Be manly, be bro, follow the code, breed the hoes / he/him, gay, dominant / https://ko-fi.com/mrrharper / DMs open, discord: mrrharper /
87 posts
Mrrharper - Coach Gridiron - Tumblr Blog
Taming The Football Beast
Dallas van Hoek was one of the starts of the Atlanta Golden Eagles football team. Everyone on campus knew him. He was also a stereotypical jock - partying, fucking random chicks, doing crazy stunts with his teammates and frat bros. Coach liked all that, he wanted all his players to be real men and in that case it meant being a total jock bro.
That is, until Dallas' antics caused his performance on the field to worsen. He was no longer showing up at non mandatory practices, his tackles got a bit easier to avoid, his footwork more sloppy. This angered Coach and pushed him to intervene.
He invited the DB for a meeting in his office. He told him a company that manufactured gear for athletes reached out to the team about a potential partnership and he wanted Dallas to test out their new helmet. The jock took it in his hands, eager to sign his next NIL deal.
The moment he put the helmet on his head, the built-in speakers began blasting a hypnotic track into his ears.
A real jock focuses on his performance on the gridiron
A real bro fights for that W
The tinted visor began displaying images of himself in his sophomore year, a highlight reel of his greatest tackles. Pushing receivers and running backs into the ground, then celebrating like a real football bro.
A football player is a real bro
A real bro is a serious football player
A real bro needs the rush of talking
A real bro executes every play perfectly
For almost an hour the 230 pound defensive back stood motionless in Coach's office.
A week later Dallas was named the Defensive MVP of the Game.
The intervention worked.
Elevator Malfunction
Greg was walking along the corridor. He had just finished his last lecture for the day and was ready to leave the campus and go get something to eat. He got to the staircase but decided he didn't feel like walking down all these stairs, so he pushed a button for an elevator instead.
As he waited for it to come to the floor he was currently on someone walked up to the elevator and stood next to him, also wanting to give their legs a break. Greg looked to his left, then quickly moved his head back. That was Brad Petrović, one of the stars of their university's soccer team.
One look at the jock was enough for Greg to feel his cock hardening in his pants. He felt he was turning red and he hoped no one would see him getting a boner. From his perspective Brad was a perfect male specimen, and exactly Greg's type - clearly muscular but not bulky, tall with a masculine jaw, short hair, thick thighs, that permament arrogant smirk on his face, a constant aura of sweat and musk. Greg, a closeted gay man and an obvious nerd, knew that the chances of getting a guy like that in bed with him were very slim, but he could always dream.
He took another quick glance at Brad. He was wearing a sleeveless t-shirt, which allowed Greg to just barely see his hairy armpit and chest. He was now sure his boner would not disappear for as long as he was in close proximity with the soccer bro.
The elevator had finally arrived and the doors opened. Brad went in first, followed by Greg who constantly made sure there was distance between them. And he made sure his shirt was hiding the bulge in his pants. The jock then pushed the "ground floor" button and the eevator began slowly moving down.
Greg turned his eyes for a split second and saw a few beads of sweat run down Brad's arm. Fuck, he was hot. He wanted to look again, but the more rational side of his brain prevented him from doing that, aftaid the athlete would notice, call him a perv or maybe beat him up.
They were around halfway down when the elevator wobbled. Both guys looked around but saw nothing that would suggest something was wrong. But then the lights flickered and the elevator suddenly stopped. Greg, who wasn't expecting this sudden change in velocity didn't have the time to grab anything, so he lost balance, fell down on the ground, bumping into Brad and then crashing his head against the floor, loosing consciousness for a moment.
A few moments later Greg opened his eyes and was instantly blinded by the light shining from the elevator's ceiling. He blinked a few times and put his hand over his face, trying to shield his sensitive eyeballs from the bright lamp above him. He slowly dragged his body off the floor and sat down, already feeling pain radiating from the back of his head.
He turned his head and-- he blinked quickly a few times, because he couldn't believe what he saw. He saw himself, his very own body standing up and looking towards him. Greg was sure he also saw confision on his-- his body's face, but it was quickly replaced by concern.
"Brad, you're alright? Oh my god, I'm so sorry I bumped into you. Are you okay?"
Brad? He wasn't Brad, he was-- Holy fuck! Greg looked down and saw the jersey Brad was wearing on his torso. He almost jumped and turned towards the mirror on the back wall of the elevator. A confused Brad Petrović looked back at him.
"Jesus Christ, what happened?" he asked aloud, then flincked, surprised by the deep voice that he was apparently in control of.
"I... I don't know" He heard his own voice behind him and turned around to see... No, he was certain he was looking at himself. This must have been a result of a concussion. He's never experienced soemthing like this but this was the most logical explanation. Yes, this would end in a moment. "I think the elevator stopped suddenly for some reason and I lost balance, and then... then I fell onto you, and then we both... Are you sure you're okay?"
"No" Greg muttered under his breath.
"Oh god, you have a concussion? Crap, we need a doctor to have a look at you" his body stood next to him. This was a reasonable suggestion. But Greg was not really thinking straight right now.
"No!" he barked a little louder than he wanted to. "I... I need to get home."
"Oh, uhm... of course, of course" The other Greg quickly took a few steps back. Then they heard a ding and the doors of the elevator slowly opened. Greg watched as his very own body walked out of the elevator and was gone in justa few seconds. The real Greg, now seemingly occupying the body of a soccer jock bro, stood still, failing to comprehend what was happening around him.
The doors started to close and Greg quickly jumped out of the elevator. He took a few deep breaths and thought about what should he do. He had now convinced himself that all this was the result of him injuring his head during the fall and it would all go away in a few minutes. Maybe hours. Hopefully not days. Oh god, he wanted to go home so bad. He quickly left the building and made his way to his dorm on the other side of the campus.
As he walked he realized his dick had been hard this entire time. And since he seemed to be wearing gym shorts it was way more visible. Greg looked around, hoping there weren't many people who would witness him with a hard on in public. Thankfully the area was not very busy.
He got to his room, unlocked the door and-- wait a minute! This wasn't his room. He took a step inside and instead of his small and tidy space, he saw a fairly large room that almost certainly belonged to a jock. A bunch of posters of various athletes hanging on walls, dirty gym gear laying everywhere, the table covered with empty beers, boxes of protein powder, a few condoms even, and of course the smell of sweat. This was Brad's dorm room. How did he get here?
A thought appeared in his head. It was muscle memory that took him here. Brad's muscle memory. This was not a concussion. Greg's mind was currently occupying Brad Petrović's body. He closed the door behind him and looked around, then grabbed his head with both hands. This couldn't be happening, this was just a dream!
He slowly went further into the room, then stopped as he felt he stepped onto something. Greg looked down and picked up a pair of boxers, with clearly visible sweat and cum stains. The smell was intoxicating. He suddenly thought about smelling, maybe even licking the underwear that was clearly used by the real Brad fairly recently. His cock reacted positively to this possibility, but Greg wouldn't allow himself to use his terrible position like this.
Although... would it be that wrong? It would get rid of his boner, allowing him to think more clearly. No one would have to know, he was all alone in this room.
Greg sat down on the couch standing in the middle of the room and took off his shorts and briefs in one, brief motion, freeing his hard cock. He then put the dirty boxers up to his nose and breathed in loudly. It felt like getting high, the manly smells filling up his nostrils. His hand gravitated to his dick and started stroking it as he imagined worshiping this body, all of its hard muscles, the armpits, the thighs, the crotch.
He sped up his hand movements and moand loudly, still pushing the underwear against his face. He started licking the material and another wave of lust came over him. He was overwhelmed with what he was feeling, his brain overridden by his horny instincts. He thought he could taste the cum and it got him even more excited, if it was even possible.
As he continued stroking though, something happened. The images he had in his head of Brad's flexed arms that revealed two sweaty armpits turned into a topless woman waving her boobs in front of him.
