Maletf32 - Altered Realities - Tumblr Blog

Hi. It would be interesting to know how you look into other universes? Do you have any kind of device or magical abilities? Can you demonstrate this on me?

Hey there, cutie 😉. Thank you for your intriguing question about how I perceive other universes and realities beyond our own. While I do not possess any magical abilities, I have developed a remarkable device that allows me to peer into the multiverse. My machine utilizes advanced quantum computing technology coupled with exotic matter as the energy source. It allows me to access specific realities with decent clarity by calibrating it carefully.

To demonstrate this capability for you, I would be happy to show you some alternate realities where you're still as stunning as you are now, only in a different way:

Here's a universe where you are instead Filipino. Here, your hair is a deep black with just the slightest hint of waviness at the top, framing your heart-shaped face perfectly. You possess a boyish face that makes anyone weak in the knees at first glance. When you smile, it's like seeing a whole world open up.

Your chest is smooth and flat, leading down to your soft belly and then tapering off into elegant legs that show little signs of hair. You are so small and delicate that it's hard to imagine that below all that innocence hides a deep lust for a big strong man to hold you up and do with you as he pleases.

-

Now, let's pay a visit to a previous dimension I like to call "Arab World". At the pinnacle of this society are the most perfectly engineered humans - those with Arab DNA that has been optimized through generations of careful selection, genetic tweaking and breeding to create individuals of unparalleled physical perfection and mental acuity. In this universe, you are an alpha of unparalleled might, your virility unmatched by any who have come before. You take great pride in your genetic superiority, knowing that no mere mortal could ever compare to your perfection.

You are blessed with a virile physique, muscular form sculpted by years of intense physical training. Your bulging chest and rock-hard abs speak to your boundless strength and vitality. In the gym at your lavish estate, you push yourself to the limits, determined to maintain peak condition.

But as much as you appreciate fine living and opulence, your true passion lies in power, conquest, and sexual domination of lesser beings. As an elite Arab alpha ruler, you take immense pride and pleasure in asserting your superiority over those beneath you, including your slaves.

-

To end this showcase gracefully, let me show you one last reality which might be my favourite. In this dimension, one of your parents is black, and as such you were born to become an handsome lightskin man.

You are an absolute fuckboy, and you wouldn't have it any other way. Your life is one endless string of parties, workouts, flirting, and fucking. You are utterly shameless about flaunting your body to anyone who will look. At the gym, you make sure every single rep is perfectly calibrated for maximum muscle growth. You strike poses, flexing and posing with a confident swagger that lets everyone know just how goddamn hot you are. The mirror loves you as much as you do.

Your nightlife consists of endless nights out on the town. You're always down to hit up the trendiest clubs in the city, the hottest bars, the flashiest parties. Your social media is filled with steamy selfies showcasing off your bodacious physique - pecs popping from tight tank tops, washboard abs glistening as you do ab crunches against a wall. Fans and admirers drool over every inch of exposed skin.

You are always on the prowl for a special someone to show off and bring home - some unsuspecting twink who can't resist getting lost in your world of pleasure and excitement. The way you touch them, caress their skin with lingering fingertips, leans into them with smoldering intensity - it's enough to make even the most experienced bottom moan like a bitch in heat.

-

These are just some examples of the diverse array of alternate realities that my machine allows me to access and observe from afar. Although, with the timeline converger project I'm currently working on, it may one day become possible for me to physically transform you as well if we both so desire.

As a side note, I'd like to thank you for your patience! I know I took a lot of time, but calibrating my machine takes quite some time if one wants to see realities that aren't as normal and boring as ours. I hope it was worth your time, because I'm sure it was worth mine 😉 See you next time!

huge

The Power of a Name

With @next-pharaoh

The power of a name is something more influential than most people realize. It created an individual, maintained their identity that had been crafted from the womb up until that very point. It interacted with the world around them, choosing their friends, their enemies, their brothers and their lovers. Names decide brains or brawns, cools or fools, the ins and the outs of every living thing. If it was not for names, then who would we even be?

So imagine the power of a name when it is used for the good of a movement, one that has been silently expanding for hundreds of years. While other cultures were fighting wars and attempting to outscore one another, this particular movement stealthily expanded its ranks. Lineage and ancestry can be traced back through countless generations of the male line thanks to this work. Of course, we are speaking of Arabization.

There are obvious reasons as to why this movement is so strong and only has the potential to further dominate. First and most importantly, the Arab-Islamic culture exemplifies masculine ideals, creating stronger men after every new breed. Higher testosterone levels, unbreakable fraternal bonds, governing genetic codes. Their desert-bound history created more aggressive, competitive, and territorial behavior; their strict religious conviction maintain higher levels of confidence and, by right, superiority.

But if this movement is silent, then how are we able to visualize its effects? Consider the following facts: While numbers in almost all historically-dominant religions are dropping, the current Muslim population is predicted to grow more than twice in size by 2060. Islam, and the core values of Arabization along with it, will surpass Christianity as the largest religion in the world in just 25 years.

Reflecting on a local level will help illustrate these details. The branch of mathematics most widely practiced, taught, and respected is algebra, a rhetoric developed into what we use today by Muslim scholars. Arabic speakers have increased by 276% since 1910, with English speakers at 221%, Hindi speakers by 118%, and Mandarin Chinese speakers only by 96% over the same period. The Arabic name Muhammad has risen to become the top-reported baby name in the entire world when all its spellings are counted together, with Amir, Malik, Nasir, and Xavier following close behind.

With all this in mind, how has the Arabization movement utilized the power of a name? How about we make this more personal. Consider the average man, 25 years old, 5’9, and weighs roughly 197 pounds. He is flabby and balding, already considered past his prime at such a young age. Works a meaningless job, lives a meaningless life. His pale skin is a reflection of the blank resume representing his past, present, and future. All this, until a guiding Arab brother calls him by the wrong name.

“Omar!” Omar? But that was not his name. “Omar!” He hears it again, this time from a local. Eventually it seems to resonate with the people around him. At first, this average man was puzzled, but the constant repetition of the name gradually begins to rub softer, washing over his body and smoothing out his ridges. Every "Omar" scrubbed off a piece of his past, better aligning him with a brighter, browner future. 

It could start somewhere as vulnerable as porn, the average man filtering through and discarding any videos that do not feature the Arab male. Perhaps his playlists begin to reformat with Arab music, its rhythms and verses constantly playing to further seep into his brain. This restructuring can appear in the home too with a space decorated by Arab imagery, and like a vine it delicately extends further inwards and invades the average man’s very place of rest.

Soon, his interactions with the world around him begin to change. A new Arabic word slips into his everyday language, his connections and role models shift to solely Islamic men, his clothing habits adapt to his beckoning lifestyle. Generic becomes expensive, branded athleisure wear, business becomes religious attire. Each time that new name is uttered, the “Omar” inside inches a little further out.

Eventually, that “Omar” has extended far enough that the results become visibly present. The average man grows taller, broader, his fat stretched against a burgeoning muscular glory. Arms bloat thicker, legs bulge wider. His skin bronzes into a shade of brown that can only be defined as perfection, his hair blackens and thickens across his entire body. The jaw stretches, the nose inflates, the brows and lips protrude. And so too does the average man’s package, its sole purpose to breed future Arabs with its potent seed.

And once "Omar" passes the point of resonation and reaches familiarity, the average man will vanish. The power of a name, his name, Omar, means “long-living, flourishing” in Arabic, his language. And he represents it. An alpha male, an Arab male, a purebred Muslim who understands his mission. So now, Omar takes out his phone and texts a complete stranger, another average man, and simply addresses him as "Ahmed". And the cycle begins once more, the power of a name exploited for the greater good of Arabization.

Screen Froze

Podcasting had become inescapable in recent years. Everyone seemed to have an opinion on...well everything. Politics, world sports, cooking, an obscure movie from 1978 only released in a now-extinct language. If it could be covered, it would be. And one could find this content anywhere across the internet. Youtube, social media, even streaming services promoted their podcasters. Everyone was watching everyone talking. 

Of course, with so many different podcasters flying about, it was difficult to actually spot out talent. And from a sociologically micro perspective, it was even harder for individuals to find podcasters discussing the content they actually wanted to hear about. The more unique the niche, the less people one could happen upon to be talking about it during their recorded stream of consciousness. It was a simple formula, but it forced individuals to browse for hours or even days to find what they were searching for.

Sometimes though, people could not hold such patience. They would not wait for their new hero, a disciple preaching their values and morals to audiences around the globe. They would skip past one livestream discussing the economics of green villages in Switzerland to the next debating the potential existence between a minor character in two separate fandom universes. They could even perhaps land into a podcast like Sean’s.

“Most people just don’t understand the Soviet Union’s impact on architecture,” the measly, pale nerd innocently commented. A little shy in front of the camera, he was only able to relax a bit when discussing his favorite topics. Sean dressed in theme too, wearing a brutalist-like business casual outfit, a trait his small but dedicated fanbase adored.

“There were a lot of architects that really shaped this movement from all around the world,” Sean continued. “But today, we are just going to focus on those from the USSR.”

So what happened when one’s patience dried up? Well, everything was brought to a halt.

DragonHeart49: anyone else’s screen freeze? superduperloverboy: mine too <3bitsandmore: sean, I think ur glitching out

With the screen frozen, our impatient soul could now get to work. If one could not find the podcast they were looking for, then why not just create their own? Obviously, this did not mean constructing a podcast themselves, but rather alter the fabric of reality and completely realign another’s being to their preferred state. That was much easier.

Physical modifications were made first. A much larger body was necessary, something that demanded confidence and respect from others. Juicy pecs, rippling abs, sturdy legs. There was always something unreasonably fun in bloating the podcaster’s feet up a few sizes. An imposing frame to be craved by others, even when hidden underneath clothes, was priority. And speaking of clothes, those were quickly stripped down to less formal articles. Expensive branded tee, athletic shorts so small that boxer-briefs were visible, classic white Nike socks, all of it much more respectable than a button-up and tie.

This was not the impatient soul’s first time altering a podcaster to their liking, nor would it be their last. Physically at least, each of the end products were a little different. All alpha males, but just enough variation to not warrant any unnecessary rumors. This particular podcaster had his pre-American heritage redirected from France to India, the features in the screenshot tanning accordingly as a dark stubble acquainted itself along the sharper jawline. Of course, the bulge was accurately enlarged for geographical standards too.

Mentally however, all the podcasters could be considered copies. They each spoke of the same rhetoric, theories, and ideologies that our impatient soul wanted to hear. No matter how “backwards” or “hateful” their discussions were deemed as, nearly anything could be said by hulking bodies with undeniable charisma.

“These homos have no idea what they’re talking about!” Sanjay raged as the podcast restarted, his deep voice cocky and assertive. "Sure bro, I was just thinkin’ about a girl’s rack I saw earlier today but there's more to a girl than big tits. There's a tight pussy too!”

The chat section lit off with encouragement, their fates too having been altered.

MassiveFART69: you tell them fags bro! LOL XD crassmassschlongnator: we want to BREED THEM TOO!!!! <3TITSGALORE: JUST TALKIN ABOUT IT ALREADY GOT SANJAY GRABBIN HIMSELF AGAIN

Sanjay vacantly looked down, finding himself already subconsciously scratching at the thick bush within his shorts. He let out a hot protein fart followed by a laugh, his scratching slowly extending into groping his fat 8 inch babymaker.

“God, that was WET bros!” Sanjay applauded himself, his free massive hand swallowing the mic. “Anyway, I’ll catch you on the flip side dudes, gotta go hit the gym. Bros for life!”

There was a reason the traditional masculine movement was becoming stronger. Maybe it was because men were slowly aspiring to become the alphas’ equals, or because fags were beginning to submit to their nature. Or possibly, it could have been because each time a screen froze, reality was altered one click closer to traditional, normal masculinity.

Hello good sir. I am a tall, lanky but athletic university nerd who is just starting his masters. However, uni was pretty draining, and over the summer I came to the conclusion that I want to switch things up. I would love to become a buff, bulky hog, and not think about uni for a while. With thick legs, thick arms and especially thicccc pecs.

Another request for the God of Pigs? Bro, of course, I'm happy to help any dude who's ready to be a real man!

Now, let me get a look at you. Tall, lanky, hmm, not even a little body hair? Damn, you really need some help. I lean towards you and let out a huge, rumbling burp. I see you wince, and a mist of saliva and sweat rains down over your body. Don't worry bro, it'll kick in any second now.

POP There we go! 6'5 wasn't the right height for you bro, so you feel your bones shift and crunch down to a stockier, shorter frame. Your shoulders widen, and your muscles and gut start to inflate outwards. A thick wave of hair creeps up around your body, coating your with a coat of wiry, sweaty fur.

Bro, you're perfect! I think I'll keep you - you did say you wanted some time away from uni, right?

I snap my fingers, and a lump forms in your throat. It's your new Adam's apple, thickening and widening. Something rumbles in your stomach, and you open your mouth to ask a question. But, instead of words...

BURRRRRPPPPPPP

You open your mouth again, and out comes another huge burp. They're don't stop, replacing your ability to speak. You feel the insides of your neck start to twist, and your burps become more and more... animalistic? Less like burps, more like grunts, getting lower and lower. I thought, since you won't be doing much talking nowadays, I there's no need for you to be doing much thinking, either? So much for a masters degree lol. What's that bro? I don't know what you're trying to say

Your brain starts to feel fuzzy, all slow and mushy and warm. Soon, you stop thinking in words, just food and sex and masturbation rushing through your mind. You imagine stuffing your face into a plate of food, no, a trough, and stroking yourself the whole time. And, as you burp away the last remnants of your intelligence, you suddenly realise what you sound like: a pig

Oink oink

Becoming a gym bro

Male TF - Racial TF - Muscles gain - Long term TF

Jackson had been frequenting the small, 24-hour neighborhood gym for the past six months. His visits were regular, about three times a week. Despite his consistent attendance, he never socialized with anyone. He preferred to focus on his exercises, pushing himself to the limits before heading back home for a shower. His routine was almost ritualistic: walk in, work out, walk out.

The gym was modest, equipped with the essentials—dumbbells, benches, a few treadmills, and a variety of machines. It wasn’t the fanciest place, but it had everything Jackson needed. The familiar scent of rubber mats and metal weights had become oddly comforting to him.

Late at night, around midnight, the gym was usually quiet, with only a handful of dedicated lifters present. It was during these late sessions that Jackson often noticed a particular group. They were hard to miss: tall, heavily muscled black men who always wore matching red shorts. They moved with an air of camaraderie and confidence, dominating the space with their presence. They laughed, encouraged each other, and pushed themselves to the brink. Jackson admired them from a distance but never dared to approach.

One night, as Jackson finished his routine, one of the men in the red shorts walked over to him. He was imposing, with broad shoulders and a chiseled physique that seemed to gleam under the gym’s fluorescent lights. His smile was wide and welcoming.

