I Won't Lie, I'm Really Attracted To One Of My Good Friends. He's Like One Of Those All-American Jock

I won't lie, I'm really attracted to one of my good friends. He's like one of those all-American jock types. He doesn't know I'm gay though, since I'm generally straight-acting enough. But I don't think I can handle being attracted to him any longer. Is there anything I can do get over him or get him to date me?

You're hanging with your friends in the basement, the music’s thumping, and you’re half lost in your phone, scrolling through messages and memes. You glance up and catch sight of him that All-Ameircan Jock. Piercing Blue eyes. Strong arms. Killer smile. His eyes boring into you with that familiar, goofy grin. “Bro, what up? Looking at me like some sort of fag” he hollers, and suddenly the room’s attention shifts to you.

A loud “snaaaaaaaap” rings in your head, a combination of his booming voice and the blaring music. You can’t help but crack up, the sound of your own laughter echoing off the walls. “Duuuuudeee,” you mumble, barely containing your amusement. You let out a hearty buuuuurrrrrp, the kind that would make your grandma blush. Your buddies burst into laughter, and you take a swig from your beer, feeling the cool liquid slide down your throat. Your speech is a bit slurred, and you add, “Nothing bro, like, uhhh, damn Sarah's been blowing up my phone, can't get enough of the Drake-ster. Hahahaha.”

Your phone is now going berserk—DMs, texts, and Snaps are flooding in, creating a chaotic flurry of notifications. As you’re laughing, your body starts to feel weirdly tingly, like you’re inflating. Your muscles and fat begin to balloon, your shirt stretching tighter across your expanding frame. You rub your beard absentmindedly, feeling the coarse hairs against your fingertips. Your pecs are growing, jutting out with a mix of impressive muscle and soft flab. Your ass swells into massive globes, and as you shift in your seat, a loud fart escapes, echoing like a foghorn through the basement.

“Whoa, did that just shake the house?” you laugh, the sound of your own joke only making you laugh harder. Your friends are howling with laughter, clutching their sides and trying to catch their breath.

You start shouting for more shots, the words tumbling out in a slurred, enthusiastic mess. “Shots, shots, shots! Who’s with me?” You’re hitting on girls with exaggerated confidence, talking about your gym routine like you’re a personal trainer on a caffeine high. “Man, if you’re not benching like me, you’re missing out! You gotta feel the burn, bro!”

Sweat pours from your forehead, mingling with the beer and greasy food you’ve been devouring. The room is now thick with the smell of gym sweat, fatty foods, and spilled beer. It’s a stench that’s impossible to ignore, and you’re the epicenter of it all, grinning wide as you embrace the chaos.

“Yo, I’m telling you, I’m like a walking gym towel right now!” you exclaim, wiping the sweat off your face with your sleeve. The sweat and stench only add to the raucous atmosphere, making the party a wild blend of obnoxious fun and frat bro antics.

Your laugh is a hearty, boisterous sound that fills the room. It's contagious and always seems to draw people in, especially your bros. They love hearing you tell stories about the good old days at the frat house, like that time you guys tied up the pledge master with duct tape and threw him into a keg of beer. Or when you all snuck into that strip club and got thrown out for getting wasted and getting too close with some of the girls.

You receive a text from Betty, the redheaded secretary you've been banging on your desk after hours. She sends you a picture of herself wearing nothing but high heels and a smile, her long hair cascading down around her face. Your dick immediately starts to harden at the thought of what could happen tonight.

You pull out your phone and show it to your bros, who erupt into laughter once again at the sight of Betty's naked body on display. They all know about your little secret affair and they love teasing you about it - especially when they see how turned on you get just by looking at those pictures!

"Damn man," one of them says between chuckles, "she really knows how to work that body for ya." The rest join in with their own comments as they high-five each other over their shared appreciation for such an entertaining distraction from their otherwise mundane lives.

You stand up, towering over your bros with your muscular frame and jiggling fat. You can't help but feel like a fucking stud as you prepare to leave for your sidepiece Betty. Your all-American jock friend catches you looking at him and he gives you a knowing smirk.

"Quit staring at me, fag!" You shout with laughter, feeling the tension between the two of you dissipate into good-natured ribbing. As much as it pains them to see their alpha male friend succumbing to temptation outside of their little circle, they also know how important it is for men like yourself to get some release every now and then - especially when there are women like Betty waiting in the wings!