This would be enough to raise concerns, but for the moment Greg was fully controlled by the horny part of his brain, which didn't allow any critical thoughts to arise. He just continued jerking off, not realizing that his dick got even harder the moment the images in his head changed.
It didn't stop there. Next came a memory (wait, a memory?) of Brad eating pussy of some random chick. Greg continued stroking and licking the cum off of the boxers while his head became filled with images of Brad Petrović having sex with a bunch of women. No alarms went off in his head, he seemed to get more horny the longer he played with his dick.
A certain scene got stuck in Greg's head - Brad fucking a blond haired girl, letting his primal instincts control him. As he leaned in to touch one of the girl's breasts Greg finally got over the edge. He came harder than ever before, his jizz landing on his hand, jersey and the couch.
Brad cleaned his hand with the boxers he was holding for some reason, then threw then on the floor and immediately forgot about them. Instead he thought about that blond chick - Beth. Fuck, he needed to find her again. He heard his phone ringing. Oh fuck, he was supposed to meet with Garrett and Trevor at the gym! He quickly stood up and ran out of his room with only his phone in his hand. It was time to get jacked, then find some pussy later. Shit, Brad loved his jock life.
Love your non playable character stories :D Would love if you could convert someone like Charlie Puth or Josh Hutcherson into a simulation game like the Sims for exemple. Would love to play with them and modify their bodies to transform them into muscled jocks while they are trapped in their new lives and bodies :D
not doing stories with real celebrities, but a hot idea in general
tell me bros what other NPC stories you'd like me to write and i might just see your suggestions
you can always commision me to write you a story
possibilities are (almost) endless
Guarding The Base
Craig paused the game and opened the inventory. He had just finished a mission and wanted to organize all the new gear he had gained. He changed his weapon for a more powerful one and threw out the basic gun he had with him since the very beginning of this campaign. He then changed his gear for one with better stats, giving him more HP and allowing his character to withstand more damage from certain weapons.
After he was done with that, Craig used some of the experience points he'd gathered to customize these items, choosing different colors and adding two more badges to his profile. He took a moment to look at the avatar standing proudly with his gun in the middle of the screen after all these changes. Damn, he looked badass, Craig thought. He didn't expect to become this invested in this game, but just as his friend said, he was hooked form the start.
He clicked the escape button to exit the inventory view and continue the campaign, but the game didn't react. Craig didn't panic though, his gaming rig didn't have the newest or the most powerful components, so he was used to his computer needing a bit more time to process certain commands.
Then he noticed his helmet turned dark green. Craig leaned in to look closer at what happened, expecting this to be a momentary visual glitch. But it wasn't. And this wasn't even his helmet in a different color, it was a compleletly different one. That annoyed him a little bit, the game just glitched and robbed him of one of his items! He clicked on it to try and get back to his custom helmet but the game didn't react. Of course, it was still processing the command to exit the inventory. Craig groaned loudly. He needed to invest in a better PC - this helmet had such good stats! And it looked cool!
He breathed in, then breathed out. This was just a helmet, noting major that would hinder his progress-- his tactical vest glitched and turned into a different item. What the hell? Craig looked at his compter screen with disbelief. Another part of his character's gear just changed into somethign completely different. He clicked on his avatar to try to revert that change but again, the game did not react.
And it only got worse. One by one, elements of his character's equipment changed from his custom ones into a set of dark green tactical gear he did not recognize, which was weird as he spent a lot of time in the game's item shop. He was absolutely horrified by this sight. After just a minute or two his character was unrecognizable. Gone was his badass soldier, and in his place Craig saw a heavily armed police officer. And it seemed like his avatar was now a bit more muscular?
His screen flashed suddenly and Craig was surrounded by white light. He could not see anything beyond this blank void. He tried blinking quickly but this apparent visual phenomenon did not subside. His eyes were betraying him.
He blinked once more and the bright light disappeared, replaced with a view of a different location form the game than the one where he finished his last mission. Then something dawned on him. He wasn't looking at a screen, he was inside the game! He turned his head and instead of his room he saw the game world turn around him. What was happening? It seemed his mind was playing with him.
Just as Craig began to comprehend what had just happened to him, his body started moving involountarily. He turned towards a path leading to where he was standing and he could now see that he stood next to an entrance to some sort of hidden base. Hidden base? Oh, right, he was transported to Part II of the campaign, he remembered walking alongside this road. Entering the base tiggered a cutscene that led to the player unlocking a few important side quests. Why did the game put him here and why did it seem like he was transported into the game itself?
When Craig tried to turn his head he realized he couldn't. His body was now locked in his current position, holding his gun in both hands in front of him, ready to point it at any opponent in the blink of an eye. He was stuck in some sort of loop, first leaning to the side, then straightning out and checking his gun, then leaning slightly to the side again, and so on.
Suddenly, he saw movement. He couldn't react physically in any way so he just watched as a dark dot appeared on the horizon, then got closer and turned into a soldier running towards the entrance of the base. When he saw the entire figure he realized, based on the look of the soldier's gear, that he was looking at a player. He tried to say something to him but he couldn't. And then the player got really close and Craig felt a weird sting inside his head.
The player came even closer and #GRD0933F automatically moved to block him in his way, initiating a preplanned conversation.
"Stop or I'll shoot" the NPC barked in his low, growling voice. The player stood silent for a moment, giving himself a moment to choose one of a few possible responses.
"I have orders from Agent Dark Wolf" the player said, his avatar standing idly as #GRD0933F replayed his cutscene amination in a loop, his gun pointed at the player.
"Why should I believe you?" was the NPC's response. The player didn't choose to continue the conversation. Instead he clicked on an option to show the NPC an item from an earlier part of the game. The guard switched to another animation, putting down his gun and stepping aside to his previous position.
"Enter now, soldier" #GRD0933F showed the player to move along with his gun and both caracters left coversation mode. The player walked into the base and the NPC was back in his idling loop. Leaning to the side, then straightning out and checking his gun, then leaning slightly to the side again. As a very minor character his programming was very bare bones. He did not have many speaking lines, other than the short conversation with the player and a few grunts. He had only a few animaton loops avaliable to him, the most he could do was to flex his arm if the player chose the most friendly dialog options. No congitive capacity was left for the guard, and thus no real thought crossed his mind as he stood like a statue, making sure the secret base was secure.
Another player came up to the guard NPC, triggering the cutscene.
"Stop or I'll shoot" the NPC barked in his low, growling voice. The player stood silent for a moment, giving himself a moment to choose one of a few possible responses.
Player Of The Month
You can support me at ko-fi.com/mrrharper
It did not take long.
Jake got a notification saying he'd been chosen as the Player of the Month from the server he's been playing on for months now. He was very excited about this as he's never got any in-game title like that before.
He clicked on the notification and scrolled through all the buzzwords to see what rewards he would be getting. Weirdly, there was no mention of any items, upgrades or other perks. Instead there was a button. "Brand new personalized experience".
Jack eagerly clicked the button, the only option avaliable to him. At first nothing happened and he just assumed the game was loading some new assests which would probably take some time.
Suddenly he felt some buzzing in his head, followed by a sharp pain and a feeling as if his headset was tightening around his head. He was paralyzed by this for a moment, his mind completely losing track of what was happening with his body as it was experiencing sudden sensory overload.
And then he was back in the game, but something was different. He was transported to Iron Gym, a locaton on the opposite side of the map from he was just a minute ago. He looked down and saw that his avatar had changed completely. He tried to access his character menu to see what had happened but he couldn't, so he walked up to a mirror.
In in he saw someone completely different. A young dude, clearly muscular, wearing a backwards cap and a pair of tight compression shorts. He looked like a gym bro! Not only that, he looked pretty similiar to the NPCs that populated this area of the game world, which Jake found very strange. Something went wrong here.
Wait, where was his headset? Jake put his hands on his face, but couldn't find the bulky gear he had to wear to play. What was going on?
