I Am Sorry For My Lack Of Updates. I Want To Write More... I Have 12 Drafts In My Drafts Queue, But There

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.

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

Never heard of a magical tongue before...! Wonder if I could give it a shot.

A God's Tongue

“Alright, you ready?” Ahmed asked as he got on his knees. His roommate Kyle helped himself onto his bed and stripped down.

“More than ready! Thanks again man, seriously, you’re the best!”

Kyle stroked his flaccid cock until it began hardening up to full mast. Once it was sufficiently hard enough, Ahmed brushed off Kyle’s hand and took a hold of his cock himself. He looked at the long, pink member with hungry eyes. He smacked his lips with his tongue. Ahmed was ready to go down on his roommate right then and there, but then a slight hesitation in his mind stopped him.

“What’s wrong?” Kyle asked.

“I don’t know if we should be doing this tonight. Aren’t you worried I’m transforming you too much? This’ll be the third time this month! What if something happens to you?”

Ahmed backed away from the bed. Suddenly, the idea of his magic tongue horrified him. He doesn't know how he developed such a strange ability, but Ahmed had the power to temporarily transform anything (or anyone) he wanted by licking it. Ahmed hated his tongue. It made eating unnecessarily difficult and hook ups practically impossible. He swore to keep his magic tongue a secret until the day he died. However, after a night out drinking, Ahmed accidentally hooked up with Kyle and turned him into an adonis. He hoped it would just be a one time thing, but Kyled begged him to transform him again. Although he initially refused, Ahmed eventually warmed up to the idea when he realized it was his chance to finally hook up without someone finding out about his powers. They formed a mutually beneficial arrangement: Kyle got to be a Greek god, while Ahmed got the sex he craved but couldn't have because of his tongue.

It was originally supposed to be a once-a-month thing. Ahmed's tongue could only do temporary transformations. But everytime Ahmed used his power on Kyle, he noticed there was something inexplicably off about his roommate. Sure, Kyle's body returned back to normal after a few days, but his personality started changing too. He became angry, anxious, and even aggressive at times. Ahmed wasn't sure what exactly was going on inside his roommate's mind and he was worried his tongue had something to do with it.

“Nahh I'll be fine!!" Kyle chuckled. "You worry too much, Ahmed! Nothing bad has ever happened in all the times we've done this, right?"

"Well, no, I guess not."

"Exactly! It'll be fine. If anything, we'll just do it one more time and then we'll take a long break... Sound good?"

Ahmed looked up and saw Kyle smiling at him. His reassurance helped calm his nerves. But despite Kyle's affirmation, doubt still lingered in his mind. Ahmed hesitated, but after Kyle made his erect cock twitch at him, he ultimately decided one more transformation couldn't hurt. He wrapped a hand around Kyle's boner, stood up, and kissed him firmly on the lips.

The two men exchanged rough kisses as they pressed their bodies against each other, grunting and groaning as they did so. Kyle then opened his mouth, granting Ahmed the opportunity to slip his tongue inside.

Ahmed's tongue was magical in more ways than one. He knew how to use his tongue well. Ahmed had no problem dominating Kyle's tongue as he took the leading role in their makeout sess. Kyle groaned with delight as Ahmed licked and sucked away at his tongue. As he did so, Ahmed's magic tongue activated and Kyle began to transform. His jawline became wider and sharper as it morphed into a more squared off jaw with some slight stubble to complete his more overtly masculine look. His nose grew thicker and wider until a hooked nose replaced his small, button nose. His cheekbones filled in and grew more pronounced, giving him a ruggedly handsome face. All the while his face began getting darker in skin tone too. His blond, wavy hair darkened until they were jet black and with curls. Darker features were something Ahmed's tongue had never done before, but they were both too caught up in the heat of the moment to even notice.

Ahmed pulled his lips away from Kyle's lips and moved down to his neck. He planted his lips against the left side of his body. He then began licking, sucking, and biting playfully at his neck until hickies began to form, then switched over to the right side.

"Nrgghh fuckk..." Kyle whispered. The heat coming from Ahmed's wet mouth felt good against his neck. His hands gripped the bed sheets as he felt his neck grow thicker and darker with every lick Ahmed gave him. Ahmed ran his tongue from the top of his shoulder blades to the edge of his jawline, causing his shoulder muscles to tighten and thicken. Within seconds, Kyle's back transformed into that of a linebacker thanks to Ahmed's magic tongue. Ahmed moved over into Kyle's armpits next. He stuck his nose into his pit and sniffed his musk. He then licked the crevice if his pits, causing thick black hair to sprout in until Kyle had rank jungles in his underarms. From there, Ahmed slid over to his arms and bit him. He bit and licked all over until Kyle's biceps grew into firm, melon-sized cannons with thick forearms to boot. He licked and licked until veins all throughout Kyle's arms throbbed with strength.

