Whens The Next Of The 30 Days Coming Out?

whens the next of the 30 days coming out?

Thanks for asking.

It will come out. I haven't started writing it, but it will. I have been collecting pictures of potential TFs for months. As soon as I am inspired, I am sure it will pour out of me.

I'm sorry for the delay.

I gotta get my hands on some of these black market texts.

Insta-Slut

Society is a sick and twisted construct, it makes you feel inadequate if you are not successful, or rich, or just naturally gifted in the genetic lottery. Inferiority and imposter syndromes plague us like some sort of epidemic. You can scroll and scroll through pages of attractive men, wishing, hoping, or even attempt to do things magically, but usually it fails. This is the cycle the TF community seems to live in, and it is sad. That is exactly the cycle Josh was stuck in, masturbating to the idea of being someone else. He was doing anything and everything to wake up and not be himself, gooning with poppers, hypnosis, ancient occult rituals, you name it. He was stuck only able to get hard if he played these fantasies through his head, intimacy made him feel unworthy and disgusted with himself.

Josh Idolized the fit men of Instagram, the athletic sexy types and he followed them on twitter and only fans because the idea of being sexually liberated or “a slut,” turned him on so much. Josh was a desperate man with seemingly impossible desires, but it did not stop him. He spent more money than he had on ancient texts, a vast collection surrounded him, but none held the key to his problem. His bedroom, or now his library smelled of musty books and faintly of ozone which emanated from the books. Occasionally they would faintly flash with eldritch power, but Josh was too absorbed in his quest to even notice.

His most recent acquisition was the original Pseudomonarchia Daemonu, which he procured off the black market. He had hoped to use it to summon infernal powers to reshape him into what he desired. Josh set up his ritual, during an eclipse in retrograde, trying to harness the most chaotic energies he could. As the clock struck midnight, he began his incantation, carefully making sure he had his list of traits and qualities, because he did not want to end up as some airheaded narcissist, no he had his idealized image in his head and written down. Each step of the ritual was planned to the second as he tried calling forth to the powers of chaos and madness. Nothing happened once he finished, so again he cleaned up the ritual, put the book on the shelf next to the rest, and went to grindr just to jerkoff to a few local hotties, wishing he was them.

Before Josh new it, the books surrounding him lit up in an electrical eldritch glow. He tried to get out of bed to investigate but could not seem to move. The energy crackled and glowed and began to shoot across the room akin to a tesla coil. Josh’s heart was racing, scared out of his mind but still immobile in his bed witch his 4-inch cock hardening more than it ever had before. The electricity became more violent as it began striking objects in his room, finally striking his phone with full force. The final strike seemed to release him of whatever bound him, and he leapt out of bed, afraid for his life. Everything had become quiet again, no sign of the magical energies that had plagued him a few moments ago. Josh ran out of his room and headed half naked to the front door, ready to make a quick escape. He was in such a hurry, he did not notice the man on the otherside of the front door standing there, waiting for him. Josh ran straight into the man and fell backward. The man had to be 6’6, in perfect athletic shape, a wet dream for Josh. Josh wasn’t short by any means at 6’3, but he felt tiny in the man’s presence.

“Hey there guy, what’s the hurry,” the stranger asked. Before josh could even answer the man said, “I’m Evan, I’m your escort for the evening, you must be Josh.” Poor Josh was so confused, he just took the hand of the stranger as Evan pulled him up. Josh felt a slight shock, but he was so rattled it did not even register. Evan immediately kissed Josh, something sensual, magical, and fierce and Josh felt like putty in Evans hands.

“But, but I didn’t order an escort,” Josh said, almost whimpering. “Sure, you did guy, how else would I be here?” retorted Evan. Josh tried to think about it, but it felt hard to make that logical connection… “Yeah, that does make sense,” replied Josh. Evan grabbed josh by the wrist and lead him to the bedroom. Upon arriving in the bedroom/library, Evan commanded Josh to strip, which he did, almost like he was on autopilot. Evan knew had Josh and decided it was time for the big reveal.

“Now Josh, I know what you want, what makes you tick, what makes you, you. I see the brilliant potential you have in that old soul of yours, how you will transcend the dimensions and the power you could wield. See, I am here to relieve you of this burden and thanks to your vast collection of power here, I can now give you what you want.”

Josh stood there powerless, seemingly petrified, unable to talk, looking horrified. He did not ever think anything like this would work, it was a fantasy, this wasn’t how it was supposed to be…he thought.

Evan put his hand on Josh’s chest, as it started to glow the same color as the electricity form early, it felt like Evan was pulling his very essence out of him. The power came to the surface and integrated into Josh’s body, where it settled. Josh felt even more powerless, he felt kind of empty almost.

“Good, now where to start,” Evan pondered out loud. Evan quickly moved behind Josh and began giving him the most sensual and amazing massage ever. Along with waves of euphoria, josh felt some kind of vertigo, he didn’t realize he was losing centimeters of height.

“I like a shorter guy,” laughed Evan as he continued to rob the height from Evan. Inch by inch Josh’s perception came closer to the floor, as he shrunk to 6 feet, 5’11,5’10, and so on, settling at 5’8 and a half. The vertigo stopped finally, leaving Josh looking at Evan’s diaphragm instead of his upper chest.

“What do you think,” Sneered Evan.

Josh’s tongue was released, and he proceeded to beg Evan to stop, “No, please, don’t do this, what about my life?”

