Stealing A Gym Bro's Body 4

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.

Tumblr source : @thb671

I’m not looking forward to Christmas, my family isn’t accepting of me being gay and always comment on how small I am. Could you make me a big confident gay muscle man so I can feel more confident around them?

It was just a wish. A fantasy. But when you woke up the next day, everything started to spiral.

The first sign that something was wrong was Harry, your stepdad’s arrogant, jock son, standing in the kitchen with your phone in hand. He’d always been a bully—tall, ripped, and undeniably hot, though he never liked you. The fact that he was standing there with a smug grin meant one thing: he’d seen your blog post.

“Didn’t take you for the type to go begging on the internet for help,” Harry sneered, waving your phone in the air. “So, you wanna be me? Big and jacked, confident… and gay?” He chuckled, the teasing edge in his voice unmistakable. “Pretty fucking pathetic, don’t you think?”

Your face flushed with embarrassment. You reached for your phone, but he pulled it back, his grin widening.

“Oh no, I think we should talk about this,” he said, stepping closer, his towering figure making you feel even smaller. “You wish you could be like me, huh? Big, confident, hot. I bet you think about it all the time.”

You tried to stammer out a response, but your words failed. Harry leaned in, his breath hot on your face. “I’ll even help you out. I wish you could be me, with this jock bod.” He flexed, his bicep swelling under his shirt. “Bet you’d love to get a taste, huh?”

He laughed, clearly enjoying the torment. “I bet you want to be in my body, to feel what it’s like to have people want you, to get all the attention. And let’s be real—you’d probably love to do some pretty dirty dominant shit in it too, I've seen your Tumblr.”

Before you could stop him, Harry added one final jab, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Hell, I’ll even throw in being gay. Wouldn't wanna change things too much, right?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, you both froze. A strange, electric tension filled the room, the air thick with something unexplainable. Harry’s cocky smirk faltered, and for the first time, he looked confused.

A dizzying sensation washed over you, and when you opened your eyes, you were looking down at… yourself. You blinked, flexing your hands, feeling the powerful muscles ripple beneath your skin.

“No fucking way…” you muttered, your voice deeper, stronger. You looked down at your new body—Harry’s body—broad, muscled, confident. You ran your hands over your chest, feeling the hard ridges of your abs, the weight of your cock already hardening in your joggers.

Across from you, Harry—now in your old body—stared at you in shock, his eyes wide with disbelief. “What the fuck did you do?!” he screamed, but it was strange hearing his voice—your old voice—coming from him.

You grinned, flexing your bicep, enjoying the way your new muscles bulged under your skin. “Looks like you got your wish, Harry,” you said, your voice a low rumble. “I’m you now. Big, confident… and gay.”

Harry’s face paled, his eyes darting down to your—his—small frame. “No. This is insane. Change us back!”

But you just laughed, feeling the power surging through you. “Why would I do that? You’re the one who made the wish, remember?”

You stepped closer, towering over him, your new height making you feel unstoppable. The flood of testosterone coursing through you was intoxicating—every inch of you felt strong, powerful, horny. You reached down, grabbing your cock, the thick, hard length throbbing tight inside your jeans. It felt massive, alive with need.

“You’ve been acting like you’re better than me for years, Harry,” you said, your voice dripping with satisfaction. “But now I’m the one with the body everyone wants. And you? You’re stuck being the little faggy bitch.”

Harry took a step back, his eyes filled with fear. “You can’t do this. I didn’t mean it!”

“Oh, but you did,” you said, stepping closer, your muscles flexing with every movement. You could feel the heat building in your crotch, your balls tight and heavy, filled with cum. “And now you’re going to see what it’s like to be at the bottom for once.”

He shook his head, his lips trembling. “Please… don’t…”

You smirked, reaching down and pulling out your cock. The thick, veiny shaft sprung free, and you couldn’t help but groan at the sight of it—big, hard, dripping with precum. “I’ll tell you what,” you said, your voice low and commanding. “You stay quiet, and maybe I’ll let you suck me off in this new jock body. How’s that sound?”

Harry’s eyes flickered, his breath hitching. “No way…”

But you could see it in his eyes—the fear, the confusion… and the desire. “Come on, Harry. You’ve always been a little bitch deep down, haven’t you, and in that body we both know you want nothing more than to worship me and this cock?” you taunted, stepping closer until your cock was inches from his. “Go on. Suck it.”

He hesitated, his eyes locked on your throbbing cock, but you knew he couldn’t resist. Slowly, trembling, he sank to his knees, his breath coming in short, desperate bursts.

“That’s it,” you murmured, running your fingers through your—his—hair. “Be a good boy for me.”

