Yo Bro, Can You Change Me Into A Fuckboy Too As Wanna See What It Like To Be One Please

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.

I'll take 2 dozen necklaces.

I’ve been looking for a fraternity to join at my new college, but none of them have really been letting me in. The only one left seems to be full of horny jocks that are dumber than a bag of bricks. Think you could help me… fit in?

FML: In

As you laid it all out in front of your friend, your plans, your goals, your desires, he just kind of shook his head in disbelief:

“I know that I’ve only known you for a few weeks, but damn that’s disappointing.”

“What’s so wrong about wanting to pledge?” you replied, “It would just make getting connected the university so much easier. Plus, the parties are legendary.”

“No I get it,” he scowled, “but really? Pi Kappa Epsilon?”

“Listen, they weren’t my first choice either. I would have preferred a group a little less… dim.” I knew he wouldn’t leave it there.

“Dim? Dim still implies some light on upstairs. You can just call them what they are: brainless frat bros. They think with their dicks and muscle their way through academics. I can’t believe you’re asking me to use my power for this.” He began walking towards the door.

I called after, “Look, I’ve seen you do crazier shit than this. You turned the guy upstairs into a dog for a week.”

He stopped in the door frame for a minute to chuckle, “If he was going to call the RA a bitch he may as well get first hand experience.”

“Please dude.” I stared at him.

After a moment he relented, “Fine. But are you sure you want this? You want to change for this? A frat?”

“Yes. And I promise I’ll get you into any party you want!”

“Fine. Give me a bit. But remember, you asked for it.”

He returned in a bit and tossed me a necklace from across the room, “Here’s your frat solution. Wear this to your next thing with them at their house.”

You inspected it. It looked like a basic chain necklace like you had seen other guys wear around “And do what? What does it do?”

He rolled his eyes, “And do nothing. It will help you fit into the frat, I promise.”

“No magic words or anything?” I asked.

He grinned, “Oh come on, think of me as better than needing all that crap. Now put it on so you don’t lose it.”

It fits well around your neck, “I’m headed over there tonight, I think it is the last event before they drop everyone. You sure this will work?”

“Trust me,” he says, “You want in the frat? You will be in the frat.”

When you arrive at the frat house, you do feel the necklace almost pulling you inside. It feels warm against your chest as you wander around, talking with some brothers and checking in with your fellow pledges. You get a sense of magnetism from it, like the necklace is pulling the frat house around it towards you. As the party kicks into gear, you focus less on the chain and more on socializing. But whatever it’s effect, it seems to be working. Brothers and other pledges are seeming to stumble over themselves trying to talk with you. Even the pledge master gives a knowing glance and tilts his head in approval. In a little under two hours, you begin to feel more at home in the house, more comfortable in the crowd. Maybe for the first time you feel a sense of brotherhood. So it is a shock when you step into the bathroom to take a piss and take a look in the mirror.

You don’t recognize the face that stared back. You blinked in confusion, assuming you had too much to drink. But no. The stranger in the mirror stared back into your eyes, copying your every move as you tilted your head and inspected your face in awe. The trance broke as you glanced down and saw the truth. Your polo shirt stretched against your chest as two pectorals firmly pushed out, flexing with each breath. Your pants had grown tight around my quads, now a good few inches short. They hugged your ass so tightly you were surprised they hadn’t ripped. Tattoos flowed down your arms, newly ripped and well toned. You noticed for the first time the power you felt coursing through your veins. You could almost feel your skin taut against your muscles as they slowly swelled. You pulled your top off to get a better look at the action.

‘Damn I look good’ you think as you admire the new cum gutters and still developing 6-pack. You try out a few poses in the mirror, just to see the muscles move. The necklace is no joke. No way PKE would drop you now, you looked like you fit right in. But, at the same time, you figured it may be time to get the necklace off. You didn’t want to change too much, and no telling how far it would go. You go for the back of your neck and and start to fiddle with the clasp when the necklace suddenly starts to warm up.