Ahmed continued making his way down Kyle's torso. He stopped at his chest. He licked his nipples until they grew pointy, then proceeded to slip his pec into his mouth and sucked away at his nipple. Kyle's toes curled and his pupils rolled back as Ahmed suckled away at his growing chest. The pleasurable sensations were making him break a sweat. Ahmed didn't mind it though. He was having the time of his life too. The sweat added a slightly salty taste to Kyle's tits. He could feel Kyle's pectoral muscles grow heavier in his mouth as he sucked too, giving his hands something to grab and squeeze as he focused his mouth on his nips. Once he felt Kyle had a suitable set of hefty pecs, Ahmed moved down further to his abdominal region. Ahmed then proceeded to trace the outline of his abs with his tongue. Kyle's flabby stomach region swelled with muscle mass until his abs began popping out one by one like freshly popped popcorn.

In no time flat, Kyle's body had undergone two major transformations. His muscles swelled and grew while also growing darker in color until Kyle had become a muscular Arab god. Every lick Ahmed gave Kyle was pushing him further and further away from his original identity.

Unfortunately, both Ahmed and Kyle were too busy enjoying themselves notice Ahmed was inadvertently changing his roommate's race into his own. Ahmed got back down on his knees with Kyle's cock in hand. He slipped his pink head into his mouth and began licking away at it. He started slowly at first, then gradually made his way down Kyle's lengthy rod inch by inch. All the while Ahmed made sure to use his tongue generously.

"Mmm yeah just like that... Keep sucking that big dick!" Kyle purred, Ahmed moaned in response. He sunk back against the bed as Ahmed's wet mouth wrapped tightly around his hard cock. The sensual feeling of Ahmed's thick, bushy beard pressing against the cleanly shaved base of his cock drove him mad with pleasure. Kyle ran his fingers through his roommate's hair as Ahmed alternated between swirling and licking the sensitive tip of his dick like a melting popsicle, sending rippling sensations throughout his groin every time he did so.

"Ohhh fuckk..! It's happening..!!" Kyle said with bated breath. He threw his head back as he felt a new surge of blood rush into his already erect cock, causing it to grow thicker and heavier by the second.

"Mmmph!!" Ahmed gagged against the expanding cock in his mouth. Suddenly, Kyle's dick was long enough to press against the back of his throat but he refused to give up. He took in a breath through his nose and continued deepthroating Kyle's member until his nose touched his pubis. With his length already pushing 8 inches, Ahmed's magic began affecting Kyle's balls too. They grew and grew until they hung low, heavy with cum.

"Ahhh..! Ahhh..! FUCK!! Ohhh....!!!"

Kyle squirmed from the building pressure in his junk. His body was becoming more muscular and Arab by the second! His balls were practically twitching, begging him for release! Kyle knew how uncomfortable transformation could be, but it was never this powerful before. He knew something was wrong. Amidst waves of pleasure, he opened his eyes and was shocked at what he saw. He had become the muscular adonis again just like he wanted, but his body had unexpectedly become brown too!

"What the fuck..? Noooo...!!"

The darker skin tone was slowly but surely spreading up the length of his pink dick. Kyle tried patting Ahmed in a desperate attempt to stop him, but he took it a sign to not stop sucking him off. Kyle tried to fight it, but between the bomb head and the transformation pains, his body seized up. All he could do was brace himself as his cock twitched and rumbled until he finally shot loads of cum down Ahmed's throat. The moment he pumped out the first load, the growing melanin surged throughout the rest of his body. His legs spasmed as his feet grew bigger and wider until he had smelly, size 14 feet. He had been completely transformed from head to toe.

"Ahhh man! That was good!!" Ahmed swallowed Kyle's load then got up from his knees. "That was more intense than last time! How do you- what the fuck!? Who are you!!"

Ahmed jumped back when he saw the new Arab Kyle laying out in front of him. Kyle held a hand against his temples.

"What are you yelling for... It's me!"

"Kyle!?"

"Who else?"

"But... No! That can't be! You were just supposed to become muscular! Now you look like one of my cousins!!"

"I don't know what to tell you man... Your tongue transformed me, so now I'm gonna look like this for the next couple of days."

The two men shared looks. Kyle held a serious expression while Ahmed looked like he was ready to pass out.

"Well... I guess you're just gonna look like this for a while. Are you gonna be okay?" Ahmed asked.

"Yeah man! I'll be fine!" Kyle flashed Ahmed a smile, but it still took him a while to actually calm down. But once he did, he left the room anxious while a sinister smirk began to form on 'Kyle's' face.

"That fucking idiot..." 'Kyle' said in perfect Arabic. "It took me a long time to squeeze out enough magic out of that fool, but I'm finally fully adjusted to this body!!"

Zahid flashed a grin to himself as he flexed his new body. He was more than happy with the results of his hard work. As he did so, an idea struck him.

