Ive Heard A Little Bit About This King Leon Guy. Who Does He Think He Is To Call Himself A King? Seems

I’ve heard a little bit about this King Leon guy. Who does he think he is to call himself a king? Seems far to pretentious if you ask me. I wouldn’t be caught dead bowing to someone like that. Not in a million years.

Sure I’m the most basic looking white dude on the planet. My face gets lost in the crowd and my body is light enough to be blown by a breeze. But a king can’t change that, and I would like to see him or any of his subjects try to.

"Are you sure about that?" The bartender told you. You had just arrived on your vacation in Haiti, and the resort's bartender had decided to strike up a conversation with you over drinks. He was enormous, seven feet of pure surfer boy muscle, with a thick gut that was the very picture of strength. He would have been the most beautiful man you had ever seen, if you weren't in the middle of a massive rant.

"Oh, absolutely." You continued. "Whoever these 'kings' are, I don't want anything to do with 'em. Who are they to declare rule over the entire world, and who are we to listen to them?"

It was true, of course. Much of Africa, the British Isles, Central America, and even the islands you were now in had been united under the rule of these Kings. While many praised them for their novel social reforms and exponential increase to quality of life in their domains, many others, yourself included, remained attached to the old ways. Even this vacation was a scouting trip, to see if whatever propaganda these Kings were putting out was true.

"On the contrary, my friend, I am perfectly happy to listen to the rule of my King. You should have seen this island before King Kai came here. Homelessness, poverty... it's all been amended since he arrived."

"Really?" You asked, taking a big swig of your drink, savoring its tingle on your lips. "And NO one's uncomfortable being ruled by just one person?"

"People love King Kai. He is kind and just, like any good king should be. You'll see that soon enough." The bartender said.

"What do you mean by that?" You asked, your heart racing.

"Oh, nothing much. Just give it a few seconds."

"What are you-- UGH!" You doubled over, your skin on fire with a sensation entirely alien to you.

The bartender walked out from behind the bar, and soon, his magical hands went to work. With his kingly essence in your system, you could be molded into a respectable citizen of the world.

He started with your pecs, cupping them from behind as they burst through your tropical shirt with new strength. They were enormous, voluptuous pillows, jiggling with muscle and a thin layer of fat.

He then moved his hands along your shoulders, pumping them into cannonballs of strength. The moment his hands reached your arms, they pulled and pushed, leaving your twiggy biceps and forearms as but a fleeting memory, replacing them with pulsing, powerful cannons of strength. In awe, you flexed your right arm, forming a mound easily as big as a baseball if not more.

You moaned softly as King Kai's beautiful hands lightly traced a six-pack onto your stomach, each ab popping into existence, forming an impenetrable wall of strength.

Soon, his hands navigated south, one massive hand palming your flat ass, while the other grabbed your tiny three-inch cock. You moaned, long, low, and hard as both of his hands began to move out from your body, pulling your cock and ass with them. Your cheeks rounded out into a big, bouncy bubble butt, bigger than most women's. It shook with strength and sexuality with every slight movement you made, much like your cock, which had grown so big with the King's touch that no pair of pants could conceal your enormous bulge. His touch was electric on your shaft, causing you to pre almost endlessly.

Your mind was in heaven as he continued to your legs. Your cock was at full mast at its enormous eleven inches as he took his hands to your legs, and blew them up into corded steel pillars as big as any christmas ham. You moaned, your cock firing blanks as he looked you deep into your eyes, placing one hand to completely cover your currently-unchanged face.

"As much as I love my people, we cannot be a global community if all my citizens are homogenous." King Kai said. "Hmm, where should I send you..."

Your skin flickered through thousands of shades in a single moment, before settling on a tone a few shades darker than your original. Your hair darkened to black, and you instantly sprouted a thick dark mustache, and a chinstrap beard to match. Your eyes became narrower and monolid, your stare intensifying into a sexy smolder. As King Kai leaned in and kissed you, your bulk increased, and your muscle became padded with a thin sexy layer of fat.

"Cum." King Kai commanded you, his voice sexy enough to send you over the edge.

You had been reborn, a Vietnamese stud in the Carribean. Your brain was aflame with new neurons, making connections faster and better than ever before. You knew you had been improved, in every conceivable way. You were stronger, smarter, wiser, and you had no one but your new king to thank.

Don’t Forget Your Costume…

Overdue Halloween special + 2000 follower special

I flick my cigarette onto the empty driveway and squish it beneath my foot. Pulsing coloured lights from within the house briefly light up the slender garden, creating a multicoloured path to the front door. The music sounds muffled, but its definitely audible. It wouldn’t surprise me if neighbours complain. This is a culdesac after all. Police might even show up. Wouldn’t be a Stefan Party without that, would it?

I knock on the thick wooden door and wait. No answer. I can hear people inside. Chattering. Can see them through the garden windows too. I knock again, this time harder than before.

“Miles?!” A voice yells from behind me, laughing. “You’re late too! Thank God.”

It’s Wyatt. The only other person I know at this party, apart form Stefan anyway. Me, Wyatt and Stefan go way back. Well, five years back, but that’s relatively long considering. I mean, I’ve only lived in Brooktane for five years. I don’t know many people apart from those in our course. That’s where I met these two idiots. We both study business at Brooktane University. We sat beside each other the first day of college. Then, boom. Here we are.

“I texted you before I got here. Where were you?” I call as he makes his way down the garden trail.

“I had to run and go get a stupid costume from that Halloween pop-up shop beside Archie’s Pizzeria. You know the one.” He walks past me and smacks the door loudly, never breaking eye contact.

“You ran all the way downtown for a costume?” I laugh. “I didn’t even bother bringing one.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Wyatt looks me up and down. “Stefan said it was a costume party. He said we have to wear costumes.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” I dismiss my best friend. “What’d you end up going for?”

“It was slim pickens down there, dude.” He acts like he’s about to profess something bad. “Turns out looking for a costume on Halloween isn’t going to give you the best choices”

‘So…” I smile, ready for the big reveal.

Wyatt takes out a plastic packet with neatly folded clothes in it.

“ARABIAN PRINCE” it read.

I laugh and clap my hands.

“Shut up.” He laughs and smacks my shoulder. “It was the only one they had left.”

“A white boy dressing as an Arabian Prince…” I take the packet from his hands, laughing at the costume up close. “It’s a bit problematic, I’m not gonna lie.”

“I’ll make sure not to be in any photos.” He snatches the costume back. He smiles. “This could be a career ruining party for me.”

“Cut to you in ten years being cancelled.” I grin, turning towards the door. “You’ll be forced to live off the grid as a farmer or some shit.”

The chattering from inside grows infinitely louder as the door swings open. We’re both met with a grinning drunk Stefan.

“Wyatt! Miles!” Stefan throws his arms open, spilling his half empty beer on the floor. “Make yourself at-“

Stefan stops mid sentence and stares at us, as if it had taken this long for his brain to catch up to his sight.

“No costumes?” Stefan furrows his brow angrily. “What part of costume party do you not understand?”

“I got a costume, dude. I just bought it. It’s still in this thing.” Wyatt holds up the plastic packaging with the career ruining clothing inside.

“Ah, that’s my man. Never let the Stefan down. You ain’t gonna like letting me down, lemme tell you.” Stefan slurs. “You can use the bathroom under the stairs to put it on. Or just strip naked in front of everyone, I’m sure someone in that crowd would enjoy it.”

Wyatt makes his way past Stefan and slips into the overcrowded hallway full of every type of costume you could imagine. Vampires. Genies. Werewolves. And you’d expect, a lot of superheroes. Though, one by the window is particularly bad, which does arouse some amusement. It’s mostly what you’d expect from a halloween costume party. “You got one too then?” Stefan gestures towards me.

I shrug. “Sorry man. Was busy. Didn’t have time to get one.”

“No dude. That’s not okay. You gotta be wearin’ one by midnight, man. It’s already 11.30.” He throws his head back in frustration. “Listen. Come with me. I’ll get you sorted out. You owe me.”

“Nah, man. That’s alright-“

“Come with me.” Stefan grabs me by the arm, taking me into the overly Halloweeny decorated house. Too decorated for a college student in his mid-20s. He must have a real hard on for Halloween, cause this is a lot. Fake cobwebs. An old smoke machine, coughing out whatever air it could muster up. Pumpkins taking up valuable space where people could be sitting.

He drags me past a blue genie and a caveman downing shots together. We hop up the stairs and into a secluded bedroom. I stare at Stefan, who is now arms deep in his closet, sifting through piles of dirty clothing which had clumped up on the closet floor.

