Jonny Get Your Gun

Jonny Get Your Gun

While thrift shopping Jon stumbles upon an old helmet from which he will not walk away the same. Sub to dom army masculinization!

Been a while since I’ve written a military TF and after somehow getting Over There stuck in my head this happened! Hope you enjoy! -Occam

Jon and Troy were at the thrift store looking for something cute to wear to a friend’s party this weekend. The couple certainly have established wardrobes to choose from but are looking for something new, something flashy. They’re looking for something that’s just calling out to them. Never wanting to spin their wheels in place they want something to mix it up. Lo and behold as Jon makes his way to the back of the store does he find a hat doing just that, or rather a helmet.

Almost out of place on a dust-covered in the back of the store, rack Jon’s interest is immediately piqued by the army helmet. Nearing it his mind shuffles through thoughts, each one drawing him closer and compelling him to just go ahead and try the helmet on. Camo is chic right now, surely this would be just the kind of quirky experimental look they’re going for. At the very least Jon can’t help but grin at what Troy’s reaction will be when he sees Jon do a little campy salute wearing it.

With a slightly scheming grin Jon’s hands grasp at the helm, ignoring the pleasant warmth as it sits in his fingers as he hoists it onto his head. Heavier than he thought it would be, he thinks before everything around him goes silent. For but a moment he is alone with his thoughts, he hasn’t even enough time to notice that his priorities have immediately realigned before the buzz of the outside world returns. Jon shakes his head presuming that to have been his ears popping as he returns to his business, only briefly struggling to recall what that business was.

He would almost forget the helmet was on his head were it not for the soothing comfort it offers. Scratching his thin chest as he pushes it lower on his head before seeing his boyfriend and lighting up. Jon quickly aways to meet his Troy standing at a rack of tacky clothing that he for some reason he can’t bring himself to care about. He almost laughs as he sees his boyfriend pull out a technicolor blouse, presuming it to be some kind of joke. Forgetting his own plan of using the helmet as a joke he greets his love.

“Troyyy, surely you’re not wearing that yeah?” His boyfriend turns and holds up the certainly eye-catching silk blouse with a sarcastic scoff, “Ugh! I thought it was cute!” He does a brief pose with it and Jon laughs transparently judgmentally. Jon holds for some witty remark on the garment that should well have spilled forth from his ever-clever boyfriend, but none arrives after his boyfriend laughs louder than usual. He rolls his eyes and then looks to his boyfriend shocked that he’s missed something so dreadful on his head.

“Oh you’re one to talk G.I. Jon.” He half smirks as he pokes fun, assuming this is what his boyfriend intended walking up dressed like they’re at some surplus store. For his part Jon looks briefly confused before feeling at his head and remembering his new accessory. He laughs harshly once more, Troy flinches at the volume and looks around hoping no one is disturbed by his boyfriend acting uncharacteristically boorish. “Hey keep it down babe!” Jon swiftly obeys, holding a finger to his mouth only slightly mockingly before forcing a hand onto his boyfriend’s head and ruffling his hair.

Troy jumps back and rapidly sets to righting his pristine hair with a click of his tongue before returning the blouse to the rack, “Surprised you even but that on babe. Surely your hair looks like a nest now under that bowl.” Jon thinks about that for a second, sure that his boyfriend is right, that he should care about how messy his hair would be. After a second he is reminded of just how right the helmet feels and he knows he doesn’t mind whatever after effects there could possibly be. He begins scheming for a way to walk out of here with the helmet as it seems his boyfriend doesn’t seem to appreciate it nearly as much as he does. But Jon needs to have it.

They spend about half an hour longer browsing the aisles, Troy picks out a few things every so often turning to his boyfriend for his takes which come slower and less tactful at each turn. Jon’s mind swims as he feels this should be more enjoyable than it currently is. He briefly looks at some clothes for himself but with each passing minute the idea of him experimenting with clothes feels increasingly alien. Eventually he pulls out his phone and just trails behind his boyfriend, scrolling for any stimulation as he finds the idea of clothes shopping suddenly not only rote but impossibly boring. 

He groans loudly as Troy turns down another rack and his boyfriend turns in absolute shock to find Jon’s face plastered with genuine irritation. “Is everything alright Jon?” Seeing a look of concern on his boyfriend’s face Jon quickly struggles to hide his sour mood, pushing the hat down once more as he apologizes, “Uhh yeah of course, sorry I just read something, uh, on twitter.” Troy, grimaces at the phoned in lie and resolves to hurry up, “Sure sure, we can head out soon. I’ll grab this anddd you can put that helmet back and then we’re gone.”

Jon stands still in shock and Troy’s brows rise at the idea his boyfriend actually intended to keep wearing that stupid looking tin can. The idea is so bizarre to him he doesn’t even know how to respond, in the moment he just does an awkward smile and speaks through his teeth, “Oh, did you um. Want that? helmet?” Jon’s eyes race as he too struggles to find the words racing through his mind, overwhelmed by a level of desire he’s never even neared feeling before the army gear graced his head. Almost like hunger or the need to breathe is the desire for the helmet, his helmet, to stay where it belongs.

Seeing something strange painted on his boyfriend’s face Troy sighs and turns to walk to the counter, “If it’s more than thirty bucks we’re leaving it.” Jon’s heart thrums with excitement as he follows behind his boyfriend. For a brief moment that pings as uncomfortable for the man, surely he should be the one in front right? He shakes it off just as quick as they arrive at the counter, scratching at his hair underneath the helm, unaware as his lengthy curls almost seem shorter underneath, thicker and rigid as it pokes his hand and the helmet.

