Im Tired Of Being A Twink Quite Nerd! Can You Make Me An Obnoxious Jock That Only Cares About Fucking

im tired of being a twink quite nerd! can you make me an obnoxious jock that only cares about fucking and football?

snap

Heard you want to be an obnoxious football jock? I can do that, sure thing. Who wants to be a nerd anyway? Jocks are better.

Stand right there, let’s get a look at you. You’ll need to be taller. Your spine, legs and arms are crunching up as they all lengthen. Six foot will give us plenty to work with.

Your face is too… Nerdy. Needs to be way cuter. Let’s harden up your jaw, tighten up your nose. Perfect. You’re “ruggedly handsome” now.

What does every football bro need? Muscles! And you’re getting a lot of them. Roll your shoulders around for me, feel them get bigger and broader. Oh yeah. Lift up your arms for me to flex. Yeah, there’s nothing there right now but watch them inflate now. Look at those pythons! Fuck dude. You’re built. Your chest is pushing out, and your stomach is flattening into a tight six pack. The veins on your arms are popping out. You're a specimen.

But you don't have the brain to match. Your nerd days are over, long live the jock! You're a fuck boy now, fucking anyone that will consent. And it doesn't matter what their gender is. You're at school on a scholarship, but don't about classes, assignments or homework. Just keep flexing those muscles, working out that body, and winning on game days. You got this, bro.

Here's your gear. Go get dressed! It's game time.

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.

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

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.

Cop TFs are such a niche. This is a great one.

Shady Unit

ϟ gay to straight tf, muscle growth, cop tf, forced tf, changed by surroundings, mental tf, reality tf, breeder/conservative tf

Peyton accepted his friends' dare against his better judgment; the gaggle of gays had been walking home from their early morning brunch, mimosas fizzling inside their dizzy heads, when they noticed the parked cop car with a wide open door. No pigs in sight, only an abandoned police unit just begging them to come over and snoop around. "Ohhh my god, you have got to let us take a picture with you sitting in the driver's seat, Peyton! That would be so funny!" This made the boy in question frown, blonde curls hanging in his face and obscuring his narrowed, baby blue eyes. Looking at the group, the least straight OR cop passing of the whole bunch would be Peyton, the twink runt, so that just made his friends laugh louder at the thought and push him closer to the unguarded vehicle. "Come on, Peyton, do it! You've got this!"

Making sure once more that the coast was clear, he decided that there was no harm in it. All he had to do was run over, strike a cute pose, and then get the fuck out and go home! He marched his way over, struggling a bit as he pulled the heavy, solid door a little further away so that he could squeeze inside, and then he turned to smile at his friends with flushed cheeks, hands lifted up in a double thumbs up pose. It was just a shame that the car door slammed shut before his buddies could snap their pictures, a faint murmur of gasps and sounds of confusion behind the thick shell of steel as Peyton found himself trapped and silenced within the car, panic rising in his system as he tried and failed to get the door to budge as he pressed and yanked trying to open it. All to no avail.

That was when he heard the rustling on the dashboard, the bulky pair of black sunglasses rattling in place, as if charged with energy and about to combust. He was staring at them in shock and fear when they suddenly leaped forward, opening their hinges and sliding right onto his frightened face, covering his shocked vision in a shield of dim, repressed light. Honestly, the jumping object would have been the most frightening part, if not for the pain that suddenly flared in the space between his temples. He gasped out in pain, muscles tensing, spine locking in place as shocks began to pulse through his body.

Little thoughts began to dance with his begs for mercy, his brain was a battlefield of trying to rationalize what was happening to him, and trying to ignore the presence that was steadily making itself known inside of himself. Another man's casual thoughts were overlapping his own, overpowering them. "Fuck, I can't wait for this shift to be over so I get home to my girl." Peyton grimaced, another shock rolling through him, his jaw stinging as it cracked outward into a chiseled, strong, pitch black stubbled line. The twink was confused and alarmed to hear this gruff voice speaking, especially one that gave a shit about getting home to a girl.