A player came up to Jake and chose the option to initiate the conversation.
Jake #27AD0019 turned around to face Player#A97F4. His eyes flashed red, showing he was now in interaction mode.
"ey dude, ya got any issue with me bruh?" he asked, an arrogant streak in his voice. He then waited for the player to choose a response form the dialog tree, entering one of his idling animations, moving slightly from left to right and flexing his bare chest.
"Damn, that's a new one, didn't see this character before here" the player muttered to himself, clearly intrigued by the sudden appearance of a new NPC. He then chose a response.
"No, I just noticed you're a regular here and you seem to be doing pretty good, so I wanted to say hi."
#27AD0019's changed his attitude from annoyed and arrogant to proud and cocky. A new animation was triggered by the player's response, making him flash his teeth in a cocky smile, then flex his arms in a double biceps pose.
"hell yeah bruh, am the top dawg here dude"
The player focused on the NPC's muscular arms, while the character kept them in a flexed position up in the air. Player#A97F4 was starting to enjoy the conversation and knew exactly what dialog option he would choose.
"I see, you clearly work out every day. Your form is very impressive."
This prompted another few animations, in which #27AD0019 flexed his arms, chest and legs, showing off his muscles to the player.
"fuck yeah bro! i lift, like, all day dude, gotta work for guns like this bro huhuhuhuhuhuh" He let out a low, dumb laugh. The player grinned as he saw one of the potential responses he had avaliable.
"So not much happening in your life except the gym, right?"
A few calculations happened int he background that determined whether the NPC would respond positively or with anger. The result then took into account the character's intelligence statistic - 3/10. This gave the player the exact result he was looking for.
"huhuhuh yeah dude, am a real gym bro dude, ain't nothin' more important that liftin' bro. head empty, just gains huhuhuhuhuh" The answer triggered another loop of flexing animations.
#27AD0019 was going to be a very popular NPC.
Not In The Exhibit Brochure
It was a hot summer day and the city was filled with people coming to be a part of one of the biggest fantasy conventions in the country. Video games, board games, tabletop RPGs, LARP, movies, TV shows, theater shows, even musicals. If one fancied themselves a fan of a franchise that existed in any of these forms, they could be found spending a sunny August weekend in the convention center.
Mark meandered between countless people in the Second Pavilion, getting tired having spent the last five hours walking around the convention area, being asked for pictures and catching up with his friends. This year he came wearing a full cosplay of one of the characters from his favorite first person shooter. He put on a tactical vest, helmet with a full headset, a tactical belt with a bunch of accessories and camo pants. In his hands he was bearing a perfect replica of the most famous gun from the game.
He spent a long time perfecting the costume, both by searching for just the right gear and by spending hours in the gym. Now his broad and thick shoulders, football-sized biceps and veiny forearms were visible for all attendees, which garnered Mark a lot of attention, which he enjoyed.
It was exhausting, however. The temperature inside the convention center got uncomfortably high at times, so he decided to take a break. He fold the few friends who joined him during the day that he was leaving for a while to take in some relatively fresh air, then pushed his way through the crowds until he got to the exit.
Thanks to the fact that the center was basically in the middle of the city he didn't have to go far to get to a park and relax, then find a place to eat and just take a walk through the city.
Mark was aware that many businesses and institutions had various perks for the convention ticket holders, to keep the attendees in the city for longer and spread the economic effects of the convention. He was reminded of this fact just as he was walking by the giant building of the art museum. His curiosity was piqued and he checked if he would get a discount of a ticket. It turned out he could walk in for free, the only requirement was to show his pass at the entrance.
What Mark saw after getting through a quick but awkward security check truly amazed him. He slowly walked from one part of the building to the next, taking his time to watch every piece, all displayed in a well air-conditioned space, which was a nice bonus. The museum had a bunch of different special exhibits currently open to the public and they were all pretty stunning, each in its own way.
Finally, Mark made his way to a part of the museum furthest away from the entrance where he saw a recent collection of sculptures from a local artist. Each statue was an extremely realistic depiction of a person, and they were supposed to collectively represent modern society. There were athletes mid-run, businessmen in the middle of walking in between offices, chefs tasting their newest creations, it was all incredible to watch, every sculpture most likely taking weeks or months to complete. Mark stood in the middle of the room as he looked around and every time he managed to find a new detail in one of the statues. While his eyes were jumping from one piece to another, inspecting every curve and small detail, he was unaware of just how much time has passed since he entered this space.
And then he tried to move.
Mark heard his phone buzz loudly in his pocket. It was probably one of his friends wanting to check up on him. He tried to move his hand to take the phone and answer the call, but it wouldn't move. Neither would his head. Or any part of his body. He was immediately alarmed. Mark tried as hard as he could to get any element within his human form to move even an inch, but it didn't work. His whole body was suddenly completely stationary and he could not control its movements, because he couldn't cause any movements. He started to panic and hoped someone would notice that he wasn't well. There were a lot of people at the museum so it would be just a matter of time before one of them came to this room and noticed a guy in a military cosplay was standing weirdly still.
Except this did not happen. Visitors just passed by him with no interest in the person standing frozen in the middle of the room. As Mark looked with his unmovable eyes at the tourists wandering around the space right in front of him he felt like he was losing the track of time. Was it a minute ago that he realized he couldn't move? No it mus have been almost an hour by then. Nah, it couldn't be.
Then Mark realized something horrifying. Not only was no one coming up to help him, they began to stop in front of him and just look at him, as if he was just another...
Did he turn into a fucking statue?! That terrifying thought seeped deep into his mind wreaking havoc along the way. How could this have happened? Magic? But magic wasn't real! That was impossible, this was a dream, for sure! He tried to move his body even a little bit, but again he failed every time. He desperately tried to force his hand to move so that he could pinch himself and wake up from this terrifying nightmare. But no part of his arm changed position, not even an inch.
A larger group of tourists, mostly retirees, led by a young woman slowly moved through the exhibition space and passed by Mark, who continued to struggle and try to move.
"Huh, the guide didn't say anything about this one. Did that lovely lady talk about this soldier, Harold?" An elderly couple stopped in front of Mark and they stood there and admired him for a moment.
"No, Mary, I'm pretty sure I'd remember" The man, Harold, took a step closer towards the statue.
"Harold!" The woman shouted at him. "You can't walk up too close to the sculptures dear."
"Oh, calm down" Harold responded, slightly annoyed at his wife's comment. "I'm in an art museum so don't tell me to not look at the art." The older man stood just a few steps away from Mark. "There's no plaque or rope or anything, this is a free country, Mary!" He was a few inches shorter than Mark, so he couldn't clearly see everything but it seemed he was just looking at Mark's gear.
"Look. The artist — that Gary what's-his-name — knew what he was doing with this one. I recognize all that gear this man is wearing. Nice work." Harold's tone of voice suggested he was weirdly pleased with the statue that used to be Mark. "This is what a real man's supposed to look like. Not some sissy sitting behind the desk all day."
"Of course Harold, of course" The woman walked up to her husband and put her arm around him, then started gently pushing him towards the other statues.
Mark's brain struggled to comprehend what he had just witnessed. He had really turned into a statue! People thought he was a part of the exhibit! How could this have happened? He couldn't come up with any even remotely plausible explanation for what he was experiencing. He then thought that his only hope would be his friends - they knew he was downtown, maybe some would guess that he used the opportunity to get into the art museum for free, which would lead them to the place where Mark was currently stranded.
The group of retirees came back, walked next to Mark and was about to leave the room when the tour guide looked at him and murmured to herself.
"This statue was not a part of the exhibit. How did it get here?" She grabbed her phone and quickly led her group towards the rest of the museum.
Mark again realized he couldn't tell how much time had passed since any of the recent events. It was as if his internal clock had stopped working, ran out of batteries. This whole experience was so confusing that he had issues fully registering everything. He tried counting in his head, but got lost after 20, maybe? The only thing he was sure of, for now, was that the day had not yet ended, but he could not tell what part of the day it was, as the whole museum was constantly lit with this slightly weird diffused lighting.