The cashier quickly rings up Troy’s pile of purchases before turning to see what Jon has brought, seeing the helmet on his head, “Oh, did you want to buy that as well?” Jon wordlessly nods with excitement that the cashier couldn’t miss, he continues, “Pshh, y’know what? That was going to be trash tomorrow so I don’t really mind just letting you have it.” Seeing the needy grin grow into a confident smirk on Jon’s face the cashier’s heart almost flutters as he concludes he made the right choice there. Despite knowing the two are definitely boyfriend’s he can’t help but flirt with Jon, “Consider it kismet, looks good on you.” with a wink. Troy scowls and the cashier quickly apologizes profusely before the two quickly usher themselves out the door.

Troy holds his tongue as they make their way to the car, less than thrilled that the helmet is coming with them. Even less thrilled at the fact that Jon’s gait is clearly shifting after being flirted with, in a manner Troy is quite familiar with. Not usually the jealous type, Troy easily pushes that down but remains on edge as he sees Jon maneuver to the driver side of the car. Holding the keys he honks the car to remind his boyfriend he’s the one driving. Jon scoffs and rolls his eyes before sauntering to the passenger side, deliberating adjusting his crotch as he does so. Troy narrows his eyes and lets loose his held tongue, “Are you just hungry or what Jon!? Can you chill?” Moving his hand from his package Jon raises his arms defensively but before he can answer his stomach indeed growls and he laughs. Taking this as confirmation that his boyfriend’s odd state is just some form of hanger Troy hops in the driver’s seat and starts the car.

Jon can’t help but grimace getting into the passenger’s seat, he knows this is his boyfriend’s car and that he doesn’t even like driving. But something just feels emasculating about this current situation. Try as he might, it's just bothering him, like a buzz in the back of his mind that something is wrong. Agreeing with Troy’s appraisal that he must just be ravished he reclines his chair as far back as it goes and shifts the helmet to cover his face. He can’t even hear as Troy chides him for doing so while driving, nor the playful judgment at how that helmet must stink. Instead he relishes the familiarity in its scent.

Eyes on the road Troy can’t see how Jon’s hair has changed in a manner totally unexpected. Rather than disheveling the long wavy curls as should have happened, his hair has completely changed to a look he would never be caught dead in, not quite a buzz or high and tight; his boyfriend is now sporting something jarringly jockish. Not only that but as he takes deep seemingly sleepish breaths of his helmet his chest rises higher, stretches wider than ever before, the hem of his shirt inching higher and exposing a waist not quite as thin as either man would have expected. Hearing snoring Troy steals a glance of the midriff exposed and blushes as he sees not only the barest hint of a treasure trail rising above the waist but that his bulge has returned with a vengeance, pulsing as whatever swift dream Jon has found is clearly more than a little alluring.

Under the helmet Jon isn’t quite asleep, as soon as the helmet covered his face he found himself obsessed with the scent that now bathes him. Something deep, musky, and impossibly familiar. Not quite the locker rooms of his youth, nor the sweaty bacchanals of pride events today. No it is something he knows he has never smelled before but with each breath the sweaty metallic scent imbues the not-quite memories with more reality. It’s at the edge of his mind, the edge of his tongue. He opens his mouth and looses his tongue into the humid breathy air underneath the helm and a memory that never was sears itself into his mind. Lifting weights with men clearly performatively masc, bodies stained with patriotic tattoos, grunts filling the air. Long dark nights in barracks, sweaty bodies grinding silently against each other in bunks.

Half-dreaming of a reality he never experienced and yet knows intimately his true body finds itself awkwardly catching in between his reclined seat and its seatbelt. He shifts as muscle groups never trained strain to grow. His ass hardens as in his mind he can’t help but picture grinding against other men in his cohort and his body responds in kind. Pushing against his seatbelt as it holds him tighter, his cock staining the jock-strap he threw on this morning with pre as his cock grows to push it further than it ever has before. Hearing the concerning sounds of fabric stretching and eventually a deep breathy moan Troy blushes and calls his boyfriend’s name, “Jon?”

Immediately cogent, the flashbacks of a life he hasn’t lived cease and Jon rockets up in his chair, slamming into his taut seatbelt, shooting his helmet into the windshield. “Fuck!” Going flying it thankfully bounces off safely before landing in Troy’s lap as he squints in irritation at his boyfriend. Without pause he stretches and yawns like a foghorn, his hands bumping against the low roof of Troy’s car as they rise higher than his thin arms should allow, “Yeah I could eat. You gonna cook?” Troy tilts his head at the question, both of them obviously knowing that Jon is the cook between the two. 

He pauses for a few seconds waiting for his boyfriend to address this in any form. Saying he doesn’t want to cook, that it’s a joke, anything at all. But after realizing how matter-of-fact Jon was Troy realizes that something is up. Biding his time he goes with something less than confrontational, “Did you want to grab something to eat?” Jon looks over at him in excitement, eyes flitting between his boyfriend and the hat in his lap, “Oooh Yeah! Fuck I’m craving some burgers babe!” 

Troy almost swerves as Jon says this, his boyfriend has been a vegetarian as long as the pair have dated, before even. He again waits for Jon to state this is an odd joke that simply hasn’t landed but the seconds slowly pass and judging by the dumb almost drooling expression on boyfriend’s face it’s clear that Jon is being nothing but genuine. Still driving he glances over to inspect his boyfriend closer and finally begins to pick away at his appearance. He balks at the bizarre haircut, sure that Jon did not have it this morning, nor could he picture a world where he boyfriend would deign to get it as it inches even shorter still. Trailing down to look at his body he sees the seatbelt straining to hold him down, he hears Jon grumble as it almost seems to cut in even tighter. Suddenly muscle that has never graced the chest of his boyfriend begins to rise underneath the belt.