He reached up to pull the glasses off, trying to exert control over his spasming limbs, but then he could feel the muscles in his arms tearing apart and stitching themselves back together in an instant, his spindly arms vibrating in the air as suddenly they ballooned out into firm, solid, vascular biceps that were swollen with raw strength. Except now they were forced into a double bicep pose and no longer reaching for the glasses still trapped on his head.

"Fuccck, I just want to get home and flood her cunt. The good book says to be fruitful and multiply, my only purpose in life is to be a traditional man, to fulfill my duty as a male," the low, bovine voice kept talking despite Peyton's inner protests, his newly large and calloused hand reaching down to cup his bulge, lithe fingers fattening into sausages. His rough fingertips could feel a different and more durable fabric where his mesh shorts had once been. But that all paled in comparison to the heat radiating from his crotch, the trembling of his little nub cock as it began to engorge, fattening into a thick, girthy, vein covered shaft.

His cock head flared out into a large purple mushroom that was already leaking pre into his tight and sweaty boxers, a sun kissed hue washing across his pasty skin with every twitch of his bulking up body. He was the definition of tall, dark, and handsome. His firm jaw itched as black, wiry beard hairs burst through the coarse skin, making look him manly and intimidating. His blonde curls retracted into a dark black, traditional cut.

With what little control he could muster, he reached up to the driver's side mirror, pulling down the flap and gasping in absolute shock. Or at least he meant to, but now his permanently fixed cocky smirk could only speak with the same voice that was inside his head. "Fuck, I look clean as shit! My bitch is gonna be dripping all over my cock all night long." He watched clear as day as his now douchey, older, masculine face moved on its own accord, speaking without his say in the same dumb, harsh, jock voice he had heard earlier. Now looking at himself in the reflection, unable to control the posing body of the conceited bodybuilder cop he was trapped within, he could see what had become of his clothes. His little rainbow buttons and badges were now deadly gear strapped to his vest and belt, and his cute outfit was now a traditional and crisp police uniform.

Nothing that made up Peyton was left once that door slammed shut, leaving behind a smug and newly minted Officer Dickson sitting inside his very own unit. Flipping on the siren lights, he popped open the car door with a casual lean of his bulky body, Peyton wailing inside his mental prison at the sight of his former friends. This was their idea, and they needed to help him! He just wanted to be set free, safe to go home and far away from this awful, backwards minded brain his essence had now been shoved into.

But the massive man only sneered and glared at the group of fairies behind his dark black, emotionless lenses. "Clear the fuck out, or I'll take you all in for processing." He was okay watching them sprint to run away, vowing to deal with their presence another day. As much as he loved bringing alpha men into this world by changing gay men to serve the police unit, repurposed to better suit traditional society, he would always have a fondness of doing it the old fashioned way. And his wife was certainly gonna end up inflated with a few alpha sons in her belly once he was finished with her tonight. Peyton would just have to get used to the countless flashes of bouncing tits and squirting pussies inside his new cage. Officer Dickson wasn't going to change his mindset for anyone, let alone the skinny little queer he didn't even remember being.

30 Days - Day 2

My eyes blinked open slowly. There was no alarm to wake me up this morning. I adjusted my underwear, sniffing my fingers afterward and getting caught up in my aroma. Rolling out of bed,  I looked at my thick thighs and tight waist. I was a slim hottie today! 

In the bathroom mirror I was able to confirm my predictions. I remarked at my boyish looks and chiselled muscles. My name is Ethan Miller, 22 years old. Certified jock and current student at the local collage.

I flopped my hair before jumping in the shower. Lathering up my chest and shoulders, I couldn’t help but move my hands down to my dick and rub one out. It felt good.

I threw some wax in my hair and prettied up myself before heading to the gym. I had some time to kill anyway. A buddy shot a pic of me, because I looked extra slutty. I made sure to send it to some girls’ Snapchats.

Class was boring, bro. I spent most of the time checking out Snapchat anyway. I made a plan to meet with a chick after class who was totally down to fuck. It’s fun being cocky and young.

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