You feel the odd magnetism is no longer subtle. It feels as though the necklace is pulling against the frat house you, drawing it’s very essence towards you. At the same time, the growth within your body stops as the necklace channels all its energy towards your head. The sudden spike hits like a migraine, as you let go of the necklace and go to hold your temples. The necklace wants to finish its work. Your senses are sharpened to a point, as you feel the heat of the bros downstairs, taste cheap beer and seltzers, hear every footstep, see every muscle and bulge, and smell 100 horny men all at once. You feel the pure energy of the fraternity pull through your body as it shapes you. Beneath the pressure, your mind buckles as false memories push their way in. Memories of watching college football on TV. Working out during the summer to become a fucking stud. Playing the field as soon as you got to college. Meeting up with some brothers to get a foot in the door. Getting called a fuckboi for the first time on Tinder. Wearing it like a badge of pride.

Your brain throbbed as the energy reshaped your memories and personality, but your balls churned as it began to adjust your libido. They ached as they swelled to the size of golf balls. Your cock was rigid at attention as you grabbed it with both meaty hands and started to pump. Your body writhed as every stroke only makes the pleasure more intense. You are soon hot with the effort. An aura of testosterone and sweat formed around you as a frat funk sets in deep: a mixture of booze, yesterday’s workout, and cheap cologne. The smell only drives you more wild, and you start to feel your brain short circuit. Your mind, consumed by pleasure, gave into the pressure and lost any remaining will to resist. The necklace pulsed in time with your throbbing cock as it buried the old you. As you reached climax, you knew there was no going back. As you shot your load across the room, a new you was released. A dumb, horny frat bro ready to pledge PKE.

And then the door behind you opened.

The pledge master, apparently worried by how long you had been in here, walked in on your afterglow as you tucked your cock back into your pants.

“Hey man, you okay?” he asked before recoiling a step. You watched as he smelled your rank funk and nearly gagged. You took a step closer.

“Yeah bro, better than ever. What about you? You look like you’re about to vomit.” you said, leaning in a bit closer. You flex your muscles and let your pit stench join the lingering cloud. You feel yourself start to harden again as he tried not to react.

“Bro, you are fucking rank. You smell like a… like a-”

“Like a frat house should?” you taunted. He had stopped recoiling and seemed now to be fighting a different urge.

“I don’t know bro, you should get- get that looked at.”

His eyes were focused on your muscles as you slowly flexed them rhythmically to the music downstairs. I felt the necklace pulling him closer as he fought the urges he is having. Fuck, you remembered that feeling, that pull towards desire. You knew how to help him out though. You grabbed the back of his head and pulled his lips to your pecs. As his lips connected with your flesh and tasted the beads of sweat that rolled down your chest, he wrapped his arms around you and began worshiping your muscles. As he kissed and licked every inch of your chest and washboard abs, he gently rubbed against your rigid cock. It wasn’t long before he was licking at the fabric separating his mouth from his prize. But as he reached for the elastic band around your waist, you grabbed his hair and pulled him up.

Your mind reveled in in the power you held in your hands and the pleasure your new frat bro could cause with his mouth. But you only had one thing left on you mind:

“I wanna be in the frat bro.” You said.

He mumbled as his mouth still searched for your flesh, “Yeah man, sure thing. I’ll make it happen. You can be a frat bro. Just please let me suck on your-“

“No,” you boomed. You pulled him out of the bathroom and into the nearest bedroom, locking the door behind you. You grabbed his ass as he grew limp in your hands, “I want to be in the frat bro.” You slip your hand beneath his gym shorts and begin slowly finger fucking his tight, straight hole.

He understood his place as he slipped off his shorts and underwear, leaving his cheeks on full display.

He moaned like he was in heat, “Yeah bro. Please. I would be so honored.”

You bent him over and spat in his quivering hole before you pressed your cock against him. You didn’t wait for him to relax as you slammed your cock as deep as you could and watched him yelp in surprise. As you slowly sped up and heard him start to moan, you felt the necklace once again start to warm against my chest as its power flowed through your cock and into the bro beneath you. He too began to sweat with the funk of the frat as was remade in its image under your guidance. He was going to become just as unified with PKE as you were.

