Originally Posted On 2019-09-03 By Dumb-and-jocked

Originally posted on 2019-09-03 by dumb-and-jocked

What a Johnson’s Made Of

Taylor was ecstatic.

Everything had gone right for him today. He had graduated with flying colors, he had just received special honors that lead to an incredible scholarship, and his longtime crush had just asked him out. Sure, the first two were amazing, but the fact that one of the hottest girls in the school had asked him on a date was the cherry on top. Taylor wasn’t that bad looking himself, being tall, slightly muscular, and having stark, black hair. His nerdy personality and short temper were usually what drove people away.

Taylor walked back slowly to his house, the evening sun setting behind him.The river was gleaming as he strode confidently down the path. Graduation had been that morning, and he had partied with friends throughout the day. Now, it almost being dinner time, he was heading back to the lavish mansion his family owned. As he strolled, he noticed a large new development being built. He gazed on, looking at the many construction workers. He scoffed in disgust - why couldn’t any of them get real jobs. He was on the route to be a neurosurgeon, worlds apart from what these dimwits had to offer. As he passed by, one of the construction workers noticed his staring and called out to him.

“Like what you see?” he shouted, flexing his arms to show off his furry pits.

Taylor quickly placed a hand to his mouth, holding back vomit. He gulped it down and then lashed out.

“Shut up you dirty fag! You really think someone of my life would lower to your animalistic standards!”

“Woah, bro,” the construction worker replied back, “I was just aski-”

“Asking what? If I’d suck your worthless dick?” Taylor shouted, furious.

“Alright, that’s it.” The worker jumped down from the platform he was standing on and quickly walked over to the student. Before Taylor could even move, he felt a large paw start dragging him into the fight.

“Hey! You can’t do this! THIS IS ILLEGAL!” Taylor tried to get out, but the worker was too strong.

“Shut it, bro!” The worker responded back roughly, dragging him to what seemed to be the middle of the sight. Taylor began to notice a weird funk surrounding him, realizing he was taking in the scent of his captor. He coughed, showing that he was obviously irritated. The worker, being dumb but not oblivous, grabbed the kid and gave him a noogie, shoving a pit in Taylor’s face. Taylor tried to escape, being covered in pit sweat and dark hairs.

Once the worker had taken him out, they stood in the middle of the development. There, in front of the worker and Taylor, stood a very muscular male. He looked to be in his late forties, with a rugged beard and dad gut. He definitely worked a very physical job, his body showing meaty strength and wearing age. He was reading the blueprints of what seemed to be the house being built around them.

“Boss?” The worker said, grabbing his attention.

“Harvey?” The boss replied, his voice stern and rough.

“This kid was causing trouble outside, I think you oughta be the one to deal with him.” The boss thought about this for a moment before creating a miniature smirk underneath his furry mustache.

“Thank you, Harvey, you can get back to work now.” Harvey pushed Taylor over to the boss before walking away. The boss pointed to the trailer beside the construction and walked towards it. Taylor wanted to run, but all he could do was follow. He couldn’t believe how much trouble he had gotten himself into. He knees shook as he opened the door to the trailer and closed it, sitting down at the desk where the boss had his boots up on the table. Taylor sat there quietly, waiting for the boss to say something. He couldn’t really see the boss - his rather large boots blocking the view - but Taylor could feel the immense power seeping out of the man before him.

“Luke Johnson,” the boss said, not extending a hand, “I am the manager of this development.”

“Taylor Stenson,” Taylor replied timidly.

“Well, Taylor, it seems yer creatin’ some kinda commotion, is that correct?”

“I wasn’t do-!”

“Is that correct?”

“Yes, sir.” Taylor didn’t know what he added that, it just felt appropriate.

“Then, let’s getta the point,” Luke responded, taking his boots off the desk and placing his feet under the table, “I don’t have time to deal with you, and you don’t have time to deal with me.”

Taylor sighed in relief, maybe all blue collar workers weren’t dumb jocks after all.

“Let’s make it so that you never existed, is that alright?”

“Yes!” Taylor said in glee. He couldn’t believe it was going to be this easy.

“Alright,” Luke said, standing up and extending his hand, “it’s a deal.”

“It’s a deal,” Taylor said, shaking it.

As soon as the shake was over, Luke grabbed Taylor’s arm and pulled him over the desk. Taylor screamed in fright before his face was slammed into a giant boot. Taylor held his breath for quite a while, but eventually gave in. He unintentionally took a deep breath, the musk invading his brain. The powerful scent of pure masculinity overrode his head, giving his a massive headache. Taking the boot with him, Luke slowly lifted Taylor back over the desk and into the chair. Luke sat on the desk in front of him, lowering the boot from his face.

“There, that’s a good boy,” Luke said, “Daddy’s got you.”

Luke put the first boot on the ground before removing the other and putting it next to its twin. The way he said “daddy” bounced around in Taylor’s head.

“Why… are…” Taylor tried to speak, but his head ached tremendously. The foot funk was still lingering deep within his mind.

“Shh… don’t worry. Daddy’s got you.”

With Taylor still in his haze, Luke swiftly removed his tight polo and khaki pants. Both items of clothing had been truly showing off what lay beneath, as Taylor now realized that a true male adonis stood before him. Luke was covered head-to-toe in muscles with defined abs, powerful pecs, and gigantic thighs among many things. As Luke sat back down, Taylor became even more scared at seeing the python begging for release underneath Luke’s yellowed jockstrap.

“You agreed to this,” Luke said, his deep voice soft and sensitive, “I’m going to make it so that you never existed. So instead of being a Stenson, yer gonna be a Johnson.”

“But… I don-”

“You don’t have to understand, because Daddy’s here for ya.” Before Taylor could jump in again, Luke stood up from the desk and turned around. Luke’s large, muscular bubble butt pushed its way back, lining up the crack right along the center of Taylor’s face. Taylor, being so mentally disorganized, couldn’t argue as he heard a small rumble build up from within in the meaty buttocks. Seconds later, Luke let rip a massive fart right into the teen’s face. Taylor tried to get air, but the only thing available was the gas.

As Taylor inhaled the putrid scent of a blue collar behind, he didn’t realize that his body was slowly changing. As he timidly sniffed away, his structure began to alter itself to the new reality it was to abide to.

First, his torso began to bulk up. Taylor had participated lightly in the gym and some sports, but now he was truly showcasing something drool worthy. Years of exterior work began to grow on him as hard pecs and abs formulated. Meat filled in the loose cracks as body fat shrunk away. A deep tan spread across his broadening shoulders and the unkempt hair upon his chest fell away. His belly button shrunk in as his nipples enlarged, becoming ever so sensitive to even the touch of a safety vest.

Even though his chest had developed quite noticeably, Taylor was still being bombarded by Luke’s crack to notice anything. He also didn’t recognize his memories beginning to alter, rearranging themselves to become more appropriate to the better reality. Images of being placed in advanced and enriched classes began to evaporate as they were replaced with a regular level education. Special honors and scholarships disappeared as he remembered passing with straight B’s.

Luke slowly unbuttoned Taylor shirt before ripping it off, proud to see the promising chest that was displayed beneath. Luke slowly backed away from Taylor, making sure that every last hair on his butt would caress Taylor’s face. Taylor blinked, still befuddled, but before he could fully regain consciousness he saw a giant foot shoved into his face. Not thinking straight, he began to sniff the foot and - to Taylor’s and Luke’s surprise - lick it. He was fairly timid, but Luke didn’t expect him to be such a quick learner. As Taylor sniffed away at the massive foot in front of him, he hadn’t realized how nasty the sock was. Luke hadn’t washed them in over a week, making them into a somewhat second skin. Taylor should have been far away from the feet, but he was too confused to care.

Next, Taylor’s legs began to reshape. Days of running became weeks, months, even years as muscle was poured into his calves and quads. Thighs thickened, pushing the seams of the skinny jeans as years of truly masculine sports flooded his brain. Hard meat popped out as his dark hairs took on a lighter hue. His quads expanded to the size of melons while his legs lengthened, stretching him to a dominant 6’3, but still shorter than Luke’s 6’4.