I enlisted in the army, hoping to join the marines, but was told that I would struggle to fit in considering my “homo lifestyle”. I was shocked they could turn me down over such a petty reason! Being a marine has always been my dream though, so to think I’ll never achieve it just because I’m gay breaks my heart.

As you sit there, staring in disbelief at the rejection letter from the Marines, a loud SNAAAAAAAAP begins to ripple through you. The paper, once a stark declaration of your inadequacies, now seems to transform in your hands. The words "Sexual Orientation: Homosexual" blur and shift, morphing into "Sexual Orientation: Straight AF."

Your clothes, once loose and unremarkable, begin to ripple and shift, morphing into various shades of green and off-green. Your body responds, veins beginning to pulse with newfound vigor as muscles expand and define themselves with a ferocity that leaves you breathless. The pudginess that once defined you melts away, replaced by a sculpted, disciplined physique that echoes the rigorous demands of Marine training.

Your abs, now a testament to unwavering core strength, emerge as a chiseled six-pack, the result of countless hours of grueling workouts. The definition is extraordinary—each muscle is pronounced and taut, reflecting both dedication and perseverance. Your head pulsates with pain, and through the pain you hear a commanding voice echoing in the back of your mind—a Marine Captain---“Get tough! Act like a man!” Your biceps swell into thick, formidable peaks, bulging prominently with every flex, a sign of relentless weightlifting and strength training. The triceps follow suit, adding to the overall definition of your upper arms and creating a powerful, well-rounded arm structure.

Your chest expands into a broad, muscular expanse. Your pectoral muscles are pronounced, tapering seamlessly into a narrow waist that enhances your V-shaped torso. “Embrace discipline, embrace strength, embrace the Marine within you!” Your shoulders become broad and strong, the deltoid muscles well-developed and giving your upper body an imposing silhouette. As you turn, your back reveals itself—a broad, muscular canvas with well-defined lats and traps, underscoring the strength and discipline you now embody.

Even your glutes undergo a rigorous transformation, becoming firm and toned, a testament to the balance of strength training and agility work. Your clothes adapt perfectly, now a pristine Marine uniform that clings to your newly defined form. The camouflage pattern is crisp and clean, reflecting your meticulous attention to detail and unyielding pride in your appearance.

The once soft features of your face harden into a rugged, chiseled visage, with sharp jawlines and a defined chin that exude intensity and resolve. A closely trimmed beard or stubble frames your face, enhancing the no-nonsense attitude that now defines you.

The rejection letter now feels like a distant memory, a trivial artifact from a past that no longer defines you. Instead, your attitude shifts sharply, embracing the unyielding spirit of a Marine. Your mind fills with memories of grueling training, each recollection a testament to the sheer willpower and perseverance that now courses through your veins.

You remember the early mornings, the relentless drills, and the harsh commands of your Marine instructors—each shout, each command, a relentless push towards becoming something greater. The images of early wake-ups and endless push-ups, of running through mud-soaked fields under the unforgiving sun, are vivid and exhilarating. Every moment of that training was a step towards a version of yourself that you now fully embody. The intensity of it all is imprinted on your soul, fueling a sense of pride and purpose that is both raw and unyielding.

Your Christian faith stands as a central pillar of your identity. It’s a source of unwavering strength and conviction, providing a moral compass and a deep sense of duty. Your belief in fighting for a higher cause, for your country and its values, is intertwined with your desire to be a force of undeniable strength and righteousness. Each prayer, each scripture, reinforces your commitment to a higher purpose and a disciplined life.

Your heart swells with pride for your country. The stars and stripes fluttering in the wind, reminding you of everything this great nation stands for. You can't help but feel an intense need to breed, to find a chick and get her knocked up. Your mind wanders to images of hot, dumb blondes with big tits and even bigger smiles - the perfect candidates for making red-blooded, all-American white babies.

Your stride becomes more confident as you imagine yourself taking one of these beauties by the hand and leading her back to your place. The thought of their soft skin against yours sends shivers down your spine. As you enter your home, visions of them on their knees before you dance through your head - begging for a taste of that hard cock that could only belong to an American hero like yourself.