Acting first out of concern Troy asks him, “Babe, I think your seatbelt is a little tight?” Jon guffaws in response, agreeing before undoing it and letting it slam into the window, “huhu you’re so right babe! So are we gonna stop at Micky D’s or what?” Seeing his boyfriend scratch at his pubes and refraining from returning his seatbelt Troy, ever a superstitious type, begins to suspect something sinister and otherworldly occuring and the root of it is more than clear. Clenching his own jaw as he sees Jon’s dumb smile above a jawline not nearly as petite as it should be, he rolls down his own window and prepares for the only recourse he can think of. 

When Jon checks his phone looking for the nearest fast food restaurant, Troy acts. Grabbing the helmet and launching it out the window. Unbuckled Jon drops his phone and launches himself onto his boyfriend, “What the fuck!” The helmet shoots back and crashes against the highway as Troy swerves with the weight of his boyfriend on his lap, heavier than Troy knows him to be. He ignores the harsh litany of swears being shot at him as Jon ambles back to his own seat and stares at the highway behind them. Each insult in his diatribe at Troy sounds crueler than the one before it, darker and almost deeper before he turns back and sulks in his chair. Arms clenched as anger begins to seep into every muscle in his form.

“Can you put your seatbelt back on?” Jon scoffs and ignores him, “Why did you do that?” Troy puffs his cheeks as he tries to think of a reasonable explanation for his actions, knowing that his boyfriend is generally against his superstitions, and certainly not knowing just how consumed his boyfriend had been by the helmet now dented in the dirt behind them. Eyes hidden by a brow higher and deeper than the pretty boy's face should have. Jon barely listens to his boyfriend’s justifications, finding absolutely nothing of note to justify such wanton destruction of something so meaningful, so tantamount to his own being. Troy continues to try and offer meaning, unaware that the damage has already been done in more ways than one.

The rest of the ride home is silent and brief. The boyfriends opt to fend for themselves for dinner. Hiding away from ire he simply can’t bring himself to understand, Troy goes to make himself a sandwich later that night and finds the kitchen in absolute shambles. The floor is littered with packaging from every piece of junk the two men had in the house, he balks as he tries to imagine his usually meek and pompous chef of a boyfriend stomaching the mess that lies at his feet. Almost a dozen egg shells lie tossed into the sink alongside tofacon that was clearly spit out and discarded after a single bite. 

Troy puts off his dinner to clean the mess made by his boyfriend. He knows it’s unlike Jon to leave a mess like this, or, he racks his brain to remember just how neat his boyfriend is supposed to be and struggles to really come to a conclusion. Soon enough he is completely overcome with a headache, one that grows with intensity as he tries to remember aspects of Jon. Though usually the human mind is skilled at holding contradictions Troy is struck with a migraine as two paradoxical images of his boyfriend come to mind.

The former the one he swears to be true. He remembers him at university, always going out of his way to speak up in class. Eager to go above and beyond. Showy but never too ostentatious. Anyone would describe him as kind and caring. Nothing like the man who jumped on top of him while he was driving. The Jon he knows would never go this long without checking in, especially after they had such a spat as they did. Nor would he leave half eaten tofu on the counter. Ugh but such is the sticking point, would he? He certainly has now. Troy scours his memory once more for another instance of indecency. His mind latches onto something, it is just like when they first moved in together! Right after Jonny finished his tour. What? Troy clenches at his head as it feels like a metaphysical ice pick just stabbed into his mind.

He screams and even more distress arrives after Jonny doesn’t even come to check on him. Troy hasn’t the prescience to care all too much at the moment as he feels but seconds away from passing out altogether. He barely gets up to his feet before stumbling down the hall to their bedroom. The room is filled with a musk that Troy doesn’t even have the prescience to notice. Seeing the man on his bed his vision blurs as the massive body is juxtaposed in his memory. Arms that hadn’t enough muscle to lift a cinder block fade before the powerful biceps in front of him. He moans as aftershocks of his migraine arrive before he collapses onto the bed, unconsciousness swiftly arriving as he feels the massive arms immediately encompass him.

He awakens completely entrapped in biceps that are larger than his own legs. Jonny’s new arms hold him tight to his sweat covered chest as Troy struggles to even have mobility to take a deep breath. “J- Jonny!” He chokes out before squirming around in Jonny’s iron grip, finding it easier than it should be as his torso is slicked by the inhuman amount of sweat drenching him. Troy tries to push off foolishly as his hands find no purchase. Changing strategies he instead slips out underneath as Jonny starts to stir, his face coming awfully close to a soaking wet package far larger than it should be. He sees tattoos stained across his boyfriend’s body. Ones that he wouldn’t in a thousand years imagine his boyfriend getting. Though as he does indeed imagine he finds he clearly remembers Jonny telling him about his plans to get each and every one.

Jonny awakens with a loud yawn, stretching as his whole form lengthens to its final height. Legs truly as thick as tree trucks hang off his bed while his arms raise high above their headboard before moving elsewhere to scratch the dense bushes in his pits and pubes. Troy pointedly looks away from the morning wood bobbing in the air between them as he desperately awaits for some sense of normalcy to return to his life. Finishing his morning ritual of feeling himself up and scratching at every itch that arises Jonny speaks up, his voice a harsh and raspy baritone that forces all, especially Troy, to pay attention, “Mornin’ babe. Yo can you make me some food while I get a morning pump on?” 

