Pride Month

Pride Month

Johnathan had never considered himself a homophobe. He didn’t mind gay men as long as they weren’t over the top or too flamboyant. But he couldn’t help despise Pride month. He thought it was unnecessary and was disgusted by it. The idea of gay men overtaking the streets, wearing little clothing, forcing their sexuality on him was revolting to Johnathan. He couldn’t help but feel anger build up inside him every June.

“Stupid pride month. They get an entire month to shove their gayness down my throat” he mumbled as he looked out his apartment window seeing the Pride parade below him.

“I wish I got a whole month dedicated to my sexuality” he said smugly.

As soon as the words left his mouth, there was a knock at his apartment door. Johnathan was shocked. He wasn’t expecting anyone. Johnathan waltzed his way to the door and opened it. A big beefy masculine man stood in the doorway grinning at him. He was only wearing a pair of tight pink underwear. “He’s a queer” Johnathan thought to himself. Johnathan could see the outline of the hairy man’s meaty cock straining against his underwear. Even Johnathan was stunned by it’s size. It was as thick as a beer can. Johnathan could see glitter on the man. Johnathan could tell the beefy man had been down there partying with all the other annoying gays.

“You coming to the parade, boy?” the man growled in a condescending tone.

Johnathan was taken back. He had never been called ‘boy’ before. It was almost as if the strange man was trying to humiliate Johnathan.

“What? I ain’t no queer. I don’t want anything to do with that disgusting parade” Johnathan retaliated.

“What are you talking about, boy?” the mysterious man chuckled. He then used his big meaty hands to push Johnathan back into his apartment. The strange man then walked in and locked the door behind him.

“You must be confused” the hairy man said in his deep husky voice. “You’ve always loved the Pride parade, Johnny boi. It gives you a chance to show off that sexy body of yours, especially that big juicy ass.” The stranger grinned.

Johnathan felt a hot pleasure build up in his skinny body, especially his arms. Johnathan looked down to see his biceps grow. They began to inflate like footballs. Becoming bigger and stronger. His flat chest began to grow too. His once flat pectoral muscles inflating. Becoming round and fuller. Almost like a pair of heavy perky tits. He could feel the weight of them on his chest. It all felt so disorientating. Johnathan grabbed his new perky tits only to let out a high pitched feminine moan. His nipples were so sensitive. The slightest touch elicited a feminine pleasure filled moan.

“I love your new bleach blonde hair, Johnny boi. You look like a total himbo” the mysterious man laughed as Johnathan’s dark hair began to lighten becoming a light blonde. Johnathan began moaning as his pecs began involuntarily bouncing. Johnathan was shocked by the high pitched feminine whimpers coming out of his mouth. But he couldn’t stop them. It felt so... natural. It felt so right.

Johnathan’s legs began growing. Becoming thick and beefy. The hot pleasure then began to focus on Johnathan’s ass. His flat ass growing. Becoming big and round. Fat and juicy. His hips becoming wider to accommodate his new melon sized cheeks. Johnathan couldn’t help but fondle them. His new cheeks jiggled with every movement. His new ass looked so inviting. As if his ass cheeks were begging to have a nice big cock jammed up in between them.

“I’m loving your new style” the beefy man said “All you wear now is slutty pink clothes. In fact, you find it impossible to wear any other colour now.”

Johnathan’s suit began to change. The trousers shortened to become a nice pair of pink shorts not even long enough to cover his new big himbo cheeks. His shirt and jacket moulded together to become a nice crop top, exposing his new six pack. The crop top barely concealed Johnathan’s new pair of sensitive titties.

“What are you doing to me?” Johnathan shouts in fear. “I look so...”

“Gay?” the hairy man interrupted. “That’s because you are gay, Johnny. You’re a big homosexual himbo”

HOMOSEXUAL. HIMBO. The words rang out in Johnathan’s mind. He could feel himself fading. Being replaced. His mind was being rewritten by the dominant intruder. His attraction to women dissipated while his attraction to men increased. His fantasies of breeding women were replaced with thoughts of having his hole being stretched by big fat cocks. His apartment began to change. Pride flags appearing on the wall, his walls and furniture turning into a light playful pink and the clothes in his closet being turned into slutty pink crop tops and thongs. The dominant stranger began to fill Johnathan’s thoughts. Johnathan blushed as he imagined his hole being filled by the beast. Johnathan found himself daydreaming about sucking on the man’s big hairy cock. Johnathan began to get hard as all the new gay fantasies filled his little head. Johnathan couldn’t make eye contact with the beast anymore. He felt lesser than him. He was just a hole for him to fuck his potent cum into. Nothing more. His hole began to loosen. No more did he have a tight straight hole. His hole was now loose and sloppy. It had seen many years of penetration. And it was ready for many years more. To encourage anal penetration, Johnathan could now no longer cum from just stroking his penis. He needed a big dom daddy to jam their cock into his prostate in order to feel pleasure. As a result of this, Johnathan’s cock shrank. Shrank until it was nothing more than a one inch nub. He didn’t need his cock anymore. All he needed was his new big juicy melon sized ass cheeks. Johnathan’s nub began to leak precum as he fantasised about the dominant man stuffing his sloppy hole.

