Benbecomesbruh - BenBecomesbruh - Tumblr Blog

Gettin cocky n toxic bruh

Waseem Nasrallah (papa.wass) via TikTok

I don’t know why I crave it so much right now. Maybe I need a change. Maybe I’m fed up with work and school and I need a break. A break from being uptight me. To be someone who cares less. Cares more about flexing and fucking. A total fucking douchebag.

So tell me how you would do it to me. What you would do to change me. What I’ll look like, feel like. I need to know. I want it so bad.

Even if I start second guessing or regretting it, do it to me. Do it all the way. Force me to dumb down. Force me to enjoy it. Turn every point of IQ into solid hot muscle and craving to fuck and flex. Take away all my kind hearted shyness. Make me cocky and carefree. Make me the perfect dumb himbo.

I was raised in a Christian setting, but I was always so proud growing up about being openly gay and flamboyant. Now that I’m older, all my old school friends are getting married and starting families. I used to think those straight guys were so boring and mundane for wanting to settle down. Now I feel so bored with my long time boyfriend. I keep having this weird urge that I need to breed and spread my seed. The more my values change, I feel my breeder kink growing stronger. Can you help me understand what’s happening to me?

It's late at night, and the verse from Corinthians weighs heavily on your thoughts. "Act like men, be strong." Those words, ingrained since childhood through Sunday sermons and Bible studies, echo in your mind like a mantra. You've never truly understood them, I mean it was all just boring, conservative values your parents tried to install in you. But you were nothing like that were you. You wanted to be out and proud and attend every Pride parade you could, putting on rainbow beads and tight clothes----but that's not what those words mean "Act like men, be strong."

Yet, as you mull over these words, a realization dawns on you. Your concept of what it means to "act like men" has been shaped not only by your Christian upbringing but also by societal norms and expectations. Society has painted a picture of masculinity that emphasizes toughness, stoicism, and dominance. It's a definition that leaves little room for vulnerability, sensitivity, or exploration of emotions.

The urge to conform, to live up to these ideals, is strong. It's ingrained in your psyche, reinforced over years of conditioning.

As you reflect, your mind drifts to your boyfriend, the person you care deeply for but who seems to fall short of the masculine ideal you've been taught. You try to reconcile his kindness, his gentleness, with this notion of strength and manliness. Your lip quivers slightly as conflicting emotions surge within you.

A smirk begins to form on your face—a smirk tinged with bitterness and a hint of rebellion. You think about how predictable your relationship has become, how safe and comfortable yet lacking in passion and excitement. The thought of being with another man, someone more assertive, more daring, stirs something inside you—anger mixed with desire, disgust intertwined with curiosity.

You can't help but feel a growing anger and hatred towards your boyfriend. He's not strong enough, not manly enough to satisfy you. You start to question why you ever fell for him in the first place. His kindness seems like weakness now, his gentleness a sign of femininity.

As your self-inflicted homophobia begins to creep into your soul, you find yourself disgusted by the idea of having sex with another man. It goes against everything you believe in; it goes against the Bible. Your mind fills with rage, a rage that will fuel your changes. You know what needs to be done – break up with him and find someone who can truly make you feel alive again.

Your smile morphs into a cocky grin, reflecting a defiance against the norms that have shaped your understanding of masculinity. The rigid expectations seem suffocating now, and you wonder if you've been playing a role, conforming to a stereotype that doesn't fit who you truly are.

It starts as a simple sigh, a release of tension and uncertainty that has gripped you for so long. The weight of expectations—societal, religious, personal—pressing down like a heavy mantle. You yearn to break free from these constraints, to redefine yourself beyond the confines of what others expect you to be.

As you exhale, the sigh deepens into a grunt, a primal sound of frustration mingled with determination. You feel it in your gut—a sudden surge of energy, a tingling sensation that spreads through your entire body. It's as if something dormant within you is awakening, stirring to life with newfound vigor.