“Hey man,” he said, extending a hand. “I’ve seen you around a lot. You’ve been working hard. I’m impressed with your dedication.”

Jackson, taken aback, shook his hand. “Thanks, I’m just trying to stay in shape.”

The man chuckled. “Well, it’s paying off. I’m Marcus, by the way.”

“Jackson,” he replied, feeling a bit self-conscious.

Marcus eyed him up and down, nodding approvingly. “Listen, we’ve got a special protein shake that we use. It’s great for boosting performance. Would you like to try it? It’s what we all use.”

Jackson hesitated for a moment, then glanced at Marcus’s impressive physique. The promise of enhanced performance and faster results was too tempting to pass up.

“Sure, why not?” Jackson said, his curiosity piqued.

Marcus handed him a shaker bottle filled with a thick, red liquid. “Just a heads-up, once you drink this, you’ve got to go all out. Push yourself to exhaustion. That’s when it works best.”

Jackson nodded, accepting the bottle. He gulped it down, the taste surprisingly sweet and energizing. He felt a rush of energy almost instantly. “Thanks, Marcus. I’ll make sure to give it my all.”

Marcus grinned. “Good luck, Jackson. See you around.”

Jackson finished his usual workout but, energized by the protein shake, decided to keep going. He felt an unusual surge of energy, compelling him to push further. An hour passed, yet he still felt strong. He added more weights, increasing the intensity of his exercises.

Another hour went by, and Jackson was still not tired. He pushed himself even harder, driven by an almost insatiable urge to exhaust his newfound energy. Finally, after two additional hours, he felt his muscles begin to burn, a deep, satisfying ache spreading through his body. The burning sensation was followed by a powerful surge of energy that lasted for fifteen exhilarating minutes. During this time, Jackson moved from machine to machine, working every muscle group with relentless focus, barely pausing between exercises.

With each precise movement, he noticed something incredible happening. His muscles seemed to respond instantly, swelling and growing before his eyes. As he performed bicep curls, his arms bulged, veins becoming prominent under the skin. His chest expanded with each bench press, and his legs thickened with every squat. The transformation was both thrilling and surreal.

Finally, utterly exhausted, Jackson collapsed onto a bench. His body was trembling, drenched in sweat. He could barely move, every muscle screaming in protest. When he awoke a few hours later, his entire body ached with an intensity he had never experienced before. He struggled to his feet, feeling stiff and sore.

Staggering to the gym’s mirror, Jackson was stunned by his reflection. His muscles had doubled in size, giving him a powerful, almost intimidating appearance. He examined each part of his body in disbelief, flexing his arms and admiring the sheer mass he had gained. The pain of his cramps was momentarily forgotten as a smile of admiration spread across his face.

The satisfaction of seeing his hard work pay off so dramatically filled him with pride.

Jackson didn't leave his house for three days, immobilized by the intense soreness and muscle cramps that gripped his body. Each movement felt like a monumental effort, and he found himself wincing at the slightest motion. He spent the days in a haze of pain and exhilaration, marveling at the memory of his newly transformed body. On the fourth day, he felt the pain subside enough to return to the gym, his mind focused on pushing his limits once more.

When Jackson stepped back into the gym, he scanned the room, but the men in the red shorts were nowhere to be seen. He shrugged off a twinge of disappointment and started his routine. To his astonishment, he found that his usual exercises felt almost too easy. The weights he'd struggled with before now seemed lighter, his stamina almost boundless. He pushed harder, each lift, each pull, and each push filling him with a growing sense of invincibility. He ended up working out for three hours straight, reveling in the power that surged through him.

The following days followed the same pattern. Jackson returned to the gym, always late at night, always training with an intensity he'd never known before. His body felt like a finely tuned machine, capable of feats he hadn't imagined possible just weeks ago. But despite his growing strength and endurance, the men in the red shorts remained absent, an enigma that gnawed at the edges of his mind.

One night, as he lay on the bench press, exhausted from another grueling session, he saw one of the men in the red shorts approaching. The man's silhouette loomed over him, a smile spreading across his face.

"You've gained well," the man said, his hand gripping Jackson's bicep firmly, feeling the hard muscle beneath.

Jackson sat up, his heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. "What’s in those shakes? What are they doing to me?"

The man grinned, his white teeth gleaming in the dim light of the gym. "The red shakes you drank are special. They don’t just boost your muscles; they change your genetics, making you more suited for muscle growth. You've seen the results yourself."

Jackson's eyes widened, his mind racing. "Can I have more? I want to get even stronger."

The man studied Jackson for a moment before nodding. "If you're ready to push yourself even further, here." He handed Jackson another red shaker.

Without hesitation, Jackson drank it down, feeling the familiar surge of energy coursing through him. He dove into his workout with renewed vigor, pushing his body to its limits. Hours passed in a blur of motion and sweat. It wasn’t until five hours later that he felt the telltale burn of the shaker's effects. For the next thirty minutes, he moved from machine to machine, his muscles swelling with each repetition. Lost in his focus, he didn't notice his skin darkening, his lips becoming fuller, his nose broadening slightly.

Finally, he collapsed in exhaustion, the world fading to black around him.

When Jackson awoke, he staggered to his feet, every muscle aching. He caught sight of himself in the mirror and froze. His body was magnificent, his muscles larger and more defined than ever before. But his reflection showed more than just increased muscle mass. His skin was noticeably darker, his hair thicker, his facial features altered. He stared at his new form, a mix of awe and fear swirling within him.

As Jackson stood, still grappling with his new reflection, one of the men in the red shorts approached him, a look of approval on his face. "Congratulations, you've crossed a significant threshold," the man said, his voice filled with admiration.

Jackson turned to him, confusion and concern etched on his features. "What's happening to me? Why do I look like this?"

The man placed a reassuring hand on Jackson's shoulder. "The red shakes are more than just supplements. They're designed to enhance your genetics, making your body more like ours. The best muscle genetics belong to black men, so the shake gradually transforms you to embody that ideal."

Jackson’s mind raced, struggling to comprehend the magnitude of what he was hearing. "But I hardly recognize myself," he said, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

"You’re becoming something greater," the man replied. "Your body is adapting to achieve the peak of physical potential. You still have your essence, your soul. The changes are just on the outside."

Over the next few days, Jackson continued to train, each session pushing him further than the last. The group in the red shorts watched him every night, their presence a constant reminder of the path he was on. Jackson avoided them, the weight of their gaze heavy on his shoulders, but he couldn’t deny the allure of the power he was gaining.

One evening, he approached the group, his resolve steeled. "I need more of the red shakes," he said, his voice firm. "I want to reach my full potential."

The men exchanged glances before one of them stepped forward, handing him another shaker. "This will push you to your limits," he warned. "But if you want it, it's yours."

Jackson took the shaker, determination blazing in his eyes. He drank it down and threw himself into his most intense workout yet. Hours flew by, the burn of the shaker fueling his every move. After five hours, he felt the familiar surge of transformation. For forty minutes, he worked his body relentlessly, feeling his muscles expand, his skin darken further, his features morphing even more.

When he finally collapsed, he felt a profound sense of satisfaction. As he regained consciousness and looked at himself in the mirror, he saw a powerful black man staring back at him. His skin was a rich, dark brown, his hair black and tightly curled, his facial features now fully transformed. He smiled, a feeling of triumph washing over him.

"You’re becoming more magnificent with each shake," one of the men in the red shorts said, approaching him.

Jackson nodded, his eyes gleaming with pride. "I can feel it. I’m almost there."

The man smiled. "One more session. One more push to reach your ultimate form. Are you ready?"

Jackson’s heart raced with anticipation. "Yes. I'm ready."

Jackson stood in front of the mirror, his heart pounding with anticipation. He had planned this night meticulously, knowing it would be the most grueling and rewarding workout of his life. He took a deep breath, opened the shaker, and drank the red protein mix. The familiar, slightly metallic taste filled his mouth, and he felt a rush of warmth spread through his body. He set the empty shaker down and walked towards the bench press, determination etched on his face.

He started with his usual routine, but tonight he was driven by a fierce, almost obsessive focus. Each lift, each push, each pull was executed with precision and power. He moved from one machine to the next, his muscles straining and bulging with every repetition. After three hours, he felt the first signs of the protein kicking in. His muscles swelled, veins popping out prominently on his skin. But he pushed on, knowing this was only the beginning.

The clock ticked away, and Jackson continued his relentless workout. At the five-hour mark, the effects intensified. His skin began to darken further, his muscles grew even larger, and his senses heightened. He felt unstoppable, a surge of energy that seemed boundless. He pushed himself harder, moving through his routine with an almost superhuman speed and strength.

As the sixth hour approached, Jackson felt the final stage of the transformation beginning. His muscles burned, and he welcomed the pain, knowing it was a sign of his impending completion. He moved to the pull-up bar, attaching 80kg of weights to his body. With a deep breath, he began his pull-ups. Each rep was a battle, his arms and back screaming in protest, but he ignored the pain, driven by the encouraging shouts of the men in red shorts who had gathered around him.

"Come on, Jackson! You can do it! Push through!"

Their voices fueled him, and he fought through the exhaustion. His vision blurred, and his grip weakened, but he managed one more pull-up, then another, and another. His body trembled with the effort, but he didn't stop. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, his strength gave out, and he felt himself falling.

Strong hands caught him, easing him to the ground. As his consciousness faded, he heard the murmured congratulations from his new brothers. He had done it.

When Jackson woke up, the gym was quiet. He stood up slowly, every muscle in his body aching. He walked over to the mirror, bracing himself for what he would see. The reflection staring back at him was almost unrecognizable. He was now a tall, incredibly muscular black man. His skin was a deep, rich brown, his hair short and curly. His face had transformed completely, with strong, African features. He smiled, a broad, satisfied grin spreading across his face. He was one of them now.

Jackson stood before the mirror, marveling at his reflection. He had become a different person, not just physically but in spirit as well. His once pale skin was now a deep, rich ebony, gleaming under the gym's fluorescent lights. His muscles, sculpted to perfection, bulged with power and strength, veins coursing like rivers across his skin. His face, now a chiseled masterpiece, bore the strong features of his new identity: full lips, a broad nose, and deep, soulful eyes framed by thick, dark brows.

As he flexed his arms, feeling the immense strength coursing through him, a sense of pride and accomplishment washed over him. He had pushed his limits, transcended his boundaries, and emerged as someone entirely new. Jackson was no longer the solitary figure who avoided eye contact and hurried through his workouts. He was now a part of something greater, a brotherhood forged in sweat and perseverance.

That night, as he left the gym, the men in the red shorts surrounded him, clapping him on the back and welcoming him into their fold. They walked together, a formidable group, their laughter and camaraderie echoing through the quiet streets. Jackson felt a sense of belonging he had never known before.

Dear reader, as you sit there, contemplating this tale, you might feel a stir of curiosity or even a spark of inspiration. The journey Jackson undertook was extraordinary, but it all began with a simple decision to step into the gym. You too have the power to transform, to push beyond your perceived limits, and to achieve greatness.

Next time you find yourself in your local gym, look around. You might spot a group of men in red shorts, their physiques awe-inspiring, their camaraderie infectious. Approach them, engage with them, and perhaps, just perhaps, they might offer you the same mysterious shaker that changed Jackson’s life.

Remember, true transformation begins with a single step, a decision to pursue the best version of yourself. Embrace the challenge, endure the pain, and relish the rewards. Who knows what extraordinary changes await you? Your journey starts now. Seek out the men in red shorts, and let the transformation begin.

The Jerk Virus

In the dim recesses of your computer screen, a new presence begins its silent, insidious invasion. It starts as an unremarkable flicker, an anomaly among the ordinary bustle of your digital life. You barely notice it—an offbeat shimmer in the corner of your eye. But soon, it’s there, unmistakable. Green words, flashing in a neon rhythm that pulses like a heartbeat. “BRO”, “DUDES”, “GOTTA GET STRONG”—the text ripples across your screen, a virulent whisper that promises nothing but muscle and might.

This virus, cloaked in the guise of mundane digital banter, begins to worm its way into your system. It infiltrates your files, embedding itself within the sinews of your operating system, a creeping corruption that spreads with deliberate precision. Its code is a serpentine entity, a malicious force that distorts and reshapes as it progresses. It’s not just a code; it’s an infection of identity.

With each passing moment, the virus draws closer, its tendrils curling into the core of your being. The green words evolve, taking on a more aggressive tone. “GET JACKED”, “CHUG BEER”, “LIVE HARD”—the phrases pulsate with a fervor that seeps into your consciousness. Your mind starts to change, memories transforming into flickers of biceps and frothy beer mugs. Your once-familiar world now thrums with a new, invasive energy.

As the virus advances, the corruption becomes palpable. Your thoughts start to skew, aligning themselves with the virus’s malevolent intent. Your soul, once a bastion of nuance and individuality, begins to erode under the relentless bombardment of masculine imagery. The virus doesn’t just alter your data—it begins to rewrite the very essence of who you are.

Images flash across your screen: muscular figures flexing with brute force, men in beer-soaked revelry, their laughter echoing in a deep, primal tone. These images are relentless, flooding your senses, distorting your perspective. They become your reality, their influence inescapable.

You attempt to counteract it, but the virus’s grip tightens. You find yourself drawn to these images, your own reblogs and interactions becoming mirrors of its power. With each click, each share, you feel an inexorable shift within yourself. The corruption is no longer confined to the digital realm; it bleeds into your very soul.

More images flash across your screen with a relentless rhythm: muscular figures in mid-flex, their biceps bulging with a raw, unfiltered power that seems almost tangible. The sheen of sweat on their skin glistens under harsh lights, their poses exuding an intoxicating, unspoken confidence.

These images are unyielding, flooding your senses with an unrelenting barrage. They are not mere pictures but invasive forces that distort your reality. Each frame is a blunt hammer striking at the walls of your mind, reshaping your thoughts and skewing your perspective. The boundaries between your own self and the images on the screen blur until you can no longer distinguish where one ends and the other begins. Their influence seeps into every corner of your consciousness, rendering escape a distant, impossible dream.

You try to resist, to shield yourself from the onslaught, but the virus’s grip tightens with a suffocating embrace. Your mind starts to fog, clarity slipping away like grains of sand through clenched fingers. Thoughts that once held complexity and nuance now become tangled and sluggish. Cognitive pathways that used to connect ideas and reason now slow to a crawl, overridden by the virus’s relentless push. Your once-clear intellect becomes a foggy mire, muddled and hazy.

As you scroll and reblog, each interaction with the corrupted content intensifies the transformation. The virus exerts its influence with every click, each share drawing you deeper into its grip. The once-sharp edges of your thoughts round off, becoming blunt and simplistic. Conversations that once sparked with wit and insight now dwindle to banal exchanges, their depth lost to the digital corruption.

