abrupt. But after a few moments, you felt your body draw out a low grunt. Your socks felt too tight on your feet, as if they had shrunk in the wash or were bought several sizes too small. You grunted as you tried to pull them off, only to be greeted with the sound of ripping fabric. Staring down at your legs, you found yourself looking at something that was just a bit too big. Larger than you remembered. You wiggled your toes carefully, only watching as the fat toes brushed against each other. It was an unfamiliar feeling, and you couldn't remember ever having such large clompers before.

Whatever caused your feet to blow up to this size was slowly trailing up your body. Your breaths became more ragged and unsteady, and you panted as you watched your calves balloon into rock-hard bulges, boasting of immense power and strength with just a mere step. Your body involuntarily shuddered as your thighs and hamstrings began to lengthen. You grunted again as you felt your body stretch, the bones in your spine popping and cracking as inches stacked onto your new height. "W-What… h-happening to me…?" you groaned as you stared dumbly at your changing body. You could sense your boyfriend saying something next to you, but your brain was far too muddled and cloudy to make sense of his words.

Your moans began to deepen, a husky and gruff tone overtaking your lewd noises as your hips began to rock upwards with the shifting changes. Your eyes widened as you tilted your head down, staring at your crotch. While you had on shorts, the fabric was originally quite loose and comfortable to slip into. But this had changed the moment your quads thickened with an abundance of muscles, steady and firm like concrete pillars. Grimacing at the tightening feeling of the shorts clamping down on your legs, you reached out with one of your hands to tug at the fabric. Unfortunately, the mere act of doing so caused the strained shorts to tear, and you pulled away a flimsy piece of cloth. Your legs bloomed with the extra freedom, fat and muscle stacking once more until you had legs and some juicy ass cheeks that rivaled even the most professional bodybuilders.

The change continued along your crotch, causing your balls to swell and pump your body full of testosterone. While the process had been slower and steadier at first, the excess hormones soon accelerated the growth at a rapid pace. Low moans spilled from your lips as you watched your cock stiffen and lengthen with each passing second. While you thought you were simply growing aroused, it was stretching and fattening into a new girthy size. Thick globs of precum splattered forward from that fat cock slit, dripping over your newly defined cum gutters. The hair around your crotch began to thicken, forming a dense mat of fur that was ripe with your musk.

Moaning as one hand began pumping and stroking away at your fat cock, you watched as cum dribbled out of the thick cock to offer as lube over your thickening fingers. You had prided yourself on your slim and dexterous fingers, allowing you to take on more tactile and delicate tasks. But now, these fingers had grown into stocky, meaty sausages, like chunky rolls that were good for stuffing up tight holes and fingering needy boys when they begged you to fuck them.

Where… where did that thought come from? I don't… I don't think like that!

Shuddering as you tried to clear your head of such strange thoughts, you felt them starting to creep back in like the tide at the sandy shore. One moment, you had a lucid frame of thinking, trying to piece out why your body was transforming into the next Mr. Olympia. And the next, your head felt dumber than a bag of rocks, with low chuckles slipping from your lips as you played with your messy cum gutters and smeared that sticky cum over your bumpy abs. You loved the feeling of running your fingers over your abs, groaning as you played with a definition that you never had before. Whatever was happening was making your body big and beefy, and you loved every second of it.

No wait, this isn't right! This isn't me! Help–!

Your internal thoughts soon melted away like bubbles rising to the surface of the murky depths, popping once they were exposed to air. Whatever struggles and concerns you had quickly faded the moment you watched your chest blow up into big, meaty airbags. You hadn't even realized when you had torn away your shirt, only that it had been ripped off in favor of witnessing your body transform into something beautiful, like a work of art. Your draining head could only admire how big your pecs had become, and how fun it was to poke and squeeze at them. Chuckling as you pinched your sensitive nipples, you watched as your cock twitched once more from the added stimulation. These pecs were meant to be pleasured, and you couldn't wait for someone to feast away on them later. A light dusting of hair began to coat your body, changing your formerly smooth skin into something more rugged and tanned. Now you looked like a man who spent the days out in the sun, lifting, tanning, and working out to work up a nice sweat.

