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This Is How You Recruit Gym Bros

Drake stood in front of one of many mirrors in the gym lobby and took out his phone. Then he flexed his pumped arm and got a few pictures for Instagram. As he did the Gym Owner walked up to him.

"How was the day, Drake?" he asked as he put his hand on Drake's shoulder. The gym bro grinned and did a double biceps pose, showing off his muscles to his own-- his employer.

"Good, boss." He replied in his usual dumb and low voice. "Had three clients, got sick pump on huge guns" He then flexed his arms again, showing off his biceps to the Owner.

Owner walked up to Drake and squeezed these pumped biceps.

"That's good, you're a great asset." He inhaled the gym bro's sweaty scent and saw as Drake grinned and began laughing like the dumb jock he was.

"Yes, boss" Drake drawled, his eyes unfocused, his mouth slightly open and drool starting to leak from it.

Only two weeks earlier Drake was David. A scrawny college student, whom the Owner attracted to his new gym with a heavily discounted monthly pass. He also showered him with free workout gear, as well as a jersey, a few chains and caps.

For David it was just a way of building brand loyalty or some similar bullshit, but for the Owner it was something more. The desired effects became apparent very quickly. As David continued wearing the gear he got, his mental capacity quickly deteriorated. His speech patterns became very basic and full of jock speak, he stopped attending classes and instead started spending hours and hours in the gym.

Barely a week has passed and David was now a muscular jock. The Owner decided that was the moment to act.

"Hey, man, I've seen you around the gym a lot recently."

"Huhuhuh, yeah bruh" David responded and scratched his crotch.

"What would you say if I would propose you work for me as a Personal Trainer? I need guys like you here."

"Uhhhh, bruh... I guess, like I dunno dude, uuuuhh..."

"Great!" Owner took David and guided him to his office. "You're redy to become an asset of Steel Gym, Drake!"

"Duuuude, it's like, uhhh... David--"

"Drake. That's your name. That's what in the gym's system."

"Drake?" the gym bro looked at the Owner with a confused expression. He, in response took a chain laying on his desk and put it around Drake's neck. The bro immediately relaxed, his eyes unfocused, and he grinned lazily.

"Drake... trainer... good asset... gym... boss..." he drawled as he signed the contract and officially became the gym's newest machine.

Lucky

Back at it again with @mrrharper

Colt was the greatest roommate I could have ever asked for, and I am surprised that nobody had snatched him before I did. I was so lucky to have found him.

I had been searching for a dude pretty similar to myself to room with: sameish age, comparable activities, would not have a problem with me bringing home a girl from the club every once and a while. Colt was all that and more. He was responsible and took his share of chores, was active and cared about sports (although he cheered for the wrong teams), and he was great at giving me my space but was also always willing to hang. He even gifted me with a playlist for the gym! Colt was just so thoughtful.

Colt was very sympathetic about my current situation, understanding that it would take a little bit before I found a stable job. He did not mind however, reminding me that as long as I had the money to pay for rent, he did not care what I did. This meant my weeks were fairly open to begin with, mostly spent applying and interviewing for jobs with my history degree. I visited the gym twice or three times a week for some light cardio, using Colt’s playlist to keep me motivated. His choices in music were perfect; I would finish my workouts before I even realized it.

As time went on, Colt and I got to spend more time with each other, learning about our individual hobbies and interests. We shared one of these moments while watching a game together between my favorite team, the New England Patriots, and his, the Philadelphia Eagles. It was a brutal match, with both of us cheering rampantly for our different picks. Colt’s team had been having a rough season already, so it was not surprising when the Patriots pulled ahead in the end. I was cheering and hollering, engrossed in my team’s victory.

“Isn’t it difficult to always be supporting the best team, Mike?” Colt suddenly asked.

I frowned, “What do you mean?”

“It’s so much pressure to always be on top. There’s more fun in supporting an underdog like the Eagles.” 