Taylor’s memories also shifted, becoming more suitable to his closer future. Study sessions with friends quickly became practices with bros. Thoughts of easy tests transitioned into hard, brain-wracking hours were sometimes Taylor wouldn’t even finish. Times at home now became times in the locker room, where he had learned to appreciate his fellow brothers instead of his family.

Luke, believing Taylor was done, removed his sweaty, sticky foot and leaned over from the desk.

“Get up, buddy,” Luke said, with the words “buddy” and “daddy” dancing in Taylor’s head, “I gotta get yer pants.”

Taylor obliged, not really understanding why as his jeans were pulled down. He hadn’t even noticed Luke had stripped him of his shoes and socks. Luke sat back down and ripped off his old socks too, leaving the pair in only their underwear.

“Alright, you can sit back down,” Luke said, and Taylor followed, “time for you to clean Daddy’s pits.”

Luke got up and sat on the edge of Taylor’s almost naked lap. The powerful alpha was barely held up by the aspiring student, but neither of them cared. Luke then took Taylor’s head and guided it towards a dark, furry armpit, letting him sniff away. The scent was just as powerful as the first two, but this one had a lot more hair. The soft fur coated Taylor face with sweat, making him even more lightheaded.

Following were Taylor’s arms, which inflated with each eager sniff. Biceps and triceps began to appear as powerful tendons emerged. Beef and brawn were packed on to the appendages as all dark hairs began to disappear to a lighter coat. Wrists inflated as Taylor’s hands became much larger, filled with meat. He now had the paws of a man, instead of the hands of a nerd. The once skinny arms now looked to be more like those of a gym rat. His armpits also lost most of their hair, now creating wispy, but much more potent, bushes.

Taylor coughed, the scent from the pit being so immense. He couldn’t comprehend the life that he had once planned out for himself. The plans of becoming a doctor, inheriting his parents fortunes, creating a stable foundation all fell out from beneath his feet. As the year of sports and passing C’s filled his head, he remember the new scholarships. Paths for the future were now made from pigskin and spandex rather than paper. Taylor didn’t have a promising future in academics, but he definitely did in sports.

Luke slowly pulled back, noticing Taylor leaning forward while the pit moved away. Luke smiled and got back up. Taylor moaned in disorientation as Luke slowly pulled of his jock. As he did, a huge cock flopped out, the biggest that Taylor had ever seen. It was a thick as a can and it was incredibly long, standing at a proud 10 inches The balls were just as impressive, both the size of tennis balls and covered in an animal-like fur. They definitely produced a hefty amount of man-milk.

While Taylor admired Luke’s package, he carefully placed his grimy jockstrap over Taylor’s face, lining up the pouch with his nose and mouth. Once he had secured it, he sat back down on the desk and place his feet on Taylor’s crotch, slowly bringing him to full mast. He wasn’t going to let him blow just yet, he had to edge Taylor first.

Fourth was Taylor’s feet, which were rapidly changing as he sniffed and licked away at the vulgar jockstrap. His once pristine Size 9 feet began to bloat, his naked toes pushing out against the cheap trailer carpet. The once lean feet became meaty as years of running and stomping replaced those of strolling and dance. Light hairs appeared as the toenails became rigid and dirty, looking more like those of a construction worker than those of a rich boy. Once the feet reached a promising Size 15, they began to emit their own obnoxious funk, one that would never be washed away.

Taylor didn’t realize it, but he was slightly enjoying the disgusting pouch in his face. He also didn’t realize that his heterosexuality was slipping away. Many girlfriends became many boyfriends, topping men rather than women. A strong love for penis replaced that of boobs, while the thought of being in the strong arms of a man aroused him more than being those arms for a woman. His bros were no longer just bros, as countless pictures of brojobs and “lending a hand” replaced conquering a fair share of women. Homosexuality slowly took the front seat as heterosexuality left, never to return again.

“You’ve been really good so far, son,” Luke said, the word “son” joining with the others. Like got up and removed the jockstrap, “I think it’s time that Daddy gave you a treat.”

Taylor looked up adoringly at the sexy alpha in front of him, not knowing what to expect. Luke grabbed his dick and - after grunting a bit - let loose a hot, steamy stream of yellow piss. It his Taylor right in the face.

“Drink up!” Luke said, aiming right for the mouth, “It’s gonna be part of yer diet.”

Taylor instantly obeyed, trying to get every drop into his mouth.

As the piss flooded his throat and stomach, his head and neck began to adapt. A sharp collar bone pushed its way out as his neck thickened, giving him access to a widening, deepening Adam’s apple. As his register lowered into that of a base, his face began to shift as well, becoming a younger version of Luke’s. Taylor’s face became squarer as his hair shortened, lightening into the proper sandy blond. His lips became larger as his eyes adapter a duller gray tone. His nose straightened while his skull became bigger and his brain became smaller. The A light stubble grew in, one day to hold the same beard of Luke’s size.Taylor’s chin jutted out, creating a larger jaw and a natural dumb guffaw tone to his voice.

The yellow piss flooded Taylor’s system, enveloping him in a warm aura. He couldn’t feel his intelligence being boiled away, the urine eroding away the little left inside Taylor’s head. Memories of sports scholarships passed away as C’s faded into D’s and F’s. Graduation became a joke as Taylor began to remember dropping out of high school. Time at school became time at numerous construction sites, finding the bros who really understood him. The last bits of his old family and friends melted away as the new reality began to firm.

The last drops slowly fell and soon there was nothing left from Luke’s bladder. Knowing it was time to wrap things up, he grabbed Taylor and threw him on his knees.

“Time for Daddy to show you where we get the family name - what a Johnson’s made of.”

Before Taylor could react, Luke’s colossal dick was shoved in his mouth and down his throat. Luke wasn’t a patient man, but Taylor had never sucked a dick before. He immediately sputtered and began to choke, but Luke quickly readjusted. Taylor sucked and quickly got the hang of it. Not only was he a natural, but not many professionals could even handle Luke’s size. He couldn’t say he wasn’t impressed.

The last bits of Taylor changed as the furry oranges Luke called testicles hit against Taylor’s chin. Taylor’s dick slowly began to enlarge, the once erect 6 incher beginning to stand taller. As it rose to new heights, his balls also began to change, growing from average to extra large. His butt plumped up as his cheeks filled with solid meat. Light hairs replaced the dark pubes as his cock thickened, reaching 9 inches of pure masculinity and looking almost as thick as Luke’s. He was meant to be an alpha, but just below this one man. His balls churned as he felt Luke getting close.

While Taylor became more and more skilled at the art of cocksucking, he hadn’t realized that his balls were churning with the remaining memories of his former life. He now felt a certain kinship to this man, almost as if he was his own father. The more Taylor dwelled on the subject however, the more he remembered Luke as a father figure. He had helped lead him to construction, show him it was best to be blue collar, made him realize that each bro was there to help him - or be helped by him. But Luke was more than just a father figure, he WAS his father. His earliest memories were filled with his dad. Showing him how to ride a bike, catching his first fish, helping him shave. He also showed him how fathers and sons were to always be naked with each other, how the son would deepthroat his own father when needed, how he was only allowed to act and wear what his father wanted him to.

As Luke approached the climax, Taylor’s body twitched violently. It was barely noticeable, but Taylor had just gained an extra five years to his age. His body had barely matured, his muscles were a little firmer, and his hairline slightly receded, but otherwise he still looked like the proud son of his amazing father.

Luke shouted as he violently came, semen rushing down Taylor’s throat right down into his balls. His own cum was instantly pushed out, being evicted by the superior seed of his father. Taylor ejaculated, completely ridding himself of his old life and reality. Taylor Stenson soaked into the cheap carpet, never to be seen again.

As soon as the two had gotten over their post-ejaculation high, the father and son cleaned up the trailer to get back to work.