“Here we go.” He holds what could barely even be considered costumes. He lays the three of them on the bed. “Always gotta keep spares. Since people always seem to forget…” He glares at me.

I stare at the costumes. Half in amusement. Half in dread. Am I actually going to have to wear one of these? I consider my options:

(1) A cowboy. That doesn’t sound too bad, right? But you’re wrong. Not just any cowboy. A slutty cowboy. Ah yes, Stefan couldn’t just lend a nice costume with lots of coverage. He needed to embarrass the people who forget their costumes, or like me, didn’t bother to get one. I feel like he’s enjoying this. The outfit is barely even an outfit. An outfit implies there’s actual clothing. Not this costume. Oh boy, it’s just a cowboy hat, a handkerchief, cowboy boots and a fringe thong. Could it get any worse than this?

(2) Apparently yes. This one is a dog. A god damn leather dog. Completed with a dog mask, a thick leather collar, skimpy pants with a zip in the ass area and a tail (which I’m pretty sure is a butt plug). This one is objectively more embarrassing, I’ll give him that. And it’s on that note than I rule this costume out. Begone leather pup.

(3) The final costume (if you can even call it that) was a maid costume. Yep, that’s right. A slutty maid costume. Like the ones you’d see for women… but in this case, I was expected to adorn a cropped skirt and a cleavage line which extenuates my chest. This ranks pretty high on the embarrassment scale. Is it leather pup high, no. But it’s no lower than a sexy cowboy.

I stare at the ‘costumes’ blankly. Stefan must be into some weird shit. Though, if I’m gonna be immortalised in people’s Instagram posts tonight, I sure as hell ain’t getting pictured in a maid costume or a pup… thing. I swallow my pride and point to the slutty cowboy.

“Ah, the cowboy. Yeah that’s a good one, man.” He gathers the pup and the maid and throws them back in his closet. “You’re gonna be popular tonight, my dude.”

I space out, still attempting to accept my fate as a half dressed cowboy. Stefan dances to the muffled music downstairs, as he heads towards the door. “It’s ten minutes until midnight, so I’ll let you get that costume on, man.”

“I’ll go check on our white Arabian prince downstairs.” He giggles. “Am I the only one who finds that a bit problematic?” I stare at him in resentment for making me wear this thing.

“No? Okay” He closes the door behind him.

I slip on the outfit. It barely fits. The thong is made for someone twice my size. It slips down my thighs every chance it gets. The cowboy boots are a size 13. Five sizes bigger than my feet. I feel like a son trying on his dad’s boots. At least the handkerchief fits… right? My completely average body is on full display for everyone to see. I don’t look like a sexy cowboy. Just one that had its clothes stolen. I look at the clock

11.59

Wow. Midnight already. I should go find Wyatt. See how he’s getting one. His Arabian prince outfit might be stupid, but at least it probably fits. I’ll even hazard a guess and say he looks ten times less ridiculous than I do- AGHHHH.

12.00

What the fuck was that? A green flash? The entire room… it just flashed green. As if a green thunder bolt had shot through the house. It felt like my entire body was just… zapped. I feel all tingly and shit. Like a fuzziness all over my skin. I repeatedly tap my fingers together, my skin feeling particularly soft. I hear a cacophony of unintelligible sounds erupt downstairs. So they saw it too? At least I’m not going crazy. I don’t think…

“Fuck! What’s happening to us, man?!” A man shouts downstairs. His voice sticking out among the frantic yelling. “I can’t think… I can’t… I can… I CAN SAVE YOU HELPLESS CITIZEN!”

What is going on down there? And what the fuck is that guy on? His voice… it changed from high pitched terror to unwavering confidence in a matter of seconds. It’s… disturbing. I know I should check it out… but it doesn’t sound good. Part of me is afraid. A large part, in fact. First a green flash. Then screaming. Now, this man. His voice.

I stand alone in Stefan’s room, listening to the chaos downstairs. It suddenly dawns on me that, while all this is going down, I am standing up here in a cowboy costume which barely covers me. Speaking of the outfit, it feels uncomfortable. I don’t remember it feeling this bad when I put it on. It feels like its squeezing me. In fact… I’m not holding up my thong anymore… actually… it feels really tight.

I feel an itchiness fill my bum cheek. I absentmindedly reach down to scratch my ass, but as I do… my hand… it sinks into a soft round cheek. My hand recoils in shock. I crane my neck over my shoulder and let out a terror-filled scream. My ass… it’s massive! So big that it filled in the XL costume’s thong. I look at myself in Stefan’s bedroom mirror.

“Holy shit…” I mutter.

This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. I’m dreaming. There’s no way. My ass… I look like I have two wobbling beach balls for ass cheeks. I take a step closer, my ass cheeks bounce. They feel so restricted. It’s like my ass is being held captive by my skimpy thong. It feels like it’s gonna burst open, displaying my new fuckable hole to the world. This is the kind of ass you’d see in porns. Porns where the guy can’t step outside his house without some guy ripping his pants open and slipping his cock between the bouncy cheeks. My costume doesn’t cover my new curvaceous figure at all.

Now that I’m looking at myself, my muscles seem huge. It’s not just my ass cheeks which grew, it was all of me. These biceps are as big as footballs. They’re the kind of biceps you’d see on a high school jock. Not me. I don’t even go to the gym. My veins are pronounced, drawing attention to my new arms. My neck looks strange too. It’s almost thicker than my head. I look so different. Sharp jawline. Thick brow. I can’t stop breathing through my mouth either. I look like a fucking meathead.

My legs are also bigger. Proportionately big, but that doesn’t say much. I mean, my ass cheeks look like they came from a guy who had gotten ass implants or some shit. Though they’re proportionate, they’re still huge. Speaking of huge, my chest underwent some changes too. And by some, I mean a lot. My pecs used to be non-existent. But now, they jut out from my body. I’m built like a shelf. These pecs have a mind of their own too. Jiggling at every movement. Bouncing with every step. They feel remarkably soft. My hand just sinks into them, fat seeping through my fingers. My nipples look larger too, like pegs. God, this is embarrassing. Imagine what people will say about these big boys. Imagine what Wyatt would say… Wyatt. Where is he? I should go find him. See if he’s okay.

I tear my eyes away from my new self. I don’t see how it could get much worse than this. And if everything appears like it sounds, I don’t think I’m the only one whose undergone changes. I stumble to the door, adjusting to my new size. I put my new large hand on the door’s handle and throw the door open. Not used to this new strength. I breath in deeply. This is gonna be humiliating… but here we go. I take my first step down the stairs.

The crowds of people in the hall and living room remain. Though, it’s noticeably more hectic. It’s definitely clear I wasn’t the only one who changed. The superhero I saw earlier was no longer in a corny spandex costume, but rather, he now adorned the kind of thick superhero suit you’d see in a Marvel movie. The genie looks like he’s changed too. His skin altered to a crystal blue. It shimmered beneath the flashing dance floor lights. He had lost the entire bottom half of his body. It was now just smoke, trailing from a golden lamp on the ground. People surrounded him. I’m guessing for wishes. This is so bizarre.

I step down the hallway, heading towards the kitchen. I glance at the transformations. A man, who must have been dressed as a stripper, is now humping the stairs I came down. I think I recognise him from college too… pretty sure he was a straight dude. God, that’s humiliating. I walk further down the hallway, passing every kind of costume you can imagine. A caveman. Wizards. Witches. Vampires. A clown. A strongman.

I continue my journey down the crowded hallway, avoiding eye contact with everyone. Suddenly, my journey is stopped by a massive brute blocking my way. He faces away from me. I stare at his back, contemplating my options. What even is he dressed as? I can’t tell from behind. All I can tell is, he’s massive. My new body must be around 6’0 and even he’s two heads taller than me. His width must be the same as the door. I mean, it’s the same as this damn hallway. I hesitantly reach up and tap him on the shoulder.

“Can ah git by ya thair, partner?” I cover my mouth, humiliated by my own voice. I sound insane. Like a cowboy. A cartoon cowboy. No one fucking talks like this. God dammit, this night just keeps getting worse and worse.

The hulking figure slowly turns around, his massive feet stomping on the wooden floor. He faces me and peers down at me.