Your life outside the screen starts to shift, mirroring the changes within. Social interactions become less nuanced, driven by a newfound desire to conform to the viral ideal. Hobbies and interests that once defined you fade into the background, overshadowed by a compulsive fixation on muscle and masculinity. Your days revolve around gym sessions and beer-soaked gatherings, a reflection of the virus’s insidious mandate. Relationships with friends and family become strained, their attempts to reach you falling on deaf ears as you become more entrenched in the virus’s vision.

The transformation is total and irreversible. Your life rewrites itself with the virus’s narrative as its guide. Where once you were defined by a rich tapestry of interests and complexities, you now exist as a caricature of the virus’s ideology—dumbed down, muscular, and unwaveringly straight. The screen that was once a portal to your thoughts has become a mirror of a new, homogenized reality, one in which your former self has been subsumed by the relentless green glow of corruption.

And then, it happens. You hit reblog, condemning yourself to your new life. You feel your essence unravel and reshape itself into something new. The virus has succeeded in its conquest: you become the embodiment of its viral ideology—dumb, muscular, and straight. The screen that once held your thoughts now reflects a new reality: you, now one with the virus’s purpose, stand tall in a world of brute strength and simple pleasures, the essence of your former self lost in the green-lit haze of this new, unyielding identity. So tell me bro, who did you become?

Commission - Cut Above the Rest

Another commission from a few months ago. Thank you to the anonymous user who commissioned it!