“Crap!” Luke shouted.

“What?”

“I don’t have any extra clothes here besides these shorts.” Luke held up a pair of basketball shorts. They had definitely been used and worn many times. “You’ll have to wear these until we get to the warehouse.”

“Sounds rad, daddy,” the son said, walking over and grabbing the shorts. Luke himself was going to be rather exposed, wearing only an old pair of cargo shorts and large sneakers. The original outfit was used to clean up his son’s cum.

While the son placed the shorts over his naked body, he felt his father grind him from behind. His father’s bare chest felt so sensual against his own. The cargo shorts did nothing to hide his father’s erection.

“Can’t wait to see what ya look like in a safety vest,” Luke whispered, his beard caressing his son’s face. The two quickly made their way out of the trailer and walked two the other side of the development. As the son walked ahead, Luke could only smile: he was so incredibly proud. He couldn’t believe how perfectly he had turned out.

“Hey, son,” Luke said, causing the other man to turn around, “show me where the family name comes from.” The son smirked cockily.

“Johnson?” he asked innocently.

“Yes.”

“Well, there’s a Johnson here,” the son pointed to his left pec

“Yeah?”

“A Johnson here,” he then pointed to his right pec.

“Wow!”

“And a lot of Johnsons right here.” The son pointed at each of his abs.

“So hot!”

“And the best Johnson here!” he pulled down his shorts quickly to show his erect dick. His father applauded him before the son pulled his shorts back up and struck a confident pose.

“Wow, you’ll make a fine Johnson indeed!” His father said before the two continued.

— —

Once they made it to the warehouse, Luke quickly dressed his son up. The proper safety vest, toll belt, old jeans, giant boots, and a large hard hat to fit his giant, but empty, head. Once he was suited up, the father jumped on a crane to get back to work.

“See you at 8, son!” He shouted, “Yer gonna show me what a Johnson’s made of.”

Luke drove off, leaving the son there on his own. As soon as his father was out of sight, another construction worker came into the warehouse. He was hairy, dumb, and extremely sexy.

“Hey, I’m Harvey,” he said, he deep voice rumbling

“Travis,” the son replied.

“While ya wait for him,” Harvey started, referring to Luke, “ya wanna show me what a Johnson’s made of?”

“I’ll tell you it starts right here,” Travis said, pulling back his safety vest to show Harvey his chest. Travis knew the furst Johnsons were good, but he knew Harvery would think the last one was the best.

Barbarian Dungeon

Written by cinaedefuri as commission piece for yuan99.

Originally posted on 06-02-2022

Have received permission from author to repost.

---

Chapter 1

No one who had ever ventured into the dungeon came back out. But the High Paladin Roland thought that he could best the dungeon and find out what was at the end of it. The dungeon had been around for generations, and legend had it that it was a breeding ground for barbarians. Occasionally, muffled moans could be heard coming from it, but the people in the villages close to the dungeon had scant other information to go off of.

Roland employed two more men in his party, technically three. However, Damian was just their supply boy. He had a sword to fight with and knew how to swing it, but other than that, he didn't add much to the party except carrying their gear. The other two members were Grand Wizard Yuan and Archpriest Lux. Although the three men had similar skill sets, Roland thought they were different enough to easily traverse the dungeon.

The four of them soon arrived at the dungeon and entered. Roland naturally went in first. He was 53 years old, but didn't look like it, being quite muscular for his age, and strong enough to carry his heavy armor. He had fought in many wars over the years and rose up to the rank of High Paladin thanks to his skills, not because his father was some influential figure in the community. His armor was a silvery white color, an expensive one to create, and it had gold trim, with actual gold flakes flecked all around it.

However, Roland was quite stubborn, and believed that his way was always the best way to do things because of his experience. While he wasn't outright mean to Yuan and Lux, he would be considered a bit arrogant in his dealings with them, especially as he saw himself superior to them in every way. Damian was a bit of a different story, as Roland constantly called him weak and inexperienced, while Lux and Yuan were only called weak. He loved to show off his skills whenever he could and was always first to the fight, even in this dungeon. As the self-proclaimed leader of the group, Roland had brought the team to the dungeon in the first place, as his desire to be better than everyone else led him to not heed the advice of many of his fellow paladins and not risk venturing into the Barbarian's Dungeon.

In stark contrast to Roland was Yuan, who was only 18 years old. However, he had an incredible knack for magic, and as soon as he could start doing it, he was winning competitions and battles left and right throughout the land. His intelligence wasn't just limited to magic, though. However, since magic wasn't physical at all, and learning all of the elements meant reading books more than fighting battles, Yuan was on the skinny side as well. He was also a bit of a loner, since during the time when most young men were making friends, he was off fighting magic battles. He also clashed with Roland often since the older man didn't want to take the advice of anybody, especially not a younger man. Yuan usually did know what he was talking about, but men like Roland just never seemed to listen to him.

He was also a loner because he was painfully shy, only getting through his initial conversations with Roland because of his high rank in the community. He was also a bit prudish and did not want to show off his skinny body at all. He had a few different mage robes on, actually causing him to look slightly muscular, when that was certainly not the case at all. His party mates, as well as most others in their society, saw Yuan as cold and serious, but that was because he was a bit awkward socially and what he thought of as "fun" wasn't what most people thought of as fun. He and Damian were actually good friends, being born only a few days apart from one another.

Lux split the difference between the two men. He was 30 and had blond hair, along with pale white skin. He rarely talked, having the ability to fully converse if needed, though, and he liked to stay to the side, only taking part in the action when it was absolutely necessary. Much like Yuan, he was quite awkward socially, which some construed as mean, even though that was far from the case. However, since he was an archpriest, Lux hated anything and everything that he saw as impure. He disliked men going shirtless, which was quite common for many people in their society who could barely afford food for their family after working all day. He never drank alcohol and didn't partake in any drugs unless explicitly told to by a healer. He was even more prudish than Yuan, with more robes than him and two pairs of pants under those robes as well.

Finally, Damian was an orphan, his mom dying in childbirth and his dad killed in one of the many wars. The people who took him put him to work as a farmer, which he enjoyed doing, but was excited for the thrill of exploring a dungeon. He didn't know what path he wanted to take in life, but he knew that he didn't want to remain a farmer for the rest of his life. He was wearing a simple shirt and pants that his adopted parents gave to him after it no longer fit one of the other children on the farm. He was also wearing underwear that would be called boxers in the far future.

The four men in the party were walking down a long hallway in the dungeon. Roland had already bested some creatures with some help from Yuan and Lux. Damian didn't have a map in any of the supplies they were carrying, but the hallway seemed to be straight for quite some time. As Roland took a step forward, he suddenly disappeared from sight. Poor Yuan didn't realize that Roland had disappeared until it was too late, and while it was a bit of a struggle trying to escape from the portal, he disappeared too. Both Lux and Damian had tried to pull him out, but ended up falling into the portal as well. All four men woke up in separate dungeons, each magically created to make the best trial for them.

Chapter 2

Roland continued to walk forward for a few more steps before he realized he couldn't hear his men behind him, and he was in an entirely different place. "What is the meaning of this!?" he said out loud, and turned around. Unfortunately, there was a wall just a few feet away, and despite pressing seemingly every part of it, it didn't budge. Roland would have to go the other way, where there were a bunch of men ready to fight him. All of them looked quite young, around Yuan or Damian's age, but they were much more muscular than them.

He approached the first young man, and surprisingly, all of them did not attack him at once. "At least these barbarians know the rules of war," Roland said to himself, as he took out his sword and began to fight. He thought that it would be a quick and easy battle, since he had decades of experience over these men. However, the battle was not as easy as he thought it was going to be, and he soon found himself on the ground, defeated by someone who could easily be his grandson.

"You were just lucky today, boy. I will defeat the rest of you," Roland proclaimed, as the next young man took his place in front of Roland, who had gotten up and recovered from his defeat. What he didn't notice was that because of his loss, some physical changes had started to take place. His skin started to get a bit more tan, and while his muscles didn't shrink, they stayed in proportion to his body, which was getting smaller and younger too. He then clashed swords with the next young barbarian.

