Realized Maybe You Wanted Me To Submit An Actual Ask. Dude I Live Your Writing And Am So Depressed About

Realized maybe you wanted me to submit an actual ask. Dude I live your writing and am so depressed about the coming Tumblr apocalypse. I would love to end up as a big roided meathead in the great change.

You know a lot of people said that the great shift was “the end” to everything  too. Numerous people finding themselves in such vastly different bodies, its scary.  But people adapt and people change. Take you for example. Like my blog you lived a nice and comfortable life, but then the great shift happened and you found yourself in a gym surrounded by weights, supplements, and a mirror.

You had become a larger than life bodybuilder with a serious urge to workout harder than you ever had in your life. You embraced this new change and strived forward in life, letting nothing stop you! Granted, when you’re 6′9 and nearing 300lbs there are few things that could stop you, but you get my meaning. 

Let’s hope my blog’s future is as bright as the sun when it shines on your sweaty pecs!

Story of a Shifter (Part 5)

Read Part 4 HERE.

Everything was set. The real Miles was chilling at my house for the weekend, pretending to be me. He was pretty good at it too. Everything from my awkward mannerisms to my quiet personality he adopted instantly. The shift must have given him aspects of myself.

I did have to admit though, it was really weird to see someone else with my body, especially Miles. He was years older than me, but suddenly he wasn’t. I was worried he was going to abuse it at first, but he assured me he wouldn’t. He seemed sincere, so I believed him.

After I physically shifted him, I gave him a little cheat sheet with information regarding my life so my parents wouldn’t suspect anything. I could tell he was ready for a weekend of relaxation in my life, so I sent him off.

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PERFECT WIFE

I’d never been happy with myself, really. I was a chubby, normal guy who did what was expected. I went to college, got a job and married my high school girlfriend. But, the older I got the more I grew into myself. I started to work out and take care of myself, lost a shit ton of weight and built a lot of muscle. I even looked like those guys you see in magazines now and even got a killer tattoo. I’d never felt more masculine, but my wife wasn’t sure what to make of it. She seemed less and less interested and I found myself suddenly looking at guys at the gym, wondering what it would be like to be with one of them, somebody who appreciated what went into creating a body like mine.

I wondered what it would be like to be married to a man instead of a woman. How would life be different if I were with somebody who was more like me, somebody who loved to work out and take care of themselves … somebody who had the same sex drive as me, maybe more. But, I was a married man and my life was what it was.

A few days after tossing this thought into the universe, I came home one day after the gym. Everything was the same as it was every day, my wife in the kitchen cooking dinner when I came through the door. I said the same thing I did every day …

“Hey, Babe, I’m home.” I dropped my bag at the door, but there wasn’t a response. I heard her in the kitchen. “Babe?”

As I turned the corner I saw a man standing there with a towel wrapped around his waste and he turned just as I saw him.

“Hey,” he said. “Sorry, I was in the middle of making dinner.” He stepped forward and gave me a kiss that felt oddly familiar. “I hope you’re hungry,” he said, smiling at me with a wink.

He turned back to the stove as I stood there, stunned. It was strange, but, he looked like my wife but … as a man. He even smelled like her and … could this be happening? My gaze moved over his muscular frame. He was perfect, exactly what I’d imagined when …

“You okay,” he asked, glancing back at me.

“Yeah,” I said. “Just, tired I guess.”

“Well, I hope you’re not too tired because,” he turned back around, letting his towel fall to the floor before he grinned up at me. My eyes fell to his dick as he leaned against the wall. “Because I was hoping we could have a little fun before dinner.”

Stepping closer, he wrapped his arms around me, pulled me close before kissing me deeply a second time. His arms were so strong, his perfect body pressed against mine as he inched his hands down my pants, massaging my ass as he pulled me closer. I was instantly hard as he smiled at me with those incredible brown eyes.

“You’ve been working out so hard I figured you deserved a little play time. Besides, I want to play with my husband’s hot new ass.” He kissed me again, ran his right hand over my sweats, over my rock hard cock. “There he is,” he whispered in my ear and I knew I was going to enjoy my new life with my husband.

Are You Sure?

The best part about my boy is the part of him that peeks out, whatever I change him into. He’s always just so eager to play, to learn the rules of whatever role I’ve just shifted him into.

It’s almost a challenge for me at this point, to see if there’s some kind of guy that I can turn him into, where I would actually have a hard time finding him within.

I was astonished how much he just went with it when I first changed him.

“How would you describe yourself, Matt?” I asked him, lying in bed as he poked through out closet, picking out a shirt.

“Um…” he said, not really turning. “To who?”

“What kind of vibe do you give off, if someone were to see you on the street,” I said, staring at his back.

He gave a light laugh and slight shrug.