I considered his point, having been a lifelong Patriots fan. It made sense–always winning took some of the adrenaline away while at the same time instituting stress. If the Patriots lost, it would have been devastating. But even though the Eagles lost, Colt pointed out he still had hope, and that either result would have still made him feel good. I nodded after Colt asked if I wanted to feel good like him. There was no harm in becoming an Eagles fan for a season, it would give me something different. Plus, it would be exciting for Colt and I to be on the same team

It was then I discovered another great part of living with Colt was being exposed to a unique perspective. At first, I was watching twice as many games, supporting both the Patriots and the Eagles. But I quickly found my interest leaning towards the latter, better understand Colt's theory about hope. Losing never felt so good! By the end of the season, I had not only attended an Eagle’s game with Colt, but had missed the Patriots winning the Super Bowl entirely!

Colt’s perspective influenced me in other routes as well. Still without a job, he suggested that I could have been taking advantage of my free time at the gym. I had not objected to this thought, considering it as a fair idea. Slowly, I found myself working out more often, eventually entering and leaving the gym every single day. Colt commented that I must have loved it; working out and flexing my muscles. It also meant I had more time to listen to his awesome playlist.

At some point, the effect of my frequent gym visits became recognizable. There were the obvious benefits–I had always been athletic but now my muscles were becoming conditioned, firm and supple and model-worthy. But a cloud of funk had begun to surround my everyday life, the reek of sweat and body odor hovering constantly. I had always been good about wearing deodorant, but at some point the habit had abruptly vanished. Colt did not seem bothered by my musk however, so neither was I. 

Laundry was another victim of my altering lifestyle. Clean clothes became a thing of the past as my forgetful mind struggled to organize. My room became covered in my discarded clothing, some of which I eventually threw out. Not because they smelled horrendous, but because they were simply too hot. Starchy and confining, I soon found myself buying shorter shorts, more revealing tees, things the typical jock would wear. Colt even commented on it.

“You’re becoming quite the bro, Mike,” he had joked.

“They’re just so much more comfortable.” I had been in a stringer with some running shorts. “And I’m always so flushed now too.”

“It’s a new stage of life, you’re probably just anxious,” Colt offered. "You should just walk around in your boxers, that would help cool you down.”

“You think so?”

The next day, I found myself grateful for Colt’s suggestion. Strutting around the apartment in just my boxers massively improved my temperature regulation. There were other benefits too, like being able to visualize my flexes after every insane pump. It also allowed me easier access to my package, which I had recently noted had begun to feel heavier. Colt had caught me standing in the hallway fondling my junk once, snapping me out of a haze. He did not mind my behavior however, and I did not worry about him perving on me. I was not homophobic or anything, but I would have never roomed with a gay guy. I knew dudes well enough to know that sort of thing.

This was evident by the new guys I was hanging out with at the gym. A few of the jockish types had approached me after a workout, and with Colt’s encouragement, I had begun to hang out with them more frequently. Big Dog, Chief, The Big Brobowski; if I was not spending time with Colt I was at the gym, at the bars, or at the clubs with them. When I told Colt about this, he stated it was about time I had a nickname to go along with.

“Maverick,” he nodded. “Yeah, it fits you perfectly.”

I smiled dumbly, struggling to remember what my former name had been.

“The bros have had quite the impact on you,” Colt said. “You’re bigger, smellier, hairier.”

I chuckled, scratching at the fuzz on my exposed chest.

“Dumber too,” Colt added. “All that knowledge has shifted to sports, fitness, and nutrition. I think it's about time you stopped looking for a job with that useless degree. Apply to be a trainer at your gym.”

I cocked my head, the wheels turning slowly in my head as I considered this idea.

“Yeah...sure bro,” I eventually replied. And I followed up with it. To my surprise, the owner of the gym offered me a position right on the spot, saying I could start immediately after the weekend. The first thing I did was rush home to Colt, excited to tell him the news. I did not expect to see him on the couch in one of my dirty workout tees and a pair of silk shorts, pawing himself cockily.