You grip the back of Harry’s head, forcing him down onto your cock. His lips stretch around your thick shaft, his eyes wide and watering as you push deeper, the heat of his mouth sending jolts of pleasure through you. You flex your free arm, watching the muscles bulge, every inch of your body alive with sensation. The strength, the power—it’s intoxicating.

“Take it all, you little bitch,” you growl, feeling the slick, wet heat of his tongue against you. The pressure builds, your cock throbbing, the head hypersensitive, and you shove him down harder, his nose pressed against your pubes. The smell hits you—a heady mix of sweat, stale alcohol, and cheap deodorant. It’s overwhelming, pure musk, thick and heavy. You can almost taste it: the salty, sour scent of a jock who spent the night partying, dancing, and never bothered to shower, just spraying cologne to mask the rank odor.

“Fuck, I stink,” you mutter, inhaling deeply, the pungent scent filling your lungs. It turns you on even more, the raw, animalistic smell of unwashed skin and sweat. Your balls tighten, the heavy, aching weight of them pulling at your core, and you know you’re close.

You glance down, seeing Harry’s eyes flutter as his own body responds. His small, uncut cock twitches. You grip his head harder, your fingers digging into his scalp, and thrust deep, feeling his throat spasm around you.

“Gonna cum,” you groan, the heat pooling in your groin, the pleasure building, overwhelming. You flex harder, feeling your bicep swell, every muscle tight and quivering with energy. You take another deep breath, the smell of your musk hitting you again, raw and powerful, and it pushes you over the edge.

You slam his head down, your cock buried deep as you explode, thick ropes of cum shooting down his throat. The release is intense, every muscle in your body seizing, your cock throbbing, spurting again and again. You feel Harry jerk, a pathetic whimper escaping him as his own cock twitches, a small, pitiful stream of cum dribbling from the tip wetting his trousers.

“Fuck, look at you,” you sneer, watching him shudder with his weak, humiliating orgasm. You pull back, your cock slick and dripping, still throbbing with the aftershocks. Harry’s face is flushed, his lips swollen, cum smeared across his chin.

“Can’t even handle it,” you murmur, flexing again, the power of your body sending another thrill through you. The scent of your own sweat and cum fills your nostrils, mingling with the sour, unwashed musk that clings to your skin. It’s heady, potent, the smell of a body that’s been used, pushed to its limits, and it makes your cock twitch again, your body still buzzing with the afterglow.

He looked up at you, his eyes wide and filled with humiliation.

You smirked, flexing your new, powerful muscles. “I’m gonna enjoy this body,” you said. “And if you stay quiet, maybe I’ll let you enjoy it too.”

You turned, feeling the strength in every muscle, every step filled with confidence. You were in control now, and there was nothing he could do to stop you.

Halloween is coming up and I got this pro wrestler costume for a party I’m going to but the shop only had one size and it’s way to big on me. You think you could help me fit into it better?

This costume was supposed to make me look tough. Instead, it just feels like a joke. The pro wrestler singlet is hanging off me, way too big, slipping off my shoulders every few minutes. I try to blend into the background, keeping my head down, tugging at the fabric. I wanted to feel like someone else for the night, but right now? I feel like I’m drowning in this stupid thing.

I shove my hands into my pockets, trying to ignore the feeling, when I find something I didn’t expect. Pulling it out, I see a small packet of Love Hearts. What the hell? I didn’t pick these up. Maybe they were part of some party favor?

I unwrap the packet and glance at the first candy. I laugh under my breath. Well, I could use a boost right now.

I pop the candy into my mouth and chew. The sweetness dissolves on my tongue... and suddenly, there’s a warmth spreading through my body.

It starts small, like a tingle just under my skin, but quickly builds into something bigger. My heart starts racing. There’s this strange, tightening sensation in my chest. It feels like my skin is stretching—no, my muscles are stretching. My whole torso is pulling tighter, broader.

I glance down, and my breath catches in my throat.

My chest is expanding, slowly pushing out against the loose fabric. Muscles I’ve never had before are swelling up, round and firm. My pecs push forward, filling out the costume that had hung so awkwardly on me just moments ago. My arms... holy shit, they’re growing thicker. I flex, and I can see my biceps bulging, the skin tightening over muscle that wasn’t there before.

I can feel it happening. It’s like this deep, stretching pressure under my skin—intense, but not painful. It’s almost... good. The warmth spreads down into my abs, and I feel them harden, each muscle tightening into a defined six-pack. I touch them, and they’re solid, more real than I ever thought possible.

The sensation is addictive. The tighter my muscles stretch, the more powerful I feel. Every second, my body is growing, filling with strength. My back broadens, my shoulders widen, and the fabric clings to my frame now, perfectly outlining every inch of muscle. I’ve never felt this... solid before. It’s overwhelming.