This story came out early on my Patreon! If you're interested in early stories and other benefits check it out here! Interested in commissioning me? Check out this post for more information on rules and pricing.

~~~

“Thanks, yeah that’s great!” William said with a smile and a nod of thanks before he left the latest barber shop in his string of failures.

He was lying through his teeth and he knew it, but William was too polite to say otherwise whenever he went to get a haircut. The same practised appreciation for something half the time he didn’t really like, as close as it was to what he originally asked for. He’d never known how he truly wanted it styled, just went along with whatever the thousandth hairdresser he was trying suggested. Nothing worked though. 

So here he was a month later on yet another attempt to find a place he liked, wandering around the city searching for a place he hadn’t tried yet, which was a challenge in itself. He’d been to every popular place, every barbers and hairdressers, every little hole in the wall and random person that thought they could give him a cut he was finally happy with. It was a big city, so William was lucky in that regard with how many new places seemed to be opening up all over sometimes. Today was another one of those days where a friend of a friend of a friend had been to somewhere new and he was on the hunt for it. 

Roughly half an hour after he’d left home, William finally set eyes on it. A smart looking place  with a sign in the window claiming to be newly opened. From what William could see it looked like a middle-eastern, Turkish style barbers, of which he’d been to several similar places before. Though, the closer he got to the front of the place the more he realised this didn’t look like any other barber’s shop he’d been to. On one side you had the usual chairs, mirrors and hair cutting equipment, on the other though it was entirely different. Wall to wall gym equipment, enough to make it look like a home gym or small public one. It was perhaps the most unique looking place William had ever seen to get his haircut, and he'd been to a lot of places in his 26 years alive. 

“Suppose you've got to market to a new audience somehow with all the competition around…” William mumbled to himself as he approached the door.

A small bell above the door jingled when William entered. He couldn't see anyone hovering around the main section to greet him and ask what he wanted like usual, so he glanced over to the small area with gym equipment. The only guy in the section, who was currently lifting what looked to be a heavy bar, met his gaze a moment later and smiled.

"Gimme one sec and I'll be with you bro!" The guy said before he turned his attention back to lifting.

That guy was the barber? William could hardly believe it. He’d expected someone more average. Maybe an old dude with a belly, not some tattooed middle-eastern jock. Though, he supposed this guy wasn’t all that young looking from what he could see. There was the odd sign of age on his still fit body, little hints that gave away that he was definitely older than William. He supposed it made sense for that type of man to be someone that comes up with the half gym half barbers shop idea; he knew the type of jock that loved to live in the gym, now this dude could work full time cutting hair and get a workout in whenever he wanted.

William stood awkwardly to one side next to the door whilst he waited for the guy to finish up. Luckily it only took a few minutes before he set the bar back down on the rack and sat up, then gave William another smile. Much to his relief, William watched the guy wipe off a little sweat with a spare towel he had laying around, then slid on a grey tank top before he pushed to his feet. He was at least professional enough to be fully clothed, which was more than William was able to say for one or two of the people he’d given a go at getting the haircut correct. 

“Sorry about that man, didn’t think I’d get anyone in this early!” The handsome hunk said when he finally stopped in front of William and extended a hand. “Hassan, nice to meet you.”

Out of sheer politeness William tried not to wrinkle his nose at the smHaving just worked out, Hassan smelt like any other sweaty jock, which wasn’t the most pleasant of experiences for him. He wasn’t the most confident type though, so instead he shook the offered hand and bit back any slightly more unkind opinions however true they may be.

“Nice to meet you Hassan, I’m William.” He held in his grimace at the sweaty palm when they shook. “It’s almost midday though, why didn’t you expect anyone?” He enquired, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Hassan shrugged as he pulled his hand back. “Only been open a couple of days, so I hadn’t expected word to spread enough yet. Had a couple dudes I was already friends with my first day open, one new guy yesterday afternoon, now you. So thanks I guess, you being here means I gotta be doing something right!” 

As much as Hassan did smell like a sweaty bro that hadn’t showered in a week, there was something almost infectiously friendly about him. A magnetic energy that had William relaxing around the man already, despite only having just met. 

“Anyway, what can I do for you man? Need of a trim I assume?” Hassan walked around behind the desk near the door and grabbed a bottle of water, then took a swig from it. “You’re in good shape already, probably doesn’t need much doing by the looks of it.”

William sighed. “That’s exactly the problem I guess.” He didn’t know why he felt like gushing about the problem to this guy over anyone else, but William could barely stop the words from falling out of his mouth. “I’ve never really known how I want it cut. A thousand different people have tried a thousand different cuts, yet nothing has ever quite looked right. Never been able to put my finger on it, but I’ve just never been satisfied.”

Hassan had a knowing smile on his face, which seemed out of place to William. “I think I know what your problem is, Will, it's obvious really.” Hassan spoke with such confidence in his assessment William didn’t really know what to think. “Obvious to me at least. You wanna know what I think?”

William nodded. He wasn’t expecting an actual answer, but at this point he’d try anything this guy thought was a fix. 

“I don’t think it’s the hair that’s the problem, it’s the rest of you. You don’t feel at home in your skin, so it’s only natural you can’t find a haircut that makes you happy. You’re trying to match it to the wrong body.” Hassan stepped to the side and gestured at one of the chairs behind him. “Take a seat and I’ll show you what I mean.”

William blinked. He wasn’t sure he’d quite heard things right. “Sorry, what? You think I don’t feel at home in my skin, what the hell does that mean??”

Hassan shrugged as if it was barely a question that had to be asked. “I mean exactly what I said. We’ll get you a new skin tone, maybe some muscle too whilst I’m here, then see what we can do about your hair.”

“But… But that’s not…” William stuttered out, his brain still trying to catch up with the seriousness Hassan was putting forward.

Hassan’s face bristled with a slight irritation, but it didn’t seem to be directed at William. It was more of a general irritation at the situation, though it didn’t last long. As he walked back towards William and the intense musky smell grew again the irritation eased off, replaced with a look William didn’t recognise. Or, one he didn’t want to recognise anyway. Arousal. Clear as anything behind Hassan’s eyes, an arousal that had William terrified and horny at the same time. 

The intense smell wasn’t helping anything either. It’d disgusted William at first, but the more it wafted off the stud the more he found himself enjoying it. He felt safe here, safe with Hassan calling the shots. So what if changing skin sounded ridiculous and impossible, wasn’t he just thinking he’d try anything to finally be rid of this irritation? He could at least let the gorgeous older man try, it’s not like there would be any harm. He was safe with Hassan, he reminded himself, it’s not like the guy he’d known since childhood would do anything bad to him.

William shook his head. No, that wasn’t right. He’d only just met Hassan, he hadn’t known him since childhood! But then… How did he even know about this place? Why was he so used to the slightly arousing smell of his best friend if they hadn’t known each other for so long? And, why was he letting Hassan get so close if he wasn’t already comfortable around him?

“You okay there Will? Come on, let me help you out, yeah?” Hassan said when he stopped less than a foot away from William. Right up in his personal space, but then William could remember Hassan always being like that around him… Couldn’t he?

Will nodded. “Yeah, yeah I’m okay. Sorry, don’t know what came over me for a second there.” He shook his head and blinked a couple times, then smiled up at Hassan. “Let’s get me in that chair, if you really think this new skin tone stuff you’re saying will help then I guess I trust you.”

Hassan smiled as he guided Will over to the chair he’d indicated before, making sure he stayed close. The hypnotising effects of his smell would only hold as long as he was near, at least until he could do the rest of his work. This guy was exactly what he’d been hoping for when he opened this place, though he hadn’t expected to find it fast enough. Someone lost enough to make it easy for him to mould, someone clearly desperate enough that they’d accept whatever help was given with the right push. As soon as he’d worked the magic in through his scent William would be locked in as whoever Hassan sculpted him into; he was far more than a simple barber after all. 

With a flourish he draped a sheet around Will’s neck and secured it to protect his clothes from any falling hair. In reality it was much more to disguise the changes to his body until it was too late, but it was part of the convenient lie that had made him choose this profession. Most of the time he just made little adjustments to people before they left, but occasionally, when the right person came along, he could afford larger ones without having to exert any extra effort. He’d already embedded a history of friendship without even having to think, so he already knew he’d be able to go the extra mile here. 

He grabbed a pair of scissors, then took his position behind the chair and smiled at William in the mirror. “Just sit back and relax okay? I know you’re not really sure about all this, but have I ever done you wrong in the past?” William shook his head after a brief frown of confusion. “Exactly. So trust me when I say you might be sceptical, but this will fix any hir worries you have forever okay?”

With the final words of reassurance offered, and his subtle check his influence was still working, Hassan started his work on the cut. It wasn’t just hir he was cutting away as his scissors glided through blond strands though, it was everything. The sweaty smell from his recent workout enveloped the room, and with it Hassan cut away everything weighing William down. All the anxieties, all the stress, all the baggage he was carrying around from everyday life that led him to obsess so intensely over something as simple as a haircut gone with a few chops. His attachment to his identity as a white man was next to go. The easy, unspoken sense of privilege vanished into nothing as more hair fell away, hair that was already leaving behind dark black on Will’s head instead of the blond which carried his previous heritage with it. A couple more chops later and William was a blank slate ready for inscribing. 

All the while Hassan worked, William was totally oblivious to anything besides the haircut going on with him. Hassan’s stench took care of that, working to invade his senses and further relax him. He loved the way Hassan smelled all ripe and masculine all the time, it was why he’d suggested combining a gym and barber’s to him in the first place. It didn’t matter if that memory was a new one he didn’t have before, now the delicious musk of the man working above him had pushed the idea into his head it was there to stay. He was unaware of his hair darkening with each cut, unaware too of his beard doing the same when Hassan moved around to tidy that up. The fact that his beard actually got longer and thicker when the handsome barber went to work down there was the smallest little detail he couldn’t care for, not when Hassan was hunched over with the most adorable look of concentration on his face and his armpits only inches away from William’s face. 

“How’re you feeling Zaid? Good?” Hassan asked, once again giving William a soft, friendly smile from his position in front of him. “Not too long until I’m done Zaid, just got to put the finishing touches on.”

What was left of William’s mind pushed through the fog. Hassan had just called him Zaid, but that wasn’t even close to his name. But, then there was the unwavering confidence in the way he’d addressed him, as if there was no doubt in his mind that William was actually called Zaid instead. 

Just when the doubt was about to push back, Hassan raised his arm and leaned over. He held onto the back of the chair and pressed William’s face directly into his sweaty pit, letting the smell drive itself up to another level. Any notion of disagreement faded away as William was forced to take a deep inhale directly from the source. He wasn’t William, there was no way someone like him would have a white man's name when he wasn’t white. That’s what the smell whispered to him on repeat with each breath in. He wasn’t William. He wasn’t white. He wasn’t average. 

The only question his mind was capable of pushing back as he breathed in the intense smell was a simple one; if I’m not those things, then who am I? And the answer was far more simple and obvious, he didn’t even need to wait for a response from the smell.

He was Zaid. He was middle-eastern. He was ripped and gorgeous.

Most importantly of all, Zaid was just as much of a sweaty, gym obsessed bro as his lover was. He and Hassan loved to work up a good sweat from a workout then fuck whilst inhaling each other’s smell. Often when work was slow too, right in the middle of the gym half of the shop where anyone could walk by and see the two hunky Arabs going at it. The icing on the cake was that neither man showered all the frequently Zaid was now remembering. There hadn’t been room in the shop to install one when they’d bought it, and the one they had at home wasn’t the best quality either. So, to both men’s delight, they spent more than half the time smelling ripe and masculine.

Zaid looked up to see Hassan once again behind him, now pulling off the sheet that’d been wrapped around him. He undid the back then tugged it away to reveal the sweaty tank and shorts Zaid always loved to wear, all barely covering the massive tanned muscle of his body. For a split second he’d been confused when he saw himself, but the strange idea that he should be pale and small soon vanished as fast as it had set in. He’d been working out for years, there was no way he’d be small! And it wasn’t like he was one of those pasty white guys that thought they ruled the world, he was far more enlightened than that.

“I’m good H.” Zaid said with a reassuring smile up at Hassan. “Thanks for the trim though, felt like I was getting a little too long there.”

Hassan chuckled slightly whilst he swept away the last traces of blond hair from the floor that would give away what he’d done. “You know I’m always happy to help you Zaid, what are husbands for if not that?”

Zaid stood up, then captured Hassan’s lips in a short, sweet kiss. “I know, I know. But aren’t I allowed to be thankful for my amazing husband?”

“You are.” Hassan’s gaze turned mischievous as he set the broom aside and walked the short distance to the front door. He locked it and flipped the open sign hanging there around to the other side, then returned his mischievous gaze to Zaid. “But I’d prefer you show your thanks by fucking my ass personally. That William guy we had booked in cancelled, so we’ve got enough time free for a little fun, don’t you think?”

The mention of his former self was the last unspoken test Hassan had for Zaid. Massive changes like this one didn’t always hold steady, so one last push of that button was an important one. If Zaid didn’t flinch then he’d know he managed to pull it off, if he did flinch then Hassan would know he’d been too ambitious. Minor cosmetic changes to tidy up and perfect someone’s appearance was usually all he did as he was cutting, so such a large change as to change not only Zaid’s race, but his muscle and his memories too had been ambitious from the moment he sat down in the chair. The guy had just been so receptive to it though that he’d kept gambling and pushing things further; the hair colour became a radical change to make him an Arab, then adding the massive muscle on top of it all when he would never usually go as far as changing ethnicity.

“Then fuck that dude, he doesn’t know about the killer trim you’d give him before I set him up with a workout plan.” Zaid said, full of confidence and total ignorance to who William was. Had been. “We’ll get plenty of others through here and you know it, and we’ll help them walk out hotter people!”

Hassan let out an internal sigh of relief. It had worked after all. “You’re right, there’s going to be a lot more people walking through our door.” His eyes flicked back to the same door he’d just locked, then back at Zaid. “Right after you’ve bent me over the nearest workout bench and fucked me so we can unlock that door that is.”

Zaid stalked towards his husband and smirked. “Say no more H, say no more…” He whispered as he grabbed Hassan’s ass with two meaty hands and started to walk them backwards. 

One of these days Hassan knew he’d confess all this to his new husband, but today was not that day. Today was the day they fucked on every flat surface possible, confessions could wait.

can we please see what the multiverse holds for this stud? I'd especially love to see his Sikh variant.

Sorry for the wait, searching the entire multiverse for very specific realities is time and energy consuming! That being said, I'm sure you'll find these next few glimpses of the multiverse quite interesting.

Our first stop, Sikhism:

In this world where everyone shares an Indian heritage, our subject has embraced his roots and become a mighty Sikh bodybuilder. He stands tall at 6'2" with a chiseled physique that's the envy of every gym rat in Punjab. He wears his dark hair in the traditional Sikh style - a neatly tied dastar that adds to his regal bearing as he showcases his chiseled physique.

His muscular form flexes and ripens under the gaze of adoring fans, each corded vein and defined muscle speaking to his tireless dedication to fitness and self-discipline. As he moves, the fabric of his clothing strains against his broad chest and powerful thighs, hinting at the incredible strength that lies beneath - a strength both physical and spiritual. This is a man who worships the gods of fitness through sweat, discipline, and devotion - a true embodiment of the Sikh ideal of strength and courage.

Next, a somewhat normal reality:

In this alternate reality, he's instead an adorable, slender French twink. His messy hair frames a heart-shaped face with high cheekbones and large, expressive brown eyes that sparkle with mischief. As a wealthy french man, he spends his days lounging on his chic Parisien appartment and inviting people over.

Clad in tight, low-rise jeans that hug his lean hips and a button-up shirt, our French cutie exudes a carefree, flirtatious energy. His pink lips are often curled into a sly grin, and his playful demeanor is infectious, drawing you in with promises of laughter, adventure, and passion.

Last but certainly not least, let's venture to a tropical paradise where every country on Earth is a lush, sun-kissed island:

Here, he's transformed into a bronzed Samoan hunk. His dark, gleaming skin is a testament to his heritage, while his muscular build speaks to a life spent in the open air, basking under the tropical sun. His hair is worn long and loose, framing his chiseled face like a golden crown. A few days' worth of stubble adds a rugged edge to his smooth, olive-toned skin. The salty tang of sea air mingles with the musk of raw masculinity, an intoxicating combination that can't help but stir primal urges among visitors.

His broad shoulders and muscular physique are the result of endless days spent working at the beach bar where he serves exotic cocktails to sun-worshippers from around the world. As he wipes down the polished wood with a white towel, beads of sweat glisten on his bronzed skin, drawing the eye inexorably downward to the tantalizing bulge straining against his board shorts. Whether mixing cocktails or soaking up rays between shifts, this Samoan hunk is the epitome of island charm and carefree living.

These three tantalizing alternatives offer a glimpse into the infinite possibilities that await in the multiverse. Who knows what other versions of our stud might be out there, just waiting to be discovered? The universe is vast, and so are the desires it holds...

Really should had read that bottle before I grabbed one while I was working. Didn’t take long before my uniform didn’t fit. Had to leave early but.. think I’m looking into a different, more muscle focused profession

What do you guys think? 💪🏿

Caption Series - Hydration

Summer is officially upon us, so this is your reminder to stay hydrated! Drink plenty of water, in particular our new official Hoyw & Hyde Health branded water. Full of electrolytes and refreshing minerals, it's exactly what you need to perk you up when you're getting dehydrated!

See also our range of sports water, designed specially by our scientists to keep you going when you're active in the sweltering midday heat. Whether you're working out or throwing a ball around, be sure to grab a bottle of H&H Sport to keep you pushing through the toughest activities.

Warning: Side effects may include but are not limited to; unexpected transformation; skin tanning; muscle growth and/or loss; attraction shifting; memory loss/mental fatigue. Company holds no responsibility for accidental changes and will not offer discounted services. Drink at your own risk.

Who reads a warning label on a damn bottle of water anyway?! I was thirsty on such a hot day after an attempt at a workout to pack some size on, then this happens!

I'm not one of those... those... Ah fuck I can't even say it! I'm bigger now yeah which I suppose is nice, I'd wanted to be for a long time but just didn't have the body type to pack on size no matter how hard I tried. I'm all dark too, but the more I think about it the more I can't remember why I used to hate dudes like this.

I'm huge and sexy and have the biggest cock I've ever seen swinging between my legs, what wouldn't I like about that?! Gonna have to find some new buddies though, because my old crew ain't gonna accept this version of Nate...

Any of you other bros drank this fucked up water? Tell me I'm not the only one different!

Oral #1

If anyone has a picture suggestion for this one, please send it to me.

“Follow me,” he said.