Evan continued to sneer, “Some life gooner boy, don’t worry you won’t have to worry about wasting that potential once I am done with you.” With that Evan shoved Josh onto his bed, taking Josh’s hard four inches in his mouth. Josh could feel something strange as it felt like his balls were shifting, almost growing and he could feel his cock expanding and swelling. He wanted to protest but the pleasure was too much, and his thoughts were all jumbled and foggy. Before Josh could come, Evan abruptly stopped, taking his tongue all over Josh’s hairless body. Josh could feel an itchy sensation everywhere Evan’s tongue had been, his abs, chest, and pits were filling out with thick, but well-defined hair.

“now for my favorite part,” smiled Evan. He lifted Josh’s legs into the air, spit on his own godly dick and impaled Josh.

Evan fucked Josh slowly and carefully, each pump fill Evan with warm euphoria, something you can’t experience on this earth. “Listen closely, I want you to remember your life, remember it as clear as day, and as you hear my voice you will understand that those memories are false and never happened.”

Josh was filled with horror and fear, but the warmth of the ecstasy had him conflicted.

“Josh, you have always needed attention, which wasn’t hard because you just won the genetic lottery. It never felt like enough, so at the age of 13 you began working out. It consumed all of your time, your focus was never on band or theatre, no, you needed to be more like the athletes you admired.”

Josh’s lean from began to swell and grow, defining itself from years of hard work. His arms exploded as his abs tightened, traps, delts, legs, thighs all grew to utter societal perfection.

“DO you remember playing baseball, basketball, and competing in weightlifting? You should because they kept your focus far more than schoolwork. I bet you can remember a few head injuries too, it really helped empty out some of that excess thinking, letting you focus on what was important, your body.”

Josh could feel his mind slow down to a hazy speed, one that did not make him the dumbest guy ever, but nothing more than slightly below average.

“Thankfully everybody wanted you, you let it go to your head, didn’t you Clayton?” said Evan with an evil look in his eyes. Josh was confused, he was Clayton, why was this guy calling him Clayton?

“With a body and face like this and a sex drive that is borderline uncontrollable, it makes sense you started an only fans as soon as it was legal. The money poured in, and it just allowed you to focus more on your social media, your body, and the sex that fills that gaping hole where that potential used to be.”

Everything poured into Clay’s head, like a flash flood, shoving everything else out. “You know, you are quite the switch hitter, but I know you like to be fucked and face fucked the most. Men’s cum is like ambrosia to you, which is probably why you whore yourself out in bathrooms, bathhouses, and public parks.” As the words echoed and Evan fucked the truth into Clay’s ass, Clay could vividly remember how many men he had let fuck him, which did not feel like enough especially for the 34-year-old slut.

“Now a few final touches,” said Evan. How old are you, Clay? “

“I umm, I’m 34,” he replied between pants and grunts.

“Ahh good, I thought you looked about 22, I am glad I was right,” replied Evan.

Clay could feel the age fall away, and it made more sense he had only been with as many men as had had so far. His sex drive was increasing as his precum production became almost constant.

Evan leaned down as he fucked Clay and kissed him deep, shoving his tongue down his throat. “Tell me again how old you are,” cackled Evan.

Clay went to speak but his voice cracked violently down about 3 octaves and his vocabulary to basic bro level, “I UMMmm aM 22 bro.”

Evan came torrents inside of Clay, filling the missing potential with his demon seed, cementing Clay in this new form.

“Clay, I want you to remember, you are a social media slut who needs sex almost daily, you need external validation for your body and looks. You love to be dominated and fucked, being fucked gives you a sense of worth and purpose. You obsess over your grooming and the gym, there is nothing else about you that makes you interesting.”

With that, Evan sucked off Clay one last time ripping anything left that could allow Clay to redeem what he lost.

Clay woke up in his tiny studio apartment with a raging hard on and need for sex and the gym. There was one less light in the world and one more basic bro to fill that space.

Respect Women

Kris was simply in a bad mood when he told the woman at the club to fuck off. Well, to be honest, he said more than that: he called her a fucking bitch, and then told her to fuck off. Her eyes seemed to flash red with rage, jabbing him in his bony twink chest with a manicured finger, speaking with passion and disdain. "Boy, if you're gonna talk to women like that with that mouth, the least you can do is make her cum with it." The obviously gay guy blushed and then turned beet red in confusion and embarrassment. Something about the adrenaline of the moment even made his dick chub up a bit, or so he told himself.

He shook his head, stumbling back a few steps, ignoring the tingling feeling running across the flesh of his lips. He excused himself, leaving the woman to her anger and rushing outside where he quickly called a cab to come pick him up and save him from the awkwardness. Not only had his boyfriend stood him up, but he went and made an asshole of himself in front of some chick who totally thought he was a douche now. He knew better than to call her a bitch! He loved women, all his friends were girls, he was gay for crying out loud. He just wanted to take his frustration out on someone.

To do that on a black woman in a gay club… Wow. Awful judgment call, Kris. Good going.

He makes it to his home, rushes inside and slams the door behind him. Rubbing his face, he lets out a sigh and wastes no time making his way to his bedroom, where he flings himself on the bed and starts to fall asleep. Tomorrow will be better, he thinks, sleepily, still chubbed up and grinding lightly against the sheets below him. They feel so warm… so soft… so inviting. His eyelids are fluttering closed before realizing his lips are parting, tongue swirling out of his mouth, ready to have a french kiss makeout session with his pillow.