I flex my arm again, feeling the weight of it, the sheer power behind it. I look down, and I can barely recognize myself. I’m huge.

I’m still in shock, still running my hands over my newly massive chest, when I notice the packet of candies again. Without even thinking, I reach for the next one.

I laugh to myself. What could this one do? I’m already feeling incredible. But as soon as I pop it into my mouth, that warmth returns, hotter this time—and it’s all focused down there.

The feeling hits me hard, a sudden pressure building in my crotch. My cock twitches, like it’s waking up, but then... it starts growing.

I groan softly, feeling this incredible tension between my legs. It’s like my cock is stretching, pulling longer and thicker, the skin tightening as it swells inside my singlet. I look down, and my eyes widen—fuck. My bulge is growing bigger, fuller, pushing against the fabric. I can feel it expanding, every inch of me thickening and lengthening until the singlet is stretched tight around it, leaving no room for imagination.

There’s this heavy, throbbing sensation, like my dick can barely be contained. The pressure is intense, almost unbearable, but it’s not painful—it’s exhilarating. The more I grow, the more I want it. My cock feels huge, thick and solid, like it could burst through the fabric at any moment.

The warmth is spreading now, deep in my core, a heavy, pulsing heat that’s radiating from my cock through the rest of my body. It feels so... good. Like nothing I’ve ever felt before. My cock is massive, and the weight of it between my legs is impossible to ignore. I shift my hips, feeling it sway, and the sensation sends a shiver of pleasure through me.

People are definitely staring now, but instead of feeling embarrassed, I feel proud. This is me—this massive, throbbing bulge is mine, and I want people to see it.

I glance around, and sure enough, eyes are glued to me. Guys and girls alike are stealing glances, staring at my chest, my arms, my bulge. I can see the curiosity, the lust, written all over their faces.

And something inside me shifts.

I want more.

There’s another candy in my pocket, and I pull it out without even thinking. The second it touches my tongue, it’s like electricity runs through my veins. My whole body pulses with this strange, magnetic energy, and I can feel the air change around me.

Eyes lock on me, everyone turning to stare now. It’s like they can’t help themselves. The room feels different, charged, and the pull toward me is undeniable. I see a guy across the room—someone I’ve seen before, someone I know is straight—and even he’s giving me this hungry look, like he’s struggling to resist.

It’s like I’ve become a living, breathing magnet for desire. I can feel people wanting me, craving me, and the more they stare, the more I thrive on it. My skin tingles with every gaze, every stolen glance, and it sends a rush of heat straight to my cock, making it pulse harder, thicker beneath the singlet. My body is radiating sex, and I know it.

And the best part? They know it too.

I flex, just slightly, and watch as the guy across the room shifts uncomfortably, his eyes darting down to my massive bulge before he quickly looks away. I grin. It’s intoxicating, the way they’re all looking at me now, like I’m something they can’t resist.

My heart is pounding, my cock throbbing, and I feel invincible. There’s only one candy left in the pack, and I don’t even hesitate.

The change is immediate. My entire demeanor shifts, like I’ve shed the last layer of who I used to be. I’m not just big—I’m fucking dominant. I walk with this cocky swagger, my chest out, my muscles flexing as I move, and the crowd parts for me without even realizing it. I’m in control now.

My voice feels deeper, stronger, more commanding as I speak. “What’s up?” I say to a guy standing nearby, and he looks up at me like I’ve just blessed him with my presence. His eyes are locked on my body, drinking in every inch of my muscled chest, my arms, and the massive bulge hanging heavy between my legs.

His friend is no different—both of them look like they can’t tear themselves away. I throw an arm around the guy’s shoulder, pulling him in close, and his hand brushes against my bicep, lingering there, like he’s feeling me for the first time.

I can see it in their eyes—the way they both want me now. And it’s not just them. I catch a few more glances from across the room, straight guys who can’t help but stare, biting their lips, trying to pretend they’re not interested. But they are. I can feel it.

And I love it.

Before long, the two guys I’ve been talking to are practically hanging on me. One of them keeps touching my chest, his fingers tracing the outline of my pecs, while the other keeps sneaking glances at the obscene bulge straining against my singlet. They’re both hooked, and I know it.

“Let’s get out of here,” I say, voice low and commanding. They don’t even hesitate. They nod, eager, and we make our way outside.

Even as we leave, I can feel more eyes on me, more people staring, wanting me. The guy from earlier, the one who’s definitely straight? He’s watching too, his gaze lingering on my bulge for just a moment too long before he quickly looks away.

I chuckle under my breath. He won’t be able to resist next time.

As we walk down the street, I feel invincible. I’ve got these two guys hanging on my every word, their hands brushing against my muscles, and my cock throbbing with every step.

This is who I am now