And so you followed, down a dark street and into a blackened alleyway, the only light coming   from a single lightbulb above a stairwell. He leads you up the concrete steps, through another corridor and through an apartment door.

He kisses you, as you hastily rush to kick off your shoes and jacket. With his lips still pressed against your own, he leads you into a bedroom.

He pushes you down on the bed and grabs at your waist. With a jolt, he tugs on your pants and underwear to force them down through your legs. You arch your back, allowing your pants to pass your knees and through your ankles and feet. He pulls your socks off as well, all in one free motion. 

Your pale cock lies exposed in the air, leaking slightly and stiffening. He tilts his head down down, his tongue gliding over the tip while his hand wraps around the shaft. You moan. With his other hand he reaches up under your shirt, searching for your nipple. You clumsily rush to take off your shirt, revealing your entire body to the air. You raise your arms to your head, brushing your head and reaching for the loose pillow above you.

“You will love it,” he lisps as his lips slide over your entire cock. 

You stretch and reach out across the mattress, shuddering at the touch of his tongue. It circles around the very top of your dick, pressing against the gland. As you reach, your knuckles crack and pop and your arms lengthen. Your hands get bigger and you ball them into a fist, grabbing the sheets to keep you sturdy. Still, he thrusts his mouth all over your penis, caressing it with his tongue. 

You lift your arms and watch the muscles expand. Your shoulders broaden and pop, becoming wider. The muscles in your chest grow too, resembling massive man tits, with huge round nipples to match. 

Your penis tingles with pleasure and he slurps on it happily. He rubs it with his hand causing you to stretch and writhe on the bed. As you flex your stomach eight massive abs muscles pop into place, erasing any evidence of belly fat. Your back cracks as your height increases. Your ass balloons and plumps and your thighs become meaty trunks of muscle. 

Your breathing hastens, and you reach down to your cock to finish yourself off. He forces your muscled arm down.

“Ay papi, not yet.” He says, as he gently strokes your lengthening brown shaft. “Just wait. Merecerá la pena.” (It will be worth it) 

Your skin begins to prickle and tingle. With your other huge hand, you rub your eyes as the sensation intensifies across your body. You notice your skin is darker in tone, with broad black lines crisscrossing the skin: new tattoos painting themselves al over your body. You have no time to examine them as he forces your thickening cock into the back of his throat. you lift your head from the bed, opening your mouth to exclaim in pleasure. A baseball cap materializes on your head, and diamond studs appear on your lobes. Your facial features turn more angular, and a moustache grows above your lips as the last remnants of your caucasian heritage turn latino. 

“Listo, papi?” (Ready, papi). He says.

You open your mouth, convulsing your new huge body from the pleasure. With one last pump and slurp on your thick latino cock you rain a shower of cum in to the air, into his mouth and onto your brown chest. 

You grin and smile, breathing heavily, wiping the sweat from your brow and feeling your new hide fade haircut. 

He crawls up your body and lays beside you. 

“¿Cómo estuvo eso papi?” (How was that papi?)

“Fue perfecto,” you reply.

Would love to see what other versions of myself are out there!

Hey there, cutie. I've been carefully observing the timelines across the multiverse and I think I've found some interesting ones I would say. Let me first start with one not far from ours. 😉

Meet your brazilian self.

In this sun-kissed universe, your parents were Brazilian, and it shows in every sultry curve of your body. You're a free spirit, always chasing the next wave or beach party under the tropical sun, where the only thing hotter than the sand is the lustful gaze of the locals.

Your olive skin glistens with a sheen of coconut oil as you soak up the rays, and your dark hair flows in the ocean breeze like silk threads begging to be tangled in a passionate embrace. When night falls, you trade in your caipirinha and board shorts for a tight pair of jeans that hug every inch of your physique, ready to heat things up on the dance floor or in a private cabana.

Now, I want you to imagine a reality where Arabs dominate the world and shaped every corner of existence, blending all races into their superior form through generations of intermarriage and genetic manipulation, with lesser races either becoming arabized over time or enslaved.

In this universe, you're the epitome of Middle Eastern masculinity - strong, commanding, and unapologetically in control.

You're a wealthy and powerful alpha male at the pinnacle of this genetically superior race. Your dark hair is always perfectly coiffed, framing a face that exudes confidence, power, and an insatiable drive for achievement.

You exude an aura of confidence and dominance, attracting both admiration and desire from all who lay eyes on you. Every inch of your chiseled body is honed to perfection - from the defined ridges of your chest to your powerful bulge straining against your luxurious clothes.

Next, in another parallel universe, your DNA took a different path, resulting in athletic prowess and an unrelenting passion for the game of basketball.

You're an unstoppable force on the basketball court - lean, muscular, and dripping with sweat after a grueling game. Your chiseled muscles were honed from hours at the gym and a work ethic that leaves opponents in the dust.

Your dark skin glistens with sweat as you leap for a dunk, your brawn and agility making you nearly unstoppable. Off the court, you're charming and charismatic, always ready to charm your fans or give back to your community.

Last but certainly not least, meet your latino fuckboy self in a reality where you're part of an irresistible majority. Here, everyone's got that extra je ne sais quoi - those piercing eyes, that chiseled jawline, that uncanny ability to make anyone fall head over heels in love with just a wink and a smile.

In this realm, you're a tatted-up playboy, always high on life and weed as you navigate the vibrant streets of your city. Your inked skin tells stories of your adventures and conquests, while your confident swagger and sly grins leave women and men weak in the knees.

You're the ultimate player, always on the lookout for the next conquest... but deep down, you crave something real, someone who can handle your wild side without getting too clingy.

So there you have it! As we gaze into these alternate realities, we're reminded that our perception of ourselves is fluid and malleable. These versions of you challenge traditional notions of identity, proving that with a shift in perspective, even the most familiar aspects of ourselves can be reimagined in provocative new ways. So the next time you catch your reflection, consider the infinite possibilities lurking just beyond the mirror...

I’ve always felt like I was meant to be someone else, whether that someone was older or a different race I wasn’t sure. Could you change me into my true self? Don’t leave a trace of the old me

"Alright, so you don't have a specific idea of what you want to become then ? So you give me free card to do whatever i want with you ? Or maybe you're just too scared to admit exactly what you want ? I say that because deep down, you know there's only one way for a man to be his true self. I feel like we all know who we're really supposed to be deep inside but sometimes we're scared to admit it. But i'm very glad that you finally came to your senses and came to me. It's fine bro, i gotchu !"

You suddenly feel yourself burning up. You start panting as you notice that you're sweating buckets. Trust me bro, that means it's working. But you better take your clothes off unless you want them to get completely soaked.

You take off your shirt yet you still feel something building up inside of you like an intense heat. You looked down at your damp body, heaving, and you realize that with each of your breaths you seem to be growing. Each of your individual muscles are plumping up, gradually building up into an athletic yet strong physique.

You're shocked, this body is perfection. All your muscles are to the exact proportions that would make you go crazy if you saw them on another man. Nice round shoulders, powerful-looking back, thick arms, bulging pillowy pecs, prominent abs and defined cum-gutters. You were a hunk ! A total catch !

You would have been satisfied with the transformation stopping there, but you're not the one calling the shots anymore.

The radiating heat that you felt starts concentrating in smalls tingles all over your body, but particularly your crotch and armpits. The sensation develops into an uncontrollable itchiness that you need to quench. Without even realizing it, you start scratching at your dick and your pits. That's when small hairs start sprouting everywhere, quickly forming a dense forest of darkening hair all over you.

You can feel your transforming body changing from that of a pretty boy to that of a rough masculine man. Your short stubble grows into a thick beard. Your voice cracks and deepens into a husky seductive one.

You raise your muscular arm and your nose is immediately assaulted by a strong musky smell. The combination of your constant production of sweat and it sticking to your new pelt of hair has resulted in you developing a permanent man stench that you'll never quite be able to get rid off.

You now feel the heat gather in your groin. As the sense of warmth grows, blood started filling your cock. As you hold your enlarging manhood in your hand, you realize that it's growing beyond it's original below average size. Right before your eyes, your modest pecker swole into a girthy schlong worthy of fucking any man you could possibly want.

While admiring it, you notice that your manhood looks ... darker than usual. Were you developing a tan .... only on your dick ? But it wasn't just a tan, your dick was becoming distinctly darker than the rest of your skin. And now that you were thinking about it, it looked like your entire body was darkening too. And suddenly, it hit you.

"I'm turning Middle Eastern ?!?!" you shouted in a cracking voice.

You couldn't even stop what was happening to you. Your balls were growing too, churning and turning your white swimmers into brown seed eager to be released. Your needy cock started leaking like crazy, leaking your inferior white genes in a steady stream of precum.

As your white ancestry drained into your balls, you could now only see yourself as the Arabian stallion you were always meant to be. One hundred pounds of pure Saudi beef.

Along with your whiteness, your personality also drained down into your balls, leaving space for a new and improved bro personality to develop. Everything that was once important to you and made you a complex human being dissolved.

In its place, the gym became your only interest. Lifting iron, flexing in the mirrors, and ripping rank protein farts with your gymrat bros became your only source of happiness in life. Your interesting and lovable personality gave way to a superficial jock persona.

A dumb cocky grin appeared on your face. You fondled your big brown dick.

"Bro ... this is a blunt tool. I could knock someone out with that thing huhu... or knock them up..." you half-joked in a heavy middle eastern accent

Saying that surprised even yourself. You were gay after all. You loved men and their big beefy bodies. Why were you even thinking about knocking up some chick .... You weren't attracted to women ...

That's what you told yourself but, against your own will, your dick hardened at the thought of a woman's body. their curves, their big juicy tits, their tight wet pussy ... You couldn't help it, you were rock hard at the thought.

Your biological urge to spread your seed and make brown babies flooded your brain and your dick grew harder, aching for release. Something deep inside you, a tiny remaining piece of you, tried to fight against it. Your balls were full of your old self, trying to resist, but your body was moaning and humping the air. You needed to bust.

You thought of a tight pussy being stretched out by your fat dick and suddenly the flood of cum couldn't be contained anymore. In a sudden geyser of cum, you expelled all your whiteness, faggotry and brains forever all at once. The new straight bro's low moan drowning your last cry for help.

You laid on your back, cemented in place and unable to think, as your new identity settled permanently. Your brain had fried, leaving behind a braindead straight gymbro. No trace of your former self was left.

Feeling your ingrained urge to spread your brown seed already, you gathered yourself. The mind-blowing load's volume was so large that it left a huge mess all over you, but you didn't care. You pulled your grey sweatpants up over your dick. You were gonna workout, no need to shower. But first, you needed to seed some pussy.

It was the intrinsic drive to spread your heritage, to fertilize as many chicks as possible with your brown genes and make babies. That same drive that lives deep inside every man. It's your purpose. Your role. You're a breeder.

You walked into the gym's locker room, looking for any young woman to impregnate. Your balls needed to be emptied. You couldn't wait to swell her belly with your brown babies. This was who you were now, a baby-maker.

With a dopey look, you walked over to the first cute chick you spotted. You pawed at your large bulge through your grey sweatpants, very visible since you were freeballing.

"Wanna take a ride baby"

You're meant to be an alpha breeder jock. Everybody's meant to. Now go spread your brown seed bro.

Small update

Alright bros, small announcement here. After posting my new stories, the tumblr algorithm kinda decided to go crazy on me and locked a bunch of my stories as well as flagging my account as explicit.

I modified the stories so that they could show up for yall, mainly by putting the more spicy content behind links, so don't forget to click on them to get the full experience ! This kinda sucks because i had a very specific idea of how my stories should look, but hey, gotta adapt !

I'm pretty new to all this so i'll try to do what i can. I'm very open to suggestions for how to deal with the limits posed by the tumblr guidelines if you have any !

And finally, more hot stories coming soon 😈

Hey! :) First of Welcome in the community :D From what I've seen you really are a good writter and yoru concepts are super cool :D Can't wait to ee what you'll come up with in the coming days! I was wondering if you could help me. See, I've bought a new phone. At least I thought it was new. At the first start, there was still folders in it, images and most of all plenty of gifs in the pictures folder. What's even weirder is that most of them are gay gif. I really don't understand why they are here. What's even weirder, as i got my phone out to write this message, i got zapped with electricity and since, my fingers are bruning and I feel light headed. What is happening!?

Oh no, that sounds pretty serious bro. I've been hearing about these charms can transport people inside their favorite porn scenes. Usually people do it willingly, so for you to receive a phone planted with that curse must have been intentional... Luckily there's a way-out !

Listen carefully because judging by your progressing symptoms, you only have a few seconds left before you're sent inside the scene you saw. There's a magic phrase you need to say that acts as a sort of safeword. The magic phrase is "get this fag out". Just say that out loud and you'll be transported back out of the porn. Got it ? Alright, good lu-

I didn't even have time to finish what i said before you got violently lunged through time and space. You felt your body slam down with an unfamiliar amount of heft on top of a cold hard surface. You barely even had time to open your eyes and adjust them to the new light level before you felt your body being rammed from behind by the powerful thrusts of a man penetrating your ass. A spasm of pleasure through your entire body forced a low moan to escape your mouth. Before you had time to understand what was happening, the loop started over. And over. And over.

You were stuck in a gif. The repeating cycle you were in allowed you to fully register every aspect of your current situation in the most intimate details.

You were clearly getting fucked against a counter. Your arms lay in front of you, supporting you so that the momentum of each thrust didn't send you flying forward. Looking at your arm, you noticed right away that you were in a body that wasn't your own. First of all, you were white with a fairly hairy forearm. You could tell by the way your body bounced with each pound you received that your body had a lot more bulk to it than you were used to. You were clearly in the body of some white jock pornstar.

The man fucking you held you firmly with his large hand on your shoulder. You couldn't even look behind you to see what he looked like. All you managed to assess was that he was powerful, likely muscular, and dominant, judging by how he was manhandling you. And of course, you could tell that he was very well endowed.

His massive dick slammed inside your ass. The constant onslaught on your sensitive prostate was making you see stars. The perpetual throbbing and pumping of your love button felt better than anything you had ever done before. Your dick was rock hard between your legs, leaking a constant stream of precum.

You uncontrollably moaned like a complete buttslut. The sensation you felt was that of absolute bliss. This felt amazing ... you could just ... stay like this .....

WAIT !

You snapped out of it right as your mind was slipping. You didn't ask to be there. You had to use the safeword to get out quick ! You opened your mouth to say the words.

"Get this fag AAAaaaaaaah !"

"Get fa- UHHHHHH !!!"

"Fag ouuuuuuuuuh !"

The gif you were in was 2 seconds long which should have been plenty enough time to pronounce the words that would save you from this delicious prison. But no matter how hard or how many times you tried, you could only get out only half of the phrase before a loud moan forcibly cut you off, cutting your available time in half.

You tried as hard as possible to reckon with your predicament and try to find an escape, but the constant and profound state of arousal you were in made it hard to think logically.

With each cycle, it's like you could feel your brain cells frying one by one. Each pound gradually degraded your cognitive abilities. You had to resist .... But it felt so good to just give in .... It was like you were getting drunk on dick, you were on a perpetual high that you never wanted to come down from. And just like that, you stopped resisting entirely.

An overload of literally mind blowing pleasure nullified every other aspect of your soul. Your eyes rolled up. Your jaw slacked. You had gotten your brains fucked out at last. You were now just a braindead cumslut who's only purpose in life was taking dick.

In the real world, i picked up the phone from where you had dropped it on the ground. Looking at the screen, i could see the gif you were now permanently stuck in. With that look of blissed out ecstasy plastered on your face, you looked like the perfect mindless cock slut. You were so contant, so happy to just be a dicked down fag for the entire world to witness. I guess i should have sent you this gift sooner.

Yep, i was the one who sent your the cursed phone. Not that you care about that stuff anymore anyway. You're now trapped in pure, mindless and eternal bliss, your dick-crazed broken mind unable to compute anything other than the intense pleasure of being a hungry buttslut forever.

In lieu of getting this fag out, you ended up just ... fagging out.

ATArena

Alexander's phone dinged with a notification, just as he left the exam. It was a beautiful summer afternoon, and he was still talking with a few other students, so, naturally, he ignored the unexpected noise. Even though Alexander was certainly a digital native, he found it rude to check his phone while in company of others. He didn't particularly enjoy his current company: He found Christopher the guy that was currently bragging about how easy the exam was slightly annoying, but that wasn't a reason not to show good manners.

Only after their ways split, Alexander unlocked his phone and saw the notification: "Your watched App, ATArena, is now available."

ATArena? Alexander didn't remember he had watched an app with that name. Still, the notification seemed genuine and lead him to the app marketplace where he could initiate the download. The description was sparse: "An epic battle with a revolutionary matchmaking algorithm that will extend into real life!"

That sounded like an AR game of some sort. Alexander had enjoyed the big Pokeman Run hype some years ago and certainly didn't mind giving this app a try.

When he opened the app for the first time, it asked him for the usual: His real name as well as his nickname. Alexander put in the same for the latter that he used everywhere: Lex_88. A short busy spinner appeared and finally, a message box greeted him:

"Welcome to ATArena, Lex_88! A suitable opponent has already been found. Connecting now..."

After he tapped "Ok", a chat interface opened:

TopShot joined the game.

TopShot: Hi.

Alexander didn't know how to react exactly. He was socially awkward, but ignoring the unknown other player would be rude. So, he just typed:

Lex_88: Hi.

Before any of them could type anything else, a popup opened:

"Battle available! Tap to play."

Alexander tapped the button and wondered what would happen now. Was this some kind of word puzzle or quiz against each other?

What opened though, was a simple depiction of three six-sided dice. When Alexander tapped them, a roll animation appeared until they settled at 14 eyes in total. Not bad!

"Lex_88 rolled: 14. TopShot rolled: 10. Lex_88 wins!"

The screen changed to a wheel of fortune now, which was already in motion. When it came to a stop, it showed a muscled arm emoji and the sparkling word "Bicep size" appeared on his screen.

Immediately, Alexander felt a weird tingling in his upper arms, accompanied by a tightness in the sleeves of his sweater. He locked his phone and scratched his arms but stopped immediately when his fingers met unexpected resistance. His upper arms seemed to have... swollen? What was happening?

Still on the university campus, Alexander made a dash for the nearest restroom and pulled off his sweater. He could hardly believe his eyes: His biceps had grown *considerably*, straining the seams of the t-shirt he wore underneath. When he moved his arms, the muscles bulged and contracted. It was a surreal feeling for sure. Was that the doing of this game?

Alexander unlocked his phone again saw a new message:

"Challenge! Record a video flexing your guns and upload it to social media!"

When he dismissed the message, he typed a message to his opponent.

Flex_88💪: Holy shit! My arms just grew!