Three people suddenly came into view and stood some distance away from Mark, clearly looking at him. He couldn't hear the conversation they were having because of the noise from surrounding visitors, but he could clearly see that they were all agitated, talking over each other and aggressively pointing at themselves and Mark. As he looked closer he realized they were all museum employees, meaning they were probably debating what to do with a statue which has suddenly appeared within the premises of the musem they worked for, a rather uncommon occurrence.
Not long after they left Mark's view and he was once again stuck in this feeling ot timelessness. Tourists stopped in front of him every now and then, looked at him for a moment and moved on, while he stood still, holding the gun in his hands as if ready to fight, and yet incapable of it because of some indescribable force.
The employees from before came back, one of them holding in their hands a metal stand of come kind. It had something written on it at the top, but Mark couldn't see what it was. What he could see was the employee putting the stand in front of him and them all looking at it.
"That will have to do for now" One of them said. This time they were standing closer and Mark was able to hear what they were saying.
"Yeah, I won't be able to make a proper one until tomorrow."
"Okay, but it has to be there by Monday afternoon, otherwise we're fucked. Jesus Christ, still'can't believe this happened."
"No time for moaning, Jacob. We have work to do." Another one replied. They all nodded their heads, took one last look at the stand and quickly left the scene.
Mark thought about what he had just witnessed, and it took him a moment to understand - this was a stand with information about the statue, which meant him. It was the same kind as dozens more throughout the museum that visitors could look at for further information that was meant to enrich their experiences. This was meant to hide the fact that he was not here just mere hours, or minutes, or days, or-- he was certainly not here when the exhibition was opened. That fact was probably what had made them so angry and confused before - from their perspective a random statue of a soldier randomly appeared in the museum.
His mind immediately asked one question - I wonder what did they write on there? What was his title, his author, his artistic description or statement? Wait, his author? That was a strange line of thought, Mark realized.
I am Uncontrolled Power.
Wait, what was that? Who said that? Where was that deep voice coming from?
I was created by Greg Duchaime Arreman.
Was there someone standing behind him?
I am meant to represent unchecked aggression and power of the Military Industrial Complex.
Wait a second, what this voice inside his head?
I am the physical manifestation of toxic masculinity and bravado.
Holy fuck, this was a voice inside his head. Was this... what they had written about him on this stand?
Fuck yeah, I'm an alpha who follows orders and crushes any sign of disloyalty.
The voice was talking to Mark. Shit, the voice was talking to him! What the fuck?
You scum, get ready to experience the primal, animalistic force of a toxic man! I'm gonna crush you!
Mark wanted to sigh loudly, but of course he couldn't. Great, the museum employees with their great art wisdom made him a stereotypical aggressive soldier. Obedient muscle. The armored tool of American imperialism. And this soldier character seemed to have appeared inside his head.
I am here to blindly follow orders, enforce them and show everyone what masculinity really means!
If Mark could have rolled his eyes, he would. He was stuck, like an NPC frozen mid-frame, standing in the middle of an art museum, possibly forever. And from now on he would represent toxic masculinity, aggression and military prowess.
Whoever stands in my way will be violently crushed with the power of the American Military and my primal force! Toxic and proud, that's who I am!
Random question
Does anyone know of TF stories that involve a character turning into an mindless NPC, completely controlled by its programming?
Asking for a bro
Call of Duty: Next Potential Chief
With @mrrharper
Inspired by nothing but boredom, Craig booted up his older brother’s console. If he found out that Craig was touching his stuff, his brother would have easily put him in the hospital. The two often fought, being on either end of the masculine spectrum. Craig, the liberal, more effeminate gay, had nothing in common with his conservative, ultra macho douchebag of a brother. Their fights were more or less his older brother shouting slurs at him for being girly, “a pussy” and “a fag," before landing numerous kicks and punches.
The home screen of the console displayed an array of games, most of which were the standard first person shooters. One however caught the short, slim boy’s eyes: Call of Duty: New Potential Chief. He was unfamiliar with any of the COD titles, but this one appeared to be new. At least, that’s what the small “NEW” banner above the icon hinted at. Intrigued, Craig decided to engage, opening the application. It took a while for the game to load, but eventually he was brought to the main menu.
Complete the Entry Campaign before joining online.
Craig assumed that was reasonable; he would have to endure a tutorial if he wanted to play the game properly. As soon as his finger accepted the prompt, a piercing electric shock paralyzed his entire body. Frozen, Craig now sat completely still as the screen continued forward, ready to engage its program.
Entry Campaign activated, downloading Physicality package…
The screen in front of Craig began to display multiple bars with different characteristics.
HEIGHT - 68/77 Units
WEIGHT - 152/200 Units
ADIPOSE TISSUE - 16/15%
MUSCULATURE - 23/85%
FEET - 8/15 Units
PHALLUS - 5/9 Units
The standardized inputs confused Craig at first, who although unable to move, still held some consciousness to the situation around him. After the first bones began to crack however, he began to understand the situation a bit more. Fearfully, Craig desperately attempted to move any portion of his body while tendons and ligaments shifted and expanded. As his HEIGHT bar slowly ticked further, Craig could literally hear himself stretching larger and larger, eventually reaching a height of 6’5.
Craig began to plead internally for escape as his muscles proceeded to bloat. His lanky body was quickly evolving, broadening with power. His calves and upper arms swelled, thickening with strength and testosterone. His quads widened, bolstering incredible durability along with his newly-prominent muscle gut. Craig’s seat expanded beneath him, plumping while his hardware opposite upgraded into a juicy 9 inches. Although still paralyzed, Craig’s legs were forcibly separated to accommodate the masculinized bundle, his soles inflating into obscenely large monsters.
Physicality package downloaded. Installing required MASCULINITY data points…
VOCAL HEIGHT - C5/D#4
VOCAL DEPTH - C#3/D2
FACIAL SHAPE - J
FACIAL HAIR - 2/61%
STRENGTH - 21/85%
AGGRESSION - 14/95%
Craig’s head naturally arched back as an emerging Adam’s apple distended from his neck, his vocal chords sculpting an uncommonly deep bass. His jaw was restructured as it jutted forward, stretching his nose and accentuating his brow along with it. A beard quickly grew in to cover the squaring shape, with dark hair flowing through Craig’s pits, down the sternum, across his crotch, and along his arms and legs.
Still fighting for release, Craig felt his inward ambition grow stronger, more offensive. In his mind, he had begun cursing the game, swearing to do unholy things to it and its creator once freed. His language and manner became cruder, brasher, and brutish–akin to his older brother’s demeanor that he had typically admonished. Craig's less analytical behavior distracted him from the the final set of downloads that were being made.
Finalizing Subordination supplements…
INTELLIGENCE QUOTIENT - 145/60 Units
INTERPRETATIVE ANALYSIS - 97/10%
EXECUTIVE SUBORDINATION - 0/100%
Initializing GAMEPLAY package, uploading TF4971-Wolf onto virtual network…
Without realization, Craig’s protests slowly became weaker and less deliberate. His specific remarks began to loosen, his targeted opinions evaporating as the progress bars ticked towards their end quotients. While his aggressive demeanor remained, Craig gradually lost the language he wished to use. Eventually, even his reasoning was wiped away, diluting his directed anger into simplistic barbarism.
Once his numbers matched the game’s standards, Craig’s brain was completely devoid of any independent thought. His head was cluttered with only the required media truly necessary. Images of loyal men, bulky men, masculine men in specific uniforms established only one precedent. Instructions on how to shoot, when to shoot, and who to shoot became his only scripture. His mind absorbed the gameplay, understanding its commands.