When he finally wakes up hours later, he's face first in a pile of drool, and as he tries to sit up, it feels as if someone has tied two massive bricks to his chest.

Kris groaned as he managed to roll over, panting for breath as it seemed to take all his energy to heave his chest up and down. His bulge felt so swollen and uncomfortably tight in his sleep shorts, like every movement was causing skin to rub against skin, chafing. He glanced down with a bleary blink, and then he gasped in shock and a little in fear. "FUCK!" booming out of his still wet and slobbery mouth was a low, husky bovine drawl, a bro's voice, and attached to his once pale, flat chest were now two thick slabs of bouncing, dark brown pec meat. Popping in place. Seeing how huge his chest was made him also notice how massive his shoulders were, how wide he was, how even though he couldn't see over his rock hard set of tits, he could feel his much fatter toes wriggling so much further down than he remembered them being. He forced himself to get off the bed, rising to his feet.

He could feel the vibration of his newly plumped up ass jiggling just behind him, and it took all his effort again to glance over his thick as fuck shoulder. With a wide look of panic, he could still see the massive jock globes shaking inside the tight prison of his mesh shorts. And the smell wafting up from the sweaty damp crack… whew! He glanced at his huge black hands, reached them upwards to feel the contours of his face, realizing very quickly that everything about him had been replaced. Not just his body. He could feel a much wider, sharper jaw. His brow felt furrowed, thicker, his nose large and his lips still slick and kissable and jutting out from his face. He pressed a finger into his fat, muscled up pec, noticing the stretch marks to the sides of his torso, from the sheer hulking size of him. He began to sweat, feeling that same sticky heat flare up beneath his armpits where black curls spiraled out, wafting the scent further across his bedroom.

He was so much taller, so much bigger, and as he stared at the black hunk he had become, he thought of the girl from the bar.

He remembered her eyes flashing red, the words she said to him, and his heart began to race and make him pump out even more sweat.

And then, so strangely, his dick began to get hard. He was just thinking about the girl he was an asshole to, and then suddenly he was remembering more about her than he noticed the first time, how she was wearing that cute peach top. How it hugged her curves, gave her tits an extra oomph, how those bouncing juicy breasts had been swaying up and down and jiggling ever so slightly the whole time they had been speaking. His newly massive cock lurched, radiating lust, and he moaned a low and desperate sound. The shaft throbbed against his tight boxers, his sleep shorts reforming into douchey sweaty workout pants loosely tied around his narrow waist, abs rippling on display.

Why was he feeling this way? He was as gay as any other twink in the state, he was frightened and confused to suddenly be a massive black dude with a hard on for some female stranger he demeaned last night, but he couldn't stop his brain from wanting to literally demean her further. He pressed his calloused hands on either side of his head, blinking back tears as he felt the distinct wiry curls of his new hair, his entire race had been changed against his will.

The whole time he stood there and stressed, he couldn't control his pecs and make them stop bouncing. Up, down, up and then down, POP POP POP.

And his ass kept swaying and jiggling and moving like a big chunk of jello behind him. He reached a hand back to rest against it, feeling the squish of the soft meat beneath his fingers. Against his will and giving in to his curiosity, his still hard cock directing him to tighten his body, to flex his biceps and get a look at just how truly sculpted he had become. As he flexed and then clenched his ass cheeks, his body moved on its own accord, giving his booty an extra playful shake to really make it bounce up and down. Like it had done this before.

But as he did so, he could feel his newly tight, puckered hole inch open just enough for a hot puff of protein reeking air to hiss out of his ass. PRFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFT!

A whiny voice echoed in his mind, wailing, begging to be forgiven, for the curse to be lifted, but Christian felt like he was in heaven. Nothing mattered more to the man than getting women off. Being covered in the juices of the female sex. Hearing them moan, feeling them vibrate, bounce, shake. Nah… he was a fucking breeder. An alpha. A real gentleman.

And after he finished swallowing down all her pussy juice, he'd be having her bounce up and down on his ready to burst python in no time. He'd be sure to leave a mini me baking in her womb as a thank you for her service.

Fuckkkk! He sure loved WOMEN.

I would like this to happen to me, ngl.

Rosa's Cafe

Here's a longer Racial TF set in a coffee shop, Best! Occam

Matthew had clocked up more hours of overtime for his company than they were willing to pay him. He assumed that their guidelines weren’t so rigid and that he would be fine to get ahead early. These days you really need to go above and beyond to get ahead and Matthew was determined to get in the good graces of the big bosses.

Unfortunately working so hard was a misplay. His direct boss was forcing him to take Paid Time Off in lieu of the overtime pay for the past year. Now he sits at home with next to nothing to do, twiddling his thumbs until he can return to the grind. He loved back when he was a barista in college? Maybe he can get back to customer service?

Reflecting on this he takes to LinkedIn to see if there are any managerial spots open for a cafe. Something needs to scratch his itch for administration and he night as well pour coffee while doing so. In a stroke of luck, or perhaps something more deliberate, as soon as he logs in to check listings he sees a manager position at “Rosa’s Cafe.”