He looks familiar. I can’t quite place my finger on it. He’s of Arab descent, I’d say. His skin is dark and tanned. His nose is wide, taking up a good portion of his face. His brow is striking too. It’s thick and pronounced. He looks like one of those cavemen you’d see in a cartoon. His forehead sticks out, giving him a brutish appearance. He does like familiar. In a weird way. Actually, he kinds reminds me of Wyatt. Well, if Wyatt was a 6’5 giant Arab beast… hold on… what was Wyatt dressed up as again… fuck dude. Not Wyatt.

“Wyatt? Is that you?” My voice sounds exaggeratedly southern and it sounds even more ridiculous coming out of a cowboy with this huge body of mine “What ‘appened to ya, partner?”

The white boy turned Arabian hunk growls. It’s weird seeing Wyatt so hairy. Well, seeing Wyatt regress into a primitive Arab man is weird too. The whole situation is weird. I’m barely even used to my new body. So, I think it’s gonna take a while to get used to seeing Wyatt like this. I see his a thick bush of hair sprout from underneath his armpit. It plasters to his skin, completely soaked in sweat. I scrunch my nose as Arab Wyatt’s sweat invades my nostrils. It’s a hot foul stench. The kind which stings the eyes.

“Who is you?” The Arab beast looks me up and down. “You cow… you man cow.”

His speech is broken. Doesn’t sound much like Wyatt, but then, why would it? The curse must have taken away his voice, same as it did mine. Though while I got a ridiculously exaggerated southern drawl, he got broken English. It sounds like English isn’t his first language anymore.

“It’s me, Partner!” I plead to my old friend. I can see he doesn’t recognise me. His stare is blank, but pitiless. As if there is nothing in that brain of his. No complex thought. No worries. Just power and domination.

“In my country, cow is very good.” He huffs through his nose. “You are money. Property. I trade you.”

“I’m no cow, partner.” I clarify again. I don’t think he’s getting it. It’s the language barrier, I think. I don’t think he’s getting it. “Iah am a cowboy. Not a cow.”

“Udders… cow’s udders need milking.” He grunts, his gaze fixed on my pecs. I look down. My pecs seemed substantially bigger than before. I assume the transformation hasn’t stopped yet. Though, they do feel especially heavy. They’re weighing me down more than before. It’s weird. But I’ve learned to stop questioning things tonight.

“Nah, partner.” I deny. “Ma chest iss just big.”

“Milk…” He grunts, licking his new Arab lips. His gaze remains on my chest. He reaches out and cups his meaty paw around my pec. He squeezes and a pleasureful moan escapes my mouth. His grasp makes my chest tingle with pleasure. Like an orgasm around my nipple.

“See…” He exhales hot breath from his nose in amusement. “Nothing more than cow.”

I look down to see a shocking sight. As the Arab beast squeezes my pec, a drop of white liquid leaks from my nipple. It’s a sight I didn’t think I’d see today. Me. My pecs. Leaking, what I assume is milk. Like the beast said…

“You walk around me, pretend you man. But you nothing more than property.” He growls and squeezes my pec, causing a stream of milk to shoot down my chest. “No cow be without owner. You need be claimed.”

“No, Wyatt!” I moan through the pleasure of his meaty hand on my nipple. “I’m a man. A cowboy. Not a… cow!”

“Name is Amaad! No disrespect Arab prince, cow.” He slaps my breast, causing them both to jiggle in pleasure.

“No… no Amaad!” I stare down, watching my nipples leak milk all over the floor. “I’m… I’m a person!”

“Cow has dream of being man.” Amaad laughs deeply, causing the walls to shake. “But he never be man. He always be object for me to stick brown cock. He always be object for friends to milk day long.”

I take a step backwards, attempting an escape. But the hulk grabs me.

“I claim you” He grunts, grabbing both of my tits and squeezing them. Milk drips down my body as I scream in pleasure. “I MILKING COW, ISN’T THAT RIGHT? I MILKING MY COW?”

I scream in pleasure. I know people are watching us. I know I’m being humiliated in front of everyone. I know they’re looking at a man becoming a cow. But I don’t care. The pleasure is too powerful. It’s all consuming.

“Amaad!” My moans fill the halls. “St- stop Ahmaad!”

“SAY YOU ARE NOTHING BUT DUMB COW!” Ahmaad yells at me, milking me more intensely. Pulling on my nipples in a rhythmic motion.

“Amaad! I- I shouldn’t. I’m a man! I’m a-!” I scream.

“SAY IT YOU DUMB FUCKABLE MINDLESS MILK SLUT!” Ahmaad bends down and latches his lips around my nipple. Sucking the milk out of me. I feel my brains slip down into my chest and become milk. Milk that master Amaad drinks. Milk that master owns.

“I… I…” I hesitate, my whole body filling with intense pleasure. It’s impossible to think. What’s happening.

Ahmaad unlatches himself from my wet peg nipples and yells. “SAY IT YOU DUMB FUCKABLE MINDLESS COW!”

“I AM A COW!” I scream in unbearable pleasure. “I AM NOTHING BUT A COW. PROPERTY TO BE OWNED AND TRADED. I AM THE DUMBEST MOST EMPTY HEADED COW. AND YOU OWN ME!”

My cock is on the verge of cumming everywhere. I can’t hold it back. I haven’t even touched it. But I’m gonna… I’m gonna cum all over my owner.

“Say my name…” Ahmaad grabs hold of my nipples one last time.

“AHMAA-” I yell as master begins to pull on my nipple. “AHMA-“

“Say it…” He whispers.

“AHM… AHM” I scream.

Ahmaad gives one last tug, my nipple encased in his meaty paw. My udders get pulled by master and my cock shoots everywhere. Without thought, I try scream his name, cumming out all my brains… but only one thing emerges.

“Ah… Ah… MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO”

————————————

And so, Stefan’s Halloween costume party is going just as planned.

The warlock always knew how to throw a good Halloween party. Turn people into their costumes. It was a cliche among the Brooktane warlock community, but it was a classic. It seems like everyone is enjoying themselves.

Although Stefan doesn’t realise it yet, the spell he cursed the house with is permanent. How is he going to explain all these these superheroes, monsters and stereotypes running around Brooktane’s streets tomorrow morning.

Stefan is going to have a lot of explaining to do. Especially when students start asking what happened to his classmates, Marcus and Wyatt. Will he tell them the truth? That Ahmaad booked a flight back to his home country in the Middle East. And as for Marcus… well… Marcus is now just a mindless cow on Ahmaad’s farm… do you think he will tell them?

Nah, neither do I…

Can you believe it?

10.02.2024

Can you fucking believe it?

As most of you know, I'm working for LifeCorp, and you won't believe what they just did to me! I'm pissed!

My job is, apparently, becoming 'obsolete' with the whole AI thing bla bla bla. But! Of course, they don't want to fire me. Instead, they're offering me alternative positions. So far so good, right? But do you know which positions they offered me?

- Security Guard

- Janitor

- Escort

Not that bad, right? I mean I don't have the skillset for any of those, but that is apparently no problem, because these jobs come with a fucking mandatory life change if I take them?

Apparently, my usual charming self is not enough:

What kind of bullshit is this? Normal companies ask you to move if you want to keep your job, LifeCorp requires you take on a whole new body, just to keep working for them.

You think that's outrageous? It gets better. Apparently, none of those jobs is suitable for a woman. I can be a male security guard, a male janitor or a male escort. And when I complained about it, they just said that for security guard and janitor, a strong body is a requirement, and they have enough female escorts already. What a bunch of assholes! There's absolutely no way I'm gonna take one of those jobs.

Love, Tracy

***

14.02.2024

Have you seen LifeCorp's newest shit post? The valentine's day special? The audacity!

Tumblr

LifeCorp's Special Offer

Happy Valentine's Day! ❤ Here at LifeCorp we value our employees and all the hard work they do to keep our company running smoothly. From d

Stacy and Zara are now fricking men? No doubt they have been bullied to make that change. You know what this company has? A fucking frat-boy attitude. More and more people are becoming guys, "BeCaUsE tHeY wAnT tO". Bullshit. It's clear to me that the upper management wants to see more dick in their company. Probably a cocksucker like Stacy and Zara have become. I'll talk to them first chance tomorrow.

Oh, and Matthew? Why would anyone want to become a Latino?!

Love, Tracy

***

18.02.2024

Okay, I talked to Stacy and Zara (No, I won't call them "Steel and Zacharias", these are still women!). They were all "Oh, we're so much happier now" and "We're finally being our true selves" and "You should do the same, really."

It's a fucking brainwash. I mean, they haven't been right in their mind to begin with (they had the delusion of being a couple - ha! Couples are one man and one woman, nothing else!), but it's becoming veeery clear to me that they have been forced and brainwashed. And I will find proof for that!