"The God's tongue is wasted on someone foolish and cowardly like him... Looks like I'm gonna need one more favor from you, Brother."

The same smirk from before returned to Zahid's face as he looked at himself proudly in the mirror. One that Ahmed had no idea he was responsible for creating with his magic tongue.

Wondering if this position is still available?

1:1

"You're my 1:30?"

Leo nearly jumps out of skin and looks up at the CEO in front of him.

"Y-Yes."

Leo fumbles as he stands up, awkwardly shoving his sweaty palm for the man to shake. The man, Costas Mandelieu, is not only hot as fuck, but also the CEO of some hugely popular coffee company that has a bunch of locations around the country. Leo remembered there being a location on campus before he graduated, and then noticing a rather large influx of hot gay men walking around campus. The place became this kind of second gay bar.

And he never stepped foot inside.

He was confident he would've been laughed right out the door. Everyone there was thickly built meatheads or otherwise muscular jocks. And Leo? Leo was a chubby little nerd who kept his head down so no one would notice him. Granted, the guys walking in and out of the coffee shop looked big and intimidating but they were genuinely some of the nicest (and dumbest) people Leo had ever spoken to.

But still, one too many cruel rejections later has taught Leo not to judge books by their covers.

"Pleasure to meet you."

Costas' voice is rich, deep, coming right out of his thick chest. Leo tries to ignore the flush of horny bashfulness that overtakes him. This is professional. The job interview that could set him up for life.

Costas' smile, warm and inviting, sends a flurry of butterflies in Leo's stomach as he follows Costas to his office. Inside, it's all warm wood and the smell of a rich, cedarwood air freshener hits his nose. It's the most beautiful space Leo has ever been in, and he gawks at everything openly as Costas shuts the door behind him.

Imposter syndrome sets in like a knife. Surely there's other candidates out here? Why him? And....is his hand on Leo's lower back? This close Leo can smell him - his expensive cologne, the heady smell of masculine sweat underneath - as Costas gently guides the befuddled man some leather chairs by his desk. He motions for Leo to sit and he does, confused and feeling a not entirely unwelcome horniness settle in his body. Costas makes a glass of tea. Leo closes his legs as he watches Costas sit and rearrange himself, his massive bulge obvious through his slacks.

"Now this position is a very intimate lifetime position with me, so I don't want you to get caught off guard if I ask some personal questions."

Leo nods and looks around. The job description was so coy with details he wouldn't be surprised (or upset) if Costas was asking him to be a personal sex toy.

"Ready?"

Costas smiles again and Leo's insides melt.

Focus.

"Yes."

Costas clears his throat. He takes a sip from his tea and sets it down again. The tea smells....weird. A funky odor normally associated with the gym seems to waft from the cup. It's not gross....but it does increase the haze of horniness that's really taking root in Leo's head.

Focus.

"So how old are you Leo?"

"23."

"23?" Costas whistles as if this is some impressive age. "I remember when I was your age I had a hair trigger at the best of times."

It all happens so fast.

One second he's listening to Costas, then the next he's gasping for air, clutching onto the chair's armrest and trying to stifle his moans as his cock shoots to full attention and makes a very, very obvious imprint on his jeans. Even worse: his cock starts firing like a hose, a huge wet spot spreading across his crotch.

"Oh my god! Oh my god! I'm so sorry. I don't -."

He lifts his crotch in the air as he cums, as if he's angling for one of the ropes of cum he's firing to splatter on the floor. The entirety of his dick and balls is lit up with warmth like a Christmas tree of pleasure. Costas holds up his hands and makes placating, calming a startled horse gestures.

"It's alright. No really it's okay. You didn't masturbate today, did you?"

No. No he didn't.

That's why he's so pent up.

When he finally stops cumming, he settles down and tries to cover the huge wet spot on his jeans. God he can smell it from here. And it's so much. He's never produced that much cum before, right? He sits down and when he readjusts himself, his eyes widen when he notices that his balls feel much bigger than they should, their weight is obvious and pressing down on the chair.

"How often do you usually masturbate?"

"Onc - uh - four times a day usually. Wait that's not true."

"I understand. I've got a pair of knockers down there as well."

With that, Leo's balls swell further. His cock once again springing to attention as his nuts droop and sag under their weight. Half of his bulge now seems to be made of his churning, swelling balls. He feels like he's being edged, cock dancing just on the edge of a lightning rod orgasm before pulling back. He's grinding his flabby ass against the seat, trying to relieve the sudden sexual pressure. He's white-knuckling the chair and gritting his teeth as beads of sweat drip down his forehead. He brings his knees together tight.

"What the fuck is - huff huff - happening?"

"An interview."

"No, something's ... Oh...."

Leo's cock begins raining pre. He can feel it travel up his cock and ooze out of the swollen mushroom head at the top. It doesn't help either that Costas is touching his own cock, the massive fuckstick spreading against his thigh.