“You don’t have to hide your precummy nub from me” the big man cooed. “You’re a big dumb horny himbo. You can’t help it”

DUMB. HORNY. HIMBO. Johnathan felt his brain begin to melt away. The warm pleasure draining away his IQ. Johnathan got dumber and dumber. The dumber he got, the more vacant his face looked. His mouth dropped open. His drool dribbled out onto the floor as he let his intelligence drip away. His IQ dropped to a mind numbingly stupid 40. He was so stupid. His face was forever stuck in a dumb himbo expression. Everyone could tell he was just a big dumb himbo now. Johnathan didn’t even finish high school. He didn’t understand anything. He just sat at the back of the class dribbling on his big fat tits, thinking about getting his hole stuffed full of cum.

“I like totally forgot how stupid I was hehehe” Johnathan giggled in an extremely feminine voice.

“Don’t worry, Johnny. I’ll always be here to do the thinking for you” the daddy smirked. “That’s why I married you”

A wedding ring appeared on Johnny’s finger. Johnny let out an effeminate sigh as he looked at his new dominant husband.

“I like totally love you daddy” he swooned as he let out a high pitched giggle.

“Now show daddy how much you love him. Shake that ass for me, boi” the man deviously grinned.

Johnny immediately started shaking his massive jiggling ass. He began twerking for his daddy. He wanted to make him proud. That was Johnny’s main goal in life now. Looking sexy for his new dom daddy.

Johnny’s fat ass began to ache. It felt like it was missing something. Johnny felt so... empty.

“I need your cock, sir” Johnny whimpered as he nudged his husbands fat pecs with his face. Johnny rubbed his face all over his husband’s chest. He covered himself in his stink. He wanted to be able to smell his daddy at all times.

“Listen boy, go into your room. Strip. Get on all fours and get ready for the pounding of a lifetime” the hairy man smiled. Johnny did as he was told.

Johnny loves his new life as a gay himbo. He has a big fuckable body and a sexy daddy that would buy him anything he wanted. But most importantly, Johnny got exactly what he wished for. Johnny now has an entire month dedicated to his sexuality. Pride Month.

Life-Changing Massage

“Take off your clothes and lie down on the massage table. I’ll be with you in one moment”

“Take off my clothes? You’re not gay, are you?” Danny nervously laughed unbuttoning his shirt.

The masseur rolled his eyes at Danny’s comment.

“No... but you will be” the masseur muttered to himself.

“What?” Danny questioned. “I didn’t hear you”

“Oh nothing, sir. Just lie down and let me get to work.” the masseur smirked deviously.

“You’d be shocked at what these fingers can do. They’re... life changing”

———————————————————————

Danny lay down on the massage table with only a small towel covering his private parts. The masseur began slowly working his hands over Danny’s slender frame.

Danny tried to relax. He wanted to just let go. But he couldn’t help but worry. If any of his bros heard that he was getting a massage from a dude, he would be the butt of jokes for years to come. Danny would rather be known as anything other than gay.

As the masseur lay his hands on Danny’s skin, Danny felt a warm rush flow through his body. It was as if the masseur’s fingertips were sending waves of warm pleasure through Danny’s slender body. The pleasure shot through Danny’s body until...

“Ughhhhhhhhhhh” A long orgasmic moan escaped through Danny’s lips.

“Now, let’s start the real massage” the masseur smirked.

“Wait... this is too gay. I have to leav- OHHHH” Danny was cut off by the sensation of soft lips sucking his nipple.

Danny looked down to see the masseur tenderly sucking on his sensitive nipple. A hot intense pleasure began to formulate around his chest. An orgasmic throbbing pleasure. So intense. So intoxicating. Danny couldn’t help but moan in pleasure. It was too much to handle. The intense tingling orgasmic pleasure began to target his pecs, making them feel heavier. It was almost as if his pecs were... growing.

Danny’s pleasure-filled pecs began to grow bigger. With each suck on his nipple, his pecs grew rounder. His once lean pecs were now soft and perky muscle tits. His nipples fattened, they looked like they were begging to be sucked. The pleasure only grew in Danny’s pecs as his moans grew louder and more intense. But the masseur wouldn’t stop. He kept sucking.

Danny’s once nonexistent pecs were now massive. So big and fat. Danny’s chest looked like it was just begging to be titty fucked. His meaty pecs yearned to have a man blow his thick potent alpha load on them. It’s what they were designed for.

Deep down Danny was scared. How was this man causing him so much pleasure? This man was making him feel more pleasure than any woman ever had. Was Danny... gay? No, he couldn’t have been. Danny had never even thought of men sexually before now. He had never even thought of their... big hard cocks between his juicy tits. He had never fantasised about sucking big fat cocks or... shoving dildos up his ass. But now, just the thought of it makes his cock twitch.