You let out a deep, loud, and obnoxious "buuuuurrrrrrrrrp" that echoes through the room. The sound reverberates in your ears as you feel it pulsate throughout your muscles, filling you with energy. You stand up straighter, chest puffed out proudly as if to say "I am here."

Your eyes narrow into a fierce glare as you think about all the changes that need to be made. No more will you settle for mediocrity or complacency; it's time to take control of your life and become the person you were always meant to be – strong, confident, and unapologetically masculine.

Your gaze lowers instinctively to your stomach, where once a softness resided, now replaced by a transformation unfolding before your eyes. The smooth contours give way to something altogether different—a ripple, a shift beneath the surface. Thick, cobblestone abs begin to form, each muscle defined with startling clarity. You watch in disbelief as your body undergoes a metamorphosis, sculpting itself into a form that feels both alien and strangely exhilarating.

A deep, booming laugh escapes your lips, echoing in the room. Your Adam's apple thickens perceptibly, your voice dropping several octaves in pitch. It resonates within you, a newfound resonance that reverberates with power and confidence.

Your biceps swell, veins popping with every flex, pulsating with strength. Your chest rises, pecs transforming into hefty mounds of muscle and flesh that demand attention. You can't help but marvel at the physical changes taking place, each movement involuntary yet empowering. "Holy shit," you say to yourself, feeling your muscles grow underneath your skin. "This is fucking awesome!" You flex your bicep and watch it bulge outwards like a rock-hard mountain peak. A grin spreads across your face as you imagine what else might be possible now that these changes have begun.

Involuntarily, you flex, feeling the newfound strength coursing through your veins. A laugh, almost primal in its intensity, escapes your lips—a laugh that breaks through the constraints of expectation and conformity. It's a laugh of liberation, of embracing what it means to be yourself, unapologetically.

As you stand there, caught in the throes of transformation, you're acutely aware of the societal expectations weighing upon you. Masculinity, as defined by the world around you, seems to demand a certain mold—one you're unwittingly beginning to fit into. The laughter that bubbles up from within feels almost intoxicating, a euphoric rush of newfound strength and vigor.

But with each laugh, something shifts. It's subtle at first, like a distant echo fading into the background. Your thoughts, once sharp and nuanced, begin to blur. The intricate web of ideas and knowledge that defined your intellectual prowess starts to dissipate.

You chuckle, the sound now more boisterous, more carefree. The complexity of language and the depth of thought seem distant, replaced by a simplicity that borders on naivety. Words become harder to grasp, sentences more challenging to string together. The transformation is not just physical but cognitive—a gradual erosion of the sharpness that once defined you.

In its place, a new narrative emerges. Football dominates your mind—Nick Bosa's stats, the plays of the 49ers. It's as if sports trivia and player statistics fill the gaps left by receding memories of literature and philosophy. Workout routines and protein shakes become your daily rituals, intertwined with memories of frat parties where showing off your gains was a source of pride and admiration.

You remember vividly the time when you and your bros were goofing off, teasing each other for acting like fucking homos. Endlessly in the mirror, flexing your biceps and pecs until they shine with sweat. You could feel the burn as blood rushed to your muscles, making them grow bigger and stronger by the day. The sense of accomplishment after each workout fueled an insatiable desire to push yourself even harder next time.

You remember being at the gym with your bros, pushing yourselves to the limit during a grueling workout. The smell of sweat and testosterone filled the air as you grunted through each set, encouraging one another to go harder.

One day, things got a little out of hand when you decided it would be funny to rip a gross protein fart in someone's face during downtime. PFFFFFFTTT Laughter ensued but so did an overpowering stench that lingered long afterward – even in the showers later on, you found yourself growing dumber by the minute as if unable to process basic information like addition or subtraction anymore due solely to this lingering odor clouding your mind.

The once-keen mind now swims in a constant haze, like a permanent state of drunkenness. Thoughts are simpler, actions more instinctual. You revel in the camaraderie of locker rooms, the adrenaline of the field, and the thrill of physical prowess. Intellectual pursuits fade into the background, replaced by a newfound appreciation for physicality and camaraderie.

