I Love Cop TFs.

I love cop TFs.

Cop Out

Nick, a young, headstrong journalist, had been investigating strange goings-on at the police department for months. Odd reports of trainees at the police academy disappearing while the number of senior cops seemed to increase, and without any known source of extra funding. But his only informant, a trainee at the academy himself, soon mysteriously vanished as well. Convinced the police were covering something up, Nick felt compelled to investigate.

Before they fell off the grid, Nick’s informants mentioned a company that seemed to be tied up with the disappearances - New You Industries. But despite his best efforts, the intrepid investigator couldn’t find any reference to such a business ever having existed. The last he heard from his mole was that a shipment was due to arrive at the police training academy in a week.

And so, seven days later, Nick found himself staking out the storage garage of the academy in the dead of night. From a long distance in the safety of his car, he snapped pictures of a man getting out of an unmarked car and handing three small boxes to someone Nick recognized the city’s police chief, Chief Barrow. But this evidence was meaningless without knowing what the shipment contained.

He waited patiently for all parties to depart and snuck up on the garage, snapping the lock with bolt cutters and using his camera’s flash to illuminate the pitch-black room. Nick was dismayed to find two police badges sitting on the shelf, along with three boxes, now empty.

“Did I just stake out a shipment of police badges?” Nick muttered to himself. He jumped back in fright as the lights were suddenly switched on.

“C-Chief Barrow?” Nick stammered as he turned to see the police chief standing next to the light switch.

“You think we didn’t know you’d been following us?” he growled as he stepped toward Nick.

“What happened to the students?! Did you kill them?!” Nick yelled as if to try and bolster himself against the fear he was currently experiencing.

The police chief stopped in his tracks and made a sly expression, “They’re not dead. They’re in the station, working.”

“W-what?” Nick replied with the same look of bewilderment, “I-I was told students were vanishing from the academy?”

“They got - how should I say this - fast-tracked through the program,” Barrow responded with a smirk, “You’re about to find how. Catch!”

Nick flinched as the chief tossed a small metallic object at him. Reacting instinctively, Nick caught it in his hands. It was a badge, just like the two behind him. He shuddered and his hand tensed around the badge. Incredible energy surged up his arm and spread through him. He desperately wanted to let go of the enchanted badge, but he couldn’t.

“Sorry, but we can’t have you reporting on this,” Barrow chuckled as he exited and slammed the garage closed behind him. As the door crashed down Nick’s legs gave out and he fell to his knees, his fingers still firmly grasping the badge. The young journalist was terrified, but at the same time engrossed in the power bubbling through his body. Finally, his fingers unclenched and dropped the badge to the floor, but the damage had been done. Nick pushed onto all fours and let out a long moan as his body began to change.

His legs stretched out from his slacks, exposing more and more of his shins. Likewise, his arms extended from his sleeves while his entire torso was pulled longer and longer. “What’s ah… happening to me?!” Nick groaned as his cock hardened to full mast.

Muscles fluttered and twitched all over his body. They grew across his arms, bulging from his biceps and triceps as his shoulders grew wider, tearing at his shirt. Pecs slowly protruded from his bony chest, growing large and dense. Abs rippled out along his stomach, leading down to a sharper, V-shaped set of cum gutters. His legs surged with strength, copious amounts of muscle growing and forming in his thighs and calves, stretching his fly apart and revealing the wet, hard, bulging underwear underneath. Behind him, his flat butt began to press outward, bigger and rounder, matching his thick, muscular thighs.

He couldn’t help himself, clasping at the exposed muscle as hairs darted across the surface. Soon he found himself grabbing fabric, much to his surprise. He opened his eyes to see his tattered clothes repairing and reshaping into the uniform of the local precinct. His bulging arms still strained the new shirt. A bulky, heavy vest replete with a radio and utilities formed over the top.

“Ngh! Fuck!” he grunted, bucking his hips involuntarily as his feet stretched and pressed against his tight leather brogues just as they too morphed to accommodate his changing body. The pressure lowered as his size nine dress shoes rapidly bloated outward into heavy, size fourteen boots. Long toes shredded through his socks, clutching at the insole as they stretched along with his extending soles.