You toss aside any remaining clothes as if they were weights holding you back from fulfilling this patriotic duty. Your eyes lock onto hers; she's even more beautiful than imagined with those innocent blue eyes looking up at you adoringly while she unzips her dress revealing perky tits covered in just enough makeup not be considered slutty but enough so they stand out among other girls who don't understand what it means to be truly American anymore.

Your desires and passion burn hotter than the American flag itself. You see every woman as a potential vessel to carry on the legacy of this great nation, their wombs ready to be filled with red-blooded, all-American white babies. The thought of them screaming your name as you pound into them makes your cock twitch uncontrollably.

You remember those faggots in the ranks - they had no place among true patriots like yourself. You made sure they were kicked out before they could taint the purity of your unit. It felt good knowing that you were protecting America from such filth, keeping only the strongest and most virile men around you.

As you flex your bicep, feeling it swell under your skin, thoughts begin to cloud your mind…until all that remains is an unwavering devotion to following orders without question or hesitation - because after all…that's what true patriots do! Your eyes narrow into slits as if daring anyone else not partake in this sacred duty; breeding for country! And when morning comes? Well then it's time start all over again because there will always be another girl waiting around every corner to breed.

Hi ! I'm in my late twenties and even though I am gay I feel deep inside my body slowly growing the need to breed, to procreate and to become a father. I sometimes imagine myself being the proud father of a large number of children, especially sons who I would want to raise to become just like their dad. A voice is my head is saying being more fatherly would also imply conservative values for my family. I even start saying dumb dad jokes ! Why do I have these weird thoughts ? What's happening to me ?

You try running for a run, to escape the voice in your head, but it's no use. In the echo chamber of your mind, the authoritative voice resounds with formidable clarity: “Hard work isn’t just an option; it’s a way of life. God rewards diligence.” This booming mantra reverberates through your consciousness, each repetition sharpening the focus of your resolve. As you stand there, time etches itself into your form, drawing lines of experience across your face. Gradually, you grow taller, your stature stretching to 6'3". As you inch up further and further, so do the hands of time as you age another 15 years.

Suddenly, a loud, almost seismic “snaaaaaaaaaap” echoes within, a jolt that propels you into the next phase of your evolution. The words, “Push through the pain; it’s a test of your willpower. God rewards perseverance,” crash through your mind like a tidal wave. Your body, now a canvas of relentless effort, begins to shift and strain under the pressure of burgeoning muscle. Every fiber feels as though it’s being stretched and molded by an unseen sculptor, each muscle knotting into a symphony of power.

The pain is intense, a constant ache that pulses with each movement. It’s as though your entire being is being remade—muscles taut and sinewy, straining against the confines of your skin. Your body groans under the weight of its new form, but it’s a pain laced with a profound sense of purpose. You can feel the strain of each bicep and the tightening of every muscle as if they’re being reshaped into an indomitable fortress.

Your physique emerges as a testament to unyielding discipline and strength. Broad, chiseled shoulders frame a chest that stands as a bulwark of resilience. Your biceps, now monumental, seem carved from the very essence of fortitude, and your legs, thick and powerful, mirror the strength of ancient tree trunks. A layer of body hair, coarse and rugged, adorns your chest and arms, adding a raw, primal edge to your formidable presence.

As you scratch out your newly formed beard, the sensation is both foreign and exhilarating. You think of your beautiful Christian wife, her face a beacon of love and support through this journey. The teachings of the Church resonate deeply within you, their guidance imbuing your actions with a sacred purpose. Each scripture and lesson reinforces the bedrock of your faith, propelling you to embody the virtues of diligence, perseverance, and strength.

Your face now carries the marks of years of dedication—a square jaw honed by hard work, high cheekbones reflecting a lifetime of effort, and eyes that pierce with an intensity born from unshakable conviction. Your hair, thick and often styled with a disciplined precision, frames your face with a dignified authority. When you smile, it’s a rare, warm expression that conveys a deep, fatherly pride.

A shimmering golden cross materializes around your neck, the metal searing against your skin with a fiery heat that sends waves of anguish and ecstasy coursing through your body. With each inhale, you can feel the cross pulsing and throbbing, its sacred power saturating your every cell. ou are a force of nature, wrapped in the strict discipline of a devout faith. Your principles are unwavering, guiding each decision with a moral compass that is both stern and compassionate. The respect you command is not just a result of your physical prowess, but also a reflection of your deep commitment to your family and faith. The more you wear it, the more your hatred for anything not pure and righteous grows.