“You may lie face down now” the masseur commanded

Danny’s body obediently flipped itself over. Danny now lay on his new juicy pecs. Danny let out a moan as his big sensitive nipples brushed off the massage table.

“Now. Let’s show everyone how fertile you really are”

The masseur then lay his magical hands on Danny’s flat bottom. The fear set in. Danny knew what was coming. But what scared Danny even more was... he was excited for it.

Pleasure filled Danny’s flat bottom as it inflated in size. Growing big and round. His ass grew rounder and softer. His hips widened to accommodate for his new gargantuan sized booty. It grew bigger and bigger until it was bigger than any ass he’d ever seen. His once flat bottom was now a fat fuckable booty.

As the pleasure subsided, Danny’s rational mind resurfaced. Danny knew he had to escape. He threw himself off the massage table and onto the floor. His big ass and juicy pecs jiggled hypnotically as he hit the floor.

“That’s it, dumbslut. Shake that fertile ass”

The masseur picked up the himbo and lay him back down on the massage table. Before Danny could resist, the masseur ran his fingers over Danny’s face.

“Let’s massage that face of yours, shall we?”

The heated pleasure filled Danny’s face. His lips began plumping up, becoming the most fuckable dick sucking lips anyone had ever seen. Danny’s face became more angular. His jaw sharpened. Facial hair began sprouting on his young 19 year old face. A big thick mustache formed above his big lips. The hair spread further down his body covering his perky tits and defined six pack in a pelt of hair. His body began beefing up. His biceps grew bigger and his shoulders broadened.

He looked like the most fuckable muscle stud.

“I think we’re done here.” the masseur smugly grinned.

Danny stepped off the massage table and put his two massive feet on the ground. Danny stared at his insanely fuckable body in the mirror.

“What did you do to me?!” Danny exclaimed through his pouty lips. “Change me back! I’m begging you!”

“Change you back?” the masseur questioned. “What’re you talking about? You’ve always been like this.”

Danny’s head began aching. The words of the masseur buried themselves deep inside Danny’s mind.

“What? No... no, I haven’t”

“Yes, you have. You’ve always been a big, gay, dumb, balloon titted himbo.” The masseur pulled on Danny’s sensitive nipple, eliciting a soft moan from Danny’s big lips.

There was a long silence. Danny’s identity slowly faded away, becoming nothing more than drool inside his big dumb mouth. Danny’s face became so vacant. So dumb. His jaw hanged open as he began breathing only through his mouth. He looked so empty and relaxed. The more IQ he lost, the more drool formed in his mouth. He got dumber and dumber until his personality, his heterosexuality and all his memories leaked out of his mouth and fell onto the wooden floor, creating a big puddle of drool.

“So Danny, I think we’re done here. How was that?” The masseur looked at Danny smugly.

Danny’s face lit up as he giggled dumbly. His big tits and fat ass jiggled.

“That was, like, so totally fucking awesome hehe”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it, Danny.”

“Next time you should, like, totally fuck my big bubble butt, hehehe”

———————————————————————

And so, the homophobe lived out the rest of his life as a dumb gay balloon titted himbo. The slut can’t go an hour without fingering himself, shoving a dildo up his ass or getting ravenously fucked by sexy daddies on Grindr.

Danny has become a regular at the spa, getting at least two massages every week. However, the masseur only likes to focus on massaging one specific part of Danny’s body.

His prostate.

The last drop of his saliva slowly fell from his mouth and into mine, sealing my fate as his latest chavvy fuck toy.

We'd met in the pub and bounded over the football. I wasn't super interested but had taken an interest in the euros after being forced to take part in a sweepstakes in the office.

He encouraged me to get more into and said if I really wanted to support my sweepstakes team I had to look that part.

We went to a sports shop where he picked out new clothes for me. Football tops, joggers, trainers, socks, and even a hat. I won't lie, the feeling of the material against my body did begin to turn me on.

His comments about how fit I looked didn't help matters.

We went back to his place for a couple of cans, which quickly became several. In my drunken state I didn't resist when he put the chain and padlock around my neck. Before I could even say anything back he held my neck and pulled my face to his.

I let his tongue invade my mouth, savouring the taste of his saliva and cheap beer. Slowly I felt my mind becoming cloudy, less clear, less certain about things.

He was in complete control of me. Thoughts of work and complex tasks were rapidly reformed into new memories and desires. My life now was orientated only around lads, football and cock. Its all I ever wanted and needed.

I look up to him as he smiles at his latest creation. My eyes wander down to his crotch and I feel myself begin to drool.

Ni Hao!NYC

Morally conflicted journalist puts off questions of ethics until it's just too late. Finally assigned to put his name next inflammatory content Sam finds himself more than appreciating Chinese culture.

Various white to Asian Muscle growth and racial change ahead!