Your moans grew louder as your arms began to thicken up and stiffen into meaty limbs. You could feel the strength coursing underneath your fingertips, and it was only natural that your biceps and triceps showed off all that hard work you put into building up this body. Memories of yourself spending time at the gym, lifting and slamming weights, routine workouts, and nutritional plans began to fill up that empty head of yours, and you let out a dumb laugh as you raised your biceps up to show them off to your boyfriend in a firm flex. 

"Haur hurh… Dude, I’m… gettin’ so big, bro…” A single strand of drool slipped out the front of your lips as you forgot to close your mouth after flexing, and you smiled as the dribble landed right in between those beefy tits of yours.

Your boyfriend could barely contain himself, leaning forward to press a tender kiss onto your nipple. He giggled softly as he let his tongue tease along the puffy areola, his devious eyes looking up at you through your new glasses. "Sorry, babe. I know this is a big shock to you, but all I really wanted was a big, dumb, meaty jock of a boyfriend. And now, with the custom glasses I got you, I have everything I wanted! Isn't this just the best birthday gift for me?"

Unfortunately, neither of you had realized that he had bought a templated set of glasses, not the custom set that he had originally designed. There was still something left to trigger inside that empty head of yours, and you could only gasp as the murky depths in your mind began to seep into your consciousness. Feelings of compassion and love for your boyfriend started to be tainted by a strange, new feeling. It was tinted with a need to be in control, with the desire to punish your boyfriend for making you go through these unwanted changes, and with the drive to show him who was the real boss.

Your eyes glanced down at him with a sneer starting to form on your lips. Your big, meaty hands reached down to grip your boyfriend's slim waist, holding him steady on top of your lap as you pushed his legs apart. You hooked his slim legs over yours, keeping his stance wide so he couldn't wriggle away from you this time. "You did this to me…" You growled, your expression darkening into something more disappointed and annoyed at this silly boy thinking that he could take you on. "After everything I did for you. You didn't like my gifts or somethin'? You tryna be ungrateful and shit?"

There was a hint of satisfaction in your chest as you watched the color start to drain from your boyfriend's eyes, a flicker of fear and panic taking place as he realized something was off. "W-Wait, this isn't… y-you're supposed to listen to me! Why aren't you— I'm the one in charge!"

Snorting at the other's whining, you rolled your eyes as you began tugging down your boyfriend's pants. You didn't care if you ripped them or if he took them off himself. When it came to things that you wanted, you always got your way. "Right, like anyone would think that. Look at that little cock of yours. And that fat ass. I bet you were hoping for someone like me to take charge, to be the one to fuck you silly until I made you pay for all this," you growled as your fat cock sprang up to slap at your boyfriend's cheeks. There was a soft whimper and a little noise of surprise that slipped out of the other man, and you could only smirk, knowing that he knew you were right.

As you began pushing your newly fattened and lengthened cock into your lover, you could feel yourself changing into this more dominant, alpha personality. You were cocky and confident, dominant and controlling, and while you might have looked like you had all the smarts with your glasses, you couldn't manage much else beyond lifting and fucking. But that was fine by you; in fact, this life was great! With a killer body and boys lining up to have a taste of the new and confident you, you couldn't care less about what anyone had to think. And plenty of guys were willing to do the thinking for you, especially when you told them to.

With the sound of the other man's cheeks plapping against your lap, your memories of your boyfriend began to slip away into something more raw and primal. Right, this was just another one of those needy whores who were just aching for a cock to spear their tight hole on a Wednesday night. It was almost laughable how easy it was to breed them, but a hole was a hole, and you weren't complaining. Anything to get your rocks off was fine by you, as you were constantly horny and needed to blow your load multiple times a day. And a hole was better than using your own hand. 

When you finally came, you came hard and deep, making sure to drive every last inch of your cock inside of the little slut until he was satisfied. You smirked as you pushed him off of you, watching the dude quiver and moan into the couch as your seed leaked out of that stretched hole. Another night well spent, and you grabbed at his shirt to wipe your cock dry. Picking up your tattered clothes, you grunted as you slipped on your underwear. Thankfully, you still had your gym clothes in your car, so you didn't have to deal with the awkwardness of driving home in the nude. It wouldn't have been the first time that happened, though.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the little man whimpering and struggling to push himself up, his words slurred together, and his eyes cross-eyed from the intense fucking you gifted him. "W-Wait… w-where you goin', babe? Aren't you… staying?"