Troy is torn between nodding enthusiastically and fleeing for help, causing him to stand motionlessly in place. His mind is made up as Jonny stands suddenly a foot taller than him and reaches to pull him close once more, forcing his head into his sweaty pecs, inches from the forest of already musty pit hair. Troy struggles not to sharply inhale as Jonny grabs his hair and forces him to make eye contact, he smirks before releasing his boyfriend and heading off to their office, slapping him on the ass before beginning whatever work he sees fit.

This has never been their morning routine but Troy sets out like it is the only reason for his existence. He finds a fridge beyond stocked with everything such a massive trooper could desire. Swiftly preparing a meat filled breakfast Troy has barely any time to himself to even begin to question what has gone on, and when he does so his paranoia and discomfort is replaced with a desire to do nothing but obey his boyfriend. After all, is it not his place to please him? He is the man of their house. This is how it has always been.

Troy loads up a large plate to bring directly to his boyfriend, only pausing to tidy up his own appearance. He pulls an apron, one once monogrammed with a J, tight to highlight his slight curves as he knocks on their office door. He is washed with a rush of musk and sweat as if he were walking into a rainforest. Where there were once desks and bookshelves there are reams of free weights and other gym equipment, Troy’s head twitches before he has no problem at all, the room obviously is as it always has been. As it always will be, he blushes as he sees Jonny hard at work, his arms already far larger than when he woke up to them around his waist this morning.

He feels his cock stir as he sees Jonny’s pulse with every lift of the weight. The army green of his clothing highlighting every bulging muscle as he continues to exercise it towards perfection. Troy bites his lip as he imagines the things that could be done with that cock, memories of himself topping swiftly erasing as Jonny is so obviously the top it would require a rewrite of reality for it to not be the case. Hanging on the wall is an old helmet that Troy would have sworn he threw against the pavement at 60 miles per hour. His psyche immediately chastises him for the thought, how could he have done that! He knows how much Jonny loves that helmet!

Troy quickly goes to leave the food on a bench out of use before retreating from the room, not waiting for his boyfriend to say thanks. He skips making his own breakfast to instead tidy the kitchen and their living room, somehow already soiled with dirty laundry. He smells his boyfriend coming before he sees him, a trail of post-workout sweat steaming off in his wake as he goes to sit on the couch. Immediately staining it before discarding clothes onto the only recently tidied floor. He turns on the television before patting on his meaty thigh.

His boyfriend, knowing what this means, immediately rushes over to make his acquaintance. Doe eyes inspecting every bulging muscle and pulsing vein across his body. Jonny’s cock clearly begs for post-workout release as the two sit on the couch together. Troy gets to the floor and begins to pull at his boyfriend’s underwear when he hears the massive man click his tongue, “You know babe I’ve been thinking.” Already on the floor Troy waits patiently, his face inches away from the throbbing cock, “You ever wanted to enlist?”

Images of powerful army bodies dance through Troy’s mind. His small figure out of place among them certainly, but with each passing day he could fit in more. Be more. He imagines himself becoming far more than he is, running drills, pumping iron, commanding lesser men. The idea sends butterflies in his stomach as he pictures himself finally being on top, alongside Jonny. It’s barely enough for him to bear as whimpers on the floor in front of his boyfriend. Jonny just smirks and reclines, “Gotta start somewhere.” planning to go grab his favorite helmet off the wall as soon as the pair are done here. There’s always room for more men in the corps, and wouldn’t it be nice to get head from someone else who's fucking huge.

H for Henry?

Monday morning. I'm supposed to go on a date with a girl I met on Tinder tomorrow. As an asian geek with no amazing body, nor something other people would find attractive with, I wanted to look good on my very first date.

My roommate, Henry, was kind and supportive for it. He's very fond of dressing well so he did all he could to make sure I will look great when I finally meet the girl, and so he let me borrow some of his clothes.

He helped me get dressed. After wearing it all up, he decided to add finishig touches. He pulled a necklace from his pocket and handed it over to me.

"H?" I asked, "Wouldn't it be weird if she sees me with an initial of your name, Henry?"

"That's not really what the H is for. Just try it out, Dennis, and let's see." He replied

As soon as I wore his necklace, I started to feel an impressively pleasurable feeling that washed down my body. At first, it just feel as if I'm all relaxed, but when I sat down on the bed, my whole body started to feel so sensitive. Even just my skin feeling the confines of my clothes sends shivers down my spine. Sooner or later, I felt my cock tent. I realized then that I'm so horny. My hands moved to paw on my errection as it started to grow. My other hand felt up inside the shirt I was wearing to tease my nipple, realizing that my chest is starting to lose fat and get replaced by muscles.

I looked at Henry as he moved closer to me.

"H can mean a lot of thing, but one things for sure." Henry grabbed my chin to make me look directly into his eyes.

"Horny."

I groaned as I felt more uncontrollable lust wash all over me.

"and the other would be..." He pulled my face near him, matching our lips as they level to each other.

"Himbo."

It's like a command. As soon as he said that, my mind cleared out. I couldn't help but just give a smirk as I feel my horniness rise up with Henry in front of me.

"Mmhmmm, broooo...." I groaned as I started to feel more muscles begin to fill up the clothes he made me wore. I couldn't think if anything else but to get some tight pussy to fuck. God, I can't wait to hook up with that girl tomorrow.

"Hairy." He added.

My face started to get itchy and my right hand that I was using to play with my nipple rose up to sratch it, feeling my facial hair fill up to a trimmed beard. My chest also filled up with hair as the thin ones on my arms and legs started to thicken.