Nick clambered to his feet, clutching his head, only to feel his hair pulling inward, short and tidy. Not only that, but he could feel some hair vanishing completely from his temples, leaving him with the slightly receded hairline of a man maybe five or more years older than he was. His fingers cracked as they began to slide longer across his scalp, pushing through the neat, handsome cut of hair. He held the stretching, trembling hands in front of him, gasping as he watched them swell huge and powerful.

He slammed his massive fists into the wall with a deepening roar, feeling his head creak and reshape. His features broadened and enlarged. A strong chin and jaw pressed out of his face and light stubble sprouted from the skin. “Must be… some way to s-stop this…” Nick groaned, his eyes widening at the sound of his new and completely unfamiliar voice. Nick frantically reached for the police badge on the floor that had started all of this, hoping, praying for some way to revert his changes. His eyes scanned the metallic chest piece, but there was no sign of any method to stall or revert what was happening. Rather, he caught a glimmer of his new reflection in the shiny metal. Nick’s wide, handsome jaw fell open at the sight. Not only did he look easily seven or more years older, but he looked completely different; he couldn’t help but think he looked much manlier and sexier.

Meanwhile, downstairs, his hard cock ached for touch as it stretched down the leg of his pants. “Oh, god!” Nick gasped. His balls swelled larger while his python thickened and lengthened against his muscular leg. He couldn’t contain himself anymore, pulling the fly on his new pants down and fishing his swelling cock out, allowing it to stretch into the open. He couldn’t believe how big it had already gotten, easily inches larger than what he was used to. Reluctant but unable to resist, he gripped it in his hand and pumped, growling loudly with every stroke. Nick was too busy relishing his increased size and virility to realize his mind was filling with policing skills and years of experience. Before he knew it he had an eight-inch weapon in his hand. He couldn’t take it anymore; his height, his muscles, his size. He felt so virile, so masculine, so powerful. Screaming in ecstasy, Nick blew load after load against the concrete wall.

Once the post-orgasmic fog lifted, Nick quickly tidied himself and brushed a large hand through his shorter hair, dazed and confused. His memory was intact, but they competed for attention with new skills, desires, and traits. The muscular sergeant lifted the garage door with ease, spotting Chief Barrow waiting for him in the car park just in the distance.

“Ready, Sergeant?” Barrow asked.

“I… I…”, Nick stuttered as he looked down at his muscular frame, suddenly noticing how much taller he was now. His huge cock twitched in response, causing Nick to moan just a little. “Y-Yes, sir!” he parroted as he proceeded toward the car, eagerly accepting his new life as Officer Nick Collins.

Inspired from your profile picture I wonder if it's possible to become a professional icehockey player too. I know they are quite dumb but they are famous, rich and have a lot of time enjoying their life. maybe they have a secret crush on a team mate but hiding it when dating cheerleaders, models and so on. Is there a way to exchange my life for one of them?

snap

So you want to be a hockey player, huh? First of all, you're way too small. You need to be BIGGER, much bigger. Like, 230 pounds of pure, tough fucking muscle. Yeah, that's better. What do you think of that? Look at yourself! Feel the raw power in your arms, your thighs, your core. Man, you're a big boy now. Go ahead and look at that ass I've made for you! From now on you'll be getting pants tailored for that ass — no more off the rack pants for you!

But I do have to take away some intelligence. You'll be saying "um" and "er" a lot, especially in those post-game interviews.

Take a look at yourself now. Built for strength, speed and shooting pucks. Get out on the ice and show them who's boss.

Sometimes I look into the mirror and hate how short and chubby I am. Is there something you can do to change that?

snap

Hey little buddy, I'm sorry you're so down on yourself. Let's see what I can do to help you out, shall I?

Your legs are getting thicker and more muscular. I'll thin out your stomach and harden it with some abs. Go ahead and flex them, run your fingers across your flat stomach. All that chub is gone. You like?

But look at your chest! It's expanding, growing and pushing out, right in front of your eyes. Massive man-tits. But don't worry, it's all muscle. That muscle will continue into your arms and shoulders. You've got a massive top shelf now.

Can I alter your face? Wait, why am I asking for permission. Let's add some facial hair: a tight and tidy moustache and a goatee? Short, curly hair on top. Dark hair, yeahhh that's it! Oh baby, we're gonna have to go all out now. Your skin is getting darker. A dark caramel-like brown.

And done! You're still short, but at least you're not short and chubby — you're short and muscular!