Like many, I saw the final pictures on twitter and had to do something with them haha! Ended up with a piece just a tad different than usual! Hope you all enjoy! -Occam

Samuel Johnston knew he worked for a rag but as long as the checks cashed he could afford to mute his conscience. They made money not from sales so much as some rightwing think tank who wants their views affirmed in any way they can get it. So he lays low and pens little puff pieces, avoiding anything too controversial and introduces himself as an accountant to anyone he cares enough to lie to.

He’s quite adept at staying out of sight and mind when it comes to the doling out of any especially charged or problematic issues. Making sure to bury his own work any chance he gets, even using a pen name in case someone accidentally stumbles on his writing. It’s gone well enough so far he thinks! Sam tells himself that really working for NY:Red isn’t that bad, surely it’s even good that he’s got the job rather than anyone who believes the shit they write. Right?

No job is without its problems, he tells himself. So far he’s done a commendable job keeping his nose down with an almost supernatural ability to duck away from bigwigs or management. That is until now as he’s summoned by name to his boss’ side. His proficiency at staying off the radar of management has kept him from a one on one with the man in charge for some time, but now he is sitting on the top floor outside of Mr. Howard’s office, surely waiting to be assigned some horrible project.

“Come in!” Sam hears the surly man shout before promptly stepping into the gaudy office. He’s immediately taken aback as somehow the editor looks almost younger than he does in the many pictures Sam has seen. Sam hides his shock at the man’s jet black hair as well as he hides the general fear and disdain that begins to send adrenaline pumping towards his mind. Mr. Howard doesn't notice at least, getting straight to business, “I can tell from yer writing that ya like the city Sam, can I call ya Sam?”

Samuel opens his mouth to reply but the chief just continues on, “Anyway I love all yer little toilet paper stories but how do ya wanna write with the big leagues?” This time Samuel stays strong and gets a word in before being steamrolled again, “Actually I-” “I’m putin you on the most important case we have Sam. Surely ya’ve noticed all this, whats da word, invasion? Influx? Bah. All the Asian shit that’s startin’ ta creep in on our city’s culture!” Samuel makes an awkward face as despite knowingly working for the racist, it’s different to hear the words out loud.

Samuel opens his mouth to reply but the chief just continues on, “Anyway I love all yer little toilet paper stories but how do ya wanna write with the big leagues?” This time Samuel stays strong and gets a word in before being steamrolled again, “Actually I-” “I’m puttin’ you on the most important case we have Sam. Surely ya’ve noticed all this, what's da word, influx? Invasion? Bah. All the Asian shit that’s startin’ ta creep in on our city’s culture!” Samuel makes an awkward face as despite knowingly working for the racist, it’s different to hear the words out loud.

He holds his tongue out of shock or fear and his boss continues on his diatribe, “The last couple a schmucks I had on the beat just up’n left me high and dry can ya believe it! Old friends I thought!” He grumbles as he scratches his chin, moving away his hand it seems his beard thinned? He shakes his head in irritation and Sam would swear he saw his jowls tighten and wrinkles smooth over. “Anyway kid. Go out and do some prelim research. Have something on my desk by Friday or yer out just like those galoots!” Samuel stands for a second unsure if he’s allowed to leave before his boss looks up to glare with eyes Sam would’ve sworn were blue when he walked in.

Sam rushes out the door and to the elevator, riding it back to his floor, debating between writing a preemptive resignation or keeping mum and keeping on payroll for one last week. Profiteering from a culture war he may be but he’s not about to regurgitate genuinely racist talking points. He taps his foot impatiently as he thinks about just how cushy this gig is though. “Fuck!” He decides to call the only other confirmed decent human being he knows here, his friend Nick who works in the fashion dept.

The two go to grab coffee at a chain next door, Sam tries not to notice how they’ve started selling Vietnamese iced coffee. “Fuck man I can’t do it! Literally just one conversation alone with Howard was a wake up call.” Nick smiles like he has no problems with working for the dirtiest rag in the city, “Chill out Sam. Huward had my manager on the same beat and he, uh, Hidaka said that is said to just look busy for a bit and we won’t need to worry about all this racist shit anymore.” Sam squints his eyes at his friend, he’s not usually so easy breezy about work. He also racks his brain trying to figure out who Hidaka could possibly be. That can’t be his boss. No way Howard would let someone not white lead a department.

Seeing Sam lost in thought Nick reaches out and grabs his hand in a way Sam couldn’t imagine him doing before this second. In fact as the second drags on he stares down in the hand in shock, feeling the warm hand squeeze his forearm. He looks up to his friend’s face searching for any clue to the cause of this odd behavior. Sam smiles awkwardly and half-jokes “Hah hah, uh- Who are you and what’d you do with Nick… Hah.” Nick bursts out laughing, patting him on the arm jovially and leaving a hand larger than Sam remembers resting on his own. “Hidaka-san just showed me how to worry less about this job un?”