Love, Tracy

***

18.02.2024 - 2

Okay, I'm fuming now. I told my boyfriend about that whole job situation. And you know what he said? You know what he fucking said?

"Ok. Do whatever makes you happy."

He just said "Ok" and was all cool about it! He even had the audacity to tell me that they didn't force me to do anything and that I could just find a new job if I didn't want any of that bodies.

But the best part is still to come. He said, and I quote, "Just make sure to ask them to make me gay if you take any of those jobs, so we can still be together." I mean... wow. That's a reason for a breakup just there. He's a fricking man, or at least that's what I thought up until now. The thought of becoming gay should have been something that made him sick!

But, oh no. He's fine with it. Disgusting! I need to re-think this relationship.

Love, Tracy

***

19.02.2024

I have a plan!

I'm going to accept one of LifeCorps offers. No, hear me out. I'm gonna accept - and then I'll sue them. Discrimination, kidnapping, something like that. I'm gonna be rich. Oh, and about my boyfriend? He's gonna have it his way. I'll make sure they make him the fag he begs to be and then break up with him. This'll teach him. Good thing he doesn't read this feed.

I'm just too clever for this world. Take that, LifeCorp!

Gonna take the janitor, though. With all their fake diversity and stuff, the guard and escort probably aren't even white.

Love, Tracy

***

22.02.2024

I just got a letter congratulating me on my choice and that they are happy to keep me as an employee. Ha. If these losers knew.

Love, Tracy

***

26.02.2024

Holy shit! How do you guys even walk with that thing?

Needless to say, I got my new body. Here's what I look like now:

Apparently, they meant it well with me, cause my new dick is just... enormous. And they gave me some huge balls to match it, too.

The muscles aren't all that bad, either - I just feel big and powerful all around. The hair will take some getting used to, but it's not for long, after all. After I sue them, I'll demand my original body back.

I do have to admit, I'm feeling good, though. So much more powerful, but calm and happy at the same time. I wonder if this is a guy thing or a me thing? Is that how my boyfriend feels all the time?

Oh, gosh. My boyfriend. He's probably gay already, so I should break up with...

But that would be really mean. Also, thinking about him just made my new member react. It's kinda straining my underwear now. These things really do have a mind of their own, right?

What was I writing about? Yes, my boyfriend. Why did I want to break up with him? I mean, he's just cute like a button, right? I just realize what a gigantic asshole I was, planning to break up with him. I'll have to apologize. Or, even better, I'll apologize by showing show him this huge package I got. That's what he wanted, right?

I should really go. Don't want to keep him waiting.

...

You know what? I think I'll try out this new life before I make any more rushed decision. So far, I enjoy being a dude a lot and I'm actually looking forward to my new job. And my new-old boyfriend. And they didn't even force me to do anything. Perhaps I should ask them to adjust my ethnicity later on, though - I feel a bit more adventurous now. Also, I think I'll go by Trace now. It's an unusual name, but I like it.

Sorry for being such an ass before. Well, speaking of ass - off to get some.

Bye!

- Trace

For @musclelover4826, Sorry about the lateness. Moving hassles.

Timmy sat eagerly for Ms. Raymond’s class to begin. It was his favourite: Trigonometry & Statistics. For nearly everyone else in the class, the boring old lady droning on at the chalkboard was not anywhere near the highlight of their day, yet Timmy was not like nearly everyone else. Timmy was the classmate that would sit tall, pulled forward and always paying attention. He was the one with the thick glasses and braces with a heavy lisp. He was the one that got excited for Chess Club and Foam Weapon Fighting. He was a nerd, through and through… and not the cute kind.

It’s for this reason that he rubbed a majority of his classmates the wrong way, and tended to annoy his teachers. His ‘enthusiasm’ for schoolwork was unparalleled, as was his pretentious ego. He had finally got on Ms. Raymond’s last nerve, correcting her every talking point. She called off that Wednesday morning, and asked Coach Halvorson if he’d teach the class, with particular attention given to young Timmy Schnurblich. The football coach, in his usual intense demeanor of course agreed.

So when Coach Halvorson burst through the classroom door, most of the class broke out in applause. Despite his stern and stoic demeanor, he was immensely popular with students for two reasons. He was sarcastic and generally a lot of fun, but mostly they just loved to stare and admire his hunky body. He walked to the chalkboard, and turned around. Timmy’s distraught face was evident to the Coach, bringing a sly grin to his face. He had no idea what plans the school had for him. 

“Alright class. Ms. Raymond is out today, probably getting her dentures realigned or something so in the meantime it’s time to turn in your homework… But I’ll give you the rest of the period to finish it.” The class breathed a sigh of relief, whipping out their half-finished, five page packet of equations. Timmy’s hand shot up into the air, just as Coach Halvorson leaned back in his seat, putting in his Airpods. 

“But sir, what if we already finished the homework, like we were supposed to!” Coach put his second Airpod into his ear and motioned for Timmy to approach the desk. He eagerly bolted to the front of the classroom, taking a seat across from the coach. He handed over the hefty packet, as Coach took a look. 

“Right off the bat, son, we have a problem. This first equation you multiplied instead of added… So all the following ones are wrong.” Timmy rolled his eyes at the coach. What did he know? He was just a grown meathead jock, dumber than a box of rocks.

“Just correct it, it’s one problem out of 100. I know I’m not wrong.” The Coach smiled at Timmy. Out came the red pen, and the coach immediately made a slash mark.

“Question One is wrong, kid.” One swipe of the pen across the problem and Timmy felt an immediate rush of adrenaline. This was the first question he’d ever gotten wrong on any homework assignment. For some reason, this sparked a bizarre reaction in the aspiring genius: excitement. Timmy did his best to put on a disappointed facade, but deep down, his heart was racing with anticipation. As Coach Halvorson’s pen swiped another red mark across his paper, Timmy’s levels of testosterone skyrocketed. He felt exhilaration like he’d never experienced before. It was fun to get the homework wrong. It was… arousing.

“Question Three… C’mon kid. Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one?” Swipe. Another question is thrown to the wolves. Timmy felt a stirring in his groin, as his normally inadequate member grew to it’s normal 4 inches. Yet, for the first time, it didn’t stop growing. Inch by inch it continued. 4… 5… 6… 7… 8… 9… until it landed at a heavy handful at 10 inches. The outline of his throbbing third leg pressed comically against the confines of his corduroy pants. 

“Uh, Coach? Could we hurry this up? I uh… need to be somewhere… another class… I think…” Timmy stumbled through his words, a conundrum the Debate Team’s star would never have. The Coach raised a playfully sly eyebrow and continued. Swish. Question Four was yet again, incorrect. In the back of his mind, he knew something was off, but the intense heat that began to emanate from his body; pulsating and flowing with unknown power was too pleasurable to ignore. He could feel the weight of those years of Chick-Fil-A and Burger King drain from the abdomen, to the groin, landing with a plop into his balls. They hung like cantaloupes from his erect cock, exhibiting the same titillating pulsations that wrought his cock and muscles. 

“Maybe if you spent your time studying instead of wasting your time at the Tattoo Parlor, you’d not have this problem, Trey.” The coach’s words stung like needles. What tattoo… What was he… Well he must have been talking about his arm tatt. Well, Steve the quarterback dared him to get it, and he didn’t wanna look like a pussy. His confusion increased as Question Five came and went. Incorrect. He felt his muscles inflate. As if tight balloons were expanding beneath his tanning and inked skin. Twiggy arms became bulbous biceps and triceps. His flabby belly became chiseled and firm. The ass which he was so insecure about became two perfectly round mounds, crowning the two meaty legs and massive feet beneath them. 

“Coach. I’m sorry, I was balls deep in Taylor’s ass last night, and he didn’t want me to go!” The Coach scoffed and swiped Question Six, as his formerly pudgy, round face seemingly deflated. Stubble protruded from his squared jawline, and his greasy, curly hair fell to the ground in clumps; revealing a neatly trimmed buzzcut beneath. Trey sighed as the final question loomed. What did it matter. Why was he worried? Coach was gonna take care of it all anyways. Who gives a shit about Trig and Stats when you’re gonna have a football scholarship, right? The coach finally swiped Question 7.

The tattered remains of Trey’s former clothes evaporated into thin air, as his typical muscle tank, black athletic shorts, signature grey headband, and lucky pair of scuffed, white and red Air Jordans now graced his body. Coach handed the homework back, zero out of seven correct. Trey leaned passively against the chair, his gigantic feet kicked up on the desk, ear buds in, blasting the latest hip hop hits. Coach Halvorson pulled the earbuds out of Trey’s ear.