He auto-submits his resume to the restaurant assuming he’s overqualified before even reading the listing’s qualifications. Glancing through them he sees that they’d prefer someone fluent in Spanish. Matthew struggles to recall what if any Spanish remains in his head from taking it in both high school and college. He starts to pull up a language app on his phone before seeing that, jarringly fast, he has already been advanced to an interview for this cafe. Rosa herself sending him a message to come as soon as he’s ready. 

Matthew then sprints to check himself in a mirror. He has certainly not slacked in his hygiene since he was asked to stop coming into work, partially in hopes that they’ll need him to come in any day. Today though he throws on some cologne and drives off to Rosa’s Cafe. He doesn’t stop to question how odd it is to already be on the way to an interview, minutes after submitting his resume. They must just really need someone?

As soon as he arrives Rosa is there at the door to greet him, smiling wide and welcoming him into her establishment.

“Hola Matthew! So glad for you to join us, your application was outstanding! Solamente, I was wondering why you wanted this job given your current one?”

Matthew blushes and explains his situation, struggling not to sound like a maniac for wanting to work despite the relatively cushy situation he is in. Although Rosa hears this and is impressed at his ethic, his crave to work. Rosa was more than happy to take advantage of his situation.

“Uhhh there was just one thing though, Miss. Oh uh, lo siento. Señora Rosa.”

“Sí, sí. You aren’t quite fluent en Español, are you Matthew?” He averts his eyes but before he can answer Rosa continues on, “Esta bien. You will just learn on the job sí?”

Putting on an air of determination Matthew pumps his fist “Sí, Sra Rosa! Uh claro que sí,” he attempts, stepping to the limit of the Spanish remaining in his head. Rosa gives him a look like an owner watching a pet as it tries to show off, offering an ambiguous smile before explaining her stance.

“Claro que sí,” offering a knowing nod, “I’m sure you understand why I would want a manager to speak Español, yes? En esta ciudad, in this city, there are very few places where Español is the default. I would just like my cafe to be one of them. The job is of course yours, I would be a fool not to take the opportunity. But while you’re here, mientras estás aquí, please work on su Espanol,” tacking on, “I can’t imagine it will be too long before you’re called back to your job eh? Una estrella como tu” 

To her point there are clearly not a lot of people speaking English in the cafe. Matthew would guess he is probably the only native English speaker present making him blush, although after being flattered by Rosa he was ready to accept. After all he had been meaning to practice his Spanish anyway. He puts his hand out to shake her hand, “when can I start?”

“Well, mi pequeño gerente, why not start training now?” Turning around she calls over the barista Juan to introduce the two, talking to Juan at a speed that made it clear to Matthew that she was quite dumbing down her language in their conversation. She then bids farewell to the two, “adios Matthew! Tengo que ah, cόmo se dice, file your paperwork. Hasta mañana!”

“Hola Matthew, it is nice to meet you! Rosa said to show you around,” Juan smiles offering him a cup of their house roast. “Espero que, ah, I hope you don’t mind but I added canella, cinnamon.” Matthew graciously accepts the cup. He may be a world removed from his time as a barista but instantly returns to his first coffee tasting.

It smelled quite strong, darker than he usually prefers and he can see cinnamon swirling through the cup as the cup steams in his hand. He begins to bring the cup up for a closer smell although as soon as the movement begins the allure of the drink overpowers him and he drinks almost too quickly. It was delicious. He always, almost performatively, drank black coffee at his old job. Or no, his real job?

Juan sees Matthew continue to gulp down the cup of coffee waiting for reaction, though he sees very little sign of his mind processing the drink at all. Matthew’s just staring ahead, his eyes ever so slightly glazing over as he finishes the cup. He grins as it almost looks like the coffee has stained Matthew’s upper lip, offering a napkin before asking, “te gusta hermano?”

Matthew snaps back to his senses, staring at Juan as a small ring of brown starts to stain the center of his icy blue eyes. He struggles to even find the words to describe how profoundly he enjoyed the coffee. It was a passion too great for him to even begin to capture in English. “Juan, that was, cómo se dice? Is there some word better than delicioso?”

Juan laughs putting his arm around his new manager, “Ay hermano! Maybe that’s what you should do now! You just go work on your Spanish and I’ll bring you some samples! Ah, aqui, the employee handbook is in Spanish, practica perfecta!” He brings over another cup and the handbook and Matthew starts struggling through it. 

Matthew figuratively bashes his head into the handbook, it’s not dense but it is per cierto not written with beginners in mind. Smirking as he notices he just reflexively thought in Spanish, going to get another drink only to find the cup emptied once more. He hasn’t been drinking nearly as much since he left the office, bargaining with himself as Juan comes to refill his cup. He can cut back his intake later, he needs to get this through this work.

And work at it he does, caffeine is not making him feel wired as usual but sensual as he continues to page through the booklet. He starts to stretch just to feel the strain in his muscles and the tension in his clothes. He looks down and sees his shirt is fitting much better than he thought it did. It’s not tight but anyone who looks can see there is muscle under there. He stares at his own body feeling strength he does not remember cultivating. Suddenly he notices it’s not only his upper body that’s filling out, as a growing package begins to demand attention under the table. These jeans were clearly not designed to handle this and Matthew is barely able to stop himself from flexing to see just how much he truly can fill this outfit and he attempts to switch gears back to working. Urgently feeling adverse to thinking any further about his body.