Colt must have seen the shocked look on my face. “What, Maverick? Have you not done this with your bros yet?”

“Uh…done what?” I asked slowly.

“Helped a bro out,” Colt scoffed as if it was the most obvious thing. “Come here, I’ll show you.”

I followed his command, approaching slowly. I was still a bit sweaty from my viscous victory workout after the interview, Colt’s playlist had been blasting my eardrums the entire time.

“Gym bros like you do this all the time, Maverick” Colt persuaded, ushering for me to get on top of him. I crawled forward, my eyes tracing each ab that he revealed from under his shirt. “They look tasty, don’t they?”

With Colt's guidance, I felt myself lower down to run my tongue along my roommate's smooth, tight chest.

“See? That wasn’t so hard was it?”

Our eyes met. I did not have to vocally confirm.

“Dumb jocks like you do this all the time,” Colt reaffirmed. “They love to do this all the time.”

I felt my cock gently inflate, throbbing inside my tight shorts. Colt reached his left hand to calmly, but assertively cup my balls, eliciting a small moan from me as he pushed back my shorts. He then began to remove his own, aligning my dick and rubbing it against his hole. My precum was soon slicking him up. 

“I am the greatest roommate you could have ever asked for, and you are surprised that nobody had snatched me before you did.” Colt instructed as I entered him. “You were so lucky to have found me.”

Archive: Rent-a-Cop Part 1 - 3

"It’s supposed to do what…? …Are you serious Captain?” Officer Grant Johnson sighed looking at his commanding officer with incredulity.

“Johnson, remember you volunteered for this. Now if the professor’s machine works like he says it does, its value to the force will be immeasurable," The Captain typed in some more information onto the panel, going back and forth between some hand-written instructions, furrowing his brow.

“Fine… So you scanned me in or whatever, now what?”

“Just a minute! I need to finish calibrating the damn thing or God knows what it’ll do to you!” Johnson rolled his eyes but nodded, running his hand through his salt and pepper hair impatiently.

“Okay okay… Just remember we do well enough without some freaky gizmo though. I’ve put away some of the baddest guys in this city in my day…” Officer Johnson patted his gut with a chuckle. “…I suppose I have been getting a bit soft though,"

“Well why don’t we see what we can do about that?" The Captain lifted what looked to be a simple wireless microphone.

“Load profile: Grant Johnson.” The machine behind them made a small noise, Officer Johnson looked to it then the Captain and shrugged.

“Reduce age by half, increase muscle mass 300%, and reduce body fat ratio by 80%—”

The Captain cut off and gaped at the sudden change in his subordinate. Gone was the weary looking Officer with the pot-belly looking forward to an ever closer retirement. In his place was a mountain of a man, who looked half bodybuilder/half cop. Johnson just stared at the Captain.

“…What? How long do we wait?”

“What do you mean what? You’re huge!”

Officer Johnson narrowed his eyes at the Captain then looked to his arm, pulling back the sleeve and flexing his massive biceps; it must have been around 24 inches.

"It doesn’t look any bigger… definitely not 200% bigger. And what was with the command to halve my age? You trying to send me back to highschool?” He chuckled a deep, rich, masculine laugh.

The Captain stammered a moment before looking back to the hand-written notes, thumbing through them before speaking into the small microphone again.

“Recall self prior to last command," that did it. Grant yelped, looking back to his arm, giving it a small poke then looking back to the Captain. 

“Holy shit! Captain! Look at me! I can’t believe it! That machine is nuts!” The Captain frowned lightly but nodded.

“Yes, yes. The possibilities are endless, but we’ll need to make sure we note any Officer’s previous self to their changed self… I think we’ll just keep this to ourselves until we can learn a bit more about it.”

“Aww– Fine… Too bad though, with this thing I’d be right back in the swing of it. All those bastards I’ve spent my career taking down would just be the beginning; I could be back on the beat full time.”

