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Bulky singlet lover

Stealing a gym bro's body 4

My mum has got this new boyfriend, and has invited me to spend the weekend with him and his son to get to know them but his son Ryan is kind of a dumb smelly jock and i am the complete opposite. Is there some way where we can get along?

Hypnotized by the Musk

I never wanted to be here. Spending the weekend at my mum’s new boyfriend's place was bad enough, but now I was stuck “bonding” with his son, Ryan. From the moment I stepped inside their house, I knew I wasn’t going to fit in. The air was heavy, almost suffocating, clinging with the thick, pungent stench of sweat and body odor.

Ryan was sprawled out on the couch when we arrived, wearing a damp, faded black tracksuit with the zipper pulled halfway down his chest. His body was built—broad shoulders, chiseled muscles bulging under his shirt, veins visible along his thick forearms. His dark hair was buzzed short, and a shadow of stubble clung to his strong jawline. Even from across the room, I could see the sheen of sweat glistening on his tanned skin, and I could smell him—musk, heat, something primal. It clung to the room like a living thing, and I instantly felt the urge to gag. The cocky smirk that spread across his lips as I approached told me he knew exactly what kind of effect he was having.

“Sup, Josh,” Ryan drawled, his eyes sliding lazily over me, sizing me up like I was some weak little creature in his territory. “You ever hit the gym, or you too busy with those books?”

I glared at him, already feeling defensive. “No.”

He chuckled, his broad chest rising and falling as he leaned back into the couch, arms draped casually along the backrest, his body exuding this casual dominance. His smell got stronger the closer I got. Sweat had darkened the armpits of his shirt, and I could see the dampness along the collar, sticking to his thick neck. The smell was choking, but worse than the smell was how confident he was in it, as if his sweat was some kind of weapon he knew I couldn’t fight.

"Figures,” Ryan muttered under his breath. “We’ll see if we can toughen you up this weekend."

Later that night, after dinner, Ryan suggested we hang out in his room. I didn’t want to, but what choice did I have? Mum was trying to get us to bond, and avoiding him wasn’t going to help. So I followed him up the stairs, already regretting it. His room was worse. It was small, cramped, and filthy. The air was even thicker here, saturated with sweat, old gym socks, and something sour that I couldn’t place. It made my head spin.

Clothes were everywhere—sweaty, crumpled gym shirts and track pants tossed haphazardly across the floor. His dirty trainers were kicked under the bed, and the heat in the room only amplified the stench. Ryan didn’t seem to notice; this was his space, and he was comfortable in it.

As soon as I stepped inside, I felt like I was trapped. The musk hit me again, stronger than before, wrapping itself around me like a fog, so thick I could almost taste the salt on the air.

Ryan flopped down on his bed, legs spread wide, his gaze fixed on me. His eyes gleamed with something I didn’t like. Then, without warning, he tossed a balled-up shirt at me. “Here,” he said casually. “Put that on. Might help you relax.”

I caught the shirt reflexively, feeling its dampness immediately. It was old, stained with dried sweat under the arms, and still warm. The smell hit me like a punch to the gut—stronger than anything I’d ever smelled before. It was soaked in him, like it had absorbed every drop of his sweat over countless gym sessions. My first instinct was to throw it back at him, but Ryan leaned forward, his voice softer, more coaxing.

“Go on. Smell it.”

I hesitated, feeling my heart thud harder in my chest. I shouldn’t have even considered it. The thought of pressing this filthy, sweat-soaked shirt to my nose made my stomach churn—but something in the way Ryan spoke made my muscles freeze. His voice was low, commanding, and without thinking, I brought the shirt up to my face.

The moment the scent hit me, my body jerked. The smell was overwhelming—thick, musky, the raw scent of a man who had spent hours working out, soaking his clothes in his own stink. It should have been disgusting, but instead, something stirred deep inside me.

I inhaled again, slower this time. The air burned my nostrils, thick and hot, but with it came a strange warmth that started low in my belly. The smell invaded my senses, creeping into my mind like a fog. I felt lightheaded, almost dizzy, but I couldn’t pull the shirt away. I needed more.

"That’s it," Ryan murmured, his voice sounding like it was coming from somewhere far away. “You feel that, don’t you? Feels good, doesn’t it?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My whole body felt sluggish, heavy, like my muscles were melting under the heat of his musk. But there was something else, too. My skin tingled, and I felt a strange tightness in my chest—something spreading through my veins, buzzing with every breath I took. My dick twitched in my pants, a sudden jolt of heat shooting down to my groin. I gasped softly, horrified by my body’s reaction.

But Ryan noticed. “Oh yeah,” he said, standing up now, moving toward me. His hand gripped my shoulder, firm and steady, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. “You’re getting into it now, aren’t you?”

I tried to shake my head, tried to deny it, but another deep breath of his musk filled my lungs and my knees almost buckled. My thoughts were slipping away, dissolving into the heat, into the need. My cock throbbed painfully in my jeans, and I could feel wetness gathering at the tip, leaking into my boxers.

"You're leaking," Ryan whispered, his mouth close to my ear. "You like this more than you thought."

My heart pounded. Shame burned in my cheeks, but at the same time, a sick thrill pulsed through me. I wanted to stop, to run, but I couldn’t move. I was trapped in the heat of his body, in the overwhelming musk that was making my cock harder with every breath. The smell of him—it wasn’t just disgusting anymore—it was intoxicating. I needed it. My brain felt foggy, like the scent had wormed its way inside, making it harder to think, harder to fight.

I shifted, trying to relieve some of the pressure between my legs, but Ryan’s hand slid down to my chest, pressing me back against the wall. “Uh-uh,” he murmured, his grip firm. “No touching yourself. You don’t get to cum. Not yet.”

I whimpered, hating how much I needed relief. My body was burning with it. My dick was pulsing, so sensitive it hurt, but I couldn’t stop myself from breathing in more of his musk. Every inhale sent another shockwave of pleasure through me, making my head spin.

Ryan stepped even closer, his chest almost touching mine now. The heat of his body radiated off him like a furnace, his scent so thick I could barely stand it. But instead of pushing him away, my hand gripped the sweat-soaked shirt tighter, pulling it closer to my face.

“You like that smell now, don’t you?” Ryan’s voice was thick with satisfaction. “You want to be like me. A dumb, sweaty jock.”

I groaned, my body trembling under the weight of his words. I did want it. I wanted to stop thinking. Stop worrying. I wanted to be like him—big, dumb, and soaked in sweat. The more I thought about it, the more my cock leaked, the wet spot growing larger as pre dripped down my leg.

Ryan grabbed the shirt from my hands and held it up, pushing it toward me. “Put it on,” he commanded, his voice a low growl.

Without thinking, I obeyed. I pulled the shirt over my head, the damp fabric clinging to my skin. The second it touched me, I felt a surge of heat—pleasure coursing through my body. The musk was all around me now, seeping into my skin, filling my lungs. It felt like the shirt was becoming me, fusing with my body.

“Look at you,” Ryan muttered, stepping back to admire me. “You smell like me now. You’re becoming me.”

I stood there, my mind blank, my body thrumming with heat and need. Every inch of me tingled with pleasure, my dick rock-hard and leaking, but I didn’t care anymore. I didn’t need to think. I didn’t need to fight. All I needed was to breathe.

And as I stood there in Ryan’s room, drenched in his sweat and musk, I realized that I didn’t just want to smell like him.

I want to be him.

Stealing a gym bro's body 3

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