Now unable to process anything but the mission, TF4971-Wolf did not comprehend his teleportation into an online match in the game. He stood at one end of a battleground, surrounded by other men with the same objective. They all wore the same camo utility pants, thick jackets, and beige caps. They held the rifles they were all programmed to easily operate.
TF4971-Wolf did not question who he was, where he was, or even why he was as he proceeded towards the battleground. He was nothing more than a strong, masculine soldier NPC with permanent instructions to follow the COD programming and win the next match.
Summer Bootcamp
Your friend has been behaving strangely ever since coming back from this weird military camp thing the Army organized every summer in your county.
He suddenly became obsessed with guns, buying a few for himself and joining a shooting range he now came to on an almost daily basis.
He joined the gym and began following a "Navy SEAL grade" workout routine and you could see it working, his newly built muscles bulging under his clothes and a constant cloud of sweaty musk surrounding him.
He purged all of his social media profiles. Instead of photos of different places he visited and photos of him with his boyfriend, they were now filled with posts with him wearing different types of tactical gear, on shooting competitions, meet ups with soldiers and cops.
In conversations he started boasting about his conquests", saying how he was always mean to be a "breeder". When you mentioned his partner his dull, stern expression turned aggressive for a moment before he effortlessly changed the subject.
Recently he's even been talking about joining the National Guard. And he mentioned he would make sure you'd follow his path and become a real man.
Cocky And Proud, By Accident
Greg's roommate Chris had just begun his 10 month stay in Japan as a part of a student exchange program. In the beginning Greg thought that maybe, just maybe, he would have their 2 bed dorm all to himself. Then he realized he would probably be living with a student from Japan. After all, Chris was taking part in a student exchange program.
But he didn't expect what actually happened. He was assigned a new roommate, who turned out to be Heath Richards, a jock from the football team. When Greg was informed of the administration's decision he just sighed. This was going to be a hard year.
From the moment Heath first entered Greg's room it was clear his new roommate was a textbook example of a college football bro. He was loud - screaming while watching TV, belching and burping, laughing with that dumb jock chuckle. His clothes were everywhere and he refused to pick them up no matter how often Greg would remind him. This also meant that his sweaty smell quickly filled the whole room and removing this stench seemed impossible.
Greg was stuck with a dumb football jock for a roommate and he hated every minute of it. But there was nothing he could do as there was no process to appeal the decision that put Heath in his room. He also didn't have the money to move out and rent a studio off campus. So he was stuck with Heath. And that musky, sweaty smell.
One day Greg woke up and while still groggy and half-asleep, he started looking for clothes to wear. He opened his drawer and took out the pair of boxer briefs from the top of the pile and put it on. He then moved to their small kitchen area to prepare himself some breakfast. As he mixed the oatmeal he felt as if Heath's smell was more noticeable than usual.
"broooooooo" He suddenly heard the jock's voice behind him "why you wearin' my Under Armour boxers dude?"
"What?" Greg looked down and he gasped as he realized that the underwear he was wearing was not his usual kind, but Heath's black Under Armour boxer briefs.
"Fuck, how the hell did these get into my drawer, dude?"
"dunno brah, just calm down bro" Heath just shrugged "ya can wear them dude if ya want, i don't care, i have like 20 more after signing that sweet deal" Greg was about to scream at the guy, demanding he finally take care of his clothes when a thought entered his mind. You enjoy wearing Under Armour. It was a foreign thought, almost as if someone else had planted it in Greg's mind. But it stayed there, and though he was still angry at Heath, the need to take off the boxers just disappeared.
"Ugh" he just groaned "you jocks are all the same" he muttered under his breath and finished making his oatmeal, which he then took back to his desk. He sat down and started eating. You enjoy the smell of sweat, especially after a workout. The feeling of disgust at Heath's stench disappeared instantly, replaced by a slight enjoyment of the salty smell.
Greg quickly ate his breakfast, then got ready for the day. He put on a pair of shorts, a t-shirt and a hoodie, his ass still covered by Heath's UA boxer briefs. He saw the jock sitting on the couch on the other side of the room, wearing only a jockstrap, with his legs spread wide apart, looking at something on his phone. Greg rolled his eyes as he took his bag in his hand and walked up to the door.
"I hope I won't find any more of your clothes in my drawer, Heath" he barked at his roommate as he opened the door.
"yeah, yeah, calm down bruh" Heath drawled in response, then scratched his bulge. Greg sighed and left the room, ready to get through all the classes he had to attend today.
Greg was sitting on his third lecture of the day, still not the last, taking notes diligently. The professor went on and on, his charisma barely perceptible and he seemed to be the only person in the room who was still following what the older man was saying. Then, as the prof was looking at the computer, trying to change his presentations, a thought was implanted into Greg's mind. You have an IQ of 80 and don't care about academics.
He stopped taking notes and looked around. Fuck, how much longer was this lecture going to take? Greg shifted around in his seat, spreading his legs wider apart. The old dude leading the class resumed talking but he didn't really get what he was saying. It all sounded so boring.
An hour later, Greg was finally free of that old dude's ramblings. He looked at his phone and realized he still had one class left. Huhuh, nope, he was not going to suffer, not for one minute longer. And so he left the rest of his group and started walking towards the dorms. His brain needed time to relax after this mind numbing experience.
When he entered his dorm room, Heath was sitting on the couch, watching game tape on his laptop. Wait, how did he know it was game tape?
"ey dude, yer early bro" Heath commented, his eyes focused on the screen.
"Yeah..." Greg nodded, but then he didn't know what to say, he didn't have the words. You speak like a dumb jock.
"dude, lectures were so fuckin' boring bro, huhuhuh" Greg let out a dumb chuckle as he approached Heath and then sat down on the couch.
"duh bro, never got why ya bothered with all that academic bullshit bro, i see yer finally seeing how dumb all that shit is" Heath paused the video on his laptop and looked at Greg. "the only reason to stay in school is fuckin sports dude, ain't no other way to get to the NFL bro" He then furrowed his brow as he looked into Greg's eyes "you play ball dude?"
Greg was surprised by the question and as his brain was processing it, another thought appeared. You are a cornerback playing for the Atlanta Golden Eagles.
"yeah bruh huhuhuhuh, am a damn cornerback" Greg let out another dumb chuckle and Heath looked at him, suddenly very confused.
"shit, i gotta get ya to coach" He put the laptop away and stood up "follow me bruh"
Coach was not thrilled when he learned what happened to Greg. When Heath brought him to his office it took a while to get the necessary context out of the dumb jock, but eventually Coach was able to understand what had occured.
His supplements which turn all his players into strong and cocky football jocks had a weird quirk - it spread through his body and entered the jock's cum. And because Heath was one nasty jock, he got off into his boxers and didn't even wash them. so when Greg put on Heath's used boxers, some of the supplement got into his system and the his transformation began.
Coach was not thrilled, but he quickly , but he quickly decided to use this whole mishap to his advantage. He activated his connections, did some work himself and got himself a new player - cornerback Greg Geralt Evans. A few rounds of Coach's supplement and Geralt would be just as muscular as his best bro Heath, ready to get on the gridiron destroy any opposing team.
And Chris would have to find himself a new place to live after coming back form Japan.
Random question
Does anyone know of TF stories that involve a character turning into an mindless NPC, completely controlled by its programming?
Asking for a bro
Big Bro's Job
You can support me on https://ko-fi.com/mrrharper
The role of Big Bro is one of the most important in the gym.
Big bros run the gym on behalf of their Owner.
Big bros recruit more bros for the gym.
Big bros are the best personal trainers any bro has ever seen.
Big bros train lil bros to be the best bros they can me.
They make sure all bros are completely focused on working out.
They make sure all bros' brains are turned off inside the gym.
They make sure someone is always flexing in the gym.
They make sure all bros' holes are tightly closed, as real bros only fuck.
And they have to keep their bulk in prime condition, and a dumb expression on their faces at all times. And a backwards cap and some chains, of course.
It's hard being a big bro.