“Well, we’ll see. For now lets get you back to normal, lock this place up and head back upstairs. Don’t want anyone in the precinct getting nosy down here…”

-

The captain returned Officer Johnson to normal then the pair left; all without taking note of the surveillance camera silently blinking above their heads. 

In the security room, rookie cop Noah Bartlett stared at the camera footage. He’d been benched and given desk duty after none other than Officer Grant Johnson had accused him of being on the take… 

Nevermind the fact that he was, afterall there were several local crime bosses who paid good money for any tip or advantage they could get against the cops….

An idea slowly formed in Noah’s mind as he looked to the wall at the master security keyring and a smile grew on his face… He wondered how much they would pay for a chance to rent that machine and use it on Officer Oh-So-Perfect Johnson…

--

"You understand, Captain Diaz?"

The older cop replied in a dull monotone "Yes,"

"Yes....what?" the rookie replied, smirking vindictively

"Yes Master Noah,"

"Good," he pulled the machine's microphone close to his mouth and read off a little notecard he had prepared

"Captain Diaz won't consciously remember the events of the last 10 minutes or so. Captain Diaz will return to his office, wait one hour then call Officer Johnson in, and then follow the previously given instructions,"

With that, the Captain wordlessly walked out, while Officer Bartlett quickly reset the room to how it was, before hurrying back to his desk in the security room.

Rico Antonetti was one of the mid to upper level mob figures in the city and he and Officer Noah Bartlett had worked out a few arrangements before getting caught by one oh-so-squeaky-clean Officer Grant Johnson.

Noah had reached out to the mobster and informed him of the department's prototype machine. Rico was skeptical so the two worked out an appropriate demonstration.....

Precisely one hour later, Noah looked up to see Officer Grant Johnson on one of his monitors, step into the Captain's office and take a seat

"Listen Johnson, we've got a tip off about some new little bordello Antonetti has setup downtown. It might be bogus, but I need you to go in and investigate,"

"Sure Cap, let me get a team together and we'll be able to hit the place by tomorrow nig---"

"NO! Er......no, that will be too late, these places move around and we don't know how many ears Rico has in the department. If we want to hit him while this info is good, we need to do it tonight and I need you to go by yourself,"

"Uhh....that sounds more than a little bit risky, don't you think, Captain?"

"Yes, or at least it would be, if we didn't have our department's new toy," the Captain said sternly

"Oh....yeah, I guess so then. If you think it's that serious...."

"I do, let's get you prep," quickly replied the Captain as he stood up from his seat and opened the door briskly

Noah almost giggled with glee as he watched the two depart the Captain's office and head to the storeroom where the Professor had dropped off the machine. Everything was going according to script so far

"Alright Johnson, you ready?" The Captain picked up the wireless mic, flipping the machine on

"Yes Sir," Grant smiled, giving his somewhat rotund belly a gentle pat goodbye

"Load Profile: Grant Johnson." once more the machine whirred to life, humming softly and awaiting input. "Subject will recall self following this set of commands: Reduce age by 60%, increase muscle mass by 200%....."

The Captain's voice and face then seemed to go a bit slack and he took the microphone and opened the door to exit the room

"Err...everything alright, boss?"

"Yes, wait there, I need to check something,"

Captain Diaz quietly made his way down the hall to the security room, he opened the door where Officer Bartlett sat grinning

"Welcome Cap, I'll take that," he reached out, grabbing the mic and looking back to the video feed of the new, younger, buffer Officer Grant Johnson sitting patiently

"Subject will not recall self following this new set of commands. Change sexuality to homosexual. Increase libido by 300%. Reduce work ethic by 75%. Add behaviors: narcissism, arrogance, exhibitionism, bullying, domineering, perversion, and of course, corruption," Noah watched as the posture and attitude of Officer Johnson shifted. The man in the monitor crudely rubbed his genitals through his uniform pants and impatiently checked his wristwatch before noting the mirrored window in the room and stepping up to flex in front of it