Struggling to find any way to distract himself he remembers being historically shit at actually speaking in Spanish. This is as good a chance as any to practice his pronunciation. Matthew begins to mouth the words in the handbook, feeling his tongue in unfamiliar ways that he swears he has done a million times before. Matthew attempts to raise his practice to a whisper and immediately goes into a coughing fit. Hope that coffee didn’t burn my throat he thinks clearing his throat and finding a much deeper voice on the other side. One that announces his Spanish progress to the whole cafe shockingly loud for a whisper though Matthew doesn’t notice. What is immediately apparent to him is how expertly he rolled an R. 

He knows he could never do that, and not without trying. He probably spent half an hour practicing it his sophomore year. He reflects back on how hard he worked on Spanish in the past as his eyes start to glaze over once more. Something is off here, his hand raising to his face not notice a moustache and sloppy goatee start to push out of his face. He foes feel itchy elsewhere though, scratching at his chest and stomach, averting the more animalistic urge to scratch his pits and crotch as Juan begins to walk over.

Matthew quickly tries to meet him halfway, standing to a height just taller than the one he thought he knew to be true. His bulge grazes the bottom of the table which causes his body to convulse in pleasure. His feet are caught on the table as he falls knocking his coffee all over himself and the floor. “Mierda!” He shouts before going dark.

He awakens to Juan wiping coffee off his face, his clothes now certainly stained brown and spelling of rich coffee and cinnamon. Helping him back to standing, Juan makes sure he is alright, “quite the fall amigo! Tal vez we call it a day?” Matthew hastily agrees feeling impossibly strained and weary for what little work he has actually done. Juan continues, “Rosa said the paperwork should be good for you to start tomorrow if you can!” Stumbling to his feet Matt knows he agrees but the rest of his night is little more than a blur. 

He sees Juan wink at him and knows he is going to start tomorrow. He must drive home after that since he is now looking at himself in the mirror brushing his teeth. Something seems off, he is clearly too tired to put a finger on exactly what it is. He flexes his bicep noticing he must have completely disrobed. He thought he shaved his pits recently. He scratches at his crotch realizing that his now heavier cock is also out, pawing at his pubes and feeling his bulge expand even further into his hand before forcing it into some briefs and continuing his audit. 

Didn’t he have a tan? Looking at himself up and down he feels like he isn’t supposed to be this pale right? Isn’t he from? Matthew feels lightheaded and begins to collapse once more before being jarred back to reality smelling the coffee and cinnamon scent still hugging his chest. Using this second wind he stumbles into bed, neglecting to change into his nightclothes and he quickly drifts to sleep.

Matt falls into a dream that feels realer than the reality of his previous life. It’s the middle of the rush and he sees himself working at an espresso machine with Juan. He looks down seeing his body expertly maneuver around the bar, tossing cinnamon into drinks, chatting with customers in truly fluent Spanish. He pauses in this dreamscape to notice the tan he was so sure he had earlier. He sees the tattooed arms he has known for years, he worked hard enough for them after all, might as well show them off on the clock. He raises the hairy arms to flex at Juan and say something clever in his native tongue before being jarred back to reality by a sunbeam.

Matt awakens hearing his morning wood stretch his briefs to their near limit barely able to keep himself together before seeing the time and once more shouting “mierda!” He is already so late for work, they’ve been open for hours. It’s his first real day and he has already jod- he’s already fucked it up! He quickly inspects himself once more, seeing the true version of himself he saw in his dream. Seeing his recently shaved chest he quickly realizes he doesn’t have time for a shower. He smells his pits just to see how bad the damage is. His voice rumbles in his chest, “joder…”

He smells again even deeper, it reminds him of? Oh it is just on the tip of his tongue, which he begins to reach out before remembering his predicament. He throws on a dress shirt before giving one last whiff to his pits, flexing his pecs as he does so. It is so fragrant, almost spicy. Matt postpones the mystery after concluding it should certainly be covered by the smell at Rosa’s and rushing out the door. Not seeing as his chest pops off the top button of his shirt and his neat goatee begins to grow even thicker.

Matt rushes into the door and is greeted like a regular, which he is of course to be now, as the new manager. He feels a warmth in his chest as Juan brings over his first cup of the day. “Buenos días Juan!” Matt offers before going to meet the chef, Benito, as the plan was today.

Making his way back to the kitchen he smells something even more distracting to him than his body odor this morning. Benito runs over with a plate full of arepas that Matt recognizes instantly before Benito greets him, “buenos dias jefe! Rosa said you wanted us to start serving arepas sí?” 

“Rosa? She said, I asked for these?”

“Si! Desde su ciudad natal no?”

Matt’s mouth is overcome as he starts to clearly drool for the plate in front of him. He has no choice but to tear into one which immediately brings him back. He loved these when he was a kid, but? Didn’t he grow up en los estados? Wasn’t he from? He fails to finish the thought in his head before it is wiped away as if fireworks are going of in his mind. 

He beams at Benito as his eyes glaze over and fully darken to brown. He feels an urge to burp which he chokes down with another cup of coffee. “Ay this takes me back amigo, estos son exactamente como, like the ones mi abuela había before nos pequeños…” Matt pauses as he feels a pervasive warmth starts to grow distracting in his chest as a similar itch begins on the outside.

He doesn’t notice as his inner monologue begins to entirely shift away from English, as it should of course. He may live in los Estados hoy, but he was colombiano born and bred. He remembers how hard he worked as a child learning English as his biceps start to clearly strain the already tight dress shirt.