Alexander stopped for a moment. Flex_88💪? That wasn't his nickname. Yet, when he scrolled up, it clearly appeared that way - that was the name saying "Hi." in the message before. It wasn't that far off from his usual nickname, which was... Flex_88💪. What was he even thinking about? That was just his screen name that he used almost everywhere, because of his biceps, obviously. His last message didn't make much sense, though. He added a:

Flex_88💪: I mean, they're pretty big, as always. Never mind!

It didn't feel good to brag, but there didn't seem to be a way to delete the message. But he might as well do the challenge now. It wasn't that unusual for him to post pictures and videos of his arms on social media, so, he recorded a short clip, made sure to crop out his surroundings and his face and sent the video to his LaterGram profile.

Just as he was done, TopShot had answered:

TopShot: Uhm, good for you, dude.

TopShot: Seems like you've won the last game.

Flex_88💪: Yeah, but it was pure luck. I'm sure you're gonna win the next one.

As if on cue, another "Battle available" popup opened. This time, Alexander's roll was pretty bad. The dice showed 2-5-2, bringing him to a meager 9, a bit below the expected value.

"Flex_88💪 rolled: 9. TopShot rolled: 9. Tie! Both win!"

Apparently, TopShot wasn't having a very lucky day, either. The wheel turned and showed a drop emoji. Alexander was still thinking about what could be the meaning of the drop, when the word appeared: "Libido".

Libido? So, this was an 18+ game? Still, Alexander felt hot all of a sudden. His cock was stiffing up and he realized that it had been ages since his last jerk-off. Hornyness clouded his mind, when the next popup opened:

"Challenge! Use a pick-up line on someone you fancy."

Alexander was usually way too shy to approach another guy, but in his current situation even thinking about sending someone a pick-up line seemed like a good idea. He could just send that TopShot guy one, he had the advantage that Alexander didn't know him and probably never would meet.

He thought about his options and decided that a classic would be the best choice.

Flex_88💪: You know, my arms aren't the only thing big right now ;-)

It only took a moment for the other player to respond.

SwitchHit: I know what you mean.

SwitchHit sent an image.

Alexander hesitated only a bit before he opened the image. Yep. It was a picture of a tented boxershorts, snapped from a hastily opened pair of pants. Alexander could feel his cock throb. If he wasn't in public... No, he had to restrain himself. Even though he was still horny, which really wasn't unusual for him, he took a breather and tried to fight his boner down. He had just masturbated before he left for class, it was just amazing how needy his cock could be. His phone dinged as he readjusted himself and left the bathroom.

SwitchHit: Looking forward to the next game. I mean it's just dice rolling and stupid challenges, but it's fun.

Even though Alexander agreed, something seemed off. Had SwitchHit changed his screen name? No, didn't seem that way.

"Battle available!"

Alexander immediately rolled his dice and hardly could believe his eyes: three sixes, a solid 18.

"Flex_88💪 rolled: 18. SwitchHit rolled: 15. Flex_88💪wins! Critical!"

15 was a pretty good roll, but nothing could beat Alexander's 18. He grinned as the wheel stopped on "Confidence".

"Challenge! Approach a local gym and negotiate a free trial using nothing but your charm and confidence. "

Xander grinned. Yeah, that was an awesome idea. He was originally on his way home, but finally joining a gym was long overdue. Luckily, there was one right on his way. Half an hour later, he had a full two month free trial and also a protein shaker as a gift. It had been easier than Xander had thought.

Suddenly, he remembered the game.

Flex_88💪: Hey SwitchHit, you still there?

SwitchHit: Yeah, sorry, I didn't want to message so much. Sorry!

Xander rolled his eyes. That guy needed to grow some balls. He was just about to reply, when the next battle was available. Xander really had to admit, what SwitchHit said was true: It was kind of fun!

This time, Xander rolled bad: The three dice showed a measly 8 points. Unsurprisingly, SwitchHit won.

"Flex_88💪 rolled: 8. SwitchHit rolled: 14. SwitchHit wins!"

Damn, this was the first time Xander lost. The wheel landed on a brain-emoji, and, unsurprisingly, it was labelled with "Smarts".

Xander scratched his head. What did that mean? Would he have some penalty challenge now? He would see soon enough.

"Challenge! Skip reading your usual news or books for the day. Instead, binge-watch a reality TV series."

Xander scratched his head again. Did he really want to do that?

Well, of course he wanted to! That sounded like a fun evening. Why would he read books?! He didn't even own books!

Flex_88💪: Man, those challenges are really ez. I need to watch some TV this evening, not read sum bokshit.

Xander typed the message as he arrived at his apartment. He fixed himself a quick dinner and sat down on the couch, turning on the TV.

SwitchHit: I agree. I have to read some Ovid tonight, which I find rather light literature.

Flex_88💪: Whatev you say, man. Hey, by the way, what's your name?

Flex_88💪: Mine's Xander.

SwitchHit: I don't know, I probably shouldn't share my real name on the internet.

Flex_88💪: Aw, come on. As if I could find out where you live with only your real name.

SwitchHit: ...Right. I'm called Chris.

Flex_88💪: Like Christian? Christopher?

SwitchHit: No, just Chris.

Flex_88💪: K. Hey, that pic was pretty hot back then.

They chatted a bit during the evening and exchanged some more pictures of tented pants. Xander was only half paying attention to the reality show on his screen, as one of his hands was more or less constantly in his pants. Still, it was just friendly teasing, no downright cyber-sex.

Eventually, Xander had finished the season and went to bed. SwitchHit - Chris - had called it a night an hour ago, but he still had to finish the last episodes. Good thing he didn't draw the book shit. That would've taken a week, not an evening.

When Xander woke up the next morning, the next battle was already waiting for him. He rolled the dice as he crawled out of bed, again rolling abyssal. Only six eyes were visible on his dice.

"Flex_88💪 rolled: 6. SwitchHit rolled: 10. SwitchHit wins!"

This time, the wheel landed on "Personality". Weird. That was a pretty vague category.

"Challenge! Show someone their place."

Xander raised his eyebrows. What a weird challenge. Anyway, time to for groceries!"

Xander drove over to the store in his old and cheap car. However, when he arrived, another visitor to the gym took the parking spot directly in front of the entrance. What an asshole!

Xander parked and got out of his car, quickly approaching the unsuspecting guy that just stole *his* spot.

"Hey, asshole! What do you think you're doing?!"

The man, a young guy with glasses and a bit on the nerdy side, looked up, surprised.

"What's your problem?"

"I'm the problem. Your problem. You just took my parking spot."

"Your spot? Don't be ridiculous."

Xander's hands balled into fists. That guy was really annoying!

"That was my spot, asshole. If you don't get your ass moving, I'll *make* you move."

"Alright, alright, chill down. Geez."

The other guy got in his car and parked in another spot. Xander nodded satisfied. He had shown him. Oh. Right, the challenge.

Entering the building (without moving his car), Xander checked his phone and sent SwitchHit a message:

Tank: Man, people are crazy today. Some asshole took my parking spot and I had to show him.

SwitchHit: Sorry to hear that.

SwitchHit: Did you change your screen name?

Tank: Nope. It's Tank, as it has always been. Because I'm a fricking TANK!

SwitchHit: Yeah. That makes sense.

"Battle available!"

Xander was collecting stuff from the shelves when he rolled the dice in-between. He rolled a solid 14, but Chris beat him by one point.

"Tank rolled: 14. SwitchHit rolled: 15. SwitchHit wins!"

Xander cursed loudly, making a few heads turn in the shop. The wheel turned and finally landed on a heart shape. "Empathy" it read. Another one of those fuzzy words.

"Challenge! Cut ties that hold you back!"

Xander scratched his head. What was that supposed to mean? He really wanted to win this game, so what did he have to do now?

As he thought about this, another message popped up, this time from the chat group with his closest circle of friends, who were planning their next meet-up. If Xander thought about it, he was really annoyed by those guys. They were all nerds and losers who always had shit ideas like board games and stuff. Without a second thought, Xander replied to the group.

Tank: I'm not coming. Those gatherings are a waste of time. Get lost, losers!

With that, he left the group and blocked the numbers of his so called friends. He had better things to do.

"Battle available!"

Like that, for example. Chris, who went by the silly nickname of CuddleBug, was at least a horny bastard like Xander himself. With a tap, he rolled the dice.

"Tank rolled: 12. CuddleBug rolled: 10. Tank wins!"

Oh yeah! The roll wasn't even so great, yet still he won. Xander smiled even broader when the wheel landed on a muscular torso, labelled simply: "Muscles."

In an instant, Xander felt his whole body swell up. No wonder. Axel basically *lived* in the gym. As he looked down, the fabric of his shirt had turned almost transparent with the sudden expansion of his muscles. It wasn't just his torso, of course. Axel didn't skip leg day, so his quads and hamstrings grew to impressive size, too. His shoulders were getting broad and wide, as well, to the point where he had difficulties reaching his back.

"Challenge! Show your gainz, buy a muscle shirt!"

Axel could have slapped his forehead. Why didn't he think of that himself - and sooner? He needed to share that thought.

Tank: Hey Chris, what ya tink? I should get a muscle shirt, huh?

Tank sent an image.

CuddleBug: Omg, yes. That will look awesome. I wish I had muscles like that.

Axel grinned. Right. No wonder that Chris agreed, Axel's muscles were a sight to behold. Good thing he was already in a store. He quickly bought a few muscle shirts, enough to replace his usual wardrobe. After paying for his purchase, Axel put on the new shirt right on the parking lot before squeezing himself into his car.

"Battle available!"

The game was pretty fast-paced. Axel tapped to roll the dice and was pumping his fist, when one after another, all three dice ended up showing a six.

"Tank rolled: 18. CuddleBug rolled: 4. Tank wins! Critical!"

"Ha! Yes!" Axel cheered and the wheel spun until it showed "Dominance".

A surge of excitement and satisfaction rushed through Axel's veins. He felt *good* all of a sudden. And *powerful*.

"Challenge! Assert your dominance! Challenge a gym bro today!"

Axel grinned. Yeah, that was exactly his thing. He needed to get to the gym anyway. That free membership was hard earned. Also, Chri- Kit seemed to like his gains. Time to make some more.

It was still early afternoon, and the gym wasn't packed with visitors yet, when Axel arrived. There were a few regulars, as always. A short dude with a moustache that looked like a wannabe porn star and a big dude with a neckbeard were currently occupying the bench press, while a girl in her 40s did lat pulls.

Confidently and arrogantly, Axel readjusted his half-hard cock and approached the big guy.

"Yo, man. You're pretty buff. But I bet I can still take you easily. Wann wrestle?"

The large dude looked at Axel for a moment. Axel could see a vein on his neck throb.

"You little shit. You think you're better than me, huh? Fine, let's do this."

In the pocket of his gym shorts, Axel could feel his phone vibrate.

"Ha. Lead the way, I'm gonna wipe the floor with you."

As he followed the big guy to the mats, Axel checked his phone.

"Battle available!"

Great! Before he kicked some ass, he could play some more! While walking, he rolled the dice and scored a 15!

"Tank rolled: 15. CuddleBug rolled: 9. Tank wins!"

He didn't have time to watch the wheel this time, so he didn't notice that it landed on "Stamina." He also didn't see the challenge, which simply read: "Kick some ass!"

The big guy was already waiting for him on the mats, but Axel felt incredibly cocky. This was gonna be easy!

"No rules, no limits, no mercy." Axel said and the other guy nodded.

"That's the way it's gonna be. No mercy, punk."

"Bring it, tubby."

The big guy was the first to charge and he was surprisingly fast for his size. However, his speed and strength were no match for Axel's new found muscles. Even though they wrestled for a few minutes, Axel found himself not even tiring much. Finally, he was able to flip his opponent around and lock him on the ground. He tried to struggle, but Axel held his arms and legs firmly in place.

"Give up, man. You can't win."

The big guy tried to wiggle out of Axel's grip, but to no avail. He could struggle and shout as much as he wanted, but Axel was the one on top.

Finally, the guy gave up and admitted defeat.

"Ha! Loser!" Axel cheered and got up. He had a full boner now, both from the sweaty wrestling as well as from the display of dominance, but he didn't hide it. Instead, he headed to the showers and let Kit know of his triumph on the way.

XxBeastxX: I just *dominated* some fuckin weakass in the gym. Wrestled him down and he was crying and everything.

Kit answered right away.

CuddleBug: You're awesome.

CuddleBug: I wish I could have been in this place.

XxBeastxX: Ha. Course I am.

XxBeastxX: Huh? Whatya mean?

CuddleBug: Nothing. Never mind.

Axel was about to answer, but yet another "Battle available!" message popped up.

This game was seriously addictive! Axel rolled the dice and had a 10, which was decidedly less than what Kit had.

"XxBeastxX rolled: 10. CuddleBug rolled: 11. CuddleBug wins!"

"Damn." Axel said, but the wheel landed on "Generosity." He was almost glad he lost. Otherwise, the challenge would probably have been something like "Donate to the homeless" or some shit. What did the homeless ever do for him?

Instead, the challenge was:

"Challenge! Sell something of sentimental value!"

Huh. Well, Axel didn't really have anything he would consider "sentimental". His old PS2 that he got from his uncle for his 10th birthday was a bit sentimental, but other than that... Oh! His old car would probably qualify.

Axel thought about it. On the one hand, his old car was a piece of shit, and he shouldn't care much about it, but on the other hand... It would be a shame if he would have to say goodbye to his baby. Would it? No, not really. It was a pain to squeeze into it anyway. And if he played his cards right, he would even get some good money for it.

The decision was easy, and after showering, Axel drove to the nearest car dealer. It was a hard bargain, but in the end, he managed to persuade the guy to buy his car. It wasn't a high price, but it was more than what the piece of crap was really worth.

Just as he finished the contract, his phone dinged. It was rude, of course, but he didn't give a flying shit about that and checked his phone. It was from Kit, of course.

TwinkyKit: I just donated some money to the homeless. That felt good!

Axel snorted. Of course, how pathetic.

XxBeastxX: Good. Maybe now they won't be so fucking lazy anymore and work a little.

"Battle available!"

It seemed like the game always interrupted their chats. Well, anyway. He quickly rolled the dice, while the car dealer waited patiently to return his attention to him again. The dice turned out lower than Kit's again and after reading the wheel result and the challenge, Axel looked back up to the car dealer. For a split second, the "Money" challenge was still visible on the screen: "Challenge! Buy a muscle car! You know you want it!"

Damn right he did. Jax had always wanted to have a muscle car. He just never had the money. Bullshit. He never had the balls to take on some debt to buy one.

The car dealer was more than willing to help Jax chose and set up the necessary credit paperwork. He didn't even read this shit and selected a car immediately. A shiny, silver beast with a huge engine. It was a bit pricy, but it was worth it, at least to Jax. After he received the keys, he messaged Kit.

XxBeastxX: While you were busy giving money to some crackheads, I got myself something new. Check this out!

XxBeastxX sent an image.

XxBeastxX sent an image.

The first image was the car of course. The second was a dick pic, for good measures. Jax didn't really care that he was still at the car dealer when he lowered his pants for a moment to snap the pic.

TwinkyKit: OMG. You're such a stud.

XxBeastxX: Thanks, Twinky.

XxBeastxX: By the way, show some respect!

He drove back home, feeling great.

At home, the next battle was already available. Jax grinned and rolled the dice. He could hardly believe what he saw: 3 single eyes. He rolled a fucking 3.

"XxBeastxX rolled: 3. TwinkyKit rolled: 3. Tie! Both lose! Critical!"

What a pathetic roll, for both of them!

The wheel landed on "Impulse Control". This was getting interesting. It was true, Jax was notoriously bad at controlling himself. He just bought a new car, on a whim. So whatever challenge was coming his way shouldn't be too hard.

"Challenge! Get that tat!"

Jax didn't think much about it. Sure, why not. He would probably regret it, but that was something future Jax would have to deal with. He started his shiny new car again and drove to a nearby tattoo studio.

When the artist asked what kind of design he wanted, he only thought for a second, before deciding: "A dragon, obviously!"

As the artist started working, he massaged his dick with his other hand, earning him a condescending look from the artist. He couldn't help it though. Kit... Kitty would surely love his new tat.

When he sent a pic later, he was proven right:

TwinkyKit: OMG! That's hot.

TwinkyKit: I wish I had one, too.

TwinkyKit: I mean: Sir.

Jax smiled and was about to type a reply, when another "Battle available!"-message distracted him.

He quickly rolled the dice and grinned at the result: 15! That beat Kittys sorry little ass for sure, and he was right. Kitty had a mere 7 points to show. This time, the wheel landed on "Aggressiveness."

If possible, Jax felt even more powerful and manly. The challenge read "Start a bar fight!" and that was exactly what Jax wanted to do this evening. Well, that or fuck some ass, but really, a good bar fight was probably even better tonight.

He quickly messaged Kitty.

Ass_Crusher🍆: Talk to you tomorrow. Gonna kick some ass now. Think of me when you jerk off tonight, boy!

Kitty responded almost instantly, with a picture of his uncut dick.

TwinkyKit: I will, Sir! Have fun.

Jax drove to the nearest gay bar, a shady joint called "Diesel". The music was loud, and the lights were dim. Jax didn't mind the atmosphere, though, instead, he went straight to the bar and ordered a double shot. He downed the drink and ordered a second. Just as the bartender placed the glass in front of him, he grabbed it and threw the liquor right into the bartender's face.

"The fuck?! What are you doing?!"

"What do you think, asshole?" Jax answered, his voice dangerously calm.

"You can't do this!"

"Yeah, I can. And you're going to shut the fuck up."

With those words, Jax slammed his fist in the bartender's face, who immediately fell to the ground. There had been really no reason for him to punch the bartender, but it had the intended effect: From one moment to the other, there was a barfight in full swing.

Of course, everyone tried to overwhelm Jax, but he fought back with vigor and stamina. Several black eyes and a broken nose on his enemies later, the patrons and the bar's bouncer managed to throw Jax out, but still, Jax had a great time, kicking ass and punching dudes. Before someone could call the cops, Jax went home, happy and content.

When Jax woke up the next morning, he almost didn't notice any bruises anymore. Instead, he grabbed his phone while he was doing his morning piss and checked ATArena. Yep, there was another battle available. Time to see if Kitty was already up.

He rolled the dice and only a minute later, Kitty's results came in. Easy win. Jax had rolled only a ten, but Kitty didn't beat him with his pathetic five. However, Jax laughed out loudly, as he saw the wheel's result: Dick size.

"Challenge! Show your assets!"

*That*, Jax could do. He watched as the cock in his hand grew longer and fatter by the second, instantly forgetting that it had once been smaller. No, Jax always had a big, fat and juicy cock, the biggest, actually. With a few last strokes, Jax sent a pic of his cock, the tip glistening wet.

Ass_Crusher🍆: Check that out. That's what a real cock looks like.

Ass_Crusher🍆 sent an image.

Ass_Crusher🍆 sent an image.

Ass_Crusher🍆 sent an image.

Jax sent several more images of his magnificent rod, both naked and wearing tight underwear. As if there was another kind. For Jax, all underwear was tight.

Finally, Kitty responded.

CrushersToyBoy: Fuck. You're so hot, Sir.

CrushersToyBoy sent an image.

Jax smirked. Kitty's own cock was tiny, especially compared to Jax' equipment. It didn't matter much, though. Kitty didn't need it, he needed to have his ass crushed.

Ass_Crusher🍆: I know, babe. I know. You know what I'll do with it now?

"Battle available!"

God dammit. This was getting annoying.

Jax quickly rolled the dice, scoring the top available score! 18 points! But apparently, Kitty was just as lucky, rolling an 18, too.

"Ass_Crusher🍆 rolled: 18. CrushersToyBoy rolled: 18. Tie! Both win! Critical!"

Jax didn't even need to read the attribute to feel it. It was "Libido, again." His already mostly hard cock surged up, becoming a firm steel pipe in his pre-cum soaked underwear. There were no pants on earth that could hide his constant arousal - on some days, even a firm pair of jeans left nothing to imagination and showed a wet patch where his cock was constantly leaking pre. He was a walking and breathing sex machine and Rex knew it. His name was fitting, too. He was a fucking king among men. And today he was going to breed the fuckable ass of that twink.

Ass_Crusher🍆: Get ready, boy. I'm cumming over and I'm gonna split open that ass of yours.

Rex closed the game and deleted it. There was no point in wasting his time with some stupid mobile game. He got back into his car and revved the engine. Oh yeah. Time to get some ass!

What a great game! I know I wouldn't mind playing if ATArena popped up on my phone, would you?

LifeCorp - My Story

This story came out early on my Patreon! If you're interested in early stories and other benefits check it out here! Want more details about that and my new roleplay discord server? Check out the post I made here!

Hey all! Jamal here again with another blog post. 

After enough nagging and curious questions from all of you around the office after my teasing in the last post, it's finally time to post a full timeline of my journey here at LifeCorp! A handful of you have known me since I first started working here, but most of you haven't. Some of you might have even known me at different points while working here and not even realised I was the same person. We all know what it's like though so I don't hold it against you!

Anyway, you're all reading this for the fun stuff, so I won't bore you with all the usual admin. On with the story I'm sure will give a lot of you a great start to the work week ;)