FUCK STICK (BOTTOM TO TOP; FUCKBOY/JOCK TF)

Fucking tops. It's Friday, nearly midnight and instead of dancing I'm stuck in the washroom at a gay club, hiding from some shithead.

"Tops, right?"

Next to me is a tall guy in a flannel shirt. He's pretty hot, but, urgh, he's the last thing I want to be thinking of right now.

"Yeah," I try to sound chatty, but it's clear I'm pretty annoyed "How did you know?"

He turns to me and crosses his arms, grinning, "Oh, you know. What happened? I bet you have loads of guys chasing after you"

It's true. I mean, look at this ass

"Urgh. This guy grabbed me from behind and started grinding against me. Can you believe it?? He didn't even ask, all I did was wink at him."

"Hmphh, you winked at him? Sounds like he was giving you what you wanted. You know, all you bottoms are the same. Needy. Demanding. Seeing real men as just dumb grunting animals. Maybe that guy was trying to do you a favour?"

I groan and turn around to leave "Oh, fuck you." Just what I need, another smug shithead.

He heckles me from behind. "God, twinks like you are so fucking lame. Maybe we're fed up of being nagged all the time?". He sounds kinda angry, but I ignore him, and roll my eyes.

"You know what, grab your dick."

I freeze, and my eyes go wide with shock. Why am I so shaken? That's not the worst thing I've heard at a club. I try to move but I can't, I just sputter, "Wh- what?? I'm not doing that"

He grins, "I'm not asking"

I feel something pull against my pants, but I look down and see it's my own arm

"WHAT THE FUCK! Are you... you're doing this?" My arm creeps down, playfully running my fingers over my tight stomach, and slips down through my waist band.

"Haha, yeah I am bro. So, bottom bottom bottom. What to do with you. What if I open your eyes a little?"

I, I start to shake. Something in me feels good. Beefy guys start to flash through my mind, and whatever's taken over my hand knows what it's doing down there. Athletes, wrestlers, big bulges in tight clothes...

"Here's the thing. There's enough brats like you around here bro. Someone's gotta do something. Think of it like, uh, giving back to the community."

The images in my mind start to change. The models get smaller, swapping out athletes for tight twinks in tighter shorts. Instead of biceps, I'm thinking of big, curvy asses, and my hand... I can't control myself. I wanna grab someone, anyone, and start grinding.

But then, one of my crushes slides by - Jason, a HUGE wrestler on my college team. Biggest pecs I have seen in my life. Thank fuck, finally, a real man. He looks at me with his big, brown eyes and oh my god, my heart flutters. I look up at him and in my mind I start to walk towards him

The guy in the flannels shirt is egging me on, "Go on, do it." How does he know what I'm thinking? Whatever.

I reach out, and Jason smiles. That big, goofy, handsome grin... and then he turns around. He gets down on the mats, on his hands and knees, raising his big, firm ass into the air. I'm looking right at it.

I squirm. "Oh god. No. No no no no no"

"Uh, actually, yes." The guy in the washroom grins. "I want you to be a dumb, grunting animal, you will do that for me. Are you starting to understand?"

I lean down over the sink, but in my fantasy I fall against Jason. I hold him tight, pinning his big sweaty form down against the mats. At first, there's barely anything I can do to control him - he's WAY bigger than me, but soon I start to feel... bolder. Firmer. He tries to roll me over, but I slip my arm around his shoulder and a vein pops up over my bicep. My legs strain and my glutes start to stretch. Fuck, my whole body is throbbing.

I grunt, and slam him downwards, which gives moment to catch my breathe. Does he feel less sweaty? I wipe my forehead. Wait, am I more sweaty?

"Yeah bro. I know what you're thinking, I know how much you love guys after they've worked out. Damp clothes, that manly smell... it's exactly what every bottom wants these days. Now it's yours"

We twist around each other, and I reach my arms across his body. Wait, all the way around? His shoulders have gotten smaller, thinner... twinkier. And, well, mine are the opposite. He lunges, but I grapple him. All the mass has gone from his legs, meanwhile, my biceps are big enough to crack a skull.