"Perfect, now reduce subject employment standing to rookie, erase all experience of previous service and update it to 3 months," the stripes on Grant's uniform vanished, "Subject will continue flexing in the storeroom until Captain Diaz returns," there was no change in the cocky behavior on the monitor, but Noah knew Grant would stay like that as long as needed now

"Load profile: Carlos Diaz. Subject will believe that Officer Grant Johnson has always been as he is now and has not been changed by the machine. Subject will load in each member of the department's profiles overnight tonight and make the same changes to their recollection as well. Subject will not consciously remember the events of the last hour and will return to scold Officer Johson for being where he shouldn't be, then send him out,"

Captain Diaz silently left the security room and Officer Bartlett returned to his monitor. He watched smiling as the Captain entered the storeroom and clearly yelled something at the now rookie Grant Johnson. Officer Johnson replied by gripping his own groin and flipping the Captain off as he left.

"Now then, tonight should go on as planned,"

--

Grant drove down the street slowly. It was dark and while he may not have given a shit about what he was doing, he was still a cop. He saw the kid on the corner signal to someone as soon as he showed up. But that was fine, let 'em get their shit out of there, it would be less work on his part.

He parked a couple houses down from the address his tightass Captain had given him for this supposed brothel and slowly approached. From the front it looked like any other kind of shared housing in one of the city's projects

He eyed the door, strangely it was left ajar. He carefully slipped inside, having to squeeze his muscular form through rather tightly so as not to risk moving the door any further

The first floor was dark but as he peered up the stairs, he saw the second level was well lit......if anything's going down, it's up there

He thought he moved quite silently but in reality he was rushing and the house creaked under his weight with each step. When he reached the top, he saw a hallway full of closed doors, save one left half open with light pouring out of it

He crept towards it, growing annoyed at what a waste of time this was turning out to be. He paused by the door when he heard a young man speaking on the phone

"Yeah....yeah he's comin' so I called like you told me to....yeah, you're sure about this?.....Naw naw, I'm good for it.... Alright, alright, then do whatever it is you're gonna do, I'll let you know,"

The young man hung up the phone, Grant furrowed his brow at what he'd heard.....it sounded like something might actually about to go down....Looks like showtime. He stepped forward, kicking the door open and entering the room with his gun drawn

"DON'T MOVE!" yelled Grant with his deep baritone voice with that hint of coarseness from his smoking habit

The room looked like a simple one bedroom unit, hardly the sex den he was expecting. On the bed seated a rather handsome college-aged jock, he had his arms raised and was watching the police officer, but he didn't seem startled. Grant frowned and looked around the room before stepping to the man and patting him down; finding no weapon, he put away his firearm.

"We got a tipoff about prostitutes working out of this address to supply the mob. You know anything about that?"

The young jock paused for a moment looking at Grant just long enough to begin annoying him, before finally answering tentatively

"Of course Officer.....that's what I'm doing here," Grant just stared a moment......did this little twunk just admit to being a whore?

"You're a hooker?"

Sensing Grant's confusion, the young man smiled and nodded. He stood and approached the cop

"Yeah.....Rico said I was your favorite after last time, so it was my job to......cover your protection fee...." the jock's hands were a bit rough but his puppy eyes really caught his attention and radiate this submissiveness Grant cannot resist. He softly stroked Grant's chest and stomach, causing the ripped Officer to moan and shudder in delight

"Oh...oh yeah, now I remember you," Grant's stated with more conviction, his memories betrayed him as it created false imagery of the time he's sitting in the mob-run nightclub with all the male strippers dancing to tease him

The rather handsome hooker simply smiled impishly, his hand caressing lower, which caused Grant to growl in beastly burst of lust, pushing the young man back onto the bed

-

An hour or so later, Grant called in to Captain Diaz, the tip had been bullshit it seemed. The Captain was pissed but Grant didn't care. Meanwhile, Officer Bartlett popped open a bottle of wine when he received a call from one very convinced and very interested crime boss....

-------

Check out my spin-off from this beloved series originally made by coyote-r

More to come later this week

Zoro to businessman Tf. Commission from ~Catolyst.