"It's 10 inches." Costas smiles as Leo rocks back and forth in the chair. "And, sheesh, yours is, what, eight?"

Leo throws his head back, mouth falling open, as a chorus of sexual moans and sounds fall out of his mouth. His locked legs fly open into a huge V. He feels like he's actually being fucked, or an expert is giving him the best handjob of his life. His cock pulses and pounds with blood as it stretches forward, cum leaking to no end out of his cockhead, those 6 inches growing with each pulse of blood that forces his prized organ larger and larger. It swells against his thigh, thickening with proportional girth as well, slipping out of his underwear as the sensitive head flops against his hairy thigh. Leo whimpers as his cock pushes forward. It's taking all of his willpower not to touch it, stroke it like Costas is stroking his cock through his pants. He finally manages to look down at his now big cock, straining the fabric of his jeans, feeling so stifled with those massive balls, the zipper of his jeans pulling down to try and accommodate his newly massive genitals. His cock oozes more pre, as if his balls are taking advantage of the extra space to pump and produce more sexual fluids out of his cock. His brain feels like it's landed squarely in his balls. Whatever thoughts of escaping whatever Costas is doing to him are immediately interrupted by a new burning need to cum, by the dense thundercloud of hormones tearing through his body.

Costas has taken off his jacket and he's just in his expensive button down. He reaches into his shirt and gropes one of his huge pecs. Leo is so hard, so sweaty, so turned on by this. Mouth hanging open as he tries to focus on anything. But his brain is going haywire.

"Hung bottoms are my weakness."

Leo pitches forward, moaning like he's being fucked as his asshole twitches and throbs. He hangs onto the armrests to prevent from falling as his cock throbs harder, his bigger dick making him moan even more lewdly. It's pure pornography coming out of his mouth as his voice shoots up an octave, cracking a little as his gut gurgles and shifts. Everyone in this fucking office building can probably hear him.

But he.....doesn't care?

He feels the fat in his stomach sliding down into his tightening ass, the underused muscles strengthening and flexing against the onslaught of fatty mass that lands solidly in his ass, pushing it outwards and making it firm but still bouncy, and jiggly. He grits his teeth, hissing with pleasure as his ass rips through his underwear, and screams in pleasure as the sensitive, jiggling globes press against his jeans, putting immense pressure on them as the seams start breaking apart to let his massive ass take up the space it needs. He loses several inches in height, the lost mass resettling in his still inflating ass, the sensation mind-numbingly good.

The bones in his hands pop and rearrange, the palms inflating a little but not a lot, his fingers sucking away excess fat and moving it to his ass. His newly sensitive hole feels like it's burning. Burning with emptiness. He gyrates his massive ass - god they're like beach balls!! - against the leather, desperate for some relief in his increasingly horny, frazzled mind. It's the ass of his dreams. Except it's now hanging off his lower back at a severe angle, and he can feel the weight of it over his trembling thighs, as heat pours into them.

His thighs become fleshy pillars to support his fat ass. He squeezes his eyes shut as he feels the muscles grow and tone, solidifying as whatever excess fat his body can suck away in his flattening stomach falls into them, growing them big enough to split the seams of his jeans. He squeezes his thighs, like he's trying to prevent them from growing bigger, splitting apart his jeans as the muscles flex and continue growing. His calves harden and become solid diamonds pressing against his jeans. He rubs the smooth - wait, smooth!? - flesh of his thighs and shakes his legs, the rolling muscles making his eyes cross with pleasure as they close around the space of his overheated balls.

"M - Mr. Mandelieu."

Costas' Mr. Mandelieu's cock is in his hand, all 10 slick glorious inches.

Leo's feet shrink and collapse. The size 12s rearranging onto soft size 9s, his shoes slipping off and collapsing on the floor. His socks hanging off his diminished feet. He flexes his still shrinking toes and bucks, literally thrusts into the air like a bull, as his cock starts spurting cum again, this time breaking the zipper of his jeans and flopping out, firing all over the expensive carpet and his shirt, the cum raining down on his denser, muskier pubes. With each volley of cum, he feels more of himself slipping away. His head feels emptier, his thoughts taking longer to manifest and come together. He feels a little afraid as Mr. Mandelieu says, "You don't ever skip chest day, do you?"

Leo's nipples press so hard against his shirt his hands fly off the chair and grab them, twist and pull as the fat in his chest recedes into his ass and thighs, growing them bigger and causing more fabric to buckle and break under the pressure. A great slither of his crack sits against the leather making him moan and groan, pull his nipples harder as muscle swells behind them.

"Ahhh AH!"