"I want to make you a real fuckboy, you know? Someone who just thinks with his dick. Gym, sex, gym, sex, gym, sex... I want you to always be turned on, I want it to control you, I want you to never get a break."

I've got him, firm between my legs. Jason's tiny now, the same size I was 2 minutes ago, and I start to grind my bulge against his soft, bubbly ass. Fuck. Fuck! It's so good. This is the best fantasy I've ever had in my life. I want to fuck him so bad.

My whole body is throbbing, shaking. Blood is pulsing through my, through my everything. Fuuuuuck. I feel almost dizzy. Everything about this almost feels real. I go to lift up my shirt, but it's gone, and I run my other hand over my stomach. It's like I can really feel the abs

I cum. Oh my god, did I just cum in a... a washroom at a night club? And, I was thinking about topping a guy??

"Ahem". I turn to stare at the guy next to me. He looks pleased with himself. Very pleased.

"There bro! How do you look?"

I look in the mirror, and it hits me like a fucking brick. My body... my clothes. Oh my god, everything's gone. THAT WAS REAL? I look like some stupid fuckboy. Am I a stupid fuckboy? Is that a JOCKSTRAP? My jeans are gone, now just a pair of shorts. Very short shorts. Is that it? Is that all I'm wearing? Over the top of my huge pecs I see my converses are gone too, swapped out for some worn down gym shoes.

This can't be real. If it is, my boyfriend is 100% going to break up with me. How do I even explain this? That I'm like, ripped now? No, wait... that's not it. I try to imagine him topping me but, but, fuck, it feels so gross. A total turnoff

"Of course you don't want to let him top you. You're not a bottom anymore... that's kind of the whole point."

But he would never let me top him. But maybe we don't need to have sex for a while. That wouldn't be so bad, would it...

"AHAHAHA, sorry, with your new sex drive? What part of a fucking animal don't you understand"

There's no way he would want to stay with a horny fuckboy, but, but...

what if I am a stupid fuckboy? I'm already thinking of a nice, tight twink. I'm not that interested in him anyway - he's too tall, too beefy. All the guys I saw earlier are racing through my head. The skinny guy I danced with with the great ass, that cute short one by the bar... urgh, he had those perfect legs, that cute crop top, tight stomach... I bite my lower lip and reach down...

"NO!!"

I start hyperventilating. "This isn't me. I'm not a jock, I am ABSOLUTELY not a top. And," I lift up my arm, "there's no way I actually smell like this"

He laughs, like he's having the fucking time of his life. Maybe he is. "HAHA, sorry dude, yeah you do. And, yeah, you are. Think of that fuck stick like a gift, not just to you, but also to every cute boy you see on grindr. You'll get used to it, trust me"

His words flood my head... I imagine scrolling through the app in bed later, looking at the sea of boys all desperate for me... I reach down again...

"NO! Fuck! Make it stop. Why are you doing this to me?!!"

He pauses for a moment, then sighs and shakes his head. His expression... he's looking at me like he thinks I'm stupid. Does he think I'm stupid? No way - this motherfucker!

"Really? I know I fried a few wires up there dude, but you cannot seriously be asking that. Why do you think I'm doing it?"

"I - I..." I can't find any words. I really don't know. I just don't fucking get it. He's ruining my body, my LIFE, and for what? Fun? Revenge?

But he laughs, and looks at me. I'd think he was being pitiful if he wasn't grinning so fucking hard.

"Bro," he says, "I'm doing this because I think it's hot."

My heart sinks. "You're doing this because, because it fucking turns you on? Don't you give a shit about me at ALL?? I'm going to lose my boyfriend, I'm trapped in this horny, sweaty, disgusting body..."

"Just stop complaining. You know, so what if you don't get in a say in this! Sometimes you just gotta take what life gives you, and right now that's a huge fucking cock"

I feel like I'm about to burst out crying. He grabs my new, boyish face, and pulls it up towards his. "So, yah! Glad I could clear that up," he laughs, "Look, ok, this isn't gonna work if you're gonna be such a fucking loser about it. It's also not gonna work out if you don't work out - you gotta be going to the gym from now on. Those biceps, those pecs... you're chiseled like a statue and I'm not gonna let those new muscles go to waste. You need to be in there DAILY."