I just love a businessman Tf here and there!

Dracule Mihawk -> Bearish Slob

Hey I’m back, sorta. Due to real life events, I will remain mostly inactive here.

Beer Up

Somehow Zoro had managed to get lost again. The straw hats had only gone ashore for a short stay on this island to buy food in town. That lousy ship’s cook had said something about special fruits that he wanted to buy for Nami and Robin. Zoro preferred to stretch his legs a bit and was now back in the harbour. Unfortunately, he was in the wrong part, because the Straw Hats’ ship was nowhere to be seen.

“Huh? This is where I started walking, isn’t it?” the former bounty hunter asked himself, scratching his head. His swords clinked as he turned around and took another closer look. But that was exactly the number from earlier! 4 5 1 was written on the sign in front of the dark ship. “Or was it 5 4 1? Or was it 1 4 5? Hm, could also have been 1 5 4”, Zoro mumbled, finding this stuff with the numbers somehow very confusing.

“Hey! You there! You with the green hair!” Someone shouted loudly, obviously referring to the swordsman. Zoro turned in the direction of the voice and looked a little bored at the man who was shouting like that.

“What do you want? Tell me, have you seen a blond guy like that with swirls for eyebrows?” shouted Zoro back. The man was standing on one of the ships. And had nothing on except a pair of pants.

“Yes, I did, are you one of the straw hats? They’re on a short trip to the neighbouring island, the captain heard there was particularly good meat there,” the man replied, shaking his head. Zoro smiled wryly. Yes, that sounded like Ruffy. Such a greedy guy…

Hm. Then they would certainly stay away for quite a while. Maybe Zoro could buy himself something to drink in the meantime. “All right, can you tell them I’ll be waiting in town when they get back? Is there a good shop for sake here?” he yelled at the other man and turned to leave.

“Nah, it doesn’t taste good here. Like cat piss. But we have fresh beer here. And we’ll be happy to buy another pirate some,” the man said, whereupon Zoro turned back to him. Was that so smart, going onto someone else’s ship? On the other hand… a cold beer sounded good too. He would train again later, then it didn’t matter. It was the others’ own fault if they just left him here. Slowly Zoro walked up the bridge to the ship and the other man tapped him on the shoulder. He was the same height as Zoro and had dark blue hair. And was really naked except for his pants.

“Welcome aboard. I’m Julius P. Ock, captain of the ship here - just follow me,” the man introduced himself and motioned the swordsman to come after him. The ship was quite different from the Straw Hats’. Zoro didn’t like it somehow. It was a bit musty. Smelled like those navy barracks. By now they were deep inside the ship.

“All right, go on in and get something, I’ll be right there,” Ock said goodbye and Zoro opened the door. At least ten other men dressed the same as Ock were sitting around, laughing loudly and drinking beer. Yes, that barracks smell was definitely coming from here. The door slammed shut behind Zoro. And then it was quiet.

Everyone stared at him. “What are you looking at me like that for? Your captain invited me for a beer. Otherwise I can leave,” Zoro said and stared back. But when he said that, the expressions brightened and several people came up to him.

“Come on, Bro, drink all you want! We’ve got plenty,” they assured him and led him to a table on which one of them placed a giant jug. At the sight of the thick beer foam, Zoro’s mouth watered a little.

“Cheers then, you half-naked ones,” he shouted loudly and toasted the men, who bawled and patted him on the shoulders. No sooner had the first drops of beer wet Zoro’s tongue than he was out of his mind. This was the best beer he had ever drunk! He greedily drank the mug and when he had finished, he let out a very loud belch.

“Yo, can I have another one?” he wanted to ask, but he already had a second jug in front of him. Full of pleasure, he poured its contents down his throat. Then a fourth jug followed. And a fifth. Zoro felt great, even if his belly bulged a little more with each jug. Each time he downed it, he belched loudly. A little louder each time. And the team celebrated him.