Matt remembers fighting for his place to get a degree at a university that did not respect his native country or tongue as he feels his voice deepen beyond baritone and into a strong bass. He remembers trying to find a place in this mierda ciudad before meeting Rosa as his chest bursts open shooting any buttons remaining off his shirt. 

Rosa then enters the kitchen to see how her new hire has progressed and slyly smiles seeing his progress. She tosses a shirt at him saying in Spanish now effortlessly understood “Oi Matteo! You’re in the kitchen put some clothes on!” 

Matteo shuffles to the restroom to change as he looks one last time in the mirror and sees the flawless trajabador he sees every time he checks himself out. He puts on his nametag flexing to see just how much he can strain his shirt before returning to the cafe, ready to conquer another day in the life he has worked so hard for.

30 Days - Day 1

My husband is a Warlock, or a Genie, or some kind of magical being. To be honest, I didn’t marry him for that reason. I married him because he’s kind, honest and a good man. I wont lie though, it is kind of nice to have a magical being in the house. He gets the dishes done in no time at all! 

When we were dating, I begged him to use his magic on me, but he always said no. He said he wanted to love me for me. I thought that was really sweet, and so now our relationship is solid because we fell in love naturally. It didn’t stop me from continuing to ask him though, and so to celebrate our 1 year anniversary, he gave me a special gift. He gave me a 1 month magic pass! For the next 30 days, every day, I will wake up a completely new man. I will have a new body, new job, new personality, new clothes: new everything. 

Tomorrow is the first day. I can’t wait to see who I wake up as.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I reached over and turned off my alarm, reaching my arms up past my head to stretch. I realized that today was the first day! I bolted out of bed and dashed into the bathroom. In the mirror I was greeted with a sight.

I was tall, with smooth hazel-tanned skin completely free of body hair. I instinctively puckered my lips and stroked my chin, remarking how bouncy and soft my hair looked in the morning. I rubbed my hands across my bulbous chest and up and down my chiselled abs. That’s right - I looked fucking good in the morning. Chet Alvarez is my name.

There was some time to kill before my shift as a personal trainer at the Gold’s Gym, so I could have a relaxing morning. I reached down for my cock, feeling my cut member with my hand. I slapped my girthy dick against my thick thigh, enjoying the sound echoing around the bathroom. My cock chubbed in my hand, getting thicker and longer as it got erect. 

“Morning babe,” I heard behind me. I turned and saw my husband leaning in the bathroom doorframe. “How do you like the you today?”

“Fuck bro,” I said with a cocky smile. I flexed my arms for him. I knew he liked it.

We kissed, wrapping our arms around each other. And then he fucked hard me. Even guys who look like me like to get fucked sometimes. 

Before work I got my own workout in. Today was my back, and so I did sets of pull ups, deadlifts and rows. I worked up a decent sweat and finished with fifteen minutes on the treadmill. In the shower I fingered my hairless asshole, remembering the sensation of my husband from the morning. 

After work, I went home and ate dinner with my husband. He caressed my hairless thigh, and sucked my cock before bed. I closed my eyes, grinning about the day. I wonder who I’ll be tomorrow. 

Next day

Wouldn't It Be Funny?

Back again with a longer military tf, Hope you enjoy! - Occam

Curtis and Joseph were bored out of their minds. After growing disenchanted with university life the two were well into a gap year and have been finding progressively less stimulating ways to waste away their time. Without assignments piling up and biweekly mandatory lectures they were firmly adrift as the days of the week blur together. Curtis continues scrolling on his phone while Joseph, phone ever-so-recently dead, tries to think of anything to do while it charges back up.

“Wait! I think my brother left a stash of beer last time he visited!” Curtis looks up and squints at his friend, “the best thing you think we could be doing right now is day drinking alcohol your brother left here months ago?” Joseph makes a motion inviting Curtis to produce a better idea which goes unanswered as he rolls his eyes and gets up to accompany Joseph on this ignoble quest.

Joseph leads Curtis to the hall closet where he had apparently thrown everything his brother, Nick, had left after staying over for a couple weeks. There is some deodorant and other toiletries scattered about although the floor, first and foremost however, what catches Curtis’ eye is an army uniform laying in a heap, in the corner of the closet. There is just something about it. Any time he starts to move his attention away from it another question pops into his mind requiring a deeper inspection of the jacket. He wonders how durable the uniform actually is? It looks as if it's never been worn though he knows that Nick has certainly done some training in it. He simply must have a closer look.

Before he could act on that, the jacket he so craved was chucked at him as Joseph found his bottled quarry underneath. “Score! It’s almost full too, we can have two each and rock, paper, scissors over the last one.” Joseph heads to the kitchen well on his way to some palatable lukewarm beers as he continues to chat busily at Curtis. His roommate doesn’t hear him however as the only thing on his mind is the scratchy jacket in his arms. 

He almost blushes looking down and feeling it in his arms, quite a bit heavier than he thought it would be. Surely he should toss it back with the rest of Nick’s things but it’s such a nice jacket. Quite a shame it's gone so long just sitting in their unworn. Maybe he’d just toss it on as a prank. Yeah Joseph would love that, seeing his friend in this massive jacket. His body acts quicker than his mind though, swiftly putting it on, pulling the hem down to straighten it out and pulling the sleeves up so you can just see his hands out the end.