Would you like to try, bro?
Give this bro some love and attention everone
Blog update
Hi everyone!
First of all, thanks for the insane amount of likes and reblogs on my first story! As a new writer, it's really motivating to see!
Now, for the actual announcement:
I am going to be doing a slight blog rebrand.
I will keep reposting hot stories that I managed to archive/find,
However, any (new) original stories you will on my side-blog:
-> Derek's TFs
Hope to see you will all follow me there as well.
Thanks again for all the support
Give this bro some love and attention
Geared Up
---
Second original story! Hope you all enjoy it.
Thanks to @mrrharper for providing nice images to use and proofreading!
---
Aaron was never type that would ever consider applying at a security company, much less applying to be someone's personal muscle.
However, the pandemic had struck Aaron quite hard. He was now living on what little he had left in his savings. Needing to pay rent he had already sought out any opportunity to work, but never had any luck. Thanks to the coming of A.I. it seemed his graphic design degree had become nothing more than a literal paperweight now.
In order to make ends meet Aaron he turned the next best option, working at Geared Security Inc.
Geared Security was a new company in town. They were actively looking for new employees meaning he could start quickly if he got through the interview.
Upon second consideration Aaron realized it wasn't a bad deal after all. The pay seemed good, no prior job experience was required, and he would even get a say in how his hours were scheduled.
Aaron decided he needed to take action as soon as possible and rung up the place, scheduling a interview for tomorrow.
---
The following morning Aaron had made his way to the industrial park where Geared was located. The building was a old hangar which seemed to have been renovated recently. It proudly showcased "Geared Security Inc." on large banner plastered on front. As Aaron entered the building, he was surprised to see no one inside. He looked around seeing the brown leather chairs lined up side-by-side in front of the wooden reception desk. Looking at his phone he realized he got there a tad early, still having about 15 minutes before his interview would start.
Despite the amount of job openings the company had he was surprised to see the absence of applicants.
"Better chances for me" Aaron thought to himself.
"I'll be right with you" a baritone voice boomed from the back.
"Ah.. Alright" Aaron replied taken aback by the deepness of the man's voice.
Moments later a large man appeared from the back.
Aaron could not help but notice his massive arms. What's more, the man's traps and neck were equally as developed, visible through any layer of clothing he would be wearing.
"Aaron, am I right?" the absolute unit of a man asked.
"Ah... uh... Yes, sir." Aaron replied, snapping back to reality.
"Nice to meet you, I'm Dan" he said, offering his handshake
As Dan shook hands with Aaron, his biceps could be seen straining against his uniform.
At the same time Aaron, still mesmerized by the hunk in front of him, felt a little zap as they firmly shook hands.
"Alright Aaron, please follow me to the interview room" Dan said, making his way towards to the room located left of the reception.
The layout of the room was simple. A large table accompanied by two chairs placed opposite of each other. Aside from the table, the only other notable thing was the carpet floor and the black door on the right.
"Please, take a seat" Dan said, looking directly Aaron.
As intimidated as Aaron felt by Dan, he also admired the level of confidence he exuded. He always stood tall and proud whenever he interacted with Aaron.
"You're here to apply for security guard, is that correct?"
"Yes, sir." he replied.
Dan scanned Aaron from top to bottom with a stern look as he grabbed the file in front of him and started skimming through Aaron's personal details.
"23 years old... City local... College degree..." Dan murmured to himself as he read more about Aaron.
He sat nervously, unable to read into whatever his interviewer was thinking.
"So Aaron, what made you want to take this job?" He asked.
Aaron realized he might not be the best guy suited for the job since he wasn't a literal wall of muscle unlike most security guards. He was however quite fit always making sure to keep up his running habit even after finishing high school.
"I've always had a knack for justice, plus I'm quite a fast runner since I've done track and field ever since I was in high school." Aaron replied, highlighting his skills.
"Good" Dan replied, nodding in approval of Aaron's athleticism.
The interview continued. As Aaron kept answering Dan's questions, he felt more at ease. He was getting more confident in passing the interview.
"You're hired."
Aaron was ecstatic.
"Before you're formally employed we will have to go over the employee conduct policy and sign some legal papers, okay?" Dan told Aaron.
"Yes, of course, I understand." Aaron answered, relieved at the idea of finally having an income stream again.
Dan shuffled through his stack of papers, finding one filled to the brim with text and bullet points.
He walked around the table, reaching over Aaron's shoulder and placing it in front of him.
Instead of sitting back in his seat, Dan now stood at the door behind Aaron whilst he waited for him to sign it.
In the meanwhile, Dan took the opportunity to read conduct policy out loud.
"As personal muscle employed from Geared Security Inc.," he started.
"You only care about lifting and gaining as much muscle as possible"
"You will be dumb and obedient. You will do anything your employer asks you to"
These requirements caught Aaron by Aaron by surprise. In just one moment he became extremely unsure as to what he was getting himself into.
"Actually, Dan I think I might need a bit more time to think this over..." Aaron started, trying to backpedal on the job offer.
Dan remained quiet as he stood in front of the door they had both used to enter.
Aaron, did not the trust the situation. In a quick judgement he ran towards to the only door that was left unguarded, hoping it would lead him to a possible exit.
He thought it was his best option given that he would not be able to get past the boulder that was Dan.
As Aaron got the door and turned the knob, he once again felt a zap as the turned the handle.
Unlike what he hoped the room wasn't anything close to an exit. Instead, the room in front of him was a small storage closet that was filled with clothes and firearms.
Aaron turned back around, expecting that Dan would've chased after him. However, he just stood there, like a statue, waiting idly.
Then, out of a sudden, vertigo hit Aaron. His vision got shaky, as the ground seem to be coming closer.
"What's-" he tried to say. However, the only words that came out were an unintelligible mess.
In a single moment Aaron had forgotten the situation he was just in.
In fact, he had forgotten it all.
The more he tried to remember, the more he forgot.
When he tried to who he was, or why he was here it became hard to think. His mind felt fogged up.
Any attempt at thinking was hard.
Maybe it was best that he didn't think at all.
Maybe, he should just let the thinking be done for him.
Whilst he tried his earnest to remember, the heat proceeded to only grow stronger.
Aaron felt his normally loose fitting clothes start to heavily strain at its confines. Where a once flat chest was, was now two pair of muscular slabs that started to were pushing his dress shirt to its max.
"Let me help you" a voice called out.
As he looked towards the origin of the sound he was met a sense of calmness.
It felt good to listen to the man.
Aaron just stood there as the man's burly hands made quick work of his dress shirt, ripping it apart.
"At ease, guard" Dan commanded as he moved onto removing Aaron's belt.
"Guard..? Who-" Aaron asked, still struck by confusion.
"Yes, that's you. You're a Geared Security employee, did you forget?" Dan stated.
"Ah.. yes.. I'm a Geared Security guard... Yeah, that's right.." Aaron confirmed, slowly gaining back a sense of his self.
Whilst Aaron was slowly puzzling everything together, Dan had finished undressing him. Much like his dress shirt, his pants had also met a similar fate. In mere moments, Aaron's legs had grown heavily, no longer looking the slim muscular legs meant for running. Instead, legs as wide as tree trunks remained, perfect for subjugating any possible suspects.
"Do you know who you are?" Dan asked.
"Yes of course... My name is... Aaron" he replied pausing in between due to his uncertainty.
"That's not correct is it?" Dan quizzed.
Aaron wasn't sure anymore. What the man said made sense. He knew the man was right.
"Yeah, it isn't..."
"Your name is James. You will be referred to by your designation A501"
A501 realized the man was correct, his superiors always are.
There is no Aaron. There never was.
"You were just getting to work and getting changed right?"
Of course, how could he forget. Like many of his colleagues A501 wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed. Luckily he never had to think much. The only thing he had to care about was lifting weights and gaining muscle. His superiors would do the thinking for him.