You didn't bother hiding the snort of amusement as you rolled your eyes at him, pushing up your glasses higher on the bridge of your nose as they had slipped down a bit during your fucking session. Seriously? All these sluts are the fuckin' same. Desperate to have me be their boyfriend or some shit. "I'm not your lover, bro. I'm just here for a piece of that hot ass, and you got a piece of my fat cock. It's a hook-up, not a date. And you should be grateful I even bothered to swing by to give you a chance. I don't let just anybody take a ride on this dick," you teased as you groped at your still semi-hard cock.

"Here, I'll let you keep this as a memento," you continued, opting to rip the underwear you had just put on clean off your body. Tossing the damp piece of cloth onto the other man's spent face, you waved your hand as you strolled out of the apartment. You didn't even bother to look back as you called out from the front door…

"Happy birthday, bro! Bet you got what you wanted!"

I had told the faggot the only way he’d get to see me this next week for his $400 facetime is if he sent me a dom top kokstrap. I mean the bitch was desperate, sending me half his paycheck every month just for the privilege of me talking down to him and jerking my dick. The way he begged me to spit on the camera or push my foot against the lens always got me going. The muscle worship sessions where I’d oil myself up talking about how much bigger I was then him, how small his muscles are, how tiny his dick was. Probably only able to get off thinking about a real man, the feeling of submitting being true bliss and pleasure. How desperate he was to give a real man his paycheck.

So I wasted no time calling him when I got it, no care for the fact he was at work at some pathetic corporate job. He was at his desk blushing, blocking the screen from his coworkers walking past his cubicle. His pathetic small cock was already leaking pre as I told him to get on his knees, but before he could do it. I felt this strong PULSE in my stomach. My body started aching, my mind catching on fire. I watched in horror as in the small corner of my phone all the years of hard work, discipline, countless regimens and diets literally melt from my body, my arms, pecs, hell my abs literally disappeared, even the body hair I had built up is magically shaved off as I’m left smooth. My body is built like a string bean, the only meat on my bones is my ass. Hell that even started to tingle, this deep need and hunger eating away at me. My hole twitching, winking, empty.

My face, one strong, masculine, gets feminized, my eyebrows perfectly waxed and arched, my nose more button-like. My lips become plump, salivating as my mind is bombarded with images of my former self. Worshipping that body, taking in that musk and begging for him to spit on me, to even let me see his cock. Visions of me just handing my wallet to HIM. Giving away access to my bank account, signing over my property and begging just for him to ridicule my cock- no not cock, tiny penis. My cock shrinking down to a nub. None of this makes sense, its not me, i liked big titted bimbos, dominating weaker men, not becoming a sniveling pathetic faggot.

I try begging for help but my voice comes out in whimpers and moans. My body against my will turns around, back to the camera as I look at the camera, on my knees ass up and a voice that's not mine speaks up. “Please… please sir, I need you, what can i do, anything!” Its so lispy, high pitched and queer. I had no control of my body, no stopping it from bouncing my cheeks up and down in these tight briefs as a deep growl from the phone tells me to lower them, making my pathetic dicklet leak precum. Im so happy I gave daddy that 400 dollars for the call

A bit of a longer read, hope you guys enjoy and happy Pride!

It wasn't always that nice around ███████.

I want that on record before anyone reads what happened next, because I spent thirty-one years being the kind of man who always tried doing the right thing for our town. ███████ was mine. I knew every pipe and breaker in the town because I sold them over the counter six days a week. I knew all the morally questionable crap these people did for the "sake" of God.

I kept it all to myself though.

Why? Because that's the only way someone like me could survive this long in this place.

When the council voted on banning anything related to homosexuality in the town forever, I clapped along. In the same meeting, Pastor Finch scheduled a men's prayer night the following weekend.

I signed up like everybody else. I had to.

I thought maybe if I pretended long enough, I'd start to believe it. I thought that maybe, just maybe, if no one ever found out, I could live a "normal" life, and maybe even be happy.

Of course, I was wrong.