“I dunno, probably your average Brooklyn hipster, early 30’s, tall, skinny, boy next door in flannel,” he said.

“Are you sure?” I said, and he stopped. “Are you sure they wouldn’t see you as some scruffy jock on his way to the gym?”

And suddenly, he stood all the way up, his arms swelling, his floofy hair shrinking down into a buzzcut. A short beard crept along his face as his chest broadened, stretching out a Nike tee across his meaty pecs. He shrank down a few inches, his loss of height offset by his sudden broadness.

He turned to me. I froze, waiting to see his reaction.

And then, without missing a beat, he popped his arms behind his head and flashed me a grin.

“I can’t help it if people stare at my guns,” he said in his now lower voice, flexing his biceps, and taking a step toward me. He looked down at himself, and then back at me.

“Like what you see, babe?” he said.

I did.

He took a step closer.

“Want a whiff of these pits before I hit the gym then?”

I did.

I kept him as a jockboy for a week. And then, one morning, as he was pulling out a pair of gym shorts, I asked him, “How would you describe yourself?”

He gave a low, gruff chuckle.

“Probably some dumb, scruffy jock,” he said.

“Are you sure?” I asked, and he froze. “Are you sure people wouldn’t see you as some just turned 19, smooth faced skater boy?”

He looked at me the whole time he shrank, as his frame got leaner and leaner. Years melted off him as his beard and body hair disappeared, and a golden glow ran over his face and skinnier body. His lips got puffier, his eyes softer. I caught a glimpse of his slightly longer, spiky hair as a blue skater cap appeared on his head. The former gym rat, now 5'7’’, maybe 130 pound skater seemed less cocky, more boyish.

“I mean, the skateboard kinda gives it away,” he laughed, light and bubbly, still not breaking eye contact.

I stood up. He came up to my chest now. I wrapped my arms around his now lithe frame and kissed him. He melted into my embrace, leaning into my grip.

Our kiss finally broke and I looked down at him. And there he was, eyes alight. My same boy.

And so it went, for weeks. We would never talk about the change. I never asked him if he liked being one man over another. He had the same eager grin, no matter the man, no matter the role. An older dom daddy: my boy. A twinky porn star go-go dancer: my boy. A chubby chain smoking bear: my boy. A clean cut sailor on leave: my boy.

It’s Friday night. He’s about to cook us dinner when I call out,

“How do you think people see you?”

“I’m sure the glasses and patched elbows on my blazer give away that I’m some kind of academic,” he says, gently.

“Are you sure?” I grin. “Are you sure you’re not a kinky, gear addict slut?”

He adjusts the harness as it wraps around his chest and stares at me, on the bed.

“Dinner can wait, boy,” he growls.

And as he steps toward me, massive dildo in hand, I see it flash in his face.

My boy. I’m sure of it.

“What about him?” Karl stroked his square, stubbled jawline in the mirror and then turned to me for my approval.

“Yeah,” I said, “I guess.”

“You guess?” he said, “Jesus, Michael. You’re telling me this guy isn’t handsome enough for you? Fuck. I look like a fucking Ken doll.”

“I dunno,” I said. I searched for a compliment to give him, but I was coming up short. “You look good. You just look too… perfect.”

He rolled his eyes, sighed heavily, and slumped down a bit in his muscular frame.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “You want me to just change back into myself?”

No, I didn’t want that either.

“So, then, what?” he said. He held his arms out and shrugged his sculpted shoulders. “What do you want me to do, Mike? Who do you want me to be?”

It was an interesting question for him to ask, especially now that I knew he could literally be anybody that I wanted him to be. In the past hour, I had seen him shift into a parade of different forms right in front of my eyes. He had taken on the appearance of some of my favorite male models, bodybuilders, and Hollywood hunks. He had morphed into one fantasy guy after the other, but none of them seemed real.

“Can we try this again later?” I asked, “I’m sorry. This is just way too much for me right now.”

I watched him slowly shift back into himself. He looked deflated. Disappointed.

“I shouldn’t have shown you this,” he said. He had trusted me, shown me his gift, and I had met him with apprehension. I’m sure it wasn’t the reaction he had expected.

“I’m sorry,” I said again, “I’m glad you showed me. I just need some time to think about it.”

I looked him in the eyes to let him know that he hadn’t pushed me away. He smiled.

“Let me know when you’re ready to try it again,” he said.

Story of a Shifter (Part 4)

Read Part 3 HERE.

So, long story short. Ashley wanted me to shift into her older brother Miles. It was a long shot, but if she could somehow convince Miles about my power, I could become him and go with Ashley on the camping trip. At first I was hesitant, as she expected. I didn’t want to abuse my power, but at the same time, I felt that I needed to use it.

She texted me and asked if I could come over to assist her in telling Miles. After telling my parents where I was going, I ran over to Ashley’s house and she invited me inside.

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