He still had all of his knowledge of fighting and of the wars he had fought in, but despite his best efforts, it was clearly no use. He had lost yet another battle to a young barbarian that he was shocked even knew what to do with a sword like the one he was holding. "I will prevail!" Roland defiantly stated. "You men will not best me, do you understand!" The physical changes continued to occur, with every loss turning him more and more into the barbarians that he was fighting. Surprisingly, Roland didn't notice the changes that were happening, even when their effects were much more apparent to him. He knew that he was struggling a bit more than he normally did, but didn't think it was because he had gotten much smaller, for example.

It was after about twelve barbarians were now standing off to the side, having defeated Roland, that the physical transformations were complete. His skin was now the same color as the other men in the room, a dark ruddy tan color, and despite having the same amount of muscle of his body, he was struggling to support his armor now because of his smaller frame and younger body. It did actually give him the appearance of bigger muscles than what he had before, though. He was physically 18 now, but he was still acting like the 53-year-old High Paladin. As he got up to fight the next barbarian, he had a different aura around him. Roland could sense that he was the leader of this group of men.

"I may have lost all of my battles against your troops, but I will win this one and win the war!" he triumphantly stated, although he was getting a bit impatient. The battles that he lost had taken a while, and he still didn't know where the other members of his party were. He wanted to get this over with and find them. It never crossed the leader's mind that this was a test of some kind, especially since the leader would be the thirteenth barbarian that he had fought in a dungeon named after them.

"Isn't it obvious, Roland? You don't have the strength or the power to best any of my barbarians, let alone me! You don't deserve to wear your armor anymore." The leader then struck Roland's armor with his sword, with him not questioning how he knew his name. Roland tried to block it, but swinging the sword and lugging all of the armor around was proving to be a bit more difficult now. He was shocked when the sword caused part of his armor to break off.

"No, not my armor!" he whined, but it was no use. With every strike, more and more of his armor fell to the ground until he was left standing there in just his underwear, which happened to be a loincloth. The barbarian leader then placed his sword on the ground, and put his hands behind his head, exposing his pits. His fellow barbarians did the same, and soon the smell of their musk began to waft through the air. Roland had gotten used to the smell of musk, being a paladin for so many years, but what he didn't realize was that this musk had magical powers as well.

It was dumbing him down with every breath he took, causing him to lose his memories of his battles and how to hold a sword, how to be a leader and how to make a backroom deal for your gold-flecked armor. As his intelligence dropped, the musk was also making him more humble. It was a few minutes later when the mental transformation was complete as well, and Roland no longer thought of himself as "Roland." He was now Ral.

Ral was 18 years old and was considered a barbarian youth, in training to become a full-fledged member of the tribe. He still had his loincloth on, but that was the only thing he had on. He hadn't proven his worth yet, which would allow him to get equipment like boots and harnesses. Despite his ability to use a sword being erased by the barbarians' musk, it was actually replaced with the ability to use an axe in combat, which was quite different from using a sword, despite some similarities. Instead of looking down at the members of his party, he instead looked up to them, wanting to be just like them. After all of the transformations were complete, the barbarian leader moved aside and showed Ral a door at the other end of the room. He walked through it, and waited in the antechamber for the other members of his party to arrive before walking through the door just a few steps away.

Chapter 3

Yuan tumbled into his dungeon, as he was trying to save Roland from whatever was happening to him. Thankfully, he didn't tumble too far, or he would have fallen into a pit of lava. "What happened?" Yuan thought to himself, knowing that there had to be some kind of magical explanation for this. He cast a spell to get rid of the lava. He waved his staff, and nothing happened. He tried again, and still, the lava bubbled and was a crimson red, not the water he was hoping it would turn into.

"Your magic doesn't work here," said a voice from above. Yuan looked up and saw a barbarian youth on one of the many towers sticking out from the lava. He was wearing nothing but a loincloth, and was quite muscular. "However, if you can reach me, then you will be freed from this dungeon and you will be able to use your magic again." The barbarian then expertly hopped to the next tower as Yuan figured out where the closest tower to the edge was. The first couple ones he could walk on, or take a step and land squarely in the middle.

Unfortunately, the next towers were all a bit too far away even for someone as limber as Yuan was. The many clothes that he wore certainly were not helping matters, and he didn't want to take any off. He decided to just take a leap of faith and jump to the next tower, since it was thankfully level with his platform, just a far distance away. As he had feared, his robes and underwear didn't allow him much room, and so he fell into the lava. He expected to be burned and preemptively cried out in pain, but instead he felt his body hit the floor.

"You have failed the first test," the barbarian said, from across the room. "Even though the lava wasn't completely real, it did have some effects." Yuan looked down, and was shocked by what he saw. Not all of his clothes were gone, but most of them were. He only had one layer left on, a thin layer that left little coverage. He instinctively covered himself up with his hands, even though everything sexual was still covered and was in no danger of slipping out. "You can still catch me and get your magic back. It's even less of a challenge than it was before!"

The barbarian ran away again, and Yuan tried to chase after him. Unfortunately, he wasn't too keen on letting his hands down, and he didn't want the barbarian to see his cock flopping around. That meant he was awkwardly moving forward, barely moving an inch with each step. Naturally, he was never going to catch up with the barbarian that way, and the barbarian had other plans for Yuan. Some plants appeared in Yuan's way, looking kind of like a venus fly trap. He was able to push them out of the way with his body, but the plants retaliated at him, spitting some kind of acid at him.

Much like the lava, the acid wasn't truly acid; Yuan's skin was left unscathed. However, it did still have some effects. Most of Yuan's shirt was burned off, and the parts that did remain changed as part of the effects of the acid. The cotton seemingly became leather, even Yuan not understanding how the process actually worked, unless the plant was magic as well. The shirt was also burnt in such a way that it ended up becoming a leather harness on him. However, it was a bit too big and barely stayed on his body as he continued to try and catch the barbarian.

His pants were also sprayed on by another plant that had popped up only a few feet away from the other one. Yuan's body still wasn't hurt, but this time around, his pants were completely burnt off, leaving him in just the harness and his underwear. As he had feared, his underwear changed as well, but he could see why a new plant was needed. Instead of being cotton, the underwear was now made out of fur, and enough of the underwear had burnt off as well that it could accurately be described as a loincloth now. Covering himself up now was no use.

"Please, let me use my magic and let me cover up again!" Yuan whined.

"It's quite simple, adventurer. All you need to do is reach me, and then you will escape and your magic will be restored. And since you don't need to worry about covering up anymore, I can make this a bit more fun again!" The barbarian spread his arms wide and the dungeon changed once more. This time, it turned into more of a maze, with three distinct paths starting where Yuan was standing. The barbarian's voice could still be heard loud and clear at the end of whichever path he was on. "I'll be waiting for you at the end!"

Yuan decided to take the middle path first. All three of them looked exactly the same, and he wasn't sure how he was going to remember which path he had taken already. However, all three paths had the same fruit at the start of it. Yuan could take a bite and then spit it out to mark his path. He found it a bit gross, but that was his best option right now with his lack of magic. He picked up the fruit at the start of the middle path and took a bite. He got ready to spit it out, but instead swallowed it.

It was the best thing he had ever tasted in his life! As he took another step forward, he took another bite of the fruit. While he didn't spit any of it out, he quickly realized that once he backtracked, the fruit on the other two paths would be waiting for him as well. Of course, the fruit was its own kind of trap, although it didn't seem like it at first. Its addictive qualities were causing some changes in Yuan, noticeable changes. With every bite that he took, he gained a bit more muscle.

The harness on his chest was starting to get tighter and tighter, and the skinny wizard was now gaining abs for the first time in his life! His arms and legs were getting bigger and bigger as well, and even his ass was gaining a bit more muscle. Despite the addictive qualities, the fruit didn't do anything to mask its changes to the eater. Eventually, Yuan did notice that he had been gaining muscle unnaturally fast, and for someone as smart as him, he quickly realized that it was the fruit. He threw it down the path and turned around, hoping that this path wasn't the one that led to the barbarian.