"Homo." He finished

My eyes widened. At first, I wanted to push bro away because he called me a Homo, but isn't he right?

"Bro.... You're so.... close..."

"Yeah? Watchu gonna do about it, big guy?"

With his fingers still on my chin, he pulled me in for a kiss. I returned back, giving him the deepest kiss. He climed up the bed, spreading my legs and his legs in between mine. As we kiss, we starting taking off each other's clothes. Well, isn't what I'm wearing also his? Haha.

I feel his hard cock grinding against mine through each other's pants. We broke the kiss for a bit so we can take each other's pants off.

"God, bro... You're hugeeee..." I trailed off, looking at his cock.

"You're 'Hung' too, big guy." He winked at me, and soon, like a command, my cock started to grow bigger too. I moaned loud as I gripped on it, growing from its 5 inch to an 8.

Henry dove back and continued kissing me. His hand now gripping on my cock. His kisses went down to my neck, then to my nipples. Goddd! I'm so sensitive! He's jerking me off while licking my tits! His cock, softing poking my ass.

"Fuck, bro... I want you..." I moaned.

"Yeah, big guy?" Henry said in between kisses.

"Fuck me, bro. I want your dick in my ass."

Henry didn't have to be told twice. He pulled my legs on top of his shoulders, and soon, he was pushing his cock in me.

"Ooohhhh, broooo! That's soooo....." I groaned as he slowly pushed it.

"You're so tight, big boy!" Henry said.

"Fuck me hard, now. I want it bro!"

"Yeah? You want it hard?"

"Make me bust my nut!"

Henry moved in, pushing hard, then back out. Slow at first, but soon he was fucking me like a crazy. His cock, making it all feel good inside. His hand on my cock.

He was so good, he was kissing me while he fuck my wits out. God, I'm so horny and gay for my bro.

"Bro! Bro! I'm...!"

"Yeah? Let it out, big buy!"

"Fuckkk!"

"I'm close too- I'm!"

Henry pulled out, jerking both of our cocks. Then our gate just bursted open and we came at the same time. His cum mixing with mine as we emptied out our balls all over my abs and chest.

"G-God, bro... That's so goood..."

Henry fell on top of me, our cum smearing all over our bodies. We hugged each other as our lust subsided.

"Wish that wouldn't be the last time, bro..." I whispered into his ear.

"Me too..." Henry said, his arms tightening up around me. "I've always liked you and I don't wanna let some girl take you away."

I took a deep breath. Henry's sudden confession didn't feel too bad. If I'll be honest, I started to feel more comfortable now. Realizing what magic he did to me, I don't think I mind. Henry's a nice guy. He did a lot for me. It might've been he change, but I remember telling my best bro that I would go out with him if I was gay. I hold onto the necklace and thought of something.

"We can make it last forever, you know." I said.

"How?" He lifted himself off, looked at me in the eyes.

I took the necklace off and wore it around his neck.

"H-...." I hesitated, being a himbo now kinda made me forget the right word.

"Husband."

Henry's eyes widened as we feel our new wedding rings appear on our fingers.

The Resort: A Void To Fill

I desperately needed a vacation. My girlfriend had left me a couple of months ago, cheating on me with someone else because I was not giving her enough attention, she said, sinking me into a vortex of sadness. I had been trying to distract myself with work, but to no avail; instead, my boss was forcing me to stay late to work almost every day, making me feel even worse. Let's not talk about friends: I had neglected them too much over the years to go back to them as if nothing had happened; they had their own lives now and I was not part of them. I felt an empty void growing inside me, the lack of something I could not explain, and I needed time to reflect. So I decided to book a vacation; I saw the ad online, it called for a week-long stay at a resort in the Caribbean, in a very exclusive and private place, at a decidedly high price. Although I was a bit skeptical, the reviews intrigued me. All the guests who went to the resort were talking about how the stay had changed their lives, giving them a unique experience that made them return home with no more sad thoughts. I figured it might be just right for me. Upon payment, I was informed that in order to enter, one had to undergo a series of surveys and psychological tests. According to the resort's logic, the results would be used to ensure the best possible experience. I gladly accepted, it all seemed very professional, and even if they were going to sell my data after that, I felt so exhausted that I had nothing to lose.

After a few weeks I arrived: the resort was indeed as it appeared from the photos. A large central building with a majestic lobby, fancy restaurants, and shiny pools, while the rooms were spread out in a large park filled with palm trees and tropical flowers, each with everything needed for a fabulous stay. At the front desk my bags were handed over to an attendant to take to my room, while I was given all the necessary directions about the resort. In addition to pointing me to all the facilities and handing me the key card to my accommodation, the concierge also handed me a rubber bracelet, yellow in color. He told me that it served to distinguish me from other customers based on the results of the surveys taken at the booking. Without asking for further explanation, I complimented him on his professionalism and headed for the beach as fast as I could; the only thing I wanted was to lie down and sunbathe in peace. After about 20 minutes, I was finally one with the beach chair. The sun warmed my skin as the tropical wind lulled me…I felt at peace. I was already anticipating spending a whole week like this when I heard a voice. - "Hey, buddy!"

I played dumb. I could not tolerate being disturbed. Maybe they were calling another person. - "Hey man! I'm talking to you!"