You awaken and find yourself at a raging frat party, where the air is thick with excitement and the beat of music pulsates through the crowded room.

As you make your way through the crowd of the party, the changes become palpable. Your face, once marked by youthful innocence and boyish soft features, begins to shift. There's a subtle hardening of your jawline, a chiseling of your cheekbones into a more angular shape. The lines of your face sharpen, mirroring a rugged determination and confidence that exudes from every pore.

The party scene materializes—a frat house buzzing with energy, filled with the scent of sweat, alcohol, and the faint hint of testosterone. You remember the cheers, the high-fives, the sense of camaraderie that surged through you like a tidal wave.

Amidst the revelry, a cross necklace slips around your neck—an unexpected accessory that feels strangely comforting. It's as if with each clasp, a subtle shift occurs within you. The liberal, woke ideals you once held dear start to fade, replaced by a deepening conservatism and a newfound faith.

You find yourself thinking about how liberals are just a bunch of whiney pansy-ass snowflakes, crying about their lame-ass woke agenda.

You find yourself immersed in conversations about sports, politics from a conservative viewpoint, and the importance of faith in shaping moral values. Your vocabulary shifts, becoming peppered with phrases like "alpha," "bro," and "dude." reflecting a growing sense of identity—one that aligns with traditional notions of masculinity and righteousness. You bump into your best bro, Chaz, a linebacker for the college football team. He's already fucking wasted as shit. He's got a beer in one hand and the ass of some sorority bimbo in the other.

"Hey man, how's it going?" you ask as you give Chaz a fist bump.

"Fuckin' great," he grunts in response. "I just beat the shit out of some faggy snowflake loser who thought he was too smart for his own good."

You nod along in agreement, feeling your blood boil at the mere mention of liberals and their woke ideals. "Yeah bro, those guys need to learn their place," you say with conviction. "They think they can just walk around being all sensitive and shit...well not on my watch!"

Chaz chuckles before patting you on the back. "That's my boy," he says proudly.

You become more assertive, bordering on brash. Your actions are bold, filled with bravado—a display of confidence that borders on arrogance. At the party, you're the center of attention, regaling others with tales of conquests both on the field and in bed. The admiration and envy in their eyes fuel your sense of self-importance.

As the night wears on, you find yourself surrounded by like-minded individuals, bonding over shared ideals of masculinity, conservatism, and Christian values. The party becomes a celebration of these newfound convictions, a reaffirmation of identity that feels both liberating and confining.

As you navigate through the pulsating crowd at the party, your steps grow increasingly unsteady with each sip from your red plastic cup. The alcohol courses through your veins, emboldening you with a false sense of confidence. Your demeanor shifts subtly, from casual revelry to a more exaggerated swagger—a display of bravado that borders on arrogance.

Through the haze of the party lights and the din of music, you spot her—a pretty girl, a pretty drunk girl with her friends, laughing and chatting animatedly. Her long, flowing hair catches your eye first, illuminated by the flickering lights. She's wearing a stylish outfit that accentuates her figure, exuding a natural allure that draws you in.

As she laughs with her friends, her smile lighting up the space around her. She's wearing a tight, revealing outfit that accentuates every curve, drawing attention effortlessly.

You find this chick incredibly hot. Her tits look huge in her tight outfit, straining against the fabric as she laughs and talks with her friends. There's no denying that she's dressed like a fucking slut, there's no way she's not looking for some action tonight.

You can't help but think of all the ways you could pleasure her; how good it would feel to have those big tits bouncing up and down as she rides your cock while she moans your name. The thought alone makes your blood rush and muscles twitch with anticipation.

Without hesitation, you make your move towards them, hoping that tonight will be the night where all your fantasies come true.