He gives my cheeks a squeeze, then lets me go. I clutch my face. It feels different, unfamiliar. Am I crying?

"URGH, bro, will you just quit looking at me like that. Puppy dog eyes, I shouldn't have made you so fucking handsome... Look, I'm gonna give you one last chance, ok: cheer up, right fucking now, or else I'm gonna have to do some rewiring. Right now, all your decisions are being made up there", he flicks my forehead, and then he smirks and grabs my crotch. "But, if I flick the switch, this guy gets to do all the thinking. You'll be so dumb, so horny, HAH, you'll be drooling over your own dick. A real fucking animal. Got it?"

If I don't get a grip, it's over for me. But what do I do? I gulp, and try to swallow my tears. I wash my face a little in the sink. He stares down at me, and the two of us stand in silence. It feels like forever, but it must have been just a minute.

I look up at him, and let out a squeak. "Yeah. You're right. I got it"

"No." he says "I don't think you do."

Damnnnnn, look at these pecs. Fuck, what was I doing? Whatever, I gotta get back out there. See if that blonde guy by the bar is taken. Just thinking of him and his ass makes me wanna... I grab my crotch, and let out a moan.

Wait, is that cum? Yoo how did I not realise. I clean myself up and slide my waistband back over my jockstrap, letting it snap into place against my cum gutters. I flex, and light shines off my glistening, sweaty muscles - if someone were to see me now, they'd think I was a greek statue. These strong, firm thighs, the perfect curve of my glutes... these shoulders look like they were made by fucking Michelangelo.

Nah, I'm way better than that. A statue doesn't have a dick. See you at the club, bro

hey! I’ve always wanted to play hockey but wound up studying and focusing on school. I was wondering if you could make me into a meathead hockey player. Happy to exchange some of my smarts for the process.

snap

Another hockey player? Maybe I need to use my Everything Powers to make everyone forget that this is a soft spot for me? Or maybe not…

I've had a couple of guys in here who wanted to become hockey players too. You should see the asses on them! Oh wait, no need to see those asses… Check out your own ass, bud! That’s the result of squats for days. You like it?

Sorry about this bud, but you’re going to lose some height. Not a lot of height, don’t panic! But it’ll be some height. Like 5’11. And you’re younger. Barely 20 years old and playing in the ‘O’. You know all about the O! That’s Junior hockey in the OHL.

Since you’re young and just coming into your own, you’re not going to be as muscular and built as some of the other guys, but you’ll get there. One thing’s certain though, you fucking love hockey. It’s all you think about! Nothing is more important than playing puck and making it to the NHL.

One thing I will give you is some extra 'flow'. That's what hockey players call their long hair. You know all about that, of course. Run your fingers through it, and feel the length. Go ahead and slick it back, makes it easier to put your helmet on! How about a bit of facial hair to go with it? Just a little bit of scruff. Looking good, man.

Here’s your gear. Get dressed and head out. The team is waiting.

Bravo on this masterpiece.

So I'm a chubby gay White guy, any chance you could turn me into a muscular gay East Asian guy that's a jock that still likes stuff like anime? Or biracial, as long as the more dominant heritage is something like Chinese, Japanese, Korean or Taiwanese.

I'd prefer a build anywhere between a like swimmer/tennis players build, a baseball players build, or a football/rugby players build, I'm not really that picky as long as I have decent abs.

How can a package smell like that?

That's the first thing you think when you pull it from outside. Jesus it's like an armpit in your place just that quickly.

You ordered a bath bomb from that weird website, just out of curiosity and half expecting it to be some kind of scam. You were watching Chainsaw Man when you got a knock on your door. It's one of those soft packages that Amazon sometimes uses but with YourNewBody stamped on it. And at the bottom, rolling around, is the bath bomb.

You open it and get a gamey wallop of pure musk to your face. Images flash through your skull: used jockstraps and cups, sweaty hairy armpits just inches from your face, locker rooms.