“Well Trey. You flunked the homework again. I’m gonna have to talk to Principal Howser to convince him to over look this for what, the eighth time?” Trey looked at his feet like a sad child, who had disappointed their grandma. “Jesus, kid. Don’t worry. Just focus on practice today. I’ll take care of it. Now go put some damn deodorant on. You fucking reek, did you even take a shower after morning lifting?” The dopey jock smiled blankly at the command, jumped up, and ran down to the locker room. Of course he forgot his deodorant at home, as he always did. Who cares. He was Trey Williams. Best Runningback in the Conference! He had to keep his eyes on the prize, as long as he could remember to do so.

If you liked this story, be sure to check out my PATREON to keep this blog a runnin’! Thanks!

Your stories and images are beyond incredible. My favorite blog on tumblr BY FAR. Truly incredible work. I guess it’s kind of selfish, so absolutely so absolutely no worries, at the very least I got to tell you how much I appreciate and love your content. But I’m a short, nerdy, thin, art student in college right now. I’m tired of being in the closet, I’m tired of being a push over, Im tired of being weak and submissive, I’m tired of being a virgin, and I wanna change. Maybe you could help with a story by turning me into one of those jaw dropping beautiful confident men that you make the pictures of, I would very much appreciate it. But no worries if you can’t, I just love your content!

Confidence

Nathaniel sighed quietly, as he came over his hairless stomach. Of course, he had to be quiet! The dorm walls were paper-thin, and he certainly didn't want the guys from the neighboring dorm rooms to hear him. He looked at the website once more, with the story and the hot buff men before he closed the incognito browser tab and proceeded to clean himself up.

When he looked into the bathroom mirror, he sighed again, but this time, it was a sigh of sadness. There really wasn't anything remotely impressive about him. He was thin and weak, and pathetic really. If it wasn't for his lack of boobs and his sorry excuse for a dick, he could very well pass as a woman. In fact, he had been mistakenly called "Madame" more than once, and one time, he had even been asked "how his transition was going".

No, Nathan was a cis man, just not a very impressive one. He was gay, of course, and loved to look at 'real' men while jerking his small cock. Most of the time, he fantasized about some hairy brute rough-handling him, pushing his face against the bed and fucking his tiny ass into submission. However, even though the thought was exciting to Nathan, he even more wished to *be* such a man. The rational part of Nathan knew that both fantasies would not happen anytime, though. It was physically impossible to just *become* a 'real man', and it was impossible for Nathan to even admit to anyone that he was gay. So, he would probably just stay a closeted virgin forever - doomed to masturbate to some kinky stories he was so embarrassed about that he only dared to look at them from an incognito browser tab.

He sighed a third time when he crawled into bed. Perhaps someday he would accept his fate.

Nathan was already almost asleep when he heard the firework starting outside. Right. It was New Year’s Eve. What a way to start the new year.

The next morning, Nathan was feeling a bit better. Of course, his deep-rooted unhappiness still lingered within him, but Nathan decided to try and enjoy the day. He liked new year’s days. Everyone usually was at home after having celebrated the whole night which meant that the world outside was very quiet. Not much happened on New Year’s Day.

Nathan decided to go to a nearby cafe. There, with a steaming mug of hot chocolate next to him, he got out his drawing utensils and looked around the place. There weren't too many people. An older couple sat together, the man reading a book, and the woman reading a magazine, while an elderly lady sat at the counter. She was probably the owner. However, there was one more guy, a young adult like Nathan, who sat on a nearby table all by himself and was playing on his phone. He had his chair tilted back a bit, stabilizing himself against the wall and rocking a bit. He had earphones in his ear, so he was probably listening to music while doing so.

Nathan's first instinct was to draw the old couple, but then he looked at the other young man again. He looked a bit like one of those men from the internet, the kind that Nathan would fantasize about. Just a bit. The other man wasn't burly and muscular and assertive, but instead he had a lean, fit build. Nathan was a bad judge of character, especially without having spoken to the person in question, but the young man didn't look particularly assertive or dominant either. So, all in all, not too much like the men Nathan longed for on the internet. But still, he had a certain charm to him. Nathan liked the fit, lean body and the aura of positivity the man seemed to exude and wanted to capture that on paper.

Nathan began sketching the man, while occasionally looking up, making sure the man wouldn't notice. However, it was hard to keep his eyes off the guy. Every now and then, he would laugh a bit or make a funny face when watching something on his phone, which Nathan couldn't help but find very attractive.

He was just working on drawing the man's hands, when Nathan suddenly heard someone address him.

"Hey, what are you drawing?" The voice didn't sound rude or unfriendly, but plainly interested. Still, Nathan flinched visibly. The attractive man on the other table had removed one earplug and turned towards Nathan.

"Uh, sorry?" stuttered Nathan, not quite sure how to react. The guy pointed at Nathan's drawing pad and smiled: "You're an artist?"

Nathan could feel the blood rushing to his face. The drawing pad was tilted towards Nathan, so his unvoluntary model could not have seen what exactly Nathan was drawing. He could - no, he should - just lie and tell him he was sketching something in the room. But he just couldn't think of anything and the time for a good answer was running out. Almost involuntarily, Nathan stuttered, with his head red like a tomato: "Uhm, yeah, kind of. I was sketching you, actually."

The guy laughed a short and friendly laugh: "Really? Cool! Can I see it?"

Nathan could feel his heartbeat quicken, and his face got even redder. This was so embarrassing! But he couldn't very well refuse now, could he? So, he placed the pad flat on the table, just as the guy came over and sat himself down on Nathan's table.

"Oh wow!", he sounded impressed. "You're really talented! It's like looking into a mirror."

"Thanks" - Nathan hated getting compliments. Not only didn't he know how to react to them, but he also found them mostly fake. He was an art student, but he wasn't that good really, at least in his own opinion. In the dictionary, there was probably a picture of Nathan right next to the entry for "Imposter Syndrome".

"But why are you drawing me?" Although Nathan had feared that this question might come up, he didn't have a good lie to answer it. It was almost as if his mouth was acting on its own, when Nathan heard himself stammer: "Uh, eh, it's because I... I find you quite handsome actually. Good-looking I mean."

Nathan wished for nothing more than to be swallowed by the earth here and now. But to his big surprise, the guy just laughed again and said: "You think so? Thanks! The name's Oliver by the way." Oliver had, apparently, much less of a problem taking a compliment.

"Nathan." said Nathan and started to relax a tiny bit. However, the situation suddenly got even worse, when Oliver continued, in the same light-hearted voice. "Nice to meet you, Nathan! Are you into guys?"

Nathan froze solid. He hadn't expected that. And even worse, the answer was, of course, yes. But there was no way he could say that, was there? So, instead, he just stared at Oliver with his eyes wide open and a deer-in-headlights look.

"I mean, I'm gay - are you as well?" Oliver explained. "With the whole drawing dudes and all."

Nathan's brain had stopped working properly, so he couldn't help but nod and mumble a faint "yes".

Oliver's smile broadened and he said: "Really? Cool!"

Nathan's mind was racing. He had just admitted his homosexuality. To a complete stranger. Out of the blue. He didn't plan to come out that way, it just... happened.

A moment of awkward silence radiated from Nathan, but, thankfully, Oliver salvaged the situation pretty elegantly.

"Listen Nathan, I'll have to run now. But are you free tomorrow around 2? We could grab a coffee and you could show me some of your drawings if you like."

A spark of bravery, completely foreign to him, awakened in Nathan and he answered: "Y-yes. I think I would like that."

Oliver smiled another of his broad smiles. "Awesome! Let's meet here then tomorrow!"

With that, Oliver nodded at Nathan and left the cafe, putting in his headphone again while humming happily.

Did that really just happen? Nathan looked from the unfinished drawing towards the cafe door. Did he really just... got invited to a date? With a handsome guy named Oliver? Nathan wasn't sure whether to be happy or not. On the one hand, it was a miracle, a once in a lifetime opportunity. A cute and hot guy was actually interested in him! But on the other hand, there was no way he could make a good impression. How desperate had that Oliver guy to be to actually ask *him* out?

A small voice in his head insisted that he could just not show up tomorrow and avoid the whole disappointment. But the spark of bravery was still there, and Nathan fought down the feeling. No, he was going to show. If it turned out to be a disaster, he could still flee the scene - it wasn't like Oliver knew literally anything about him.