Curtis hears his friend opening bottles in the kitchen and grins as he pictures the look on Joseph’s face as he sees him wearing this. He zips it up and struggles to get wrinkles out of the pockets before the grand reveal. No reason to not try and look legit. For it to really be funny it needs to look good. As soon as the thought that this would be funny enters his mind however he has a sharp headache and groans. No longer able to recall the incongruity of the situation as he steps out to see his friend.

Rounding the corner Curtis quickly starts what is meant to be a comedically poor salute but instead executes one with the precision of a machine. This only heightens the comedy of it all from where Joseph is standing however, halfway through a bottle of beer he chokes and spits up the beer all over the counter. He takes a moment to recover from this waste of beer before looking up once more and laughing so hard he can’t stand up straight.

Curtis in turn clenches his fist hard enough to pop a joint as he feels aggressively defensive. Why is his friend laughing at him. His back tenses with more effort than he has sustained in months, and more strength then he has wielded in a lifetime, as he cannot let this slight go unreciprocated. “What’s so funny, Kid.” Joseph looks up to see Curtis with an expression of rage more genuine than any emotion he had seen of his friend in months. It is immediately met with a flinch and a recoil as Joseph can’t bring himself to his friends’ burning gaze, “Jesus Curtis is everything alright? I thought you were doing a joke?”

A Joke? Curtis’ neck spasms breaking him out of his statuesque posture and upon rubbing a neck more muscular than he thought possible, he remembers, of course he was doing a joke! Why else would he be wearing Nick's Jacket! Smiling as he remembers how good it landed, he heads over to his friend, “Sweet you already opened a bottle for me! What’s the move now, did you want to game?” 

Joseph, shell-shocked by this return to spirits, assumes that the whole thing was now some shit joke, hands his friend a beer and heads to set up his PS5, “sure whatever dude, can you get the lights?” Which Curtis quickly does, not noticing his arms definitively stretching much further out of the jacket than they should. Waiting for his friend to finish the setup Curtis paces behind the couch, each step louder than the last as he grows less careful of his footing and he continues to ever so slightly grow into this jacket.

“Can you chill dude?” 

“Oh! Sorry did-”  

“And why are you still wearing my brother’s jacket!”

“Your brothers-” Curtis pauses to look at the name stitched onto his chest and is also shocked that he’s wearing Nick’s jacket though decidedly not for the same reason that Joseph assumed. “Woah sorry kid? I guess I was cold? Do you want me to throw it back in the closet?”

“Just take it off dude! And stop calling me kid,” puffing as he sits back on the couch and starts to play some game Curtis feels like he should recognize before taking off the jacket and heading to put it in the closet. He scratches at his chin as he tries to work out what feels so off right now. Hanging up Nick’s jacket, sure not to leave any creases, he remembers that he’ll probably need to shave soon so he doesn’t get a mark at the next inspection, his rougher hands feeling around his sharper jaw to check the damage.

Returning to the living room he trips over what he assumes is his own feet but is embarrassed to find; Ah! It’s his jacket! Thank god he let his discipline slack here and not back at base. He picks it up as Joseph turns around hearing the stumble and begins to hurry him back before instead asking, “did you do something with your hair?” To which Curtis tilts his head like a dog before Joseph shouts once more, “Dude! Are you wearing my brother’s socks!?”

“No of course not they would never fit.” He says looking down to see the same army green socks he always wears, not Nick’s. “Well my feet do seem larger than I thought they were.” continuing as he bends down to inspect his feet, Joseph scrambles over to do similarly, though neither notices as they slowly inch even larger across the carpet. Instead Joseph is immediately thrown for a loop hearing a loud groan from his friend as he stands back up. Now almost a head taller than he was before bending down.

“Fuck dude you’re so tall!” Joseph reaches up to put his hands on his friend’s shoulders. Curtis was always taller, a fact Joseph was already none too pleased with, but this was ridiculous. He almost has to strain and as he does finally get his arms up he immediately finds thick traps under his friend’s strained shirt, “Asshole! Have you been working out without me!?” 

“Of course not. When would I? Or who would I even-”

“I mean, with recruiters right?” Joseph offers forth without the thought even consciously entering his mind. It made no sense to him but it was true. Suddenly it's as if some form of static fills the minds of both the men, a warm static buzzes through Curtis’ mind and body as he starts to unconsciously put the newly reclaimed uniform back on himself. Joseph experiences something far harsher in his own mind, the static is unbearably cold and punishing. He claws at his head, no longer able to hold two ideas of who Curtis is in his mind. And it is clear which reality is prevailing as Curtis slides his thicker arms into the jacket, flexing to make sure his uniform is fitting just right.

As he begins to zip up the jacket his pecs begin to make themselves well more than apparent. His decidedly larger nipples poking out as the apparently nylon shirt hugs his defined chest and he struggles to get the zipper closed without being uncomfortably tight on his pecs before deciding to just leave it unzipped for now. “Why would I be working with recruiters, lil’ dude?” He looks confused at his friend, or his friend’s little brother? Before smirking and seizing the chance, “If anything you’re the one who should be working with them, gotta be bigger than that to join up with us!”  He puts a hand on Joseph’s head messing with his hair, jolting Joseph back to this new reality.

“Curtis! Do you not think something weird is happening here!”

“Oh? Did your brother not tell you I go by Curt?”

“My brother? Fuck dude! It’s his jacket! You’re wearing his jacket again!”