DILF tf, silver fox tf???

snap

Hello there! It’s not often I get asked to age someone up. I’d be happy to help you with this one.

Let’s see… Where should I start. You said silver fox, right? You’re feeling your head get itchy right now, and that’s only because I’m making it shorter. I’m making the sides grey, so there’s your silver! Your jawline is tingling as I make it more chiselled and I’m going to add just a hint of stubble too.

You said older, right? It’s going to show in your face. Some deep crevices and laugh lines, especially around your eyes and mouth. You still look handsome though. Especially now that I’ve made your eyes a piercing blue. Look at me a second. Wow, you’ll have people willing to do anything do you with baby blues like that.

But hey, it’s not all bad! Your body is expanding out as I make your muscles bigger and stronger. Do you want perky nipples? Of course you do. See how they point out on the end of your massive pecs? Holy fuck that’s hot dude.

Bigger arms next! Some massive guns on you. And a full sleeve tattoo. Oh baby it’ll drive your admirers wild.

Imagine getting out of the shower every morning, looking in the mirror and you see this. Actually, we don’t have to imagine. There you go! Like what you see? Yeah I thought so.

Okay but now you’re late for work! Here’s your uniform. Brown pants, brown shirt, black boots. Feel your mind changing as you’re putting them on? Here’s the last piece: a black tactical vest. You’re a cop dude.

But go ahead, snap a picture and send it to that guy you saw at the club. Tell him he’s going to jail unless you fill his hole tonight. Tell him to submit to you. You’re a boss, nobody fucks with you.

There should be more race change transformations.

Yo bro, can you change me into a fuckboy too as wanna see what it like to be one please

Hey bro. You've come to the right guy to show you what you can achieve. The appeal is sexy, right? To be a fucking ruthless fuckboy. The idea latches on and doesn't let go. There's so many decent boys out there whose dicks harden at the idea of letting arrogance rule them. To be a living vice. Cocky, proud, selfish, and forever indulging in your own pleasure. It feels awesome to give into that fantasy. I should know for one.

I bet a guy like you is already ripped to shreds. You've packed on huge fucking muscles, and now you've realized they need admiring. Even though you don't actually need any smarts (since your subs will give you whatever you want to let you live like a king), you can't just be a drooling brainless meathead gymbro if you want to grow your fuckboy empire. You need to redirect your focus to your conquests. You are sly, cocky, and calculating. Your cock and your brain act in tandem. While perhaps they were at odds before, they have a singular goal now. To turn you into the center of the world, to let everything fall into your orbit, and to have you enjoy the worship you fucking deserve.

As a fuckboy, you have to wield your aloofness as a weapon. People are going to want you. Your body, your brooding muscles, your fucking god dick. You've got leverage. You can't make it easy on them. Time to get what you want, fuckboy.

You let them glorify you, let them worship you, let them fall to their knees, and let them compete over you. The key word is 'let'. Your power play is subtle. They'll believe it's all their idea if you want them to believe so. Of course, you can also take whatever the fuck you want, break a fag's resistance, tease them, cuck them, fuck them, treat them like a hole to dump your load into, take their hard-earned cash for you to spend on a night out, and admire yourself in the mirror while they lick your balls.

That's how the fuckboy in you grows, how the self-glorification runs its course. You deserve this, obviously. It's funny how being a toxic asshole enthralls so many boys. Don't be surprised when they fall in love with you. You can toy with them, act like a lovable doofus or a nice guy until you're balls deep again. Pushing their head down, spanking their ass, and growling how you own the fuck out of them while you rut and breed. Anything to get your dick wet, you know.

You can see the eternal dependence in their eyes when you leave with a load dripping from their hole. You leave your conquests with regrets, how could they let themselves be used like that? But already they want more of you. I bet you can't even be bothered to remember their name, though. You ghost them until they come begging to taste your god cock again. They get in line alongside every other useless slave you have.

You see how being a fuckboy consists of playing mind games. It's effortless to fuck with someone's head and make their hole throb. It's just a game to you. You do it with a sly smile and the flex of your arm, subtle gestures and single-worded commands. At the end of the day you're in control, fuckboy. You just do what makes you shoot the most ropes, all the while making use of the tools as your disposal, the tools that are currently begging to lick your seed off the floor.