You've never even had those thoughts before so why do they feel so....familiar. Like memories almost.

Oh.

You're hard. Your cock pitching a serious tent in your boxers. The muscles flex involuntarily and you groan.

You take the bath bomb out of the package. It's see through and kind of murky from the fluid inside? You've never seen one like this. Hell you've never smelled one like this. You bring it to your nose, take a big whiff.....

And nearly cream your boxers right then and there. Another image: this time of you bent over in a dugout while your teammate - wait teammate - fucks you from behind, your smells - smells? - mixing together despite the open air space. Stranger still, you can't even imagine your body in this memory - fantasy, not a memory, a fantasy - which adds to the artificial feeling of it. You want to see what it'll smell like when you drop it in water.

So you go to your bathtub and fill it. Not even fully comprehending you walking to the tub and plugging in the stopper, and turning on the water. There's a distinctly quieter voice telling you that something is very, very wrong. It's drowned out by this increasing fuzziness, like TV static is filling your head. You should be thinking about your D&D session tomorrow. You should be thinking about trying to get some sleep.

But you're not thinking about that, are you?

Your swollen cockhead seems to become your actual brain. You're fondling the bath bomb like a pair of balls in your hand. What kind of balls? For a split second it's a baseball. Then it's the swinging, sagging, fat, sweaty, hairy, musky balls of one of your teammates, pent up and swollen after a long, hard game. He's fucking your throat while his balls slap your chin. "Good boy." His voice is deep and rough.

That fantasy memory is particularly powerful and compelling.

"UHHHHH."

You open your eyes, both of them bugging out. Both at the loud, whimpering moan you just unleashed and at the involuntary word switch. The static in your head clears just long enough for you to accidentally drop the bath bomb in your bathtub, and it starts dissolving the moment it contacts the water.

The murky liquid spills out and turns your bathwater into pure jock sweat.

The smell it unleashes is intoxicating. Your bathroom is becoming a steamy sauna. The mirror fogs. Your glasses fog and you take them off. Dampness appears on the walls, smelling just like your sweaty bathwater.

You stagger and collapse on the toilet, squirming as you roll your underwater down and kick them off. Tossing them in a pile on the corner. You take your socks off and toss them on top of your boxers. You grip onto the sink as your cock becomes steel. You've never been this hard in your life.

I need to - I need to cum! Holy shit I need to CUM!

You flex your cock - voluntarily this time - and that's all it takes to start cumming. Your orgasm is mind numbingly intense. All you can do is curl your toes and clench your fists, throw your head back and squeeze your eyes shut as you shoot a fountain of cum, it splattering loudly on the tile floor.

After about a minute, it's over.

You open your eyes.

Your cock shouldn't still be hard.

You should be in your - in your - in your...

You should probably be a little scared at the fact that you cannot think of the term refractory period. In fact, it feels like 90% of higher thinking is just shut off for right now. The other 10% is frantically trying to claw back to the surface of this dense, but pleasant fog that's settled in your head. The 90% of you that's in command gets off the toilet and steps towards the alluring smell of your bathwater. You stare at the musky steam rising off it. Your dazed face looking back at you in the water.

You put one foot in. Then the other. You start hyperventilating like you're getting into a cold pool, but the water is so warm. So cozy and inviting. You hold onto the bathtub as you sink into the water. First your ass, then your legs, then your balls and twitching cock.

Then the rest of your body falls as you lose your balance, feet scrambling on the slippery floor as the water envelops your cock. The sensation is so intense you just spasm and let yourself fall. As the entirety of your body falls into the water, droplets landing into your open, panting mouth and on your flushed face, your body sinks a little into the water. You're more compact now. 5'5". Pocket sized really. That shedded mass lands squarely in your balls and they become swollen with your lost height. They touch the bottom of the tub as your legs kick and writhe, splashing water onto the floor. They grow into the huge baseballs you like squeezing when there's downtime, just to feel balls in your hands.

Bigger balls mean more hormones.