“Ah no lil’ dude this one here is mine, check it!”

Joseph looks at the clear name tag on his chest clear as day with Curt’s last name on it, not noticing as he seamlessly uses Curt’s apparent preferred name. Instead he stares at a symbol over the center of Curt’s chest clearly also different than the one on his brother’s uniform. Curt smirks as he points to it himself, “Impressed kid? I’m already a Private First Class, not too hard to outpace Nick though. I mean love the guy but come on! Show some hustle! We enlisted together for a reason dude!”

Suddenly Joseph feels that this statement was a bridge too far. He feels a pit in his chest as he feels he has just lost something greater than he can understand going to slap the exemplar of a man in front of him, “Snap out of it!” Before even nearing a strike however his wrist is snatched out of the air and held fast above his head. Curt stares daggers into Joseph at this sign of aggression, this challenge. His eyes darken as his stubble grows out even more. Joseph feels Curt’s grip grow even darker watching as the hair on his arms darkens spreading out from the sleeves. He brings in Nick’s little bro closer to his face as his warm, heaving breaths distract Joseph from the pain in his upheld wrist before he lets go and guffaws, “You’ve gotta be quicker than that kid if you want to enlist with us! Where is your brother anyway? ‘S why I came over right?”

Joseph is perplexed as Curt lets him go, also unsure as to why this mammoth of a man is in his living room. They are quickly assuaged as Curt gets a text from Nick. “Oh you need a ride did ya kid? No problem! He just wants you to bring over the jacket he left over here and we’ll head on out.” Curt struggles to shove his feet in his combat shoes before finding himself distracted as the shoes push out to fit his ever larger feet.

Joseph’s mind remains a battlefield but it is clear which side is soon to rout as he heads to the closet where he just wanted to grab some beer. Inside he finds not only his brother's jacket, expertly hung, but a second one that looks almost supernaturally comfortable. He pauses before reaching out, feeling an existential aversion to the jacket hanging in his closet. before there’s a brisk breeze through the house and he shivers. Joseph quickly grabs his brothers and slides into the latter jacket, a tad too big but the world around him feels much warmer now that he has it on.

After suiting up Joseph quickly rushes back to his brother’s friend, quite wanting to make a good impression on the private first class. As he rushes his footsteps quickly grow in volume as his tennis shoes thicken into pristine combat shoes and grow far wider as his feet race to keep up, filling their increased space. Barely avoiding tripping over his now massive feet, he sees that Curt is of course not a private at all but his Corporal, as he freezes and salutes. His biceps straining his sleeves as his stained white shirt begins to slowly make room for the soldier’s expanding muscle. “At ease Joe, Let’s go ahead and head on out.”

Curt leads Joe out to his lifted truck and has him get in before loading a few more things into the bed of his truck. There is a load of clearly dirty towels in the back seat as Curt clearly has an issue bringing in laundry after his workouts. Although he doesn’t make it a habit of driving recruits so it’s not usually an issue. Sitting in the musky cabin does immediately cause issues for Joe however, as he puts the seatbelt on he feels his body start to expand in every direction it can. His pecs push against both his shirt and the seatbelt. He pulls his tight shirt down, straining it to the brim as he feels a sudden itch in his crotch. His hand already down there and finding it impossible to bring his attention anywhere else he sees his bulge push out, almost doubling in size as he scratches his increasingly overgrown pubes. He struggles to cover the impossible to miss bulge forcing his brother’s jacket over his crotch, the added pressure and warmth overwhelms him as Curt notices from outside

Curt watches as his new recruit’s shoulders broaden and his jaw widens. He slightly shifts in his seat, almost gyrating, running the hand not shoved in his pants through his hair, leaving behind a respectable high and tight demanded of any respectable recruit.

Curt slowly opens the door giving the recruit the briefest of chances to at least perform decency. Immediately wrenching the hand from his pants to salute, shouting “Sir!” towards his Corporal, eyes growing deathly serious as he touches a visibly sweat covered hand to his brow. Curt’s eyes glint as he notices the action flung Nick’s jacket off and exposed Joe’s still expanding bulge and unzipped pants. The two feel a hunger starting to grow in their chests as Curt hops into the driver's seat. Adjusting his rear view as he juts up once more in height, his jacket making it apparent to all he is now a sergeant, Curt begins to drive off towards the base. 

Curt puts his hand on Joe’s inner thigh, overstimulating the private who roughly clenches his jaw trying to keep it together. He feels pre start to soak through Joe’s fatigues as he starts to rub his thigh. Grunting as he too feels a powerful stirring in his crotch, his cock forcing itself further down his leg. “Wouldn’t want to stop at my place first, would ya’ Joe?” Joe stares at the sergeant ahead of him with a lust deeper than the can understand, and a hunger to grow even larger. Curt chuckles, “gotta release some of this energy before we break the new to Nick anyway.” He turns his car and begins to race towards his apartment on the base. 

As the heat in the car begins to fog up the windows the two men could not remember anything besides who they were since joining the army. After an anything but quick fuck, they would get back to work on the base. Curt distracts himself as he commands his troops and Joe gets ready for his promotion ceremony, ready to rub it in his brother’s face that he was already going to be higher ranked. The two follow orders flawlessly as they always have, performing their duties with rigor. The only thing more present on their minds than dedication to their fellow soldiers being the excitement for the next time they are to fuck.