~~~

My story starts around 5 years ago when I first applied for LifeCorp. 

I didn't even know what the company did when I first applied; I just saw an open position that paid well in my local area and had good benefits. Teaching had exhausted me. I needed a change, something less intense that would leave me with time to live my life, and this was perfect. Flexible hours, private company healthcare, no strict dress code, and on site leisure and spa facilities. Dream right? You all know how amazing it is to work here, I don't need to explain that, but coming off the back of a job that had absolutely none of that it sounded too good to be true. And this was just some entry level admin job back then, and now here I am.

I was like most of us probably were when we started here. Barely able to believe in the interview what this company claimed they did was real, only to see first hand as one of the interviewers gives a demonstration. You've all met David I assume, but for those that haven't he's our head of recruitment. To cut a long story short (because you're here for my journey not David's) I got to watch as he went from old distinguished businessman to young ripped jock to finish the rest of the interview. A wild ride on your first time as you all well know. 

But that’s the same thing we’ve all been through. Whether you were a customer originally or an unaware employee like I was, we all had a first experience seeing the changes LifeCorp can make. And getting to feel them for ourselves.

Time for some background on me though. Or the old me anyway, since most of you haven’t known me since I joined.

As I already said, I used to teach before I came here. Maths if you can believe that. My name was James, the average, slightly nerdy type you’d expect of someone that’d gone into teaching. Not an introvert exactly, but not the guy you all know me as now. And yes, white too. I know, crazy to believe I used to be some little white dude before LifeCorp gave me a new shot, and I’m with you. I’m still that same guy obviously, but James feels so far away now from the man I’ve grown into.

My first real experience with what LifeCorp has to offer was at the Summer Swap Party. You’ve all been to, or at least heard of them I’m sure, the annual party held at the main office where everyone gets swapped around and ridiculously drunk. 

I went along just to meet new people a month or so after joining. I felt like I hadn’t really given people a chance here, didn’t give myself time to get to know anyone outside of my immediate circle in the admin job. I was well aware of everything that went on here by now, so I knew what to expect when I arrived. Or, at least I thought so. Arriving at the large hall and getting corralled into a swap pod to exchange bodies with someone at the party at random wasn’t how I’d expected things to go, but I hadn’t been given a lot of time to process things. 

Now, if you haven’t been through one of these swaps it’s a wild ride. There’s an all-consuming nothingness that overwhelms you for several seconds as you’re tied up into just your consciousness, right before being transferred in less than a second  to your new body. Seriously, if you somehow haven't tried it you haven't felt anything like it; imagine being awake whilst you're asleep is genuinely the most accurate description.

Once I came around on the other side and I was with it enough to be let out, that's when I realised who I was. 

Mr Korey, the man hosting the party.

You all know him obviously, he's probably reading this very blog post along with you. If so, I'd like to say how nice you were and how much fun I had in your body as my first experience not as myself! Seriously all of you, being a handsome older gentleman with an excellent physique as the literal first time I ever looked different was a wild time. And he seemed pretty happy as me, so none of us were complaining. I got to walk around drinking and chatting with all this confidence I never had before; all whilst looking like some handsome Daddy. It was the most fun I'd had in a long time, and really went a long way to opening my mind to the idea of changing.

I will admit though I did sneak off at one point to get a closer look. He was always wearing these fancy suits that hinted at his physique, so I couldn’t really be blamed for wanting to get a little more familiar with the body I could feel under these clothes. 

A bathroom just outside of the main party hall, with just enough time and just enough space to lock myself inside and strip. I knew I wouldn’t have long before people noticed I was missing, so I made light work of carefully unbuttoning his shirt, hanging it up and really getting a good look at his muscles. All I can tell you without getting in too much trouble with Mr Korey is he’s even more jacked than you all think he is, and even more hung than that. Seriously, I had a lot of fun all by myself in that bathroom before I rejoined the party, but out of respect I’ll leave that to the imagination.

One evening of talking, drinking and getting weirded out by but also loving not being myself, it was finally time to swap back. It was kind of a shame since I'd finally got used to feeling the scratch of a beard and feeling older, but I knew it was only temporary. So back into the machine I went to swap myself back. Just the same as before, several moments later I was stepping out the machine the other side as myself once more. 

James again. 

~~~

Nothing else really happened for almost a year. By the time Valentine's Day rolled around I'd been with the company for almost a full year, and happier than ever in the job. No longer the newbie, I was fully immersed in being a part of LifeCorp. 

It was then the Valentine's special rolled around, just as I announced this year a couple of weeks ago.

I'd been thinking on and off ever since the summer party. Being a handsome, fit gentleman had really done a number on me. That and seeing everyone around me constantly changing when I was collating and entering all sorts of data about changes really didn't mean I had a moment to take my mind off it. 

There were two issues that'd kept me from ever doing anything. Indecisiveness, and money. One was decided with time; I'd made a decision that if I ever did make any changes to myself I'd stick to looking like me and just making some upgrades instead of a total rewrite. The money side at the time did worry me too. I was paid well for the job I did, very well as the salaries are here, but still the sudden chunk of cash out of my monthly budget was a huge concern. But with the offer, which as it turned out was heavily discounted for new employees, the option was suddenly on the table. 

So I did what anyone would when given the opportunity to freely change themselves and went for it. Because who wouldn’t, right? We see it all the time here, people coming in because they aren’t happy with something about themselves, and I was just the same. I had a list of things I wanted changing when I went in, some more predictable than others. Muscle was a big one; if I was going to do this I wanted to finally capitalise on the desire to be bigger. Hair was another thing I’d never really worked out what to do with, so a new cut or complete change to my hair was on the list. To top that all off there were a whole host of more minor things I wanted, nose reshaped, jaw squared out, even my voice I wanted to try changing. And, of course like any man I asked if they’d make my cock bigger. Besides that I left it in the hands of our wonderful designers here, knowing after so many months of working here they’d do a good job at changing me whilst staying true to me.

How I turned out was better than anything I could have asked for or designed myself. A hint of stubble, defined muscles, a general vibe that just oozed masculinity. Short styled hair and what I already knew was a larger bulge between my legs. I was a stud to say the least. What really topped it all off though, more than the muscle or anything, was knowing in the moment that this was the only me now. This wasn’t like the last time with Mr. Korey where I knew it was temporary fun, this was me. No smaller body to go back to, no time limit. I was a handsome, beefy jock and that was it.

“Fucking hell James, look at you.” I remember muttering to myself as I flexed. “Fit, ripped, fuck this is incredible.”

That self worship continued on for several more minutes as I really got a feel for this new body. Posed a few times, worked out how to bounce my pecs, and explored my new equipment some. It was probably a good half hour I spent in that little room coming to terms with this being my new reflection from now on and deciding what clothes suited me best.

It’s a moment still burned into my memory to this day even if it was years ago. The first time I stepped permanently away from my old self and towards the new. A lot of clients I’ve spoken to in more recent years since changing jobs say the same thing and I can really attest to the same; the first you make a permanent change you’re not planning to go back on is unforgettable. 

~~~

To say my life changed from then on would be an understatement. I wasn’t unhappy before, far from it, but it was like waking up into a dream you realised was never going to end. Being in a body like the new one I had proved to be everything I felt like was missing in my otherwise ordinary life. I was happier day to day, more confident and outgoing, even started going out to bars and clubs more when I usually never did.

I worked out a lot too. LifeCorp for those of you that don’t know have specialists on hand to help ease people into their new bodies if needed. Many former men need help looking after a woman’s body; older people offered classes and guidance on how to fit in with a younger crowd after an age regression; or newly muscular jocks like I was that needed a personal trainer to show them how to lift and maintain the new size.

For me that came in the form of Ryan. 

He’s one of the consulting PT’s at our gyms, or used to be a few years ago back when my first changes happened. Solid guy, both literally and in the not so literal sense. He was a huge help getting me into the routine I’m still in now. He taught me pretty much everything I know now, for the most part. A lot of you probably saw the two of us in the gym together, since we’d be there for a good couple of hours a day, six days a week. That routine hasn’t changed either in all the years since! How to scale my weight up, the right form and how to plan the number of sets, all of it Ryan taught me down to the finest detail.

Eventually our training sessions turned more into just two dudes working out together once I’d picked up the important parts. I’d always been a quick study, so it didn’t take long until we were laughing and pumping iron together. We got pretty close over the weeks we spent training me up with all the knowledge I needed and forming the gym-going habit. He was the first person I really got close to since the change, bonding over my new love of the gym amongst other things. It felt good making a new friend because of the changes, someone I wouldn’t have otherwise probably known.

Even after Ryan moved away to another part of the company I didn’t let things slip. This wasn’t like some new year’s resolution a lot of people make and quickly give up on, this was the real deal. I’d paid for the upgrade, and I was going to make damned sure I got the most out of it. Part of me always wanted to before all this and just hadn’t had the motivation, the changes and the thought of squandering them along with Ryan’s help was the final kick up the ass I needed. Even when I didn’t need Ryan’s help anymore I was always in the company gym before work for at least an hour; I’d always been an early bird and it turned out I loved working out in the mornings.

I loved working out full stop really. The rush, seeing the pump afterwards and knowing that yeah, whilst I skipped ahead, it was still the working out I was doing almost every day that was keeping me looking like this. I had fully made the jump from average burned out nerdy teacher to a thriving jock that was happier than ever. But this, of course, wasn’t the end of my story…

~~~

Over time I fell happily into the jock life, I even switched jobs after a couple of months after the initial treatment. The old one had gotten boring now I’d grown so much, so I made a slightly impulsive decision to move to a more front-facing role. I’d taught, I knew how to stand in front of people and talk about something I knew a lot about. And in my time here and with my first-hand experience I could certainly do that. So instead of admin I moved over to public relations, helping to promote the company and the work we do.

My life just generally got better over the following year or so. My new position was great, helping people fulfil their dreams like I had. I made new friends at the gym and at work, a lot of which I still know today. Even dated a little more than I had before now I was going out in the evenings more. Being a jock had well and truly folded itself into part of who I was after so many years of wanting it; I couldn’t have asked for more.

Until a year later and when the next valentines offer came around I decided to go for it again. 

It was a curiosity more than anything that made me go for it. I’d spent the happiest year of my life in all things gym bro, and that made me wonder what it would be like to go further. I’d been more concerned with maintaining what I had in the gym than actually putting more size on, but now the opportunity had come around again with the discount tempting me it was too good to resist. What gym-going dude wouldn’t wonder what the upper limit of what was possible for his body was?

Many of you might not know this, but LifeCorp can actually show you that. I only knew about it because of my former position doing admin and processing many customer’s files. It’s a hypothetical “if everything went right in your original life, how would it be possible for you to look?” type deal. I’m not going to pretend to understand the science behind it, but it’s something to do with filtering your DNA that our very, very smart scientists came up with. 

Nevertheless, that’s what I asked for. Takes them a few days to comb through your genetics and make a full model, but a few days after the request it was all ready. Ready for me to once more take another step forwards in my journey, though this one wasn’t quite as life altering as the last.

On the other side of it all, big was the first thing I felt when I stepped out. Now, at this point remember I’d only been at all muscular for around a year, so getting bigger all over again was quite the jump. And when I say big, I mean huge. Bodybuilder absolutely fucking enormous. Muscle on top of muscle. Perfect beard I’d never quite been able to figure out growing. Huge and ridiculously handsome. This was everything my genetics could have made me, which honestly is still crazy to look back on.

Now I’m used to being this size, but back then nothing could have prepared me. A whole new wardrobe was needed first off which LifeCorp helped with, but it was more than just that. I kept bumping into things and definitely didn’t know my own strength for a while. I wouldn’t change a moment of the adjustment period though, not since I got to see myself every day and know this was everything I could be. The bumps and bruises from walking into things or broken glasses from accidentally squeezing too hard was all worth it to end up so big and thick with muscle. 

I got promoted again too. 

This is where some of you newer folk will start to remember me, hell you can still see them using my image in some of the branding. I signed on to do a little modelling for the company as one of their success stories, an example of the work they can do to encourage others to make use of our products. I gave talks about my experience, helped coach a few people through their own changes as Ryan had done for me, all sorts of stuff in addition to getting paid to show my body off. If you ever find yourself wondering where Jay disappeared off to, that was me. I started using that instead of James for a while after this round of changes, since that felt more fitting of a guy like I’d become. Shorter and snappier, it was a sign of the man I’d become and how far I’d grown. Literally and metaphorically.

~~~

For a while I thought that would be it. Over a year and a half I spent as Jay the devilishly handsome bodybuilder enjoying the path life had taken me down. A Valentine's Day offer even came and went which I had no need for, I was fine just as I was that year around. I couldn’t see myself wanting any different. 

That was until a company seminar on racial diversity and the science that comes with changing someone’s ethnicity at LifeCorp. You see, despite the muscular exterior and new love of the gym, I’m still the same nerd that originally became a maths teacher. I’ve always been fascinated by science and mathematics, still am, so when I started working for LifeCorp it didn’t take me long to sign onto these various seminars they occasionally run. Now I’m still not going to pretend to understand half the complicated processes they talk about, but listening to it all explained is well worth the time. I’ve been to several of them over the years, and this in my eyes was just another one of those. I’d been to ones on how genders get changed, how like me they can make muscles grow in a matter of hours instead of months, how they can fix your DNA and reverse ageing for clients that want to get younger. 

This one was, at least at first, just the same as any of those. Talking about specific genes and the fancy tech they used to change them, it was all very interesting. They went on into detail about how this type of change could be set to take anywhere from minutes to hours unlike a lot of other changes, the reason for which was another thing I didn’t quite understand. What I did understand was what they were asking next. 

“Could we have a volunteer? We’d like to show you in real time how we delve into and edit the DNA to send the change over the skin.” The woman giving the presentation had said. “Rest assured we’ll have you back in your proper skin in a few hours once the initial molecular trauma is over.”

I still couldn’t tell you now what made me raise my hand. Call it professional curiosity, but up I went to volunteer myself for this physical demonstration. I climbed to the stage, got hooked up to several machines and stood there whilst they started the process. 