However, against all of his better judgment, he found himself running to pick up the fruit again and took another bite, even after it had been on the maze floor again. Yuan knew that it was wrong and that this was a trap now, but there was nothing he could do about it. He did stop walking through the maze, eating and gaining muscle in just one spot now. By the time the fruit was finished, the harness and loincloth were even tighter on Yuan's body and he rivaled the size that Roland was now, if not much bigger.

The walls of the maze retreated, and Yuan noticed that each path he could have taken would have led him to the same point. So the fruit really was a trap. "I see someone really enjoyed the fruit that I laid out for you. You couldn't put it down, right? Well, it'll help you catch me much easier now, so I'll have to make it a bit more of a challenge again." His arms were spread out once more and the towers from before returned, only this time, slime was on the ground underneath them. "Come and catch me," the barbarian taunted, as he jumped to the next tower.

Yuan was ready this time, as despite the loincloth being tight, it still provided a lot of freedom. He was easily able to bound from tower to tower, and he was catching up to the barbarian quickly. However, it couldn't be too easy for the muscular grand wizard to catch up to the barbarian, so Yuan watched in horror as the tower that he was jumping towards retreated back into the slime. There was no way that he could reach another tower in time, so he fell into the slime, and unlike the lava, he actually fell into it. It did have a similar effect to the lava, weirdly enough.

Instead of clothes, though, it was Yuan's hair that was removed. The slime seemed to collect the hair on top of his head and all over his body. Surprisingly, Yuan had been quite hairy, which even the barbarian was shocked by when his clothes were being torn to shreds. The barbarian himself only had some hair on the top of his head, and he watched as Yuan struggled in the slime until all of his hair was completely removed. As the dungeon became flat again and devoid of slime, Yuan had a glow about him now, almost like he was permanently covered in oil, thanks to the slime.

"Well, you're certainly looking good now, adventurer. But I have a few more tricks up my sleeve." The barbarian didn't actually have any sleeves, and the dungeon didn't change too much this time around. The only difference was that some spots were now brightly illuminated by the light outside, or some other source of light. The chase was on again, and Yuan was smart enough to not step into the sunlight, of course. He bobbed and weaved and was once again catching up to the barbarian. He expected his foe to play dirty again, but since he had no magic and didn't use his staff offensively and the barbarian was too far away for combat, he couldn't stop him.

Yuan soon found himself in the middle of a bright spot he knew was not there a second ago. No matter which way he ran, it was only getting bigger and bigger. The trap, of course, had a secondary effect, and Yuan watched as his skin darkened. Unlike with some of the other men who stayed out in the light too long, his skin was not turning red. Instead, it was turning Black, like some of the men in the local tribes. His skin was a deep Black color now, almost ebony by the time the sun spot closed and the barbarian laughed. "You have been quite the worthy adversary, adventurer," the barbarian noted. "So, you just have one final test to pass before you can complete the dungeon and you can have your magic back."

He moved his hand to the side, and a table with two vials of liquid appeared on it. Before he even said anything, Yuan knew that it was going to be a trap. "You're going to say one of these contains my magical essence, while the other one is going to be a trap. However, I know they're both going to be traps. You're not going to fool me, barbarian!"

"I see you are a very smart adventurer. You have a truth spell in your arsenal, do you not? Here, as a sign of good faith, I'll allow just enough magic for you to cast that spell." Yuan then felt a light tingle in his body, the same he had felt when he first started practicing magic. He didn't want to waste it on trying to get out of here by other means, so he cast the truth spell on the barbarian.

"The spell is now in effect."

"The left vial contains your magical essence, adventurer. The right one is the trap." Yuan smirked as he uncorked the left vial and swallowed the solution. He expected to feel the tingling sensation in full force again, but instead, he dropped to his knees, his head in serious pain. "You really thought your magic would work in this dungeon, adventurer? We know of your kind and made sure you thought you had your magic back. As you correctly assumed, both of them were traps!" The pain was so severe Yuan couldn't do anything else but remain on his knees as the effects of the trap took effect.

One of them was a drop in intelligence. Yuan was the smartest one in the group before, but now he had become the dumbest. However, his ability to use magic was not completely removed. He now had the ability to use the same magic that this barbarian had, since he was becoming a barbarian himself. He called himself a shaman now, not a grand wizard. His name didn't change, and he now knew that the oil that seemed to constantly be on his body was his source of mana, his power, and for someone like him, the oil was an innate substance that he secreted.

Additionally, Yuan found himself much more horny now. In addition to becoming a shaman, he was also a barbarian breeder. All of the good men in the barbarian tribe carried that title, as they were blessed with large cocks and were all quite horny. They were the ones who helped the tribe to grow. The barbarian then showed the new Black barbarian the door that led out of the dungeon. Yuan walked through it and arrived at the antechamber just seconds after Ral did. Both men were not shocked by the dramatic changes to the other's appearance.

Chapter 4

"GAAAAAHHHH!" Lux screamed, as he fell through the portal and into a different dungeon than his fellow adventurers. However, calling it a dungeon would be a bit of a stretch. While Lux clearly wasn't outside the dungeon yet, it was like he had stumbled upon a small encampment of barbarians just lounging around and living their lives. Unfortunately for Lux, these men were doing everything that he disliked. For starters, absolutely none of the men in here had shirts on. "Where are your shirts?" he asked one of the barbarians, and before bothering to get an answer, he cast a spell.

Even though he was mostly a healer, he did know several other spells, including one that would make clothing appear. However, he tried casting it a couple times, but to no avail. Another barbarian stood up, this one wearing nothing but a small pair of briefs with his bulge quite prominent. "Your magic does not work here, adventurer. But ours continues to do so." Lux was a bit puzzled by what the barbarian meant. He could barely look at him because of how obscene he was. That meant he was looking down at his clothes, and watched as two layers of his clothes suddenly disappeared.

"What's the meaning of this!?" he screamed out, and to his surprise, the barbarian talked back, although he avoided answering the question.

"Your challenge is quite simple, adventurer. All you need to do is remain here for one hour. After exactly one hour, the door to leave the dungeon will open up, and you will be free to go. It would be best if you kept an open mind throughout the hour, though. Your thoughts will curse you during this time period. The time begins now." A sundial then appeared in the group of barbarians, with clear lines marked for the start and the end of the hour.

"Oh, this will be so easy," Lux said to himself, as he sat down and began to wait. For the first couple of minutes, he thought about his life before stepping foot in the dungeon and the stories he would tell when he was able to leave. However, it didn't help that no matter where he looked, the barbarians were shirtless, and some were in tight loincloths or briefs that left very little to the imagination. He knew he shouldn't think about how indecent they were, and while he dared not say it out loud, he couldn't help but to think about it and grimace at the barbarians.

He soon felt a cool breeze on his chest, his nipples especially bearing the brunt of it. As he had feared, the curse was very real, and now he had no shirt on. Some of the barbarians laughed and snickered in his direction, but Lux didn't react, although he really wanted to. He didn't want to become one of those people. Unfortunately, in trying not to think about it, it only made things worse. Being shirtless was one thing, but some men were practically naked in the loincloths they were wearing. He knew what would happen if he thought about them, but if they would just cover up!

Seconds after thinking that, Lux cursed himself as he too was wearing a loincloth now. It was white with some blue gems towards the top, and actually covered a fair amount of his groin, all things considered. He despised the clothes he was now wearing, but knew that most of his temptations were gone, and the rest of the hour would be smooth sailing. However, it wasn't just their dress that Lux found impure. Nearly all of the barbarians in this camp were drinking alcohol. Of course, Lux could simply see that they were drinking that, and nothing would happen. He really did try not to think about how bad it was for them and all of the terrible effects it would have on their lives.