I turned around. A man was calling me. He was leaning against a palm tree, his body sun-kissed, a tattoo all along his left arm, his abs sculpted. He looked to be about the same age as me, but he was definitely taller. He looked at me intently. I couldn't help but notice that he was wearing a bracelet the same color as mine. I raised my hand, as if to greet him friendly, while he approached at a run. His stride was athletic, revealing how well-trained and fit he was. He got on the beach chair next to mine, taking a seat. He wouldn't stop staring at me. - "Hey bro, I've been looking all over for you! Then luckily the concierge told me you were at the beach! You finally came!"

I couldn't figure it out. Why was he calling me bro? What was all this confidence, his friendly way of talking…and most importantly, why was he looking for me! He understood that I was puzzled. He lifted his arm, showing me the bracelet. - "That's what I'm talking about, bro. We're a match! I also arrived this morning, and I was immediately alerted that there was someone else with the same bracelet as me! That's why I'm here!"

I told him I didn't understand what was going on, I hadn't been alerted to anything. He told me not to worry, it must have been a carelessness on the part of the concierge. Initially I was suspicious, but the more he talked to me, the more comfortable I felt. Apparently, we were kindred spirits. We spent an hour talking about this and that; he told me his name was Max and that he too was in the same situation as me, a broken romance, a lonely, hectic life in the offices of a large corporation. He told me that he was lonely, without someone to give affection to, without a purpose. Suddenly he seemed like the right person to spend time with in this week.

So when he asked me to go for a swim, I accepted without making him tell me again. I quickly realized that he was much better at sports than I was, truly a born athlete. That was why, perhaps pitied by my sporting inability, Max decided to give me some suggestions on how to improve my swimming style. Thus we found ourselves alone, offshore, and very close. Our legs, moving under the surface, took to brushing against each other as he took my arms with his firm hands, helping me learn the correct arm stroke. I felt good, happy…I would almost say cared for. For a reason I could not understand, the contact between our bodies made my penis hard. When I realized this, I pulled away quickly. Max stood looking at me, his intense clear eyes focused on me. - "Did I do something wrong?"

I wanted to tell him no, that it was okay, that it had been meaningless. Panicked, I did not notice the bracelets on our wrists glowing with a faint yellow light. For some reason, my mouth could not stay shut, and I told him so. I told him I had gotten an erection. He looked at me stricken, then approached me again until our faces were inches apart. - "Don't worry, I think it's perfectly natural after all. It can happen when you haven't been intimate with someone for so long."

His speech did not seem to make much sense to me, but after a few seconds of confusion I found it convincing. Maybe it really was as Max said. He smiled at me and I returned the smile. Just then, the sun was obscured by the clouds, a sudden storm was approaching. Max took my arm and gestured for me to come back in. - "Come on, let's go back inside. If you like we can go to my place, I have the jacuzzi and we can get a couple of beers from the mini bar."

I agreed, even though I had the same amenities in the room. It was when we arrived at the door, having escaped the downpour for a few seconds, that we realized something was wrong. The concierge had given us the same room. A strong anger rose in me and I made to leave, but Max grabbed my arm. - "Hey bro, calm down, where the fuck do you think you're going? There's a fucking storm going on! Come on, stay here until it gets better, we'll have a chance to discuss this room issue later."

He was right, going to complain now was perfectly useless. Besides, I was so comfortable with him that the resolution of this problem could really be postponed. We then stood drinking a beer watching the tropical storm raging outside as the jacuzzi heated up and began to produce bubbles. I suddenly felt cold. I thought I saw our bracelets light up, but maybe it was just lightning in the distance, or some kind of optical effect. Just then, out of nowhere, Max put his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close to him. I felt discomfort, but it lasted only a few moments. The warmth of his body was so pleasant and enveloping that I melted and leaned my head against it. He was perfectly sculpted, his massive chest a perfect pillow. I sought his gaze; he found mine. I don't know how many seconds passed, but it seemed like an eternal moment. My heart was beating wildly, my cock was getting hard again, much harder than before. I read in his eyes the same sensations I was experiencing. Without being in control of myself, I began to touch him with one hand, passing one by one the muscles of his body, his pecs, each abdominal, never taking my eyes off his face. Caught up in the moment, I did not notice that I had gone too low. I felt something hard in his costume, and it didn't take me long to realize what it was. I immediately stopped touching him, and walked away under the pretense of having to throw away the beers, snatching even his empty bottle from his hands. I felt my face burning with embarrassment and went to the sink to wash my face and recover. What was I doing? Without looking at him again, I grabbed a t-shirt and made to leave, but his voice called me back and I suddenly stopped. - "Hey, you're going already?"

He was in the jacuzzi, showing me one of his biceps. Foam covered the surface of the water, but I quickly realized he was naked. I was about to retort, but the armband lit up again. I had no chance to reflect on it. My arms had already dropped my shirt and I was taking off my underwear, showing Max my erect cock, without feeling the slightest shame. My feet, without my control, entered the warm water of the jacuzzi. At that point my mind collapsed. I felt my lips relax into a big smile, all tension disappear. I sat next to Max and looked at him dreamily, entranced. His lips moved, stammering with desire.

- "Hey…bro…no, sorry…b-b-b…babe…k-k-kiss me."

I didn't let him tell me twice. I slipped my tongue into his mouth as his powerful arms held me. The warm water lulled our making out bodies, the foam resting on Max's perfect muscles as I touched every inch of his back and chest. Beneath the surface, I could clearly feel his manhood. As our legs intertwined, our penises slammed into each other making me acutely aware that Max, in perfect harmony with his statuesque body, had a huge cock. For a few moments I still felt embarrassment at the thought of his hard penis, but it was short-lived. It was enough to meet his gaze again to convince me that everything was completely fine. He smiled at me. - "I would go take a shower, to get rid of this foam. How about following me, babe?"