Nathan quickly packed his things and returned to his dorm room. Once he arrived, he noticed that he was completely covered in sweat of fear. His shirt showed wet spots under his arms and felt cold to the touch. Disgusted, Nathan immediately went for a shower. Only there, standing under the hot steamy water, Nathan could appreciate what happened. He got *asked out*. On a *date*. With a *guy*. Yesterday he had been certain he would die alone and lonely but then, today, he got *asked out*. Was this really a thing? Did it really happen?

He wasn't sure. He had a hard time believing it. Perhaps the whole thing was just a weird dream? A figment of his imagination. But no. The half-finished drawing was proof enough that Oliver really existed.

When Nathan exited the shower cabin, the whole bathroom was covered in steam, blinding the mirrors. Perhaps this - or the spinning of his thoughts - was the reason that he didn't notice that his hair had changed. Instead of his usual medium length brown-ish hair, he now sported a much shorter hairstyle - in a much darker color, almost black. Be it as it may - Nathan had other things on mind than checking his hair. He spent the whole afternoon and even the evening researching on how to make a good impression on a first date.

The next morning, Nathan slept in, which was pretty unusual for him. His whole frame felt weird, when he crawled out of bed. It wasn't too late, either - he had a comfortable 3 hours until the date. When he passed the bathroom mirror on his morning routine, however, he stopped for a moment. Something was... off about his face. His hair. It looked kind of... different?

Nathan stared at his reflection for a few seconds, straining his mind. Somehow, the shape of his jawbone seemed unfamiliar. And was his hair always that dark, almost black?

Finally, he shook his head. No, he was just seeing things. Of course, that was as it always had been. After having finished his bathroom business, Nathan went for a shower and prepared himself.

An hour later, he stood in front of the mirror, trying out a bunch of outfits and felt slight panic rising inside of him. None of his clothes fit very well, it was like he was cursed! It wasn't that his shirts and pants were much too big or much too small, but for some reason none of his clothes really felt comfortable. Both his favorite shirt and his usual jeans felt somewhat constricting today. Finally, Nathan just put on an outfit, and left his room.

When he entered the cafe, Oliver was already sitting there, two coffee mugs in front of him. He smiled, waved and gestured for Nathan to join him.

"Hello, Nathan!"

"H-hi." said Nathan, his nervousness returning.

"Here, I bought you a coffee!" Oliver pushed one of the mugs over the table.

"Thanks." Nathan was somewhat distracted by the ill-fitting clothes, and he could pretty much feel the nervous sweat practically pouring out of his pores.

"No problem!", said Oliver. "I was early, anyway. How are you doing today?"

"Fine." said Nathan and took a sip of his coffee, trying to hide his nervousness. He vividly remembered all the good advice he had read yesterday, but all that felt just impossible to him.

"So, you're an artist? What do you do?" Oliver asked with genuine interest.

"Well, I study art, I guess. I want to be a concept artist, you know, for games or movies or so. But, eh, right now, I'm just a student, and I'm not really that good."

"That's not how I remember it!" smiled Oliver. "Can you show me more of your work?"

Nathan nodded as he got out his sketchbook. Talking about his art was something he was comfortable with and allowed him to warm up somewhat over the course of the conversation. Oliver appeared to be quite a nice guy and had a lot of questions about drawing, so, Nathan, in turn, started to relax and talk more freely. He found out that Oliver was a veterinary technician and had a part time job at a dog shelter. That, combined with the fact that he was, in general, a really nice and positive guy, made him incredibly appealing to Nathan.

After the two had talked for a while, Oliver suddenly remarked: "You know, I really like your stubble! It really suits you!"

Stubble? What was he talking about? Nathan rarely needed to shave, but he had done so this morning, so, it was absolutely impossible that he should have visible facial hair. And yet, as he felt his chin, his fingers met with bristly short hair, so dense and long that there was no way he could have missed it this morning. Nathan found it strange, to say the least, but didn't want to make a scene in this situation. His spark of courage was a small candle flame now, as he just smiled while he felt his chin and said "Thank you!"

The two continued to chat a bit. While doing so, Nathan tried not to think too much about the fact that his clothes were, somehow, tighter than before.

Finally, Oliver's phone buzzed, and he looked at the screen.

"Damn, it's that late already?"

"What is it?", asked Nathan.

"Oh, the dog shelter. I have a shift soon, I need to go!"

Nathan sighed inwardly. He was really enjoying the date and didn't want it to end. He was pulled out of his thoughts by the feeling of Olivers hand on his. It felt... good. Good and strange, like the texture of his own hand was somewhat wrong, somewhat rougher than before. When he looked up into Oliver's eyes, he found the other man smiling.

"I really enjoyed this. You are a wonderful person, Nathan. We should do this again."

Nathan nodded. He didn't trust his voice right now.

"How about... tomorrow?", Oliver continued. "There's an art exhibition in town, perhaps you would like to go there with me?"

Nathan's heart jumped a beat. He didn't have time or courage yet to go to the exhibition and the prospect of seeing Oliver again so soon was wonderful.

"I would very much like that", Nathan replied and smiled.

"Great! Let's meet there, say at 5?"

"Sure!"

Oliver smiled his beautiful, broad smile, and stood up, leaving some money for the coffees on the table. Nathan too got up, but before he could leave, Oliver stopped him with a warm expression in his eyes. "You know, I really think I like you a lot." He said, and his hand touched Nathan's somewhat bristly cheek. Almost automatically, both of their faces drew closer to each other, until their lips met with the slightest touch. It was a chaste, short kiss, but Nathan could feel Oliver's lips smile when they broke apart.

"See you tomorrow!", said Oliver and left the cafe.

Nathan's knees felt weak, and his heart was beating rapidly. There were a thousand feeling, all happening inside him at once and Nathan needed a moment to sort through them before he was able to move again. There was a part of him that couldn't quite believe what just happened, but the biggest part was just euphoric. He basically jogged back to his home, full of a never experienced energy.

When he arrived in his room, his body was feeling even weirder than before. All of his clothes were way too tight. It was not just that he felt constricted, no, the clothes actually were much too small. He quickly got rid of them, noticing that, again, he had sweated like a pig. As Nathan glanced down on himself, he could almost see that his body was somehow different. Fitter, healthier. It was probably just his imagination, though, caused by his ecstatic mood. He briefly considered taking another shower but postponed it to tomorrow. There would be plenty of time and Nathan felt really glad and tired for today.

Nathan woke up from two different feelings the next morning. First, he felt itchy and sweaty all over his body and was subconsciously scratching himself in his sleep. Second, and perhaps even more importantly, Nathan was experiencing a severe case of morning wood. His manhood was rigid and pulsating under his sheets and was begging for attention. Nathan had a hard time remembering when he last experienced such an urgent urge to jerk off. He wasn't sure, but the memories of their kissing yesterday came to his mind as soon as he woke up, so, he couldn't resist closing his hand around his hard cock and started pumping. His hand felt rough and big, and Nathan couldn't be sure, but both length and girth of his tool seemed increased, too. However, Nathan could hardly concentrate on that due to the waves of pleasure washing over him.

It didn't take very long for Nathan to shoot a big load onto his stomach, with a moan. It was a big and sticky load, too, mixing with the little dark hairs on his stomach and chest. Nathan blinked in post-nut clarity. Hairs? He didn't have body hair.

Nathan got up quickly and went to the bathroom. Something about his perspective was off, too. It was like the ceiling was closer than it was supposed to be, and the ground further away. Once Nathan had used some toilet paper to wipe away most of the cum, he took a look at himself in the mirror. There was no denying that he looked different. He was definitely somewhat taller and broader than before. He didn't have a scale, but he was sure that he had gained quite some weight as well - not only due to the increased height and broader shoulders but also because his previous stickman-like appearance had been altered quite somewhat. All over his frame, a lean definition was visible, hinting at muscles even. His chin was covered in visible stubble and there was a bit of body hair visible, mainly on his chest and stomach as well as peeking out under his armpit.

Speaking of which, as Nathan raised his arm to look at his pits, a certain smell reached his nose. A musky, manly, slightly sweaty odor that wasn't quite unpleasant but was certainly unfamiliar.

Nathan had a hard time wrapping his mind around what he was seeing. There was no denying he looked *good*. He just didn't look exactly like *himself*. And for some reason, this didn't bother Nathan quite as much as it probably should. He should be panicking or calling a doctor. People didn't just grow taller overnight or put on definition without working out. And yet, Nathan only felt a slight bit of curiosity and a weak impulse that he probably *should* work out then.