Sam inspects him closely for anything amiss, it looks like he’s picked up a bit of a tan? His hair is messier than usual and definitely a little darker, his skin is alluringly smooth and Sam can feel the heat his body is generating despite sitting across from him. Looking at his clothes Sam finds another surprise, his shirt almost looks strained! As if Nick has been hitting the gym for sometime, maybe it’s just been a while since he’s seen his friend in person? 

Assuaged in the slightest, Sam ignores the glowering red flags and follows this lede, “Woah Nick have you been working out?” Nick blushes and Sam at the very least sees his friend is as shy as ever. He goes to scratch the back of his head straining his shirt almost to its ripping point as he responds, “Ah a little haha! どうぞ(please) don’t you worry about me. Since you have no desire to write the article, why don’t you go ahead and check out the little Asian market down the street for fun? It was quite a good time when Hidaka-san brought me earlier this week!”

Sam awkwardly smiles as he wonders why on Earth Sam is suddenly referring to his boss like this, it’s almost like he’s performatively speaking Japanese. Taking a second to pause Sam looks at the haircut as hands unseen style it into something fashionable he puts two and two together. Thinking to himself, ah! Nick must just be a weeb! Tension disappears from his body with a sigh of relief as he wonders how he didn’t notice before now. He gets up to follow his friend’s advice, what better way to stick it to the man than support the people he aims to malign right?

He bucks up and grabs a Vietnamese iced coffee for the road, tossing a “Sayonara,” at Nick with a wink to which he perks up and slightly bows. Man, how did he not notice before Sam thinks yet again. Blissfully unaware, leaving just as kanji symbols appear on Nick’s keyboard and his friend responds to an email in a language he didn’t know this morning. Blue eyes growing coal dark as his tanned, increasingly muscular arms tap away at the keyboard.

Sam spends the bulk of his day at the little Asian street fair and has an absolute blast. Any residual stains on his mind from his unpleasant morning absolutely fade away as he goes from booth to booth sampling cuisine and chatting with diasporic cultures the world over. Time flies as he goes into journalist mode and basically interviews first gen Chinese immigrants about their time in the city. He finds himself beyond immersed in the conversation, continuing to learn from the couple as the tables around them begin to pack up for the day. 

He offers to help the older couple pack up and they happily take the aid, striking him bashful as they talk of what a sweet young man he is. “Wa! 哇强 (strong) Too!” The wife chuckles as she jokingly feels his less than impressive arms. He was having a better time at this little fair than he ever could’ve imagined, enough so that he thinks about going to stick it to Huaward then and there. Huaward? Whatever. His mind slightly off put by whatever that was, in an uncharacteristic act of transparency, Sam lets it slip that he works for NY:Red. The expressions on the kind couple’s faces immediately sour and Sam is quite shocked that they even know what the paper is.

There is a glint in the husband’s eyes as he starts to motion Sam away from any further aid, “谢谢 (Thank you) for your help, Sam. There have been a few, hm, bad men wandering around from that paper and I uh-” He looks around his table and grabs some miijiu they hadn’t put away yet. His wife nods, her face somewhere between rueful and hopeful as she watches her husband offer Sam the glass. “Again, 谢谢, er thank you for your help young man, enjoy this for the road 好的? (Yeah?)” The two turn to each other and begin talking to each other in mandarin alone and Sam takes the hint.

Kicking himself that he fumbled the capstone on such a pleasant afternoon, though finding solace in the rice wine he’s walking away with. He is blissfully unaware as the couple watch him drink and head down the street debating if everyone from that paper really is an asshole. Grimacing as they think about the vitriol spewed at them by NY:Red readers they decide they had no other recourse. Pleasant as he seemed Sam was consciously working on the side of hate and that could not be simply overlooked.

Sam quite enjoyed the rice wine the couple left him with, it immediately smooths over any lasting regret or concern about his interaction with the couple. They don’t know anything about him! He’s nothing like his other coworkers. It feels as if he’s had far more to drink than the small container they left him with should allow, but every time he looks down there always seems to be more mijiu to entice him. It would be impolite not to finish their gift he thinks; his confident stride quickly shifting to a stumble as he wanders home. 

His phone goes off as he gets an email from his boss, Mr. Huang?  Can’t be right. He squints at the email, deciding he must really have overdone it on the mijiu and stuffing his phone back in his pocket. Beyond the obvious difficulties in ambulation being drunk, Sam is unable to notice as his proportions slowly begin to shift. His ever-so lanky body begins to feel dull and heavy as the warmth of the wine fills his chest to capacity and then some as he leans against his apartment door, wiping his feet on an unfamiliar doormat. 

He kicks his shoes off by the door on some new instinct and immediately goes to collapse on the couch. His small sofa creaking as he puts more than his usual dead weight on it. His legs that usually hang off the end lengthen even further as his thighs grow meatier. Pecs press into the cushions as he snores. He is swiftly ushered into an unfamiliar dreamscape, the jubilee of the fair and the bewildering amount of wine he drank produce a vivid carnival of culture in his subconscious.