The flush of them causes your cock to stretch. And while it's stretching, your pubes grow into the perfect, tangled mess of a landing pad for the syrupy pre-cum that's leaking into the water. You surpass your average length of 4 and a half inches with ease and cruise steadily into 5 and a half. You're moaning with wanton abandon now. That 10% that was concerned about such silly things such as "modesty" has evaporated to like 5% now, and it's a losing battle, because you're leaking with no end in sight as your cock crests to 6 and a half inches. You pump an even larger amount of pre as your beard falls out and lands in the water. With each gush of thicker pre, your body hair just melts away and floats like flotsam in the water. Your armpit hair is still as thick - if not thicker. Your cock finally stops growing at 7 and a half, pulsing, throbbing, inches.

You try your damnedest to steady your breathing. Your cock sticks up proudly in the water, the swollen, purple-ish head nearly breaching the surface. You use all of your might to look down and see that bigger cock. The thicker pubes. Your legs are spread wide to make room for your balls. You place your hands on your lower stomach, your fingers caught in your pubes. It's trembling, quaking. As you look down, huffing and puffing, your chubby stomach suddenly collapses.

The fat doesn't disappear, no, it just makes its presence known behind your nipples which pop out like a distressed belly button. The skin stretches and the nubs pop out and into the water. You're practically screaming with pleasure as the fat in your stomach melts away and slides to your pecs, your abs popping out one by one into a tight six pack, cum gutters sprouting in your thicker waist and pointing to that unbelievably hard cock of yours.

Your pecs inflate with fat and muscle, like big floaties strapped to your chest. You can feel the weight of them as they blow up with muscle and fat, all of the underdeveloped muscles breaking and tearing, strengthening and becoming so much stronger, so much more powerful. You're squirming like a caught rattlesnake right now, water just going everywhere. The crease between your pecs is mouthwatering. Your pink nipples are so suckable. Your abs finally finish growing and settling in. Your pecs heave one final time and crest over them, your underboob just as sensitive as the massive flesh sacs above themselves. You're flooded with memories of your teammates tugging and playing with your tits. Some of them sucking on the fat nipples. Coach massaging oil onto them after a good workout.

Your cock is leaking a steady stream of actual cum but it's not a true orgasm, just a mini one because your body cannot handle this constant edging. Something has to give, right? There's less water in the tub since your body is absorbing the sweaty, thick water.

Your traps fan out and help your shoulders thicken with powerful muscle. You can feel how strong and powerful that neck of yours is. The growth flows downwards into your biceps, arms blowing up so quickly they start rubbing against your pecs, making up come harder and yelp. Your forearms thicken up and your hands - your small little hands - blow up into meaty paws. You take your arms out of the water - god they're so heavy - and expose your rank pit to the air.

None of your teammates are around so your own pit will have to do. Your other hand worships and rubs your abs.

You lick and kiss your fat, bulging bicep. Your feet stretch bigger, wider, longer. The less than 1% of the old you left marvels at your size 7 feet bloating into massive size 14 stompers, your toes and soles crawling up the tub and breaching the water's surface.

You're fucking an invisible ass. With every thrust of your stronger, wider hips, your own ass starts growing. You've experienced a massive amount of weight loss and fat redistribution, and conservation of mass requires that shaved off mass to go somewhere. It can't go to your pecs, so it fills up your ass and stretches your hole like it's made of rubber. Your ass is going to be the talk of the town. You won't be able to hide it. Visible through your pants, chewing up boxers and briefs, absolutely stretching out any jockstrap you wear. Jiggling and so enticing, literally striking men dumb and horny. And once they get a taste of that puckering hole - or even better, fuck it - they'll be just as blank and dumb as you are.

There's nothing left of the old you. All of those old worries and thoughts flood into your ass, converted into pure, strong muscle, making that fat ass perky and sit higher on your lower body.

Your thighs expand with muscle and fat, inflating and rubbing together, squeezing your balls and making you squeal. Your calves brush up against the tub, flexing and becoming massive. Your legs have the ability to carry that dumpy of yours and then some. You can carry your teammates for miles. You can straddle and ride a dick into the sunset. Your hole is built for milking every last drop out of your teammates' - and Coach's? - balls. They're pure bulk, those legs, and strong enough to crush a watermelon.