But even a kid was drinking it! He didn't speak up still, but he couldn't help but think of how messed up that was. There were no obvious outward changes after he thought about drinking alcohol, but now he had a strong desire to drink some. In fact, it was so strong, he walked over to the leader of the group and asked him for some. "Hmm, I didn't know that archpriests like you drank alcohol. But here, I have a special drink just for you." Lux accepted it, and it smelled like alcohol at least. It also vaguely tasted of it from the few drops he had accidentally drunk whenever there was a bar fight at a tavern he was staying at and a drink had been thrown in his direction.

As a result, he didn't suspect anything was amiss as he chugged the drink, craving the alcohol now. He didn't get drunk, and in fact, this was mild alcohol anyways, meaning that even the young barbarian kid wouldn't get drunk as fast. But this alcohol was imbued with something else. As he got his own pitcher of alcohol and a cup to bring over to the area where he had been waiting, Lux didn't notice that his muscles had begun to grow. He had very lean muscles that were usually hidden under layers of clothing, and only exposed now thanks to these barbarians.

But as the minutes of his waiting period passed, Lux was getting bigger and bigger, his muscles from his neck all the way down to his legs increasing in size. His pecs were no longer flat but jutted out from his body a fair amount, and their width also increased dramatically as well. Eight abs formed on his stomach, all clearly delineated and chiseled too. Both his hamstrings and his biceps looked like footballs had been inserted inside of them now, and his ass got much more pert as well. Even Lux's cock changed, growing in length and girth dramatically. The loincloth was now barely covering his groin.

He did eventually notice the changes, and thankfully, thinking about them didn't cause him to get even bigger, to become a muscle monster of sorts. He was still conflicted about the changes to his body and to his clothes, but he had to admit, being a muscular healer would probably have some positive side effects, even if he needed to get bigger robes to hide his new bulk. There was about a quarter of the time left between the two lines, and Lux wondered how he would explain all of these changes to the party when he encountered them again. However, the barbarians weren't done having fun with him. As the kids and younger members were moved back into the tents and other buildings, some of the other barbarians came out and started having sex right in the open. They were pretty loud too, but Lux knew that they were definitely testing him now, and so thought about anything else but the sex happening in front of him.

He even closed his eyes as well, but it wasn't long before all of the sound effects got to him, the slapping of balls against ass and the slurping of cocks, not to mention the moans and groans. "STOP!" he bellowed, but naturally, none of the barbarians did. He wondered what was going to happen to him now. This wasn't really a physical change, but more of a mental change. In addition to his addiction to alcohol, Lux loved having sex now. In fact, that was pretty much all he could think about. His libido went through the roof, and his cock got rock hard watching the sex happening in front of him. He hoped that he could join in, but it wouldn't be long before the door was open. His balls were now churning with copious amounts of cum as well.

Lux had turned into a barbarian pleasure giver, a distinctly different class than a breeder, although he was also a breeder as well. However, his class wasn't all about having sex; in fact, he was one of the many healers of the tribe. His cum had many medicinal properties now, and in addition to cumming on the wound, the afflicted could also swallow his cum or get bred by him to be healed as well. His blonde hair remained, but as part of the previous muscle growth, his skin had also gotten much more tan, slightly darker than Ral's skin now. Despite being a healer, he was still incredibly horny, barely able to think about anything other than having sex now, which he would do often when he wasn't healing.

The door to leave the dungeon then appeared a couple minutes later, but this time around, something, or more accurately, someone, was blocking it. It was not a barbarian, although it did have a humanoid appearance. Lux walked over to it, slightly turned on by it and also leaving the dungeon on autopilot. "Lux, it is my honor to bless you with the power of Pleasuriae," the god stated, as Lux was bathed in a white light tinted with gold. It only served to make him even more horny. Pleasuriae was the barbarian god of pleasure, and they blessed all pleasure givers with their gift. Lux soon stepped through the door and arrived in the antechamber, none of the three men noticing the changes in their fellow adventurers still.

Chapter 5

Damien, of course, wasn't much help in rescuing Yuan at all, and he tumbled in his dungeon even more strongly than Lux did. In sharp contrast to the dungeons of his fellow adventurers, Damien's dungeon could more accurately be described as a hallway, just like the one he had just been in. However, the walls were made out of an entirely different material, and there were recesses in the wall at equal increments for as long as the eye could see. Damien found that despite his tumbling, there was a wall almost directly behind where he was standing, so he had to walk forward.

He passed the first recesses and noticed a bust in it, the same one on both sides. He was quite shocked when they spoke to him, considering he didn't recognize who they were meant to represent. "Be blessed, young adventurer, with the clothes of a prince." Damien was a bit puzzled by what that meant, but as he looked down, his clothes were changing dramatically! His shirt had all but disappeared, being replaced with a leather harness. It would have shown off his pecs if he had any, but as it stood, it was a bit loose right now.

His pants seemed to shrink, eventually turning into a loincloth that covered his groin. It was quite small but still covered everything that it needed to. Additionally, he was given metal arm guards to protect his lower arms. While they were secure around his wrist, the guards were still a bit big and clattered around a bit as he walked forward. Damien was now wearing shoes for the first time in his life, fur boots appearing on his feet, high-quality and comfy fur boots. The clothing changes had all happened by the time that he had reached the next busts.

"Be blessed, young adventurer, with the pecs of a prince." Damien knew what was probably going to happen next, and so as he slowly stepped forward, he was looking down at his pecs. He had barely had any muscle definition before, but now his pecs were getting bigger and bigger by the second. It took a few seconds for them to reach their new size, and the supply boy now had pecs that he could easily lay some crops on to carry them around. His nipples grew in size to match his massive pecs too, and they got extremely sensitive, although Damien wouldn't know that for a bit. He soon reached the next one.

"Be blessed, young adventurer, with the abs and legs of a prince." He looked down and watched as eight distinct abs began forming on his stomach. Damien had been skinny enough to be able to feel his ab muscles for a few years now, but they had never gotten this chiseled before and he had only seen them pop out that far on a couple men. His legs also gained a lot more muscle and got quite toned, easily able to support his new massive frame.

"Be blessed, young adventurer, with the arms of a prince." Damien watched as his arms, especially his biceps, got bigger and bigger. Damien's biceps were his biggest muscle group before all of these transformations started to occur, thanks to being a supply boy and working on a farm for so long. However, that didn't stop his biceps, triceps, and other arm muscles from growing huge. In fact, his arms could no longer hang right by his side; his obliques and biceps made it so that he was forced to have a wider frame at all times.

"Be blessed, young adventurer, with the groin of a prince." Damien looked down and felt as his flaccid cock was getting longer and longer by the second. His loincloth didn't grow in size to match, so soon enough, his mushroom head was plainly visible as he walked, and he added a fair bit of girth as well. This was all still completely flaccid, and it wouldn't be long before he experienced an erection with his new cock. His ass was no longer flat, having gained a lot of muscle as he walked down the hallway. He now had what would eventually be called a bubble butt, and a big one at that.

"Be blessed, young adventurer, with the looks of a prince." He wasn't exactly sure what was meant by that, since he had just undergone quite a bit of magical muscle growth. There were no reflective surfaces in the hallway to show it off, but one change was to Damian's hair, making him blonde and growing it out rapidly to reach his shoulders. His face also got more angular and striking, and his eyes became a piercing blue color. He was also blessed with the perfect amount of armpit hair.

"Be blessed, young adventurer, with the weapon of a prince." This was not some kind of metaphorical weapon that would instead make his balls bigger or something. A war ax appeared in his hands, just slightly bigger than he was now, which was certainly saying something. It barely fit in the hallway as it was, but Damien knew exactly how to use the weapon now, despite Roland not trusting him with anything bigger than a scythe.

"Be blessed, young adventurer, with the libido of a prince." Damien didn't know what "libido" meant, but he did feel wave after wave of pleasure wash over him as his libido skyrocketed. His cock was getting hard at just the thought of having sex, and he was able to see just how massive his erect cock was now. He could see why they thought of him as a prince. Despite him being just as horny as Lux was now, Damien wasn't as focused on having sex, at least he would be soon after passing the next busts.