Your pleasant smile twists into a sneer as the image of those vile faggots on the TV flashes before your eyes. Disgusting perverts, corrupting society with their filthy lifestyles. Just looking at them makes your blood boil. You snatch your phone from your pocket, the screen lighting up as you access the most toxic corners of the internet, consumed by rage at the very mention of those deviants.

"Those weak-minded liberal degenerates need to be put in their place," you growl, channel surfing until you find the most revolting news programs. "This country was founded on Christian values, and I won't stand for anyone threatening to tear that away from us! Those fake Christians and their progressive ideals have to be destroyed."

As you rant at the screen, feeling a primal urge rising within you, your wife Chastity comes slithering up behind you. The feel of her huge tits pressing against your rock-hard muscles elicits a deep groan of pleasure, her presence stoking the fire of your righteous fury. Chastity reaches around to cup and squeeze your growing bulge as she leans in to purr in your ear.

"Baby, Daddy's getting so big and strong for GoD… Does it turn you on when I talk about our blessed marriage? How He'll guide us to the proper path?" Her sultry tone mingles with the anger still simmering beneath the surface. The two feelings war within you as you grind against her pillowy breasts, the pain of the cross burning in your throat only fueling the pleasure.

"Damn straight, woman" you say gruffly, your hand coming down to possessively grab her tit through her shirt. "But some of these queers are too far gone to save. Maybe I should take matters into my own hands…"

Your hungry gaze rakes over Chastity's voluptuous curves, lingering on the tantalizing swell of her breasts straining against her blouse. The cross around your neck seems to pulse in time with the throbbing ache building between your legs. "Fuck, Chastity, you're so damn sexy," you growl, your hands coming up to roughly grab and squeeze her tits, relishing the way her nipples stiffen beneath your palms. "I'm gonna absolutely destroy this needy cunt tonight…"

Chastity just giggles and wiggles her plump ass against your rapidly hardening cock, driving you wild with lust and righteous fury. "Ooh, Angel, I can't wait to worship this big, strong Daddy of ours!" she squeals, her fingers pawing greedily at your chiseled pecs. "Mmm, God is going to fill our house with so many beautiful babies!"

The sheer intensity of your desire and devotion to the Almighty pushes you to the brink as you imagine bending Chastity over the kitchen counter and pounding into her fertile womb, ensuring that not a single shred of unrighteous DNA will enter your offspring. Your heavy balls churn with the holy seed, ready to impregnate your perfect wife…

"Mmmm, I'd love nothing more than being round with your baby boy," Chastity breathes, grinding her thick thighs together as she cups your straining erection. "We'll be so happy together, teaching those wicked sinners the power of our pure love" Her dirty talk nearly undoes you right there on the spot. Grabbing her wrist, you yank her hand down to wrap around your aching shaft, groaning as she strokes you off with desperate need. The depraved picture of ravaging your wife's cunt with the unholy fervor of a zealot sends you hurtling to the brink.

Can you turn me into a stereotypical rich hateful douchebag dude-bro jock bully?

The loud snaaaaaaappppp reverberates through your head like a thunderclap from a storm that only you can feel. It’s a sound so jarring that it makes every thought in your mind stutter and falter, like a faulty engine sputtering to a halt. As the echo of the snap lingers, you sink deeper into your chair, each moment dragging you further down into an abyss of self-loathing and bewildered introspection. The snarl that curls your lips is not just a physical manifestation of disdain but a reflection of the turmoil roiling within you.

A searing heat begins to unfurl within you, an inferno of raw, untamed power that tears through your being. It courses through your veins with a fervent energy, and as it does, it feels as though your very essence is being rewritten. Your skin flushes a deep, burnished tan, a radiant hue that seems to shimmer with an inner fire.

Your hair starts to morph as well, with a thick layer of gel-like substance forming and solidifying in its strands. Your body, once a mere shadow of strength, now undergoes a dramatic and exquisite transformation. Each muscle bulges and swells, a testament to excessive power and sheer physical dominance. Your abs, previously ordinary, become a meticulously sculpted six-pack, each muscle so perfectly defined that they could slice through paper with a casual flex. They are like a set of masterfully hewn bricks, each one a testament to the relentless pursuit of physical perfection.