With a surge of bravado and a newfound sense of confidence, you make your way towards her, navigating through the crowded party. Your muscles tense subtly beneath your shirt as you approach, a smirk playing on your lips. You know you've got her attention even before you say a word.

"Hey there, sweetheart," you greet her, your voice carrying an edge of cockiness and slurred drunkenness. "Enjoying the party?"

She looks you up and down, her gaze lingering appreciatively on your physique. "Oh, definitely," she replies, a playful glint in her eye. "Especially now."

You can't resist showing off a bit. With a confident grin, you flex your biceps, the muscles bulging impressively. "Like what you see?" you tease, punctuating your question with a quick pec dance, causing your chest muscles to ripple under your shirt.

Her friends giggle in response, egging you on with cheers and playful banter. The girl herself leans in closer, her demeanor flirtatious and unapologetic. "Very impressive," she remarks, her voice teasing.

"Yeah, been hitting the gym hard," you boast, leaning in a little closer to her. "But enough about me. What's your name?"

As you flex your biceps, she can't help but feel the thickness of your muscles beneath her fingertips. Her eyes widen in surprise and admiration at the sight before her.

Blushing deeply, she bites down on her lower lip – a telltale sign of how horny you're making this little slut. It's clear that this girl is interested in more than just conversation; she wants to explore what else lies beneath those bulging muscles.

She introduces herself, her smile widening as she matches your flirtatious energy. The conversation flows effortlessly between you, punctuated by laughter and lingering gazes that speak volumes. You revel in the attention, enjoying the rush of attraction and the validation of your confidence.

"You know what they say," you smirk, leaning in closer to her. "Want to see what a real man is like?"

Without waiting for an answer, you yell over the music and laughter for your bro Chaz. He appears moments later with a keg in hand, grinning from ear to ear at the sight of this potential conquest. You motion towards him and he slides the keg closer before taking off again into the crowd.

Grabbing two plastic cups from somewhere nearby, you start to fill them both up with beer before handing one to her. As she takes it from your hands, your eyes travel down her body – lingering on those "big tits straining against her top and that fat ass encased within tight jeans…god damn she's hot little slut!" you think. With each pump of the keg comes another surge of desire; any notion of your old boyfriend is washed away by now replaced instead by an overwhelming need feel manly tonight here now this very moment right here right now while also experiencing deep-seated homophobia. The thought of two dudes kissing makes you want to puke. You can't stand the idea that someone might think you're gay just because they saw you hanging out with another guy.

Your disgust for fags only fuels your desire for the chick in front of you. She represents everything that's feminine and attractive - everything that a fag isn't. As she grinds against you on the dance floor, all thoughts of fags disappear from your mind as your horniness reaches new heights

Nothing else matters; the only thing that matters is getting laid tonight. As she takes a sip from her cup, your dick hardens in anticipation. Without hesitation, you grab her fat ass and pull her closer for a drunk makeout session while Chaz cheers you on from nearby.

"Babe," you slur in your thick New Jersey accent between kisses, "you're so fucking hot." Your hands roam over her body as she moans breathlessly into your mouth. "I wanna fuck you so bad."

"Giovanni—Gio—take me! You big Italian stallion; I need your thick cock!" she moans breathlessly, with that cocky smile still plastered across your face, there's no turning back now…your fate as the biggest college douchebag ready to plant his seed across campus has been sealed. You fuck the dumb slut with all the passion and aggression of a true alpha male. The cheers from your fellow frat bros only serve to fuel your ego, making you feel cockier and cockier with each thrust. This is what it means to be a man – taking what you want when you want it without hesitation or remorse. And right now, all that matters is claiming this woman as yours while satisfying your primal urges...

You wake up the next morning, hungover as fuck but feeling pretty damn good about yourself. As you stretch out your muscles and roll over in bed, two dumb blonde cheerleaders suddenly appear – tickling your thick abs and impressive pecs playfully.

"One of you sluts gonna suck it?" you ask with a grin on your face. They both smile back at you knowingly before climbing onto the bed to fulfill their duties as groupies...