"Be blessed, young adventurer, with the leadership of a prince." Damien also wasn't sure what exactly would change because of that, but that solidified his mental changes. He now thought of himself as prince of the barbarians, and unlike the other roles given to his fellow adventurers, there was only one prince. He knew that he was both the leader of the small group of barbarians venturing the dungeon under him, and leader of all the barbarians. He was especially interested in his youngest party member, Ral.

Despite there only being a couple years' difference between the two of them, Ral still had a lot to learn, and Damien was going to take him under his wing. He would help Ral get as big as the other barbarians were, and naturally, sex was a huge part of his training as well. With his princely transformation complete, he stepped through the door at the end of the hallway and arrived at the antechamber. He didn't stop walking, Ral, Yuan, and Lux following suit behind him as they walked through the other door and into the barbarian utopia.

None of the four men had any memories of who they were before they stepped foot in the barbarians' dungeon. Ral had always thought that that was his name, and that he was a young recruit and not some grizzled war hero. Yuan's changes weren't too dramatic in some senses when compared to his fellow party members, but it would no longer bother him to be practically naked and dripping with oil with every step and he always thought that he had been a Black man. Lux had no memories of trying to fight and reverse the changes made to him. In fact, he was much too horny to remember what he did yesterday, let alone what he was like five or so years ago. Even Damien had no memory of who he used to be, even though all of his changes were positive.

"The prince has returned! The prince has returned!" announced the barbarians close to the dungeon as Damien and his party stepped out. Many of the barbarians came rushing over to the group, and it wasn't long before a muscular oiled man who looked quite similar to Yuan stepped forward and knelt in front of Damien.

"We are blessed of your safe return, Prince Damien. Your reward for traversing the dungeon and protecting it from outsiders will be ready shortly. Do you wish for your current party members to join you, or would you like to pick three other men?"

"Ral, Yuan, and Lux have all gone through a lot with me. They deserve to be rewarded as well."

"Very well, my prince. Please, follow me." Damien and his group, along with a group of shamans all walked over to one of the many temples the barbarians had erected. As soon as Ral entered, the door to the temple magically closed, barring any other barbarians from entering and partaking in the pleasure.

Chapter 6

The group then walked into the middle of the temple. Summoning lines were written on the floor, and there was enough open area for four men to stand. The shamans took their place outside of the lines, making sure that they would not offend the gods by accidentally partaking in the reward. Damien stripped first, knowing what had to be done, and he showed off his enormous cock to all of the shamans and his fellow party members. While cock size wasn't the reason he was made prince, if it is, he would still be the barbarian prince. Yuan and Lux both had impressive cocks as well, but they paled in comparison to Damien's. Even Ral's cock was bigger than the average male cock in the twenty-first century, but much smaller than all of the other party members'.

The lead shaman then began speaking. "We call upon the powers of Pleasuriae to reward Damien and his party members for successfully keeping our lands free of invaders!" The shamans then began chanting in a language all four new barbarians seemed to know innately, but was foreign to them just earlier that day. Pleasuriae came up often in the chants, and a minute or so later, the chants ended. The smells of musk and sex permeated the air, and Lux felt a familiar presence as Pleasuriae appeared again, this time overlooking all four of the men and the shamans who summoned them.

"Welcome, Prince Damien, and his fellow party members. It is my honor to reward you for successfully protecting our community once again. You will be blessed with insatiable horniness for twelve hours, even greater than the horniness Lux has coursing through his veins now. You will be able to cum immediately after cumming, and you will never tire until my blessing has passed. However, that is not all. There is one final challenge, and one of you will win it regardless.

"The barbarian who cums the most shall receive a special reward. They will be blessed permanently with the abilities given to you during this reward session. The cum does not need to land on a party member's body or inside of them; it simply needs to come out of your cock and it will be added to the total. I will be watching the orgy the entire time, and whoever is the winner at the end will feel the same way even after the reward has finished. And yes, even our breeder Lux is able to receive this reward."

With that, Pleasuriae disappeared from the dungeon, but not after the effects of his blessing took place. All four men immediately got rock hard within seconds, and all of them were looking at each other with lust in their eyes. However, even in their horned-up state, they still knew the hierarchy they had, and so Damien sat on the ground as Yuan and Lux took turns sucking on his cock. Ral sat off to the side, furiously stroking his cock as his prince was pleasured. None of the four men had had experience in gay sex before, but with their transformations into barbarians, it was now second nature to them.

Damien had ejaculated twice and Yuan and Lux had each done so once, jerking off as they were sucking their prince off, before Ral was finally allowed to have a turn. To show deference to his prince, he crawled over to him on his hands and knees before opening his mouth and sucking on Damien's cock. Damien was the most inexperienced out of the bunch, though, and in fact, his blowjob didn't last too long. Damien didn't even get to cum before pushing Ral off of his cock. "Show me your hole!" he bellowed, and the young barbarian-in-training did just that.

What Pleasuriae had neglected to mention was that their assholes were also self-lubricating during this blessed period, and that would remain for the winner as well. Although lube wouldn't be invented for thousands of years, the barbarians used spit and other similar liquids so that their anal sex would be easier. Despite the self-lubrication, Ral's asshole was still quite tight, only having recently started his sexual training. Taking his prince's behemoth cock was probably not the smartest choice right now, but he was too horny to care.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!" he moaned, as Damien pressed his cock up against Ral's hole before it finally slid in. Yuan and Lux were jerking off at first to the hot breeding happening in front of them, but soon realized that they could have some fun together. They were of equal standing in barbarian society, so they quickly decided that Lux would fuck Yuan first. Lux was probably the most horny barbarian in existence right now, and he desperately wanted to feel his cock inside of another barbarian's hole.

As for Damien and Ral, the prince was slowly pushing his cock deeper and deeper into Ral's hole. Thanks to the self-lubrication, it was much easier to get more and more of his cock inside, but he had just barely made it halfway before it started to get more and more difficult. He did love a challenge, though, filling up one of his fellow barbarians with his enormous cock. Ral was moaning and panting the entire time, and his body was covered in as much sweat as Yuan usually was as he took more and more of his prince's cock.

Meanwhile, Lux was fucking Yuan like a rabbit. Once he was inside Yuan, his desire to breed as part of his role in society just took over, and it was barely a minute, if that, between his cumshots. Yuan certainly didn't mind getting filled up by Lux's seed, and he was stroking his cock the entire time, getting the temple floor covered in his cum as his ass was getting filled by Lux's. Eventually, the two of them decided to swap when Yuan's hole was leaking out cum and there seemed to be no more room inside of his cavernous hole.

Damien was still taking his time breeding Ral, although the young barbarian had ejaculated a few times from the pleasurable sensations he was feeling with such a big cock inside of him. Both men moaned quite loudly as Damien's balls finally slapped against Ral's ass. The prince's cock was so big that it actually made a faint bulge on Ral's stomach, and once Damien was in all of the way, the fucking could really pick up in intensity. Sweat was dripping onto the floor and the smell of sex and musk was even stronger in the air as it didn't take long for Damien to deposit the first of many loads into Ral's hole.

As Damien was getting himself balls-deep, it was Yuan's turn to fuck. In addition to having a cock that never seemed to quit, Lux's hole was already pretty wide and had a permanent gape, even before the blessing and on top of the self-lubrication. As a result, it only took a few thrusts for Yuan to go balls-deep as well, and it actually made it easier to hit Lux's prostate as well, as Yuan was easily able to line up his cock. This caused both men to cum quite frequently, and Yuan too filled up Lux's hole, but it took quite a few more cumshots to do that.