His back arches as small, hard pecs begin mounting on his chest, right above his flat stomach. The muscles are tightening and expanding around his skin. He yanks and pulls on his nipples like he's trying to force milk out of his growing chest. But really he's just pulling his pecs forward, coaxing pure muscle into his hands as the pink buds in his hands bloat into sensitive salamis. His chest broadens and forces his shoulders wider to make room for his burgeoning chest, muscles flexing without his control as they surge forward, big tight slabs of jock muscle that split the buttons of his shirt with their size. It takes him more than a moment to realize the little strands of his chest hair he once grew are no longer there. When he looks into his waistband, he sees that the only hair on his body is the dense bush of pubes crowning his cock. And the smell....it's so...strong. His musk and man stink has never really been that intense. Now it smells like he's just been sweating all day in a jockstrap. The flesh behind his nipples surge one final time with muscle and his pecs firmly mount themselves on his upper torso, making him unleash a low, whiny groan.

Mr. Mandelieu's pants are down now. Cock and huge balls fully in view. The gamey wallop of his scent hits Leo in the nose and makes him moan louder, as he cums again. But this time, the orgasm doesn't even scratch the surface of his horny mind. It feels good, yes, but god there's a better orgasm hiding underneath that.

"Mr. - pant pant - Mandelieu."

"Yes?"

He's tweaking one of his own nipples now, heaving his hairy pecs out of his shirt. Leo tries his best to resettle, sitting on his cushion-like ass and spasming the unfamiliar pleasure racing through him.

"Please...."

"Do you want to stop?"

Do I?

"I just want to cum."

"Then cum."

That better orgasm lances through him like a sword. He arches his back into the bridge position and just lets cum rain all over his smooth, tight chest, his smaller torso. This time, he begins to feel...scratchy in his clothes. Like they're really not fitting him right. He takes off his torn jeans and his broken shirt. Stripping out of them as his orgasm begins to subside, his still dripping cock sending droplets of cum all over the carpet. He's vaguely aware of the seductive way he's stripping out of his clothes, like a stripper almost. Thrusting out his chest, cock, and ass. Throwing his clothes away and just lying there in his ruined briefs, which finally tear off as his hips creak wider and stronger, allowing a final flood of fatty muscle to land in his ass and send another cum rocket out of his cock.

"You're turning out nicely."

"Thank you Mr. - Sir."

Sir?

He places his hands on his stomach, writhing in the chair, completely naked, the leather sending sparks of jittery pleasure up his body because of how sensitive his sweaty skin is. The flatness is weird. Hot, but weird. He runs his smaller hands over it, afraid to go higher and accidentally touch one of his thumbtack hard, and sized, nipples.

"Sir, what's - what's happening to me?"

"Well I'll tell you. But first I have to compliment that core of yours."

The wind is knocked out of him in a breathy moan, as his stomach tightens. The tightening is accompanied by a rush of blood to his kind of softening cock, as cum gutters - genuine cum gutters - carve into his waist. He throws his head back against the headrest in pure bliss as abs forge their way through his taut and sensitive skin. He barely understands what Mr. Sir is saying. But from what he can gather from his increasingly addled mind is that that previous horny wish of being a personal sex toy might actually be happening.

Leo groans and shifts in his seat as his abs and core continue strengthening, his core strong enough along with his thighs, hips, and ass, to ride and milk a dick to within an inch of its life. His cock is just oozing, each pulse forcing out more cum like he's squeezing a dish rag full of cum.

"My usual, they're busy running the gym and all the other Coffee shops. I'm just looking for someone more consistent."

Leo's abs settle into place. They're beautiful. All lined up in a neat row. He runs his fingers up and down the tight, cobblestone skin.

"You smell so good sir."

"Thank you."

His laugh makes Leo whimper and moan.

"Why don't you come over here and give me a kiss with those big fat lips of yours."

And he does. He gets up and nearly falls backwards due to the weight hanging on his lower body. Sir meets him halfway and pulls him in, hand tantalizingly close to his round, voluptuous ass.

Leo's lips plump up and expand. Kissable, perky, lips to wrap around a cock and never let go. The kiss with Sir makes Leo nearly cum right then and there, made even more unbearable by Sir's big, massive hands rubbing and caressing, and spanking those bountiful cheeks. He has to stand on his tiptoes to meet Sir's beautiful lips.

Then he breaks it. Leo just whimpers.

"Flex for me."

His soft, flabby biceps expand and grow. It's an orgasm via his biceps, the fat redistributing throughout his body. Lower and into his pecs, filling them out more. Even lower and into his ass that pushes against Sir's hand as his pit hair grows bushier and stronger. He collapsed into Sir's body as his arms continue to grow lithe and muscular, strong but not overly large biceps. He kisses Sir's neck, grinding against his thigh, their fat cocks brushing against each other as Sir's grumbling moans resonate and bounce around in Leo's emptying skull. The world around him seems to warp and shimmer.

"Why don't you take a look at yourself?"

Suddenly, they're not in the office but a pool. Sir is in a Speedo with his fat cock visible right through it, the bulge making Leo's hole twinge.