As the two hottest chicks on campus go to town on your dick, you can't help but think: "Lord forgive me." But who cares about forgiveness when you're experiencing this kind of pleasure? Their lips and tongues work in perfect harmony as they take turns sucking and stroking your cock. You moan loudly, lost in the moment – enjoying every second of this decadent morning after.

Fuck yeah lil bro

Survival of the fittest.

The old him is gone forever. He’s now addicted to getting bigger.

transformed by test and gear

In two years… extreme addiction level 😈

In less than 3 years he transformed from a boy to a pro bodybuilder.

hmu bro. let's bro tf out

Anyone down for a bit of gay-to-straight, nerd-to-jock roleplay?

Have a few ideas I've been mulling over, seeking a dominant type to help break and transform me. Throw a message my way if interested.

Kinks: muscle growth, IQ loss, personality changes, height growth, cock growth, increased arousal, body/facial hair, sweat, casual sports/athletic gear, lower voice, vocabulary changes, crude/vulgar, public exposure/humiliation, orientation changes

Turn-offs: gender changes, mpreg, futa, sissification, feminisation, fat gain, guts, anthro, watersports, scat, daddification

He let the memory of it all linger. The sex. The arrogance. He could tell it had happened again. How many nights? Maybe the full weekend? It was happening longer and longer now. The transformation into some hot dumb jock boy version of himself.

It had terrified him at first. Losing short blocks of time every month. Not knowing what was happening besides suddenly getting hot flashes and feeling his body and cock pulse and grow, his mind twisting with hunger and lust, then… waking up with shredded clothes. As time when on he started faintly remembering those periods as they got longer. Images of a cocky jocked out version of himself, dumb, horny, and fearless. He started guiltily looking forward to the change, the power and pleasure it made him feel.

While he couldn’t always remember what his other self did, but he could tell it was having an effect on him. He was increasingly distracted at work and horny more often- if not constantly. Jacking off was definitely a trigger, but it was hard not to. Especially as his body was changing. It was hard to tell at first, but after every change his body gained a little more muscle just as he gained a little more confidence. Even his face was cuter and anxiety lower, as though traces of the cocky hot jock he became were being left behind.

Even now, while he could see some of the bulk and muscle of his other self fade, he was still left with a whole lot more muscle than he had a few days ago. The piece of meat between his legs was definitely bigger. He also felt a lingering hunger to fuck and flex and show off. A smirk that felt so foreign yet natural spread across his face as he leaned back comfortably, feeling his cock harden between his legs and new abs flex and tighten. Fuck he was getting hot. Soon he there would be no difference between him and his cocky alter ego.

And he couldn’t wait.

The old him is gone forever. He’s now addicted to getting bigger.

Brainwashing.

That's what did it.

Yes, it's that simple.

He was just brainwashed.

To love the gym.

To be addicted to lifting.

To reject unhealthy choices.

To let his mind fade.

To let his thoughts be about muscles.

To let his choices be about growth.

To become this.

Yes, he was brainwashed.

That's all he needed.

That's all you need.

The best mode

Every rep let a brain cell burn and the muscles grow. Let your old self melt away, your inhibitions turn to sweat, and anxiety fuel each curl and deep grunts. You thought you might stop when you had a decent pump, fit but not mindless, but thinking is harder now. The rush is too good. You like what you see and you want more. Bigger, stronger, dumber, hotter, you want it all now. So don’t stop. Curl those biceps, flex that chest, grunt and sweat and grow.

help me out bruh

OG bro

Needs to conquer and spread his seed, and deserves to

Bet he fucks rough

Don't lie to yourself, he gets you hard

Bro your chest rug just gets thicker and thiccerrr

When your secret kink is to catch your Sexy Horny Gay-Husband flirting with girls after his office hour and acting all straight and cocky in his traditional office formal shirt... This just makes you wanna obsess over his Manliness and bisexual fertility!