Not wanting to embarrass his superior any further, A501 quickly went to the storage closet and starting picking out new clothes.
He put on his large size 12 boots. Followed up by a pair of brown cargo pants which he had to stretch outward to be able to get over his large manhood. Next was the belt containing various tools needed for his job like hand cuffs and his company-issued firearm.
A501 finished putting on the rest of his uniform.
His new clothes fit snuggly, highlighting his large biceps and strong legs.
Revitalized with purpose and a sense of self the fog in his mind started to clear.
"A501, time to work" Dan commanded.
"Sir Yes Sir!"
A501 was now a geared up guard, ready for duty.
The Grindset
You can support me on https://ko-fi.com/mrrharper
When Mike entered the gym he saw this absolute hunk of a man, a giant piece of muscle, standing next to the bench, looking straigth at the weights.
The hunk looked a bit weird, but Mike ignored it and started his workout.
After he finished the session he looked towards the bench, and the muscle bro was now crouching, still looking at the weights on the bar.
He watched for a minute and got actually concerned. This didn't seem right.
When he got closer he realized the man was murmuring something to himself.
get into the grindset
you're here to lift
only lifting matters
gotta lift weights
gotta lift more
gotta smash PBs
Mike became really confused. And concerned for the man.
"Hey dude, you're okay?" he put his hand on the hunk's shoulder.
And his brain stopped.
He slowly turned his head towards the weights and got into the same position as the other man.
Then he started talking. To get himself into The Grindset.
get into the grindset
His feet and shoes grew larger.
you're here to lift
His legs got thicker and longer, now the size of tree trunks.
only lifting matters
His stomach muscles got bigger and hardened, his core now able to sustain immense force.
gotta lift weights
His chest expanded massively, his pecs now giant slabs of muscle.
gotta lift more
His biceps and shoulders grew, now the size of footballs, his arms able to smash absolutely everything.
gotta smash PBs
you're a gym bro
you're a lifter
you're a muscle machine
go and lift, bruh
And with that Meathead and his best bro Brute stood up and started their daily lifting sesh, their minds filled only with thoughts of lifting weights and their meaty, muscular bodies expanding even more.
mrrharper Masterpost
what's up bros
to make this blog a bit more accessible, this is gonna be an index of all of my stories and other stuff connected with me, neatly divided into themes
also hey, i have a discord server for horny bros that y’all should join asap - here's the link
everything's under this pic of a hot stud
Jock TF
Todd goes to a gym / Academic requirements / A Son, Reformed / Muscles In Chains / The Rookie's Figuring It Out / Headphones In, Guns Out / Waiting For The Roommate / Mandatory PE Class / A Real Jock's Supposed to Be Dumb / Cocky And Proud, By Accident / Elevator Malfunction / Former Friend / There Are Always Jocks / Desperation In College /
Jock-focused
Under Armour Jock™ / Coach's Process of Developing a Jock / More Loyal, More American, More The Same / Muscle Memory / Inside A Jock's Mind / Script For A Jock / No-Trade Clause / Taming The Football Beast /
Cop/Soldier reprogramming
Programming Adjustment / Law, Order and Musk / Personal Muscle, Uniform Included / A Guard Programmed To Control And Obey / Summer Bootcamp / Army Surplus / Neighborhood Association / Another Cop For The Collection /
Gym Bro TF (and adjacent)
Gym Bro / Bro Advice / A Workout Break / This Is How You Recruit Gym Bros / Waking Up Huge And Jocked / Empty Eyes, Pumped Bis / The Grindset / Big Bro's Job / The Bro Zone Resort /
Inanimate TF
Not In The Exhibit Brochure /
NPC TF
Player Of The Month / Guarding The Base /
Other stuff
Discord - I run a discord server for other horny bros, come join us
Commissions - I am open for commissions. Want me to write you a story? Check the linked post for all the necessary details
#AMA - you can see all the questions I have answered from previous AMAs under this hashtag
Ko-fi page - you can support me and my work on ko-fi
random question
would y'all be interested if i were to open a discord server for bros who are into tf and other kinks ya can see on my blog?
Empty Eyes, Pumped Bis
You can support me on ko-fi.com/mrrharper
tw: slurs
inspired by @user211201
It started with his boyfriend suggesting he join a gym. So he did.
It went okay, he wasn't doing great, which was very annoying.
But slowly he started gaining some muscle mass.
Then he met JT.
He was a disgustingly straight gym bro. And yet he wanted to hang out with him. And it seemed to have an effect.
He suddenly started noticing gains. Big gains.
And JT turned out to be a cool dude. A real bro, but it just kinda felt good to be around him at the gym.
Other meatheads started commenting about the bromance he had going with JT, and he... actually enjoyed that thought. Yeah, JT is his bro.
Maybe even his best bro.
Huhuhuh, hell yeah JT's his best bruh. No one's better than his bro.
Wait, what? There's this guy... his boy... boyfriend? Nah man, can't be right, cause Jt's been talkin' about what real bros do. And he's a real bro...
duuuuuuuuuude huhuhuhuhuhuh
He felt his asshole tighten after a killer set on the bench. JT said real bros have their holes closed in and barely used, cause real bros don't get fucked. They do the fucking. A bro can't be anything but a top.
Wait, what's a top? A bro can only be one way, filling a hole. No other option. So he felt pride in his body conforming to the standards of a real bro. A hole programmed to not accept anything.
A guy came to the gym, some queer has been looking for him. JT got rid of the guy immediately.
He only needs JT, his best bro. They spend every hours liftin' and gettin' pumped and sweaty. Like real bros should.
Nothin' else matters.
Brain empty, just lift. Like JT says.
A sick pump on these guns is muuuuuuuch more important bruh.
huhuhuhuhuhuhuh fuck yeah dude
Waking Up Huge and Jocked
You can support me on ko-fi.com/mrrharper
story reposed with a few minor changes, previous ver. were too "explicit"
Trevor slowly woke up, sitting on his bed and opening his eyes. He immediately felt that something was wrong, but he didn't know what. He slowly walked up to the bathroom, where the only mirror in his apartment was located. Every step felt weird, his body didn't feel normal.
When he finally got to the mirror his mouth opened in shock. Then memories from the day prior flooded his mind.
Trevor joined a gym. A fairly new one that opened in his neighborhood. He decided to do that to capitalize on the gym's heavy discounts that were meant to attract new clients. And it wasn't the end - right after entering the building and registering, he was gifted with a bunch of free stuff.
Included was a few pieces of gym gear, which was very handy to Trevor, who has not worked out regularly before and did not have stuff like that.
After he came back home in the evening, Trevor decided to try out the clothes he got. Included in these was a pair of Under Armour boxer briefs that he put on alongside shorts and a sleeveless shirt. He looked a bit funny, at least according to himself, but the vibe he was giving off was actually... cool. He looked like a proper gym bro, and that gave him a... warm feeling. Wait, he was getting hot after wearing all that gear just for a few minutes, which seemed unusual.
And suddenly, it began.
As the warmth spread across his body from his lower abdominal area he clearly saw his body slowly expand. His stomach muscles became visible, his pectorals now pushing against the shirt. Shoulders expanded, biceps growing closer in size to a football. Legs now the size of tree trunks, each muscle clearly visible.
Trevor just looked, in shock and horror, as his body transformed into that of a real gym bro. He desperately tried to take off the gym gear, and while he succeeded with the shirt and shorts, the UA boxers just stayed glued to his skin the whole time. Wait a minute, was his dick getting larger as well? Shit, were these tattoos on his body? Fuckin' hell!
As the transformation came to an end Trevor was hit with a sudden and powerful feeling of tiredness. He took a few steps towards his bedroom, then collapsed on his bed and fell asleep almost immediately.
And this is how he ended up here, standing in front of a mirror the next day, still with the body of a jock. After the initial shock of this not having been a dream Trevor quickly thought about the benefits of the change and started flexing his new, huge muscles.