A big sprawling house looms in the distance. Leo looks around, his dumbing mind confused but not at all frightened. When he sees himself in the reflection of the pool house's glass, he's floored.

Sir's Daddy's hand stays firmly on Leo's ass. Everything feels blindingly good. Except the emptiness that's been in his ass the entire time his body has been morphed and bent to Sir's will.

He's guided to one of the many couches and sits Leo on his lap, the sensation of Daddy's swollen cock between his massive ass, teasing that sensitive hole rocks Leo to his core.

"Do you want to be my himbo?"

Leo feverishly nods. To keep feeling everything this good. He doesn't feel worried, or afraid, or concerned. His old life drips and drops out of his cock. He knows that as soon as Daddy's cock enters him, that old life will be like a long dream.

A lifetime position.

Daddy lifts him up and is about to position him above his massive cock.

"Wait!"

He pauses.

"We can still stop if you don't want this."

Leo sheepishly looks around the gorgeous property. All his. His to use. His to fuck in. Do whatever.

"Can you make me a little beefier?"

Daddy nods.

Then he plunges all of his cock into Leo's ass. His brain ignites with pleasure, a huge campfire of sex just lit up. The Big One - the No Going Back orgasm - rocks his frame and he paints Daddy's big, broad chest with his cum as he bounces on Daddy's cock like a pogo stick. Working Daddy's cock deeper inside of him, stretching his hole and pounding his prostate, literally making him howl with sexual gratification. He sifts through his dulling mind and realizes that, okay, he can do basic math. He can still take care of himself. But whenever he tries reaching into that well of higher thought and concern, he simply draws a blank. Daddy wraps his arms around Leo as he cums, thick ropey cum landing deep in Leo's body.

This cum is then distributed around Leo's tight body as he groans and shakes, cum firing out of his cock again. His pecs become fuller, softer, fat filling in the space around his muscles, stretching and dragging his nipples and chest across Daddy's body, intensifying his orgasm. His ass and thighs grow jigglier but no less strong, squeezing Daddy's cock and making him groan. His abs bloat slightly and push against Daddy's stomach. He hugs Daddy tightly as he's overwhelmed with love and deep affection for him.

The horny fog finally lifts.

When Costas pulls out with a slick pop! , Leo sees his finalized form as he slumps into the empty space on the couch, exhausted and content.

"How do you feel big guy?"

Leo rests his head on Costas' chest, wraps his thicker, beefier arms around his body and begins drifting off to sleep with a faint smile on his face. Costas laughs and kisses Leo on the top of his head, pulling him in tight.

Truthfully, Leo's the happiest he's ever been.

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.

Papi's Gear

Here's an older story that I have recently edited and cleaned up.

A hockey fan hopes to see his favourite player, Auston Matthews, but ends up getting closer than he could have imagined.

-

A crowd had already formed in the players tunnel underneath the Scotiabank Arena in downtown Toronto. The crowd buzzed excitedly, waiting for the arrival of the Toronto Maple Leafs hockey team. I was anxiousing hopping from one foot to another, hoping to see my favourite player, Auston Matthews, walk by. Maybe I'd get to give him a fist bump before he jumped on the ice with the rest of the team. I tried to angle my way closer to the front of the crowd, to get a better view of the guys as they walked past. With some polite pushes, I was able to squeeze beside a wall next to the cordoned off section. 

A surge of energy swept through the gathered crowd as we caught a glimpse of blue and white coming down the tunnel. The team was on their way to the ice! One by one the players walked by. They looked so handsome and masculine in their royal blue jerseys. I held out my fist for the players to pound with their gloves, hoping to make a connection with someone. Frustratingly, I was too close to a wall, and not easily seen as they walked by, so nobody noticed my fist. I was able to get a good look at each player as they walked by. Their hockey equipment was bulky and broad, making their already impressive bodies seem even bigger. As the players walked by, I caught quick whiffs of their equipment and bodies, and swallowed their scent greedily. I looked for Auston, number 34, but didn’t see him anywhere. 

“Oh man. That sucks.” I said to myself. 

Auston Matthews was my favourite player and one of the best players in the NHL, so it was weird not seeing him come down the tunnel with the rest of the team. I hadn’t heard anything about him being injured… It was very unusual that he wasn’t in the team line-up tonight. His skill and speed was unmatched by any player in the NHL. I’d give anything to play like him. 

I was about to leave the tunnel and head to my seat when another surge of energy fired the crowd. 

“Auston!” Someone yelled. 

I turned, and sure enough, there he was: number 34. Auston Matthews. He was walking casually towards us but he wasn’t dressed in the Maple Leafs’ uniform. He was wearing a blue Leafs hoodie and black work-out shorts. A Maple Leafs cap was on his head, allowing his long greasy hair to be slicked back. Why wasn’t he dressed to play? 