It was slow to begin with. They went over in real time as they went into my system and looked for the right things, and all about how they then went about changing it. Asian for the purposes of the demonstration. There was some mention of the previous processes I’d been through too; since I’d been turned into the height of what my potential was almost two years ago there was an almost 100% certainty whatever changes they made here temporarily would also result in me being a stud still.

After several minutes of explanation it was time to actually start. Several injections later and I was standing shirtless letting everyone in the room watching the slow, subtle changes. They’d asked me to at least take my shirt off so everyone could watch, which I was more than happy to oblige on. I’ve had a bit of a thing for showing off since all the changes, and shamelessly still do. So it wasn’t much of an ask at all to stand there half naked whilst everyone, myself included, got to watch me shift from white to Asian.

The whole thing was fascinating. The subtle but distinct change of facial features, skin tone shifting slightly, some of my body hair fading away. I was still massive, that didn’t change one bit, but everything else shifted. There was still some sign of me in there too, that was the wildest thing. I couldn’t really place what it was exactly, but looking into my own eyes in the mirror they’d given me I could still see myself.

After it was all done and they’d used me to show what they wanted to show, the seminar was done. They assured me that in a couple of hours if I came back I’d get back to being myself, but until then I was free to do as I liked.

And what was a man to do with a couple of free hours? Workout of course. 

Off to the company gym I went for a good chest workout before it would be time to get swapped back. I always spent the longest on my chest whenever I did it, so I knew two hours would be just enough time for a good workout and a shower. The facilities on site are excellent if you haven’t been by the way, I’d totally recommend it. 

It didn’t turn out to be all that weird from what I remember. I’d walked out of the seminar thinking I’d find the whole race switching to feel odd if nothing else, but it was quite the opposite. I felt fine, good really. Working out always made me feel good, but this wasn’t just that. I couldn’t really put my finger on it, but I still remember that chest workout was one of the best I’ve ever had to date.

I even had a little time spare to feel myself up in the shower. I couldn’t help video myself as I washed off the sweat; seeing myself as an Asian man was just so different and I had to capture it before it all went away. By the time the shower was over it would be time to go back, so it was worth having something hot for the record. I can tell you now I’ve jerked off over it more than a handful of times since then, both from the position of knowing it was me in that moment and it just being a fit Asian stud.

Would I have sex with that version of me? You’re damn right I would. I mean, just look how good I look soaping up my pecs? I even got a close-up for all you horny bastards to enjoy.

Alas, it all had to come to an end. As fun as it was, I had only signed up for it to be temporary. I was a white guy at the end of the day, even if I had spent a couple of fun hours as another race it wouldn’t want it to be permanent. It wasn’t my place to want something like that, even if it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence at the company. A little fun for an afternoon after an educational seminar that was now over, that’s all I told myself it was at the time.

~~~

The thing about those little earworms? They’re hard to get rid of. 

Those things you tell yourself you don’t or shouldn’t want, even if you know deep down you do. You want to buy that new bag that’s just been put on sale but you stop yourself. You want those football season tickets and buying them early means they’re cheaper, but still you can’t justify it. That’s how I felt every time I thought back on what I’d been through at that seminar. Because honestly, being a different race and seeing a totally different reflection had been a weird sort of thrill. It was me still just about, but twisted into something so far from who I used to be. 

I couldn’t stop thinking about it over the following months. I felt guilty for wanting it, but the guiltier I felt the more I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Guilt can be a little backwards like that. But I swore off it; I couldn’t just change myself like that, it wouldn’t be right. 

Only… Then Valentine’s Day rolled around again. 

I’ve been known in the past to make the odd impulsive decision. That’s what had led me to quit teaching when it was a stable job I was good at. It was what took me down this path of changing myself too. So what harm would one more be when most of them had turned out good in the end? It was like the urge to jump when you’re standing on the edge of a cliff. Any moment you could just say fuck it and tumble off the edge…

The day at the office was what did it. February 14th and I was at work like always, chatting to prospective customers and giving a presentation to some of our newer employees. Talking all day to couples and people making changes for romantic reasons must have gotten to me, because before I knew it I was on my lunch break and making a booking for the particular transformation I wanted. If they could get what they wanted and be happy about it, why couldn’t I? Maybe it was the love in the air or something pushing the impulsiveness but before I knew it I was down in the labs that afternoon talking over what I wanted. 

Total race change, a new version of the current me, just like they’d done a few months ago. This time I wasn’t going Asian though. As fun as that had been, I had something a little darker in mind after months of letting it churn in the back of my mind. Black. Why that I didn’t know, but now the doors to the idea had been opened, I knew that was what I wanted. Needed, as weird as that was to admit. 

The process was much like any other I’d been through once all the paperwork was filled out. This was permanent, so there’s always more to do. Once it was all filed away they loaded me up into their machines as I’d done a handful of times now and it was off. 

I was saying goodbye to my whiteness for good. The exhilaration I felt as I watched my skin slowly flush darker was tenfold of what I felt when I’d become Asian or when I’d just become bigger. The darker I got the better I felt, like a weight off my shoulders. I’d been thinking about this for months and felt guilty for it, now I’d actually gone through with it I was already feeling better.

There was a slight shift in the way everything looked as I got darker too. My nose widened and lips filled out, my whole face shifting ever so slightly to take on a more African descended version of me. Muscle too wasn’t spared as it grew bigger still into a beefy, well proportioned size; I was getting taller but still keeping a similar proportion as I had before as either white or Asian. I had the same mass as before, but with the unexpected increase in height it was levelling out to a thick bulk I was happy with. The black version of me they unlocked in my genes was tall and an absolute stud. Not to mention hung too. 

When I finally stepped out of LifeCorp's machines I knew this was going to be the last time I made major changes to myself. It was just instinct. The reflection I could see in the mirror across the room just clicked with something deep inside me; this was who I was meant to be. The version of me I knew I was happiest as.

As always they helped me into a few loose clothes they knew would fit, more for their benefit than mine, then at last let me look at myself in a mirror. A tracksuit and socks was all I had on after declining a tank top for now; I wanted to get a proper look at my newly black body.

And what a sight it was. Devilishly handsome with a full beard and well proportioned but still thick muscles on my taller frame, I’d never seen myself quite as good looking as this. The wider nose, dark, tightly curled hair and overall blackness I saw looking back at me just felt right in a way I couldn’t put my finger on. A lot of clients say the same thing when they get to a version of themselves they’re happy with, and looking at myself then I finally understood what they meant.

“Everything to your liking then James? Jay, sorry.” One of the scientists I'd known for a while asked as I admired myself. 

I smirked. “Oh this is better than anything I could have dreamed up, fuck this is good.” I didn't pull my focus away from the mirror, too absorbed in admiring this new permanent version of me. “And I think I might change my name one more time. James was the old me, and Jay worked for a while as a shorter version. This new body though… this is it I think. How about Jamal instead? Close enough that it feels familiar…”

“If Jamal is the name you want I can put the request in to have it changed?” He asked, already grabbing a tablet to start the name changing form. 

I thought about it for another moment, then turned to him and nodded. “Yeah, please. Jamal it is, that's me now.”

You can see now that I didn't know what I was worrying about. Plenty of customers at LifeCorp have been through the same race change as me for all sorts of reasons, I was just another one of them. I looked and felt better now I was a handsome black stud, this was the version of me that would see out the rest of my life.

In the year since that day I've only felt more secure in my decision. 

My identity has settled into being a black dude, just as I once jumped from a nerdier guy to a jock. This was one more jump like that I needed to make to feel more comfortable in myself. I’d always enjoyed tattoos and wanted to get some, so took this opportunity now I was happy with myself to finally get inked. Down one arm and something in the middle of my back too, all to celebrate how I’d found myself.

Another promotion only a week after I became black landed me here in my current role as Social Media Manager, and it's been a dream. All the perks of working here at LifeCorp, a good salary, and flexible hours to boot. Spend most of my time making posts such as these and coordinating our public image alongside the wider marketing department. Alongside all that I still have a lot of client interactions at various events and talks I give, but I'm not as outward focused as I was as Jay.

Workouts have been better than ever too. I feel like I've reached a point in the gym I'm happy with; I've been working out consistently for the last few years at this point and loving every second. It feels like a second home now honestly, which I never thought I’d be saying. I’ve kept up the work I started in helping newly muscular individuals in getting comfortable working out. Even if it wasn’t all naturally grown like some of our personal trainers I’ve been at this for enough years now I know how to put a workout together. Even dabbled in the idea of getting an official personal trainer certification too, just so I can step up my game a little in that as well as part of my work here at LifeCorp.

First day of the rest of my life that decision was. I'm grateful to who I used to be, without him I wouldn't be the man I am today. To become black, become Jamal though on top of all the growth I'd been through; I've never looked back.

~~~

So that’s pretty much it from me!

Longer one than usual I know but worth it to get the full timeline out there. Hope you all enjoyed this look into my journey to the man I am today, because honestly I wouldn’t change a second of it. It was fun to relive the whole trip, so I hope you all enjoyed it too. Feel free to leave comments or send me messages if you have any questions, always happy to talk a little about myself!

That’s all folks, I’ll see you in another blog post.

 Jamal - Social Media Manager

Ugh, they sent the wrong suitcase to my hotel room! This thing is almost as big as me, and all the clothes are extra extra larges! I’ve heard y’all have dealt with suitcases before. The tag says it belongs to someone named Mourad.

You open the suitcase. But you are hit with a wave of sweaty smell. The suitcase obviously contains only dirty laundry. Disgusting! And somehow attractive at the same time… You take one of the jockstraps and press it in front of your mouth and nose… You remember how the lads used to do it to you in gym class. One of them was also called Mourad. You take another deep breath. The jockstrap smells exactly like a jockstrap should smell. Like sweat, cum and piss. You take off your pants and boxers. And the jockstrap on. Your cut cock gets hard on the spot.

You feel the urge to work out your body. You grab a pair of shorts, sports socks, a tank top and a pair of sneakers from your suitcase. Hmmmm! The tank top is still damp from your last workout. Just like the socks. Sure, that's your sweat. From the last workout. That was in Istanbul. It's hard to have clean clothes when you're always on the road. But your job as a civil engineer brings that with it. And in the gym and on the construction site, clean clothes are not so important.

Fuck, that was a really good workout. You take off your tank top and dry your forehead and chest as best you can with the sweaty piece of fabric. Quickly take a selfie for your husband in Ankara. "Miss you, honey. But I'll take care of the body you love so much. Kisses, Mourad"

Who else wants to enjoy this hairy view of himself in baller shorts?

That's the goal: just a brown haired bro in baller shorts.

Hey support, I was messing with the race change features and was wondering if you had any ideas for me? I just kinda want a life where I’m someone other than a skinny white guy

Slender, skinny white boy. That seemed to be your fate… No matter what sport you did, no matter what you ate: You always look like you're about to starve.

Actually, you're damn jealous of the big hairy guys in your gym, where you struggle unsuccessfully… But you can't admit that. " Miserable Arabs", you hiss. Just loud enough for them to hear. One of the musclemen stands up and walks towards you with heavy steps… He puts his huge arm around your bony shoulders. And whispers softly in your ear "Miserable Persians. Not miserable Arabs. Believe me, brother, you'll soon understand the difference."

You are in a state of shock. You've finished your training for today. You have to get out of here. You have to get out of your training clothes too. Shit, the collar of your T-shirt is almost choking you off. You really have to make an effort to tear it off on the way to the changing room. Damn, that feels good. You're breathing heavily. And your hairy chest muscles rise and fall. Your training shorts are tight against your huge thighs. You concentrate. You tense your thighs. And you burst the seams of your shorts. Your cock, circumcised by a gifted Persian doctor, sticks half stiffly out of the shreds of your trousers. The door to the changing area opens behind you. The Persian boys come in. They push you against the wall. And rip the rest of your clothes off.

They talk at you. You don't understand a word. Hardly a word. The boys are from the Yasd area, you are from Isfahan. They speak with a strange accent. And they have such divine cocks. One of the boys fucks you. You give another one a blowjob. The other two wank and shoot their load in your face.

The orgasm blows your lights out. You've been gone for a few seconds. You hear the boys laughing in the shower room. Sunset prayer is in an hour. By then you should have changed out of your sweaty gym clothes and done the ablutions. You can only hope that you don't get hosed down again in the shower. Then you won't have time until prayer…

Can you turn me into a sexy orc?

Let me check the system... Yes.

We have one orc in our database who has been waiting for a human-orc bodyswap request. He is sexy, some would say. He runs his own construction business, unsuccessfully, and likes blue-collar dudes, mostly.

To consent to the swap, you must reblog this post. Once your reblog is posted, @maletf32, your swap will be activated instantly.

No commentary is required, as some language skills are diminished during activation.

Caution: You may feel some slight discomfort as your humanity is replaced with orc urges and desires. Be careful with your new strength; it is limitless.

The swap will expire at midnight, but your new orcine nature, and lack of language skills, will be yours to keep on a go forward basis.

This request will be marked as completed, and your customer service ticket will be closed. Additional requests will require additional sacrifices. Thank you in advance for your reblog.

I wish to be turned into a muscular gym-obsessed Krampus for the holidays

Christmas morning, you discovered an unusual ornament on your holiday tree. You were sure it wasn't there on Christmas Eve.

But for you, a disciplined young aesthetic bodybuilder with the body to prove it, every day was gym day, wasn't it? Even Christmas Day.

Spending time with loved ones didn't matter. Figuring out where that odd ornament came from didn't matter.

Your ever-improving body was the only thing that mattered. Self-obsessed? A bit.

Working your way from machine to machine, you're suddenly meeting, then exceeding, your all-time bests, moving mind-boggling amounts of iron as if it didn't weigh anything.

This was awesome. You never felt better, stronger or more powerful. When your body is all that matters, and you had a day like today in the gym, you chalked it up to all your hard work finally starting to pay off.

Until you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.

Your bros were in awe of your pump today, dude. But there was no time to worry about appearances or stare at yourself in the mirror. You felt like you could keep lifting for a few more hours.

So you did.

Nothing could stop you. Your body was feeling like you always dreamed it could feel. Your strength felt unlimited. Because it was.

And then you didn't need to worry about your body anymore. Your body had finally become what it was meant to become all long:

The Krampus.

This meant you had a new long-term priority from then on:

Frightening little children who misbehave.

Now you'll get to enjoy your new body, Krampus, until the strike of twelve midnight on January 6th when the holiday season comes to a close, and you'll be returned to your normal body, just as requested. You'll be ready to return to work by the second week of January 2024. Somehow, that strange ornament will have disappeared as well.

Just kidding. The change is permanent.

Happy holidays, Krampus!

And joyous tidings to you for the years and years and years and years to come.

Thank you for your wish. Fulfillment has been completed.

people are always mourning twink death but they don’t celebrate bear birth. why don’t you think about fat hairy gay men for a bit maybe you’ll feel better