He told me, giving me a wink, and then stepped out of the water. When he stood up, I finally saw his cock. Not only was it straight as a spear, but it was really long and big. Mine wasn't doing too badly, but his looked to me like a Guinness World Record-sized shaft. I didn't think that maybe, porn excluded, I had never seen another man's erect dick in my life. I stared at him, as one and only one thought invaded my mind, and our bracelets pulsed with light again. I had to touch him, I had to swallow him, I had to have him mine. He walked away toward the shower, and I followed him as if under a spell, my eyes focused on his toned ass.

With each step I took, an intuition grew stronger. The emptiness I felt inside me was in the shape of Max's cock. Having that penis inside me was the only key to happiness - it was obvious. As the first drops of water began to fall on his perfect body from the shower head, I fell to my knees and stood before the monster Max had between his legs. His cock slammed into my face and I smelled it. I was uncontrollable: my mouth opened and began to swallow his huge shaft.

I choked a few times, but I couldn't resist: one swipe on my tongue had made me realize that this cock tasted the best I could imagine. Letting out soft, manly moans, Max took my head with one hand and guided me carefully, preventing me from running out of breath again. Our gazes crossed as the drops of water fell on my face and his sculpted body. The more I looked at him, the more aroused I became: I threw one of my hands over him, brushing against his wet chest. In that instant he exploded in my mouth. Like a volcanic eruption, his cock pulsed between my lips as hot streams flowed down my throat. His white semen, mixed with the water that drenched my face, began to drip from my mouth as we were both in ecstasy. I pulled his penis out of my mouth, looked at it again, and stunned remained on my knees as Max ran his hand through my hair. - "Babe, you are such a lecherous little slut. I didn't expect that."

His words were the icing on the cake. I took my penis with my free hand, while with the other I still enjoyed the feel of his wet body. Within seconds I came on his legs, my seed dripping onto his calves and ankles, ending up in the shower drain. As soon as I caught my breath, he grabbed my chin with his hand and forced me to look at him.

- "Now finish washing and then come over there. I'll be waiting for you to feel my hard cock again."

A shiver ran down my spine, my penis became turgid with excitement again. Obediently, I got up as Max got out of the shower and left me the free space to wash myself. I cleaned my body well, especially my anus, not knowing why, as if it was an instinct I could not control. The bracelet was constantly glowing by now, but I didn't give it any more thought. I came out of the bathroom clean as Max had asked. I found him sitting on the couch. He was flexing his biceps, showing me his strength. Nothing more needed to be said.

I got down on my knees in front of him, my face in front of his underwear. I licked the fabric of his boxers, letting my saliva soak into them. I slipped my tongue into his groin, trying to move past it, grazing his ball sack. My nose was filled with his manly scent; my mouth wanted nothing more than to taste his giant penis again. I could feel it throbbing, aroused as never before. Max, however, did not seem to flinch; he continued to stare at me, but I sensed something now that was not there before. His eyes were fierce and tender at the same time, filled with the desire to possess me. I was his thing. I heard a voice inside me, like a memory from the past, an echo telling me that I should not be there, that I was not like that. I got up suddenly, to leave, as if I had suddenly awakened from sleep. - "Are you really going to leave me here like this, babe?"

As my back was already turned in the direction of the exit, I felt the elastic of his panties move. I stopped. His cock. His huge penis was the only one that could make me feel good. Why was I leaving? I turned around again and saw him standing, facing me, his muscles always in view with a dominant air.

I moved closer, coming within a few inches of him, then stood on tiptoe and putting my arms around his neck, kissing him tenderly. Then I brought one arm down to touch his cock. Max moaned in a vigorous, primal way. He took that hand and squeezed my wrist hard, then dragged me into the bedroom. He threw me onto the sheets. I, as if it were natural, turned on my stomach, lifting my legs and showing him my freshly washed anus.

When he entered my ass without finding the slightest resistance, intuition came to be awareness. As his cock brought me pleasure like never before in my life, I sensed pure joy, total ecstasy. There was no more emptiness inside me, no sadness, just the happiness of being his little slut. The little bitch of a stallion who had found his purpose again. In his gaze indeed, as he gripped my hips and penetrated me savagely, I could read the same overwhelming ecstasy, the same joy I was feeling. He came inside me like a wild beast, as if I were his own female to impregnate, letting out animalistic cries as I too sprayed my belly with my seed. Then he collapsed on top of me completely satisfied, our sweaty bodies in need of a shower again.

We ended up ordering room service and ate it naked and entwined on the bed. The storm was over and evening was falling on the resort. We spent the night telling each other about our lives, discovering that we were more and more like-minded and full of things in common. Before finally going to sleep, I decided that my stud deserved another blowjob. This time I did not let go of a drop of his precious and delicious seed.

We fell asleep in each other's arms, happy as never before, exhausted and glad to have found each other. The bracelets, lit with yellow light until a few hours before, were slowly fading. I don't remember what I dreamed that night, but when I woke up I found him sitting beside the bed. He was wearing only his underwear. His clear eyes penetrated me.

- "Good morning, my little whore. Would you like some breakfast?"

And as he took off his briefs to show me his wonderful, huge cock, I plunged out of bed, ready to take it between my lips again.

Branding night

Hey 

so this took me a long time to finish, its the longest I’ve written. This story is inspired by Dumb and jocked’s story “Branded”, which I absolutely loved

Enjoy reading

Rozza   

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“Ugh, how long until we get into this stupid event?” moaned Edward.