He sees the old couple at their stand and begins to speak with them in their mother tongue, seeing the delight as a load is taken off their shoulders. His dreamself seamlessly conversing with a fluency unearned. Sam stirs in the waking world as his mind existentially changes to match his morphing body. His blond hair grows thin and longer as its tint stains darker. Twitching in REM the green eyes that he prides himself on speckle with brown before they are entirely overtaken, becoming a rich cacao like the thick eyebrows framing them.

The discomfort of a new language forcing itself into this memory begins to wane as he prides himself on how fluent he is in both Chinese and English. His hand goes to scratch his pecs and he smirks in his sleep as they pulse larger, knowing pride is not the only thing surging within him. At the edges of his mind he feels the memory of learning a language, words written on a blackboard in chalk, English and Chinese both. For the life of him he cannot recall which of the two he’s learning second. An alarm set on his phone blares and he jolts awake to get ready for work.

Throwing on a shirt, Sam freezes as he sees his reflection. Hundreds of little questions seize his mind, those aren’t his eyes are they? Did he dye his hair last night? Are those abs? God his arms look good don’t they!? As they race through his mind and grow rampant they fixate on how attractive he suddenly feels. Rubbing his pecs and feeling them bounce he cries out to himself, “该死！Uhhh, Damn I look good!” He poses in the mirror and takes in every new angle of his powerful body. Taking note as his body hair seems thinner, and decidedly darker wherever it remains. He looks close at his pit seeing his once dense bush of curly hair thin out and straighten, before the memory of even having dense body hair is washed from his mind.

His phone goes off again and his work is immediately brought to the forefront of his mind. “Fuck I didn’t read Huang’s message!” He finds email after email from his boss, only the first few mention the wretched assignment they last talked about. Sam’s eyes widen as he continues to skim through the emails as the topic lines quickly show some drastic re-prioritization from his boss. Only then does he realize that he’s been reading his boss’ name as Huang. His boss is white. Rather his boss’ whole identity is based around being white! Huang isn’t, right? Incredibly he clicks the last email, subject line Vacation, and is immediately greeted with a mouth watering picture of a powerful man. Everything comes to a stop as he can’t help but gawk at this man’s body.

Ni Hao Sanuel- take the day off shi de? Still only half dressed Sam balks at just how bizarre this is, rereading the name Sanuel he is thrown for a loop as his mind reconfigures this. Tearing his eyes from the man’s torso he finally looks at the cocky face and sees a thread he recognizes,  “天啊! (Holy Shit!) That’s Mr. Huang!” He shuts his mouth before he drools like a dog at his boss’ arms. God, this is unlike him though right? He tries to dig through his memories of the editor in chief as the caustic racist he was yesterday, but with each uncovered the image of Huang changes as this dreamboat playboy overrides more of what was.

Sanuel readies to just stay in for this day of assigned vacation before he gets another notification, this time from his friend, Nobu? An image of Nick flashes through his mind, a handprint burns on his arm, and the taste of Vietnamese coffee dances on his lips. “Meet me on the boardwalk うん？” Sanuel rolls his eyes at his friend tacking on Japanese like that, willing his mind not to think about how his friend’s contact ID now says Nobu. Must be one of those, uh, his own thoughts trail off as he successfully abandons concern to head to meet his friend.

Nearing the meeting spot he looks for his usually cleancut friend, the only body present however is a massive Japanese man awkwardly flexing at himself in a reflective surface. Sanuel shyly speaks up, “Ni Ha-, uh Hey? Have you seen a guy named Nick around here?” The apparent bodybuilder beams and goes to engulf Sanuel in a hug shouting, “Oi! Shan! took ya long enough!” His eye twitches hearing the name, as this man effortlessly lifts him off his feet in a hug far too intimate for colleagues, and certainly from whoever this stranger is!

Shan pushes against the massive man, his body heat broiling him on this already warm day. He strains his eyes looking at the man grabbing him and suddenly it hits him, “Nobu?” The man promptly lets him go and pats him on the back with a laugh he would’ve never expected to come from his sheepish friend in the fashion department. “Wanna go have some ice cream or something Shan?” He feels the need to push back against his friend calling him Shan but as he hears it a second time he can’t recognize the names as anything but his own.

Shan pauses as he sees Nobu stop to chat with some Japanese tourists and something about the picture doesn’t sit right. God it’s that talk with Huang getting him all worked up again that,uh, racist? He clutches his head as contradictions between his past and present collide in his head and he slams his eyes shut as he cannot determine what is true about his current reality. Shan falls to the ground with a deep thud, slightly hyperventilating, his body grows larger as he takes deep breaths from the stress.

Hearing him collapse Nobu runs over to help him up, this time with more effort as his friend’s comatose body continues to put on muscle and grow heavier. Still, having the impressive figure he does, Nobu rather easily gets him on a bench and sits next to him, “クソ野郎？(Fuck dude?) You alright?” Shan slowly nods as his friend throws an arm around him. Looking down at his own arms as they pulse with muscle, he feels his eyes strain as the structure of his face begins to change.