A huge grin appeared on his face as he lifted his arms, putting them in a double biceps pose, and took in the view. He also got quite aroused by the whole experience and his now bigger bulge was clearly visible, straining against his Under Armour boxers.
He eagerly grabbed his member and started massaging it through the fabric. Afterwards he decided to go back to the gym right away. Maybe he would learn something more, maybe he would grow even more.
He quickly put on the clothes, his shorts going over the cum-stained boxers, and made his way to the gym. He didn't know what to expect, but he felt anticipation rise inside him with every step. Finally Trevor reached the building and entered the place that was the cause of his changes.
The moment he went through the door his brain slowed down to a halt. A thick, dense fog covered his mind, no thoughts now coming in or out. A dumb grin appeared on his face, and drool appeared on the corner of his mouth.
The gym's Owner walked up to Trevor, standing still in the middle of the reception area.
"Next one, great." He grinned slightly and looked into Trevor's eyes.
"State your position, meathead." The owner gave the order, but the newly created gym bro did nothing. The older man in turn rolled his eyes. "Of course, you're a rookie." He put his hand in his pocket and took out a pair of dog tags, which he dangled in front of Trevor's face for a moment. Trevor's eyes started following the tags almost instantly.
"You will come with me, meathead." The Owner said, and started walking towards his office, Trevor following behind him. When they reached the room, the Owner ordered the new meathead to sit down in front of his desk. He then turned the monitor towards Trevor and pushed a button on the keyboard.
A video showing both muscular dudes pumpin' iron and a hypnotic spiral started playing and the Owner started talking.
"You are a dumb meathead. The only thing you do is lift and train others to lift. You are as masculine as can get... oh, also... you're gay?"
"Yeah..." Trevor drawled. Droll was flowing down from his mouth.
"Nope, you're as straight as a guy can get." The Owner stated strongly. Trevor felt tingling around his butt, as his hole tightened and closed in, making sure nothing would enter it and that he would never think about his ass in terms of pleasure again.
"You do not think of anything not related to working out. Your life is the gym. You are my employee and obey my every order." The Owner stood in front of Trevor, between him and the screen. "You are Brute. You are 32AZ, you are a dumb meathead." He then took a step to the side, allowing Brute to watch the video to the end.
"State your position, meathead." Brute heard Boss say.
"Personal trainer bruh, liftin' and pushin' guys to become men bro"
"Correct, meathead."
"Huhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuh, yeah sir, huhuhuhuhuh" He did a mock salute, a dumb chuckle escaping his mouth.
"Now go, complete Routine 12, then come to the Reception to receive your schedule."
"Yes sir... bro huhuhuhuh."
"Good meathead. Now go."
Waking Up Huge and Jocked
You can support me on ko-fi.com/mrrharper
story reposed with a few minor changes, previous ver. were too "explicit"
Trevor slowly woke up, sitting on his bed and opening his eyes. He immediately felt that something was wrong, but he didn't know what. He slowly walked up to the bathroom, where the only mirror in his apartment was located. Every step felt weird, his body didn't feel normal.
When he finally got to the mirror his mouth opened in shock. Then memories from the day prior flooded his mind.
Trevor joined a gym. A fairly new one that opened in his neighborhood. He decided to do that to capitalize on the gym's heavy discounts that were meant to attract new clients. And it wasn't the end - right after entering the building and registering, he was gifted with a bunch of free stuff.
Included was a few pieces of gym gear, which was very handy to Trevor, who has not worked out regularly before and did not have stuff like that.
After he came back home in the evening, Trevor decided to try out the clothes he got. Included in these was a pair of Under Armour boxer briefs that he put on alongside shorts and a sleeveless shirt. He looked a bit funny, at least according to himself, but the vibe he was giving off was actually... cool. He looked like a proper gym bro, and that gave him a... warm feeling. Wait, he was getting hot after wearing all that gear just for a few minutes, which seemed unusual.
And suddenly, it began.
As the warmth spread across his body from his lower abdominal area he clearly saw his body slowly expand. His stomach muscles became visible, his pectorals now pushing against the shirt. Shoulders expanded, biceps growing closer in size to a football. Legs now the size of tree trunks, each muscle clearly visible.
Trevor just looked, in shock and horror, as his body transformed into that of a real gym bro. He desperately tried to take off the gym gear, and while he succeeded with the shirt and shorts, the UA boxers just stayed glued to his skin the whole time. Wait a minute, was his dick getting larger as well? Shit, were these tattoos on his body? Fuckin' hell!
As the transformation came to an end Trevor was hit with a sudden and powerful feeling of tiredness. He took a few steps towards his bedroom, then collapsed on his bed and fell asleep almost immediately.
And this is how he ended up here, standing in front of a mirror the next day, still with the body of a jock. After the initial shock of this not having been a dream Trevor quickly thought about the benefits of the change and started flexing his new, huge muscles.
A huge grin appeared on his face as he lifted his arms, putting them in a double biceps pose, and took in the view. He also got quite aroused by the whole experience and his now bigger bulge was clearly visible, straining against his Under Armour boxers.
He eagerly grabbed his member and started massaging it through the fabric. Afterwards he decided to go back to the gym right away. Maybe he would learn something more, maybe he would grow even more.
He quickly put on the clothes, his shorts going over the cum-stained boxers, and made his way to the gym. He didn't know what to expect, but he felt anticipation rise inside him with every step. Finally Trevor reached the building and entered the place that was the cause of his changes.
The moment he went through the door his brain slowed down to a halt. A thick, dense fog covered his mind, no thoughts now coming in or out. A dumb grin appeared on his face, and drool appeared on the corner of his mouth.
The gym's Owner walked up to Trevor, standing still in the middle of the reception area.
"Next one, great." He grinned slightly and looked into Trevor's eyes.
"State your position, meathead." The owner gave the order, but the newly created gym bro did nothing. The older man in turn rolled his eyes. "Of course, you're a rookie." He put his hand in his pocket and took out a pair of dog tags, which he dangled in front of Trevor's face for a moment. Trevor's eyes started following the tags almost instantly.
"You will come with me, meathead." The Owner said, and started walking towards his office, Trevor following behind him. When they reached the room, the Owner ordered the new meathead to sit down in front of his desk. He then turned the monitor towards Trevor and pushed a button on the keyboard.
A video showing both muscular dudes pumpin' iron and a hypnotic spiral started playing and the Owner started talking.
"You are a dumb meathead. The only thing you do is lift and train others to lift. You are as masculine as can get... oh, also... you're gay?"
"Yeah..." Trevor drawled. Droll was flowing down from his mouth.
"Nope, you're as straight as a guy can get." The Owner stated strongly. Trevor felt tingling around his butt, as his hole tightened and closed in, making sure nothing would enter it and that he would never think about his ass in terms of pleasure again.
"You do not think of anything not related to working out. Your life is the gym. You are my employee and obey my every order." The Owner stood in front of Trevor, between him and the screen. "You are Brute. You are 32AZ, you are a dumb meathead." He then took a step to the side, allowing Brute to watch the video to the end.
"State your position, meathead." Brute heard Boss say.
"Personal trainer bruh, liftin' and pushin' guys to become men bro"
"Correct, meathead."
"Huhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuh, yeah sir, huhuhuhuhuh" He did a mock salute, a dumb chuckle escaping his mouth.
"Now go, complete Routine 12, then come to the Reception to receive your schedule."
"Yes sir... bro huhuhuhuh."
"Good meathead. Now go."
When writing a new story, do you tend to write using a photo as inspiration, or do you try to find photos to fit the story after you've already written it?
It's usually the story first, then I spend an hour of two looking for the right image.
Although sometimes when I'm horny I just find a photo I like and think what caption would suit it best.
Are you into Harry Potter?
nope, DNFed as a teenager around the fifth book and never cared enough to pick it up again
I was a Percy Jackson kid
plus, ya know
Trans Liberation Now