Nathan shook his head and went back to his bedroom. He didn't bother putting on clothing and tried to pass the time until afternoon. The only thing that he *really* regretted about his sudden changes was that his favorite shirt and jeans would definitely not fit anymore.

He ended up watching a bit of TV and browsing the internet, before he decided it was time to prepare himself. Finding clothes that would fit now proved to be quite a challenge, but in the end, he settled on a plain t-shirt and some cargo pants. He had bought both of them a number too big by mistake, which came in quite handy now.

Walking through the city was a strange experience. He felt good about himself and held his head high. Combined with the fact that Nathan's head was, indeed, higher than before, it was like seeing the city in a whole new perspective. Less looking at the ground and more looking straight ahead.

His new posture seemed to have another effect, too. Where before he had to avoid people, trying not to get in their way, now they seemed to be stepping aside for him, which was a foreign but not unpleasant experience.

Finally, he arrived at the exhibition and found Oliver already waiting for him. They greeted with a hug and a short kiss, both fully reciprocated by Nathan, and went inside. Although Oliver seemed to notice something was off about Nathan, he didn't mention it and apparently forgot about it quickly.

Today, Nathan found it much easier to talk to Oliver and brought up topics by himself.

The exhibition however was kind of a let-down for Nathan. Although he could judge on a rational level that the art presented here was really well-done and interesting, on a purely emotional level, Nathan found it mind-numbingly boring. The conversation steered away from the art quickly, and more towards personal matters, which was a relief. So, even though they didn't care much about the paintings around them, the two of them ended up wandering around the exhibition for hours, talking and having a good time.

During the date, however, Nathan was quickly experiencing an unfamiliar feeling. The company of Oliver was... exciting. Exciting on a sexual, primal level. Nathan's larger manhood grew semi-hard in his underwear quickly, so Nathan had to readjust himself more than once. At first, he was very self-conscious about it and tried to be as subtle as possible. However, with every push his cock needed in order not to be too obvious, Nathan actually cared less about who saw him readjust himself. He was a guy after all, and all big-dicked men had that particular problem from time to time.

Besides forming a bulge in his groin, however, his constantly semi-hard cock did one more thing: Nathan was leaking precum in his underwear. First, it was just a drop or two on an involuntary throb, but it quickly became more. His underwear was feeling damp before long, and a faint note of sexuality mixed into his still present smell.

After a while, Oliver even commented on it, in his usual upbeat way: "Hey, Nathan, I have to say, you smell pretty good. Are you using cologne?"

Nathan hadn't noticed his own smell too much. His first impulse was to apologize, but the burning campfire of courage inside of him quickly told him otherwise. Oliver didn't complain. In fact, he liked it.

So, Nathan answered with a grin: "Nope. That's just how I smell."

Oliver took another whiff of the mixture of sweat, dried cum and precum and smiled. "Well, I like it!"

Nathan wasn't quite sure how to react, and just said: "Thanks!"

The exhibition was closing down soon, and Nathan offered Oliver to accompany him to the train station, which he gladly accepted. When they parted, they kissed again. This time, it wasn't a small, timid kiss like before, but a long, sexual one that made Nathan's dick twitch like mad in the confines of his pants. Since their bodies were pressed closely together, Nathan could be sure that Oliver felt the movement against his own groin.

Only after they broke the kiss, Nathan noticed that he was now looking down on Oliver slightly. He could have sworn that Oliver had been slightly taller than him yesterday.

There was no telling on how the evening would have continued hadn't it been for Oliver's train to arrive just then. Before Oliver could board the train, however, Nathan grinned at him and said: "Dinner tomorrow? The Italian place downtown, at 6?"

"I would love that!"

They kissed again and Nathan watched as the train pulled out. Then, he went back to his dorm, whistling a happy tune. It didn't even occur to him that he had taken the initiative in asking Oliver out for a third date. The fire of confidence was burning bright inside of him.

When he came home, Nathan immediately stripped out of his clothes. Even the larger shirt had become somewhat tight. He took a short look at it. There was a wet patch under both arms from his constant sweating, and the t-shirt had adapted his smell. There was something else in the smell, though. At the chest region, there was a medium sized stain, machine oil from the smell of it. Nathan wondered briefly how he could have missed it this morning but then diverted his attention to more pressing matters. His cock was fully hard and was poking out from the waistband of his briefs. Nathan hadn't had an erection like that since puberty and, if he was honest with himself, the feeling was rather nice. Without hesitation, he closed his hand around his hard meat and gave it a few experimental pumps. A low growl escaped his mouth, and a shiver went through his body. He didn't want to go slow, he wanted to fuck. His mind was focused on the task at hand. He didn't even bother to close his curtains, as he went for it. Nathan was jacking himself off, fast and hard, growling and groaning, until he finally exploded all over his chest and face, shooting multiple loads of thick white cum everywhere.

As Nathan was catching his breath, the smell of cum was heavy in the room. God, he needed that. Ever since he met Oliver today. He wiped his face and chest with his discarded t-shirt and briefly considered if he wanted to take a shower. The smell emanating from him was rather strong now, but still, he didn't want to. Oliver seemed to like his body odor, and, if Nathan was being honest, he did so himself, too.

Nathan was woken by his alarm the next morning. As his mind came to focus, his hand reached for the smartphone automatically and dismissed the alarm. He yawned and stretched. He was really looking forward to today. Given, it was the last day before classes started again, but he was going to a third date with Oliver this evening!

When Nathan crawled out of bed and went for his bathroom, however, his body felt weird again. The muscles had become more defined over the course of the last two days and now, the whole body structure felt *strong*. The few hairs from before had become a small forest of body hair and the stubble had grown thicker. He still didn't feel the need for a shave, though.

Nathan wasn't quite sure about the whole situation. Of course, he was enjoying the change. On the other hand, ... No, fuck the other hand. This was great, plain and simple. He finished his morning business standing up while peeing, which he usually never did. But right now, it just felt *right*.

After that, he inspected his wardrobe. He had half-feared that he would need to go and buy new clothes, but apparently, overnight his wardrobe had changed as well. It was filled with sturdy cargos or work pants as well as simple shirts and the occasional overall. Good!

His underwear choice had also changed. Instead of briefs or boxers, the drawer was now filled with jockstraps. That made sense, of course - only a jockstrap would set his large dick in the right scene.

None of the clothes qualified as "clean". Sure, they had been washed before they went into the wardrobe, but permanent grease or oil stains had permeated the fabric just as Nathan's manly stink - both marks no washing machine could ever erase entirely.

Nathan grabbed one of the pants and smelled it. He couldn't help but smile. This was his smell. This was *his* smell. His manly, sweaty, dirty, horny smell. He even felt his ever-present dick twitch a bit at the smell. Nathan wasn't sure if he would ever get used to this new reality. Or if this even was the final reality.

The hours passed quickly. Nathan was keeping himself busy, playing games or listened to music. Not once did it occur to him to draw something or even look at his art. This new him wasn't particularly creative, it seemed.

Nathan's mind wandered back to the date this evening. He couldn't wait to see Oliver again. In fact, he couldn't wait for more than that. It was a third date and Nathan wanted to go all the way with Oliver. He wanted to take his ass and fuck it into oblivion.

At around 5 pm, Nathan stood in front of the Italian place, waiting for Oliver. When Oliver finally arrived, the two men greeted each other with a passionate kiss. Nathan could tell that the kiss was having an effect on Oliver, as his breathing was quicker than usual.

They went inside and sat down on a table. Almost automatically, Nathan's legs spread wide, taking up space, establishing presence and, most importantly, giving his equipment the necessary space. The *old* Nathan would have sat with his legs closed or even crossed, in order to not draw any attention to himself. However, the new Nathan didn't want to draw *less* attention.

The two chatted a bit, with the main topic of the conversation being the menu, before ordering. When he spoke, Nathan noted that his voice had dropped an octave, making his voice gravely and his laugh a low rumble. When Oliver had chosen, Nathan summoned the waiter and ordered for the both of them, his lower voice full of confidence. For Nathan, it was a large meat pizza and a beer.

"You know, I have never seen you drink before", remarked Oliver.

"I don't usually", replied Nathan. "But I thought I'd have a beer today."

"You're not driving, are you?"

"Na, I'm here on foot."

Oliver smiled his usual smile. "I'm here by car, so if you like, I can give you a ride home afterwards."

There seemed to be some subtext to this offer, but it went over Nathan's head. Not that it was necessary, because he had the exact same plans, anyway.

"Sounds great!"