“Don’t worry Eddie, it won’t be that long,” replied George trying to calm down his irritated friend. The two were part of a bigger group of five nerds who were waiting in multiple lines to enter some stupid event. The group came about after they were put together in temporary student housing at the college. 

Eddie had spent a lot on this college and, so far it had only disappointed him. Day one and he was given a random group to live with for a week, luckily for him, they were all nerds and, they got on. However, afterwards, they all found out that this college was not as they had perceived it. Blackwater University was supposed to be one of the top Science unis in the country, with spacious labs for chemistry, a library so great it could rival that of the ancient ones, and professional scientists to help guide them to achieve the best results. As it turned out, this was mostly a lie. There were labs and a library, but not as big as they were expecting. Hopefully, the teachers would be better. But what made them feel more uncomfortable was the amount of high-end sport and gym equipment. The place seemed to be some kind of sports college rather than a science one. There were jocks everywhere, and they influenced everything here. 

The jocks had such an influence on the campus culture they were allowed to organise mandatory special days, which overrode all classes and outings, like the one they were waiting for now. 

It was a freshman event organised by the multiple frats on campus. The Patriots, Phoenix fighters, and The American Wolves were the most popular, but there were at least ten others around.

Keep reading

The university was clearly scraping the bottom of the barrel when they paired you up with your jock of a roommate. The residence hall questionnaire could only have been entirely ignored when dorm assignments rolled in and the housing department created the ultimate odd couple.

You were there to study, take notes, get a degree, and learn how to live on your own without your parents there to cook and clean. Your roommate on the other hand was there to meet bros, build muscle, and attending to the incessant needs of his cock with whatever convenient vagina he could find at that moment. And all this took president over any kind of cleaning or tidying or laundry—it didn't take long for his sweaty clothes from his routine workouts to establish a sustained odor. At the same time, you also managed to develop a raging crush on your inflexibly straight roomie.

It didn't take long for his habits and your habits to cause friction and even less time for you to get to the end of your rope. Getting out wasn't going to be an option, not this year with the dorms at capacity and no other willing swappers in their system. In your desperation to get out or try to change any aspect of the situation, you find yourself reaching out to me.

My solution is a potion that promises to make the necessary changes to guarantee he becomes the perfect roommate for you, so long as you both drink it.

Slipping it in his protein shake proved to be quite simple. Once he was off to the gym for the evening with his spiked supplement, you took the other vial in your hand, regarded the liquid for a moment, and downed it.

...

You wait for a moment, expecting... well what should you be expecting...

After a few seconds of nothing, you wonder what you really just drank. Magic wasn't real, and despite what you'd heard about me from... whatever source, you realize how foolish you were thinking a little—mountain dew maybe?—would change anything with your disgusting roommate.

Man, his musky work-out smell is really strong. You always think it's the worst it's been and then the b.o. manages to intensify. Instead, you make a feeble attempt to distance yourself from the stench by crossing to your side of the room, except it proves to be inescapable.

Ugh, you look down and see a shirt on the ground on your side of the room. He's really taking over everything now. You go to pick it up... but realize it's one of your shirts... and... it smells. Do you need more deodorant? Did you forget to put the shirt in the hamper?— Is he wearing your clothes?... Did that thought turn you on a bit?

Wait a second. Are you smelling the shirt? You were smelling the shirt. You didn't even realize it but you while you were lost in thought, you had brought the garment with his rank aroma to your nose and taken a nice deep breath... maybe a couple—you couldn't remember...

And again... it smells kinda nice... except... you realize the shirt was his. It was a lycra compression shirt, and you didn't own any lycra... why did you think it was your shirt? You didn't go to the gym, work out; you don't have any muscle like he does so it make sense because if it was yours, you'd—

You catch a view of yourself. Each side of the room had a closet for every resident, and these closets had large, fully-mirrored sliding doors. If you had muscle, you probably would own lycra clothing, you probably would check yourself out in your closet mirror like he did, you probably would flex your muscles, like...

Like this... and this...

Even though you didn't work out, you saw some shadow of definition. You felt your modest weenie chub up as your biceps bulged even just slightly. And if you fleeeeeeeexed again... you might be able to smell your own musk wafting outward from your exposed arm pits. If you strike this pose... it could exaggerate the taper of your midsection from your shoulders narrowing to your waist. If you wanted to see that v-shape even better, you could take off your shirt... let it hit the floor... add to the pile of your other sweaty rank gym clothes. If you contracted like... this, you could cause your pecs to bulge and your arms to come into clearer definition, almost like they were not just bulging with muscle, but actually swelling, growing larger. This is what muscular people must feel like—your were turning yourself on more and more making your dick grow harder and harder seeming to thicken in your underwear until it bulges obviously in your black joggers.

And if you did have a bigger dick and bigger balls you'd have more testosterone, a sharper jaw, body hair. Hair that would highlight your abs and dust your pecs and give you thicker muskier bushes under your arms. But if you did have a bigger dick, you would probably be soooo horny. You would probably be so dumb. if you were swole, you'd just need to lift and flex... and if you were horny, you'd just need a steady stream of cock and ass to tend to your own big thick dick...

you flex again... and again... and again...

if you were a nerd, you'd probably hate living with a dumb bro like you, but you got paired with the perfect roommate who just wants to flex and fuck. just like you.

The door opens and your roommate enters. You turn towards him, mid-flex. The stench of your combined musk hits him like a drug and you see his bulge swell visibly in this fuckbro gym shorts. Somehow the college had paired you with another gay bro who was always down to offer a hand or a hole any time of day or night—and you were just as willing to return the favor.