“Ungh, this is ungh so delicious,” he moaned. Actually, it was already well filled, but he couldn’t stop. And then suddenly it began to gurgle in his belly. Zoro groaned as his bulging beer belly retreated. The beer made its way through the swordsman’s body, who kept drinking.

His body began to tremble and he felt a strong pressure everywhere. And then suddenly his already respectable muscles swelled. Thick, fat veins pressed against his skin and pumped the blood mixed with beer through his body. Zoro’s pectoral muscles swelled to their triple size, so that he could no longer see the ground when he looked down. With a crunch, his shoulders widened.

“Fuck, yeah - fuckin’ thick,” Zoro said between two mugs, making his huge pecs dance. He was far too drunk to find anything funny. His arms grew wider and heavier as his upper arms reached the size of melons and he could no longer lay them straight against his broad torso. With each sip, more muscles pressed against his skin until his green coat tore loudly and fell to the floor in shreds.

The assembled crew jeered and cheered Zoro to keep drinking. Which he did. All he wanted to do was drink. Another jug. Zoro spread his legs wide apart - they grew until they were as thick as tree trunks. He grunted with pleasure and belched loudly again. “Haha, rich sound, bro,” he said laughing stupidly and scratching his crotch with his free hand.

As if on cue, Zoro groaned as he touched his cock. And did it again. And as he did so, his belly, flat but trained until just now, swelled into a firm beer belly, but still showing the hard muscles.

Zoro’s head felt heavy. And it got heavier and heavier the more beer he drank and the longer he rubbed against his tight crotch. Suddenly a tingling sensation went through his body. Thick green hairs sprouted on his skin like a thousand little ants. „Fuckin hairy bro“, Zoro moaned and his voice dropped significantly. He chuckeled as he saw his thick chest slowly being covered with a rug of hair, leaving almost no free skin.

The hair went upwards and filled his deep pits with the same green hair, leaving him with thick tufts of hair. As soon as his pits were filled a musky smell appeared on Zoro‘s body. He breathed in deeply and moaned as his cock reacted on this musk that he produced. Zoro‘s mind felt dull. Bit by bit he was losing his intelligence while thick hair sprouted on his face. Soon his sideburns grew into a full beard.

„Fuck bro, need to fuck“, Zoro grunted and ripped his already strained pants. With both of his hands he grabbed his cock and started pumping his jock meat. Yeah, he was a fuckin‘ jock. Everytime his thickening hands touched his pubes they grew thicker and longer and produced the same musky odor as his pits. Fuck, he needed release! Furiously he jacked off and his cock filled the space between his hands. Like a plant growing out of grass his cock reached ten inches and became as thick as bottle. His balls swelled and dropped lower, thick semen was splashing inside of them.

Zoro couldn’t think anymore. He was a jock. A dumb smelly jock. He grunted and sweat was pouring down his body. His musk was filling the room. He was no pirate. He was a jock. A bro. A fuckin‘ jock who was fucking, lifting and drinking all the time! And with one deep grunt Zoro came and shot all of his old identity out of his balls. Gallons of cum splattered all over his fellow jock crew mates and they eagerly licked it away, causing themselves to come into their jockstraps.

Zoro was breathing heavily. He was a jock. The biggest and smelliest jock of the Jock pirates. Yeah.

Hey tf-fans! I finally made it - this story was the last requested Story from January and it was requested by @mcbrute. 🙈 I‘m so sorry you had to wait so long, but I hope you like the story! 😊

Please feel free to submit your ideas or wishes for tf stories. My ask box and dms are open - I just maybe need some time to answer. But I really appreciate your messages! <3 Have fun and stay safe! 💜

Bald and Bearded Endeavor

(Edited from Volume 26)

E̶n̶j̶i̶ ̶l̶o̶o̶k̶s̶ ̶l̶i̶k̶e̶ ̶a̶ ̶t̶o̶t̶a̶l̶ ̶g̶o̶o̶n̶ ̶h̶e̶r̶e̶.̶