Shan's jawline sharpens and his skin smooths. Stubble that has been a cornerstone of hiding his facial blemishes vacates as his hair stains black and flops longer. He feels clarity grace his mind as he stares at large hands on the ends of pale, hairless, muscular arms and he wonders if he is even himself.

He voices these concerns to Nobu who just laughs them off. “Hah! Of course dude, same Shan I’ve always known!” “那- that’s not my name Nobu.” His friend grins shyly in concern for his friend's mind. “It can't be my name. I’m-” grimacing before he continues as it takes everything in his power to speak against the realities in front of him. Memories of a world quite far away, moving to New York long ago, the youngest in a family of Chinese immigrants, “I’m white aren’t I Nobu?” 

Nobu can’t help but laugh again at the beyond bizarre statement. He jokes about Shan hitting his head when he fell. “You’re the most 2nd Gen Chinese わるがき(brat) I know bro! Imma go get us some ice cream while you chill out.” Shan stares at his friend as he abandons him, feeling his eyes tighten as they shift into the monolid eyes that his memories swear he’s always had.

Shan retreats into his mind racing against his changing memories to find a pillar of truth to grasp on. He sees himself at the gym with Nobu, his black mop of hair flicking sweat into the air as he poses with his bro. He sees just yesterday at the Asian fair, helping an elderly couple pack up their table, twitching as he would’ve sworn that went differently. He remembers sitting at the office getting no work done as he plays on his phone, 是的！that’s it! His job. There’s something there, if only he can remember what the problem was there.

He sees Nobu begin walking back with sweet treats, Nobu works at the paper too. Oh 呃/Duh! He smirks as he goes for his wallet to grab a business card. His eyes see the obnoxious red logo he knows before they read text that will send him irrevocably forward, Shun Jiang - Ni Hao!NYC. His body fills with warmth like a machine overworking as his mind races with information about his new reality. Sweat drips from his hair as he can no longer even struggle to recall his claimed existence as a bystander at the vile paper they produced. His brown eyes steep to a dark black as they glaze over.

“Shan-baka! Here’s a popsicle!” Nobu shouts as he returns to his overheated friend who immediately bursts from his stupor. “混蛋!(Asshole!) It’s Shun- thought we were close!” Nobe smirks as he starts to eat his own ice cream. Unable to recall anything too in depth he feels a pause as he wonders what his Japanese friend is doing working for a Chinese newspaper, before he answers it himself. Clearly his subconscious is more at place in whatever new reality he faces. Their paper is for all NYC’s Asian immigrants. Nobu works writing, or more often modeling, for Konnichiwa!NYC! Huang really was a genius for the idea.

Shun smiles, thinking fondly of his boss as he enjoys the short break from the summer heat that Nobu brought him. Back at the headquarters of their paper everything shifts from the rag it was and into a paper connecting the disparate Asian immigrants of the city, printed in any language they can find translators for, Ni Hao, Konnichiwa, Annyeonghaseyo, Namaste!NYC. Each day striving for a better, more inclusive New York City. Shun beams with his new face, no longer burdened with the just concern of his peddling vitriol, instead possessed with a desire to spread his culture far and wide.

———————————————————————————

As I was writing I remembered a similar series by the now gone Dumb-and-Jocked!

If interested do check out Horizon Zero: One, Two, and Three for quite a different take on a journalism themed Racial Change!

My friend enthusiastically gifted me a men's leather jacket earlier, which I thought was weird because I never wear that kinda thing, I'm usually more the casual hoodie, t-shirt and jeans type. It's also like a few sizes too big so he was really off the mark... but I'd feel bad giving it away. I noticed it's your wishmaster brand, never heard of it before, and I guess I wanted to ask if returns are possible? oh but of course I don't have the receipt... I guess I can try it on?

Once you slip it on you feel electricity shooting through your body. Suddenly you see your body enlarge, your muscles grow, your ass expand to a perfect firm peach. Your skin begins to darken as you suddenly remember your dad used to be a famous African American wrestler, he met your Asian mother while on tour and after you were born he started to train you, by the time you were 17 you were already shaping up to be a muscle god. Today you turn 21 and fuck you are perfection. Your best friend gave you the leather jacket to show off that perfect form of yours.

You were perfection, not just to the world, but to your best friend who had always dreamed of you looking this Amazing. Tonight you planed on thanking him by giving him the one thing you know he's always wanted. The best sex of his life, after you fuck him good you plan on popping the question, sealing your longtime friendship in stone. However once you fill your friend up with your cum he transforms into your perfect man as well.

As they say you guys lived happily ever after, another happy ending via Wishmaster clothing. Where everyone gets what they want.

Ape boy

--- Originally posted on 2017-01-10 on realhankmccoy ---

“Just don’t make me dumb, man, I want to keep everything about my mind totally intact,” I told my friend at the lab.