Your biceps swell into mountainous mounds of sinew, as if they were hewn from the very bedrock of determination. Every ripple and contraction is a testament to your newfound strength, a granite-like hardness that betrays an almost obsessive dedication to physical prowess. Your chest expands into a taut, imposing expanse, as though you’ve been on an endless quest to perfect the ultimate peacock strut—broad and commanding, with an aura that demands attention.

Your face, now framed by a razor-sharp jawline and a smirk that radiates arrogance, is the crowning glory of your new form. Handsome, yes, but in a way that feels like a bold exaggeration—a caricature of conventional attractiveness. Your piercing eyes challenge anyone who dares to meet your gaze, daring them to engage in a duel of egos, where the stakes are nothing less than supremacy itself.

In this state, you are a brooding colossus of arrogance, a beefcake whose presence demands reverence and respect. Every inch of you oozes entitlement and disdain, a dazzling display of excess that is as overwhelming as it is magnificent.

Then, a searing hatred begins to consume you from within, incinerating the pathetic remnants of your former self. Your memories of faggy nerdy losers and their snot-nosed, four-eyed visages flood back, each one stoking the flames of your righteous fury. The sickening crunch of fist meeting face, the wet splatter of blood upon your knuckles - these sensations ignite a fire in your veins, a primal thirst for dominance over the weak and impure. Your mind becomes a twisted collage of brutal acts, a vivid scrapbook chronicling your reign of terror over the schoolyard's resident geeks and dweebs.

You see yourself as a brutish force of nature, your hands stained with the blood of fallen foes. The fag's whimpers and pleas for mercy only serve to inflame your sadistic urges, each pathetic bleat spurring you to inflict fresh agonies upon their pitiful forms. The sound of shattering glass and the rhythmic pummeling of meaty blows echo through your psyche, a symphony of violence conducted by your own hands. Your lips curl into a cruel sneer as you recall the taste of blood on your tongue, the intoxicating rush of power as you laid waste to the pathetic sacks of flesh surrounding you.

But your bloodlust is not limited to the schoolyard. Memories of drunken debauchery flood back - wild parties with the cheerleaders, their nubile bodies writhing beneath yours as you took your pleasure from their quivering holes. The hot blonde bimbos seemed to multiply before you, each one a willing receptacle for your base urges. Their moans and whimpers were music to your ears, fueling your insatiable appetite for carnal delights. The constant partying and fighting led to countless suspensions and warnings, yet Daddy's money always came through in the end, ensuring your place at this prestigious institution despite your lackluster academic record. You chuckle darkly at the memory, your eyes gleaming with wicked amusement as you picture the looks on those sanctimonious teachers' faces upon learning of your misdeeds. Their lectures on respect and decorum seem like nothing more than pitiful jokes in light of your true nature. In this moment, you are the law, the supreme arbiter of right and wrong. And heaven help anyone foolish enough to stand in your way.

As you turn to face the beautiful young woman lying beside you in bed, your gaze immediately zeroes in on her tantalizing curves. Her supple breasts strain against the confines of her lacy black bra, begging for your touch. You reach out and cup the pillowy mounds, thumbs circling her hardened nipples through the thin fabric until they stiffen into enticing peaks. She lets out a breathy moan, arching her back to press herself further into your kneading hands.

"You're so strong, Tony…" she pants, hot breath tickling your ear as she trails her fingers along the ridges of your muscular chest. "I can feel you getting excited…" The intoxicating scent of her arousal fills your nostrils, clouding your senses with lust. You feel your cock beginning to swell and harden between your legs, straining against the confines of your boxers. Your hand drifts lower to grasp her hip possessively, fingers digging into her yielding flesh as you prepare to claim what's rightfully yours.

Without warning, you flip her onto her stomach and cover her body with your own. One hand grips her throat lightly while the other slips under her skimpy nightgown to delve into the slick heat of her core. She gasps sharply at the sudden penetration, her hips rocking involuntarily against your invading digits. "Mmmm, you're going to make me cum so hard…" she whines wantonly, grinding her cunt along your hand. Her inner walls clench desperately around your probing fingers as she nears the edge of climax, and you double your efforts, stroking her most sensitive spots with ruthless precision. This buxom bimbo has no idea the force she's about to unleash.