A couple of minutes later, their pizzas arrived, and the two dug in.

"I really like your style, Nathan." said Oliver after a while.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, the way you dress. The way you talk. The way you act."

"Oh. Thanks."

Nathan thought for a moment before he added: "You know, I go by Nate these days."

"Nate, eh?", smiled Oliver.

"Yeah. Fits better, you know."

"I guess so. I like it a lot!"

"I like your style, too."

"What do you mean by that?", Oliver laughed.

"Just, the way you talk, the way you walk. Everything. You're cute, you know."

"Why, thank you!"

The conversation was definitely a lot more flirtatious than yesterday. When they had finished their meals, they didn't linger much longer in the restaurant but got into Oliver's car.

Nate proceeded to give Oliver directions to his home. However, at a certain crossing, he had to stop and think for a moment. He knew for a fact that his dorm was to the left. But he also knew for a fact that his *home* was to the right. Nate decided not to overthink it and directed Oliver to the right with a firm voice.

They didn't get very far from that point, when suddenly, the car stopped with a jerk.

"Damn, sorry!" said Oliver. "The engine is acting up again. It's probably too cold or something like that. I'll just try to start it up again."

When after the third try, the engine didn't start again, Nate laid a hand on Oliver's. "Let me try." he said with a confident voice and left the car. When he opened the hood, the problem became clear to him right away.

"The carburetor is a bit clogged, I'll unclog it real quick and we're ready to go."

While Oliver was staring at Nate in surprise, as the latter quickly and with trained skill removed a few parts and then, with a flex of his mighty arms, applied percussive maintenance to the part in question. After Nate had reassembled the engine, he cleaned his hands on his pants and got into the car again, filling out the passenger seat with his presence.

"It should work again for now, but I'll have to clean it thoroughly tomorrow. The thing is just old and worn down, it needs replacing soon. Just try starting the engine."

Oliver was still staring at Nate with a disbelieving look on his face. Finally, however, he tried starting the engine again, and the car did indeed start running smoothly.

"Wow, Nate, that was amazing! Where did you learn that?"

"What do you mean", grinned Nate. "That's what I do!"

Oliver stared at him for a moment. "Wait, you're a mechanic?"

"Yeah, sure, didn't I tell you when we met?"

Oliver seemed to think about it but then slowly nodded: "Yes, I... think so. Weird. I could have sworn..."

Nate shrugged and pointed down the road: "Shall we go?"

They arrived at Nate's place shortly after. He had a cheap apartment directly over the car garage where he worked. Nate did try to clean up a bit the afternoon, but the place still screamed "Manly bachelor" all over the place with the occasional beer can or jockstrap scattered around.

Neither of them had time to care, though. As soon as the door closed, the two kissed. It wasn't just a chaste, romantic kiss. This was a heated, passionate kiss, full of desire and lust. Nate took Oliver's body and pushed him against the wall, grinding their bodies together. Both were hard and their breathing was rapid. Nate's hands wandered up and down Oliver's body, squeezing and grabbing his body. His fingers were strong and forceful, and he squeezed the smaller man's buttocks and his dick with the same intensity. Oliver responded by moaning and pushing his groin against Nate's, humping him.

Suddenly, Nate broke the kiss. "Oliver, I... I want you. I want to fuck you."

Oliver didn't answer, but kissed Nate again, harder this time. Nate's tongue invaded his mouth, and the bigger man's hands were ripping Oliver's shirt and pants off him. Once Oliver's dick was free, it was enveloped by Nate's big calloused hand, and Oliver's breath hitched in his throat.

"Oh god, Nate, yes!" he moaned.

Nate had enough of foreplay, and he wanted to fuck, now. Without wasting any time, he quickly pushed his pants down and pressed his dick against Oliver's. It was massive, even compared to Oliver's not insignificant size. While Nate's balls were big and heavy, his cock was thick, long, and veiny, with a fat mushroom head. It was also rock hard, and the head was already drooling precum.

With one hand, Nate stroked the two cocks together, rubbing them and smearing the precum all over his dick and Oliver's. With the other hand, he pulled Oliver close and kissed him again, a long, sensual, passionate kiss, which made Oliver moan into his mouth.

The two stood like that for a while, but finally, Nate's need to fuck was stronger than anything else.

"Bedroom. Now!" he growled and dragged the smaller man with him. Once there, Nate simply tossed him onto the bed and followed quickly, his cock pointing up. He positioned himself on top of the other man and kissed him again, their tongues dancing in their mouths.

When the kiss broke, Oliver was panting.

"You really are a big boy, huh?"

"Damn right I am."

"Oh god, I need your big dick inside of me!"

"Yeah? You want me to fuck you?"

"Please! I've wanted to feel your huge meat in me for days."

"Fuck yeah. You're gonna get it."

Nate reached under his bed and produced a bottle of lube, which he applied liberally to his dick.

"You're ready?"

"Do it, big guy."

Nate placed the head of his massive cock against the tight pucker and started to push. Slowly but steadily, his dick invaded Oliver's ass.

"Oooooooooh god, Nate, yesssssss!" moaned Oliver.

The pressure around Nate's dick was unbelievable. Oliver was clearly tight, and the way his asshole was massaging his dick felt heavenly.

Finally, Nate's dick was balls-deep inside Oliver. Both were breathing heavily, and Oliver was moaning incoherently. Nate gave him a moment to adjust and then started moving his hips, first slowly, but increasing his pace quickly. Soon, he was slamming into Oliver's ass as hard as he could, pulling almost completely out and then thrusting back inside the smaller man.

"Fuck yeah! You like that? You like my huge dick pounding your tight little ass?"

"God, yes, Nate, fuck me, fuck meeee!"

Nate was groaning and growling, a sound that came deep from his chest and made Oliver moan even louder.

"Oh shit, Nate, I'm so close! Don't stop, please don't stop, don't st- ooooooooh gooooooood!"

Nate felt Oliver's muscles clamp down on his dick, and that sent him over the edge. He buried his dick as deep as he could and shot a big load of cum deep into Oliver's guts.

The two of them collapsed on each other, spent but happy.

A lot had changed for Nathan in this new year. He had gotten a new body, a new job, a new identity even. But most importantly, he had found love. Nate the manly mechanic sighed. If he were to describe his feelings, looking into the future, there was only one fitting word: Confidence.

I actually generated a ton (okay, 50) of images for this story. If you want to check out the alternate versions of the different stages of Nathan/Nate, check out my tip jar, where I posted them!

My asshole of a cousin won’t stop being a homophobic little shit! He keeps talking about how gays are all about sex! I think it’s time to make him eat his words as a gay fuckboy!

What a shame your cousin is such a homophobic asshole. I mean, he really is hot as hell. I think he could be the star of any pole in a gay club. But not with that attitude… Let's change that then…

The picture of a guy sitting at the bar and actually wants to grunt "Buddy, bring me another beer". But instead he whispers "Honey, can you bring me a pink martini please?" All eyes at the bar are on him. He is shocked himself. He tries to clear his throat. He tries to sound manly again. But all he gets is "If it's no trouble, sweetheart!"

The barman says that he doesn't serve perverted faggots here. Your cousin smiles at him and says that's too bad, he can serve him any way he wants. He gets up, throws the waiter an air kiss and leaves. His phone plays a Taylor Swift song. He pulls an iPhone in a pink glitter case out of his trouser pocket. "Honey, yes, I'm on my way. Really, you'll never guess what just happened to me. I'm telling you, a demigod! But so straight. Not a chance." His gait becomes more and more prancing. It could also be because his rough biker boots are turning into silver pumps. He passes a shop window with a mirror. "Mon Dieu, what do I look like?" he says and pulls a lipstick out of the inside pocket of his leather jacket. As he touches up his lips, his beard begins to recede into flawless skin.

When he arrives at his new hangout, he looks like a scarecrow. Hair already platinum blonde, but still in a self-cut mullet. His super slim body doesn't even begin to fill out his clothes. Nothing is left of his magnificent muscles. But his fine fingers are perfectly manicured. "Honey, could you bring me a pink martini, please?" he whispers to the bartender. "Not until I get a smack," he replies. It turns into a deep French kiss. Not the last one the boy who used to be your cousin will give out today.

It's still quite empty in the bar. But the door opens and the party people start to pour in. The boy who used to be your cousin assesses every single new guest and gives notes in his head. Eight and better comes into question for a discreet meeting in the toilet. The one or two lucky ones who get a ten even get to take him home. But let's not kid ourselves. The only ten tonight is himself.