I stretched out my fist for him to bump. He looked massive up close. His thigh and leg muscles were like tree trunks. His shoulders were built and angular with strong muscle. He looked robust, tough and incredible. 

“Auston!” I yelled, but deep down I knew he wasn’t going to fist bump me. I tried to get his attention my flashing the number 34 on my jersey. 

“Auston!” I yelled again. But he was already walking by me. Ignored. 

“Auston! Why aren’t you playing tonight? Is there anything I can do to help?”

Something I said must have clicked with him. He stopped and began to walk back towards me. I saw him scan the crowd, looking for the person that had yelled at him. The look on my face must have betrayed me because he walked towards me as soon as our eyes met. My fist was still stretched out, but instead of bumping it with his own fist, he gripped my entire hand with his own so that the palm of his hand was on my fist and knuckles. It felt warm and slightly sweaty. 

“I can’t find my equipment! Can you help me look for it? He said. 

I nodded. Anything for Auston Matthews! I turned and left the crowd. I didn’t know where to start looking, but I knew I had to start somewhere. 

As I left the tunnel and the crowd behind, I felt a sudden sharp pain in my stomach and a warm, itchy sensation all over my skin. I tried to ignore it, but was quickly overcome by discomfort and ducked into the nearest bathroom. The room was empty, with clean white floors and large mirrors on the wall. My entire body was hot and uncomfortable. I was wearing an old and stained Maple Leafs jersey, and tore it, tossing it to the ground. My other clothes followed almost; my skin was so hot and uncomfortable that I needed to remove anything that was touching it. 

I stood in the bathroom, naked, and breathing heavily. The heat and pain was dying down, and instead my skin was tingling. A wave of calm and euphoria went through my legs and arms.

Small blue dots began forming on my shoulders. They were small at first, but deepened into dimples evenly spaced on my skin. They quickly spread across, replacing my own natural pores and hair follicles and stopped just before my biceps. The skin on top of my shoulders and neck turned completely blue, and a white collar appeared from of my neck. A silver and black NHL shield popped into existence just above the white lace under my collar bone. The blue colour continued down my arms, and my skin stretched and reformed into a blue mesh-like material. A pair of white numbers formed at both of my biceps: 34. My skin seemed to shift and separate from my torso, it made me look bigger. Was I growing a jersey? 

The blue mesh continued down my arms, stopping at my wrist. Two white stripes formed just above and below my elbows, and wrapped around my arms. Another white stripe formed at my waist, wrapping all around my stomach and back. I saw my nipples stretch, flatten and disappear into blue fabric. All of my chest hair fell out. The skin on my chest also stretched and wove into blue meshy fabric: a lightweight Areolite fabric made by adidas. A length of white lace snaked its way in the middle of my chest. I felt an itch along the top of my back and twisted my body to see my behind in the mirror. Letters began forming along the top half of my back on my shoulders: MATTHEWS. Two huge numbers etched their way into my skin: 34. From this angle, I could see how my back had sort of billowed out from the rest of my body with some of the jersey material hanging below my butt.

A final detail appeared in the form of a large white Toronto Maple Leafs logo forming on my front. It looked like I was wearing a jersey; a jersey that was a little too big for me, but I knew I was the jersey. 

“Instead of helping Auston to look for his equipment, maybe I can be his equipment.” I thought to myself. 

Whatever had started this changed seemed to agree, as more changes continued. 

I felt my insides begin to twist and turn. My shoulder blades and collar bone melted and began reforming into shoulder pads. My shoulder caps grew bigger, enough to be able to protect Auston from body checks on the ice. I felt my rip cage crack and disappear, and my abdominal muscles and fat transitioned into velcro straps, protective foams and plastic. More bones cracked and transformed into other materials. It felt amazing to change from an organic being into plastic and artificial materials. The entire top half of my body ballooned and grew bigger; my previous frame was too slender and tight for Auston Matthews, he would need more comprehensive protection. The part of me that was a jersey began to fill out as the rest of my insides grew and shifted in order to fit better.

My elbows popped and disconnected from my arms. My bones fused into elbow pads: a two-piece system to protect Auston’s forearm and bicep. A soft cuff formed from my bicep muscle and arm bone and a hard cap solidified at my elbow and forearm. I used my hand to squish my new elbow: it was hollow but sturdy and protective. Elastic Velco straps formed from the muscle around my bicep and forearm. As my upper body changed fully into Auston’s equipment, I started to feel distinctly separate and different. I knew part of me was now a blue Maple Leafs sweater, another part of me were shoulder pads, and another part of me were elbow pads. I was rapidly becoming hockey equipment, and it felt good.

Glancing in the mirror, it looked like I was wearing Auston’s gear. My hands dangled from the wrists of the jersey. My bare, naked legs were holding up the top part of Auston’s gear, with my fully erect penis poking out from the bottom. 