Transform me from a Southeast Asian Urban Design student/nerd into a typical Dutch Jock. Tired of caring about those folks, might as well join their ranks

You know, manners are everything. This reads less like an ask, and more like a demand. Can't say the powers will take too kindly to that.

You’re hit with a visceral shockwave, a loud snaaaaaapppp that reverberates through your brain like a thunderclap. In the echoing corridors of your mind, memories cascade with a feverish intensity—football games where you were the star, grueling training sessions where you pushed yourself to the limit, and the electrifying thrill of flirting with girls. Each recollection fuels a transformation, muscles bulging and hardening with every echo of a cheering crowd and the thrill of victory.

But amidst the roaring triumph, a sharp, jarring craaaaaaacccck cuts through, like the splintering of a fragile shell. This new sound ushers in a wave of memories that hit harder and heavier. You're suddenly transported back to that fateful game during your sophomore year of college, the sharp pain of your knee snapping, the sensation of your future slipping away. The memory is vivid, almost visceral—the fracture, the tumble into uncertainty. It’s intertwined with another crushing realization: flunking out of college, feeling like you could never quite put two and two together, stumbling through academic challenges that seemed insurmountable.

As the past plays out in your mind, there’s an unsettling slow-motion effect. Your brain feels as though it's dragging through thick fog. Thoughts become clunky and fragmented, with memories replaying the most trivial and embarrassing jokes, their humor flat and forced. You find yourself living in a cramped, crowded apartment in Dallas, Texas—a far cry from the potential you once had.

There’s a growing bitterness in your thoughts, an anger directed at those who seem different or who espouse values that clash with your own. This simmering resentment becomes a part of your identity, mingling with the changes that are happening to your body. The muscles you once proudly built up start to soften and expand, slowly transforming into layers of fat. Your physique, once a symbol of strength, now feels like a burden, a constant reminder of lost opportunities.

Your once-defined arms, capable of throwing a perfect spiral or lifting heavy weights, lose their firmness. They grow flabby and cumbersome, the skin sagging where taut muscle used to be. The biceps that were once admired now bulge inelegantly, their shape obscured by a growing layer of fat. Your chest, once proud and sculpted, expands into a thick, sagging mass that hangs heavily, each breath feeling labored under its weight.

Your waistline follows suit, widening noticeably. Where there were once ridges of abdominal muscles, a soft, unyielding bulge now protrudes, pressing uncomfortably against your waistband. The once-flat stomach now forms a pronounced roll, spilling over your belt and leaving you perpetually uncomfortable in your own clothes.

Now, you see a person whose body is a constant reminder of missed opportunities and a life marred by regret. The formerly muscular physique has become a burden, a physical manifestation of your inner turmoil and bitterness. The muscles that were once your pride are now hidden beneath layers of flesh, a visible sign of how far you’ve fallen from the person you once aspired to be.

You slouch into your routine, drinking cheap beer, scarfing down greasy junk food, and reminiscing about the so-called glory days that seem more distant and unattainable with each passing moment. The weight of your body feels oppressive as you struggle to turn on the TV. The glow of the screen is filled with reruns of shows like Family Guy, their humor dull and repetitive.

A pervasive odor lingers around you, a mix of sweat and neglect, as if you haven’t showered in days. It’s a reminder of how far you’ve fallen from the person you once hoped to be, a stark contrast to the vibrant, ambitious individual you used to be.

"Unf fuckkk…" You let out a groan as you feel your cock stirring beneath the couch cushion, desperately hoping to sink back into some tight young cunt from your glory days. Memories flash through your increasingly mushy brain - lashing a sloppy make-out session in the school hall closet with a bubbly senior named Tiffany. Unbuttoning her skirt with a lustful grin and slipping a hand up to feel those smooth virgin panties.

Suddenly, your newfound self-hatred smashes down like a jackhammer blow. What an idiot you were! Laying claim to her back then and blowing her, sure. But you'll need a lot more than one lame piece of tail. Your fingers reach out of instinct and open the lid of your phone from where it lies scattered around on the coffee table, illuminating a stack of gaudy advertisements - "Get hard! Find hookups near you!", "Gay and In Bisexual Men: Download Now Free!" Shaking your head, you fire up Tinder and begin scrolling with uncharacteristic discretion… Swipe, swipe. Right, right. But no one was going to match with a fat slob like you.