You scream as your face collapses and rearranges. Bone structure becomes more defined as your jaw hardens and your cheekbones become softly pronounced. Your nose pops bigger into the crook of your elbow and your sense of smell actually improves. You take in all your musk, and all the musk of the bathwater all at once. You can even smell the cum boiling in your balls, so you know you're closer than ever.

Your brain shrinks even further. You're only really able to piece together basic sentences and even then, it's gonna take a while for you to construct it and speak it. And when you're horny? Forget about it. You're only thinking about your teammates and pleasing Coach. The next game. You don't really play all that much, but you're a good distraction for the opposing team. No matter how good of a pitcher, they'll make easy mistakes because they'll be too busy staring at your bountiful ass squeezed into your uniform. And if you remember to wear a shirt, your nipples poking against the fabric and those swaying tits when you don't remember to wear a shirt. The latter option happens more often.

You grab your cock with both hands - yes it's a two-hander now - and you start fucking your fist. As you fuck your fist, your body goes through the last change. Your white skin begins darkening, well beyond a normal tan. You're changing race. You open your eyes, for just a second, as you watch your face rearrange one final time and you become Korean. You shut your eyes again as the tan spreads to your tits, beefs them up further, the color spreading to your pink nipples and making them dark and even more sensitive. It spreads down to your abs and arms. Wherever it touches, that area of your body beefs up.

Bigger biceps, bigger shoulders, stronger abs.

Thicker pubes.

Stronger thighs and bigger calves.

Then it hits your cock.

And you explode.

Your cock darkens and your balls become even bigger. You gain that half inch and become a full, mighty, 8 inches hard. Your cum is so thick. Musky. You hug yourself as you cum hands free, hips bucking, balls swinging. You don't see the water absorb your cum, keeping it clear but even smellier.

You finally stop cumming.

Open your eyes just a bit, prettier eyelashes fluttering.

You are hot shit.

You slowly rise out of the water. Muscles exhausted. Cumming is its own workout. You step out of the tub and onto the tiles with your bigger feet. Your cock softens yes but it's gonna exist at a permanent, dripping semi 99% of the time. The 1% reserved for sleeping really.

"Oh, I should probably let the water out huhuh."

You reach into the water. Moaning as the smell hits you in the face. You let it drain, along with your cum and lost body hair.

You see your boxers and socks on the floor but even from here they look too small. You don't think anything of it - mostly because you can't really think anymore. You must've bought the wrong size by accident. You're not totally helpless - hey you've made it this far in life with that dull brain of yours, you've got your own apartment and everything - but sometimes you let easy things slip by you.

You stumble out of the bathroom. Holding onto the walls for support. You're not used to this weight. This sensitivity. The way everything feels so heavy. You let slip a dumb laugh as you creep into your bedroom.

Your laptop's on the bed. The screen open. It's buzzing with notifications. You don't recognize the names. You try your hardest to force a connection in your cotton candy brain but nothing comes up.

"What's a D&D?"

Your meaty chest rises and falls. You close out the text messaging app. People are asking for some guy whose name you don't even know, asking if you're ready for tomorrow's session. Probably the wrong number. The only thing you've got going on tomorrow is practice. Which lets be honest - the only thing getting "practiced" is that insatiable hole of yours, and your throat.

You search around but can't find anything to put in your twitching asshole. You shrug and stick two fingers in your ass and start fingering yourself. Your just used cock rising to attention, as you look at your computer screen.

Holy shit you forgot you were watching Chainsaw Man! You fill with glee. You love this show! Any anime really because it's pretty easy for you to follow and you don't get bored.

Now, if only you could just remember what episode you were on .....

I am sorry for my lack of updates. I want to write more... I have 12 drafts in my drafts queue, but there is some mental block preventing me from getting those stories out. I can't describe it.

There will be more from me, at some point. I am sorry I am unable to deliver consistent material to you.

I hope everyone has a pleasant and safe August.