“No,” I said to myself. I didn’t want to wear Auston’s gear: I wanted to be Auston’s gear. 

My hands began to enlarge; they were smaller than Auston’s hands and wouldn’t work at their current size if they were going to be his hockey gloves. Bones and muscle shifted and melted into more protective foams and plastic. My hands hollowed into hockey gloves. The tips of my fingers bubbled outwards and became more square-like. My joints became longer, enough to provide good dexterity for Auston’s own fingers. My skin turned blue and white. A large white cuff popped out of my wrist, ready to protect Auston’s wrist from slashes and pucks. The letters CCM appeared and wove out of my skin. The palm of my hands turned a pale white with a slight grippy texture in the middle. The material thinned out and stretched across the gloves. My hands were now hollow, empty hockey gloves.

At this point, I somehow ended up on the ground. I collapsed and fell backwards with a soft thud against the bathroom floor. I must have looked a slight: a human head buried in a Leafs jersey, shoulder pads and gloves. I loved it; it felt like I was returning home.  

My erect penis, glistening with pre-cum, suddenly deflated and flattened. It turned grey and hard and shaped into a bulbous domed cup. It completely detached from my crotch and became Auston’s athletic cup. I chuckled as I thought about Auston positioning what used to be my penis over top of his own penis and testicles. 

The bottom half changes happened almost simultaneously. My hips and thighs pushed outwards and became bigger and roomier. Everything inside deflated and disappeared, becoming yet more protective padding. I felt my pelvic bones shrink and twist as they turned into protective plastic caps. My butt cheeks dissolved and melted into nylon and foam. I couldn’t wait for Auston’s big hockey butt to slide around mine in his new hockey pants. My skin toughened and turned blue, the same shade as my torso. A single white stripe appeared on the sides of my legs as my pelvic region truly became Auston’s hockey pants. A second lace and adjustment strap popped out of my waist and crotch. Auston would use it to tighten the fit around his own waist. As my waist and pelvic area hollowed and emptied, Auston’s new athletic cup shifted and tumbled out of the pants, lying next to them on the ground.

The skin on my knees and shins turned the same blue as the rest of my body, and two more white stripes wrapped around my calves. My leg skin were hockey socks now. Under the socks, both of my knee caps disconnected from my legs and shifted into hard plastic domes. The rest of my muscle and sinew became high-density foam. Meanwhile, my shin bones cracked and groaned as they formed into rigid and ribbed plastic. My legs were now properly hockey shin guards and hockey pants. 

It was clear that I was no longer a man: I was hockey equipment. Lifting my head from the ground ever so slightly, I could still see but I couldn’t move my old body freely. Obviously hockey gear wasn’t supposed to move. I knew my changes weren’t complete, however. And even though I had stopped breathing when my chest turned into Auston's shoulder pads, my sense of smell was still working. I could weirdly feel the scent of sweat and Auston's body odour in the air; it was coming from me! I stunk to high heaven, and it was all Auston's sweat.

Another hardening sensation began on my ankle bone. Despite not being connected to my feet with blood and nerves, I was still able to feel the full transformation take place. The ankle bones flattened into the rest of my foot and smoothed away into black carbon fibre. My entire foot ballooned and thickened. Lace holes appeared on the top of my foot and travelled up to my ankle and filled with a white lace. My toes fused into a strong plastic cap. A V-shaped point dropped out of the bottom of my foot and formed into white plastic. Then a narrow steel blade transitioned out of the plastic holder. My skin turned black with a few silver and red graphics etched around. The letters CCM formed on the sides of both feet. I felt the rest of my bones melt and disappear as my foot hollowed into empty hockey skates. 

Almost done. I was so excited.

My scalp burned for a second as all of my hair dissolved and fell out. The skin on my head stretched and hardened into smooth blue plastic. Small holes and slits for ventilation dotted around the side of my skull and forehead. The insides melted and transitioned into more hard, high density foams. My chin separated and became a strap. My eyes and nose squished together and became curved and translucent. They relocated together to the top half of where my head used to be and became a visor attached to Auston’s new helmet. Inside my mouth, my bottom row of teeth and tongue liquified and disappeared. My top row of teeth turned soft and translucent, they flattened and hollowed out into a mouth guard. As the inside of my head was now empty and void, ready for Auston's own head to slip into, the mouth guard just flopped down to the inside of the helmet, ready for Auston to chew on between periods.

Finally, I was hockey equipment. I was Auston Matthews’ hockey equipment. I couldn’t think, feel or move anymore. It felt like a return to normal; like my old life was leading up to this moment, to be part of Auston’s body and to protect him while he played hockey in the NHL for the Toronto Maple Leafs. I was nothing but a pile of hockey equipment.

A door squeaked open and footsteps entered the room. 

“There it is!” Auston yelled. “Hey guys! I found my gear.”

He gathered up the gear from the floor and hurried out of the room. Go Leafs, go!