Hey...I'm sorry to bother you but I had a request, your stories are quite hot and amazing, and I want to know if there would be any possibility of you doing a story where the individuals love each other? I mean not physically but sentimentally. Something like a romance story.

As the ping of a text message interrupts the quiet around you, you feel a sharp pang in your head as loud snaaaaaapppp echoes in your mind. The ache intensifies as a series of incoming texts from an unknown number disrupt your peace. The first message is a flood of heart emojis—red hearts, pink hearts, and even a few purple ones. The screen lights up with a new message: “OMG babe! I can’t wait for our date tonight.”

Confusion swirls in your mind, mingling with the throbbing pain in your head. You had been on Grindr earlier, but this isn’t from that app. Your body feels strange, like it’s being reshaped from the inside out. The ache becomes a tingling sensation as your muscles and body undergo a remarkable transformation. Fat melts away, revealing a youthful, tan, and lean physique. Your body becomes more defined, with a noticeable cut to your abs and a cute, perky butt.

Your hair lightens to a sun-kissed blonde, shimmering in the light. Your once full beard and facial fat dissolve, giving way to a fresh, preppy look with a cute, slightly upturned nose. Your biceps and triceps become more toned, and a charming, polished appearance emerges.

Your phone pings again, and you look down to see that the contact name has changed to “BAE.” Another message appears: “Hey cutie 😘 I hope your day’s going well! Can’t wait to see you tonight. I’ve got a little surprise planned 😍”

Your heart skips a beat, a fluttering sensation filling your chest. The messages continue, each one sweeter and more endearing than the last:

“Thinking about you all day 💕 Every time I look at my phone, I hope it’s you texting me!”

“Can’t believe how lucky I am to have you in my life 💖 Your smile just lights up my world.”

“Got something special for you tonight 🌟 Can’t wait to hold you close and make some amazing memories ❤️”

As you read each message, a warm, tingling sensation spreads through you. Your fondness for this person grows with every word, each message filling you with a sense of joy and anticipation. You feel a profound connection, a deepening affection that resonates with your very being. The thought of your upcoming date and the affection behind these messages makes your heart swell with happiness, filling you with a radiant sense of love and excitement.

As the name “BAE” on your phone transforms into “BAE, GWEN,” a wave of clarity washes over you, reigniting your memories of Gwen. She’s not just anyone—she’s your high school sweetheart, your confidante, and the love of your life. The initial confusion melts away, replaced by a profound sense of recognition and affection. You and Gwen are inseparable, a pair that has been head-over-heels in love since the first time your eyes met. Now, as you both navigate college together, your relationship is the epicenter of your universe, and your social media presence reflects that devotion in the most exuberant and heartfelt way.

Your TikTok account is a testament to your unrestrained affection and commitment. Each video is a mini celebration of your relationship, overflowing with Gen Z enthusiasm and Christian faith. Mornings start with you both performing synchronized lip-sync routines to the latest Christian love songs, complete with playful winks and loving glances. The backdrop is always set to cozy, sunlit mornings where you both look adoringly at each other, often holding a devotional book between you, a symbol of your shared faith.

Under the hashtag #BlessedLoveStory, you post a steady stream of content chronicling your journey from high school sweethearts to college couple goals. The posts are a vibrant mix of nostalgic throwbacks, from your first awkward date at the local diner to those tender moments when you realized you were each other’s forever. Your feed is filled with clips of you both singing worship songs in the car, tears of joy mixing with laughter, as you both immerse yourselves in the magic of each moment.

Every viral “couple goals” challenge gets a Christian twist from you two. Whether it’s mimicking dance routines or answering relationship questions, you both infuse each video with your infectious love and devotion. You always end on a high note, quoting your favorite Bible verses about love and reminding your followers of how blessed you are to have found each other.

In every post, your love for Gwen shines through, a radiant beacon of devotion that captures the hearts of your followers. Your social media presence is a blend of sincerity and exuberance, a celebration of the deep, abiding love you and Gwen share. Your relationship is not just a part of your life—it’s a vibrant, public expression of your joy and faith, making every moment together feel like a blessing.