I was totally willing to go through the procedure but I didn’t want it messing with my intellect any – my job and lifestyle were too important to me.

They promised me a whole new masculine experience, that they could bring out the man in me in ways that were easily accessible through epigenetic therapy.

I’d be fitter, more energetic, more attractive and just altogether healthier. It was in the beta testing process and they said they’d throw in $3000 if I signed off, too. I’d only need to take a few weeks off work for an outpatient trial.

“That didn’t seem so bad,” I said after the doctor finished up removing the slow drip from my arm and the infusion was complete. Took two different bags of fluid but I mostly felt fine, if a little faint at first.

I got home and realized I was pretty tired so I stripped down and went to bed. I started noticing the changes the next day already. I did have more energy. My face seemed handsomer, just a tad. After two days I was feeling pretty into this.

It was the third day when I started noticing that I was getting beefier.

That was cool, I thought, but then I noticed I was feeling hornier, too. I ignored it at first, but by the end of the day I was jacking off in my bedroom, hard. I got up off my bed, still stroking my dick, to check myself out in the mirror.

“Looks hot,” I thought, stroking it slowly. If this stuff made my sex drive a little stronger, that was fine with me.

I started getting obsessed with checkin’ out the changes in the mirror, and I had so much energy that I started working out. I’d be doing pushups on my hardwood floor and getting excited over how I was going to flex in front of the bathroom mirror after I finished a set of 50.

I went back to the lab and they didn’t seem to think it was a problem.

So I figured, what the hell, I might as well enjoy this. Pretty soon I was hanging out in just my underwear all the time. That didn’t make me dumb, I knew, it just felt good. I might as well get into it, I figured.

Only problem is I got used to it pretty quick. I hate wearing clothes now, dudes.

I looked in the mirror one day and I just looked so fucking good with these thick pecs and the thicker stubble on my face. I figured I should have fun with a haircut so I got kind of a high and tight, cut real short though, and that just turned me on. Even my facial structure has changed from this shit they’re doing to me. My ears look like they stick out more, like some dumb ape or something, and that just makes me hard. I’ve hot this thick abdomen and these beefy deltoids. I feel like I look more like a football dude, even, and I started watching football even. Might as well have fun while I’m stuck in outpatient anyhow.

They told me it wouldn’t alter my mind any but it’s like I’m addicted to working out, flexing in the mirror, taking selfies, hooking up – with dudes – I just find em on my phone. I stopped reading. I look at these hairy legs and I get hard just touching em, I rub a hand across my pecs and my nipples are hard right away and I feel my cock jump up wanting a piece of the action. All I can think about is my goddamn cock, man.

So I took another week off work because I’m not ready to go back, and told myself on Monday I’d start getting ready to get my life on track. I just procrastinated the whole day, jacking off in bed, mostly, slowly stroking it. I guess my new bod’s so awesome that it’s just depressing to think of going back to the office.

My alarm goes off on Tuesday, and I throw it against the wall and say fuck it. One more day of fun’s not gonna hurt. Dudes, I look so fucking good. At least I’ll be productive today, I tell myself. So I start off the day with a ton of pushups, make myself a protein shake, and I look so ripped in the mirror that I figure I’ll score myself a hookup off Grindr. Guy comes over, and his hairy, hard pecs crushed against mine – my rubbing the short beard I’ve got started all up on his asshole, and that turns him on enough that he’s letting me lift his legs and plow the shit out of him..

After he’s gone, I’m back in front of the mirror saying “you fucking stud. Yeah you fuckin’ ape boy. Fuckin’ just want to fuck with dudes, don’t you, gay boy. Yeah you jocked up fuck. Just want to get naked and fuck, don’t you?”

Still hard, still horny, so just stroking my dick slowly while I put the game on for ambience. I don’t know how Thursday’s gonna shake out but today I just went out and bought a basketball hoop for the driveway so I could burn off some of this energy. Felt fuckin’ great, too, goin’ out in the sun in just some shorts and Nikes working on my game. Soon as I was back indoors though, man, just stripped back down to my underwear – I can’t stop admiring this body. Gotta get another dude over here to mess around with. Fuck work, man, you only live once, right?

Think I’m gonna pick up a big screen for the bedroom because that’d be pretty cool, and I just found out gay dues have their own hockey leagues you can join so I’m thinking of that. How hot would that be – those dudes are fuckin’ built, man, and I could pick it up pretty quick I bet.

Fuck, let me know if – oh, fuck it, I’m gonna order a pizza and see if I can find a hot hookup for tonight. Some dude with pecs as thick as mine and who’s like me slapping this cock all over his tongue for a couple of hours while I tease the shit out of his hot jock ass. Yeah man. Fuckin’ hot, man, I could pump a full load into some dude’s muscle butt and be ready to score again two hours later. That’s how good I feel. Friends with benefits, whatever you want to call it as long as it’s none of that lovey-dovey or dramatic shit – I’ve got em on the phone. Sex, muscle, good food and workin’ out, so glad I met those lab rats.