Eventually, Damien tired of fucking Ral, although he didn't completely fill him up with his load yet. He and Yuan switched partners, as he loved fucking the breeders, and shamans were just a smidge about breeders in the hierarchy anyways. It wasn't difficult at all for Damien to fuck Lux, although quite a bit of Yuan's cum was still inside of his hole. However, that just provided some easier lubrication, and it wasn't long before Damien was dumping loads inside of Lux as well. A small puddle had started to form around where Damien was fucking thanks to the numerous loads that Ral and now Lux were pumping out.

As for Yuan, even his cock was still too big for Ral's hole, despite the prince opening it up a bit more. Ral's moans were the loudest in the temple as Yuan pushed his cock in deeper and deeper. However, thanks to the loads from his prince and the self-lubrication already, it didn't take as long before Yuan's balls slapped against Ral's ass as well. He spewed the first load out of his cock not even a minute later, and the puddle of cum around this area was even bigger and deeper even, all thanks to the insatiable horniness of Lux.

Eventually, Lux's hole was filled up with cum again, and it wasn't long before Yuan had done the same to Ral. Poor Ral was forced to remain a bottom as Yuan finally bottomed again, this time for his prince. Lux was excited to breed again, especially with an impressionable young man like Ral. Yuan knew that even though he was second-in-command in this group, he still had to defer to the prince, and besides, he wanted his prince's big fat juicy cock inside of him. He got on his hands and knees and pushed some of the cum out of his ass as the smell of musk and sex in the air got even stronger.

In fact, it was making the men so horny that Yuan started to lap up the cum on the temple floor as Damien began to breed him. The prince just chuckled as he fucked one of his shamans, his favorite shaman. He knew that it probably won't be long before Yuan joined the shamans on the outside of the circle, summoning the sex god and their blessing instead of partaking in it. However, he quickly turned his mind back to fucking, and it wasn't too long before he added his loads to Lux's.

Lux was having the time of his life breeding the young barbarian-in-training. Thanks to his standing as a breeder, his body had a different reaction to the tight and likely virile hole Ral possessed. Even after factoring in both blessings from Pleasuriae he had received, Lux was still even more horny than the other three men, since someone like Ral would have the best chance of reproducing and giving birth successfully as well. He deposited quite a few loads into Ral's hole, literally cumming within seconds of each other sometimes. Unfortunately, due to the combination between top and bottom, Ral's hole was filled within minutes, and the two of them stopped having sex and watched as Damien continued to breed Yuan.

Since Yuan's hole wasn't filled up with as much seed, especially after he had pushed some out, Damien could fuck him for quite some time. The puddle of cum was surprisingly so high that it covered Yuan's fingers now as Damien finally shot his last load into Yuan's hole, his cock slipping out as well because of all of the cum inside of it. But despite both bottoms being filled with cum right now, there was still quite a bit of time for the blessing, and they had only fucked doggy-style so far.

The four of them fucked in several different positions and they continued to suck each other as well, tasting just as much cum as had filled up their holes by the time the blessing was complete. They didn't just focus on anal and oral sex, though. There was some more worshiping involved, body worship and even musk worship as well. Damien naturally was worshiped the most, but even he took part in worshiping Yuan and Lux's sweaty, musky, muscular bodies as well. Ral was not worshiped during the blessing, but he did get turned on worshiping all three men above him in society, and also in height too. Just before it was set to complete, Pleasuriae appeared and lightly chuckled before speaking. There was a literal layer of cum plastered all over the temple floor, the party members had cummed so much. The smell of musk, sweat, and sex was so strong that it was quite noticeable even outside of the sealed temple walls, and all four men had cum leaking from the corners of their mouths, assholes, and cocks, not to mention dripping with sweat.

"It would appear as though that this has been a bountiful blessing. I hope all of you have enjoyed it, and I hope to see you, Yuan, here again soon, unfortunately not in the middle of the room again. But on a wholly unrelated note, it is, in fact, Yuan who had ejaculated the most during the blessing. He will continue to have the benefits of the blessing, which will likely help out with his magic. Thank you for this bountiful offering as well." Pleasuriae then slurped up the cum from the floor, swallowing every last drop as the blessing ceased.

Lux returned to a less horny state, but still hornier than Damien and Ral were right now. Yuan continued to feel the same way, although his mind wasn't as clouded by sex and horny thoughts as they had been, although it was still a lot of what he thought about. The four men then put their clothes back and the shamans opened the door to the temple so that they could all walk out. Yuan walked away with the other shamans, all of them glistening in the sunlight thanks to the oil on their bodies. Lux found himself drawn to the breeding tent, where men and women alike came to get bred and hopefully produce a younger barbarian. As for Ral, he soon found the other barbarian youth that were of age, and began training with them once more.

A barbarian with a scrying bowl rushed over to the prince, dressed a bit more conservatively than most barbarians, but not by much. "My prince, another party has entered the dungeon. When would you like the process to start?"

"I'd like to see the information we gathered first. I want to see what kinds of barbarians we're turning these four men into." Damien loved turning adventurers into barbarians, and their land was right next to a very gullible group of men who always seemed to want to prove their worth by successfully completing the Barbarian's Dungeon.

The Interviews

--- Originally posted on 2021-02-07 by dumb-and-jocked. ---

“Can you guys believe we actually made it?” Elijah exclaimed proudly. Even as the tallest of the trio at 6’7, he had to arch his back to see the top of the skyscraper in front of him. Elijah had worked hard to get his degree in business, so the prospect in front of him made him feel like he was touching the finish line. He had applied for an interning position in the financial department, and the company had been so impressed with his application that they had set up an interview immediately.

“I will admit, it is pretty incredible,” Dylan added. He was in the middle of the three, having a little over average height at 5’11 and pretty good muscular tone. What really stood out about him though was his voice, for it was a powerful bass that could shake concrete walls and was completely recognizable at any event. He too had applied for an interning position in the financial department, creating a little friendly rivalry between the two.

“I’m still surprised we all made it.” Although Joe was almost a foot shorter than the giant Elijah at 5’7, he made up for his height in sheer body mass. Back in college, he had been the star wrestler of the college, giving him a body packed with pure strength and flesh. One wouldn’t be able to guess it, but Joe was also skilled in another area: accounting. He was so talented in fact that he had actually been scouted out by the company.

“I guess we should head in,” Elijah stated, making his way forward slowly. “If we actually want to work at the Carmichael Corporation, we’ll have to ace these interviews.”

“Oh yeah, like that’ll be hard,” Dylan jeered as he walked through a set of grand swinging doors. “My record is pretty well stacked. I think I have the best chance out of the three of us for this position.”

“Dude, I’m going for accounting.” Joe gave a rough eye roll, before walking off to notify the secretary of their presence.

“And like I have any competition,” Elijah scoffed as Dylan and himself took a seat on a nearby bench. “Once they see that my name was on the Dean’s List every semester, I’ll get in for sure.”

“You only got that because you were the captain of the basketball team,” Dylan mocked.

“Did not,” Elijah hurled back.

“Did too!” Dylan retorted.

“You understand that I actually worked for those grades, right?” Elijah felt himself get heated as his muscles grew tense.

“Oh you worked for them alright,” Dylan mumbled. “On your knees.”

“Excuse me, bro?!”

“You heard what I said, coc-”

“Gentlemen!”

A sharply dressed male was staring down at the two bickering companions. The man was furiously tapping a pen against his clipboard, obviously irritated. Standing tall in front of the two, he was wrapped up in a gray 3-piece suit with a checkered tie that fit well against his sculpted body. His face showed that although he acted superior, he had to be a similar age to the two young men cowering below him.

“My name is Yale Stockton Rockefeller IV, and I am one of the Accounting Managers here at the Carmichael Corporation,” he began pompously, effortlessly taking control of the situation. “If you want to work here at the Carmichael Corporation, the first concept you must learn is respect and decency to and in the workplace.”

“Sorry,” Dylan and Elijah replied in unison, deeply embarrassed and annoyed by the stuck-up prick.

“Now, I assume I will be performing one of your interviews today,” Yale took a moment to look at his clipboard. “Is one of you Joseph Koroll?”

“That’s me.” Joe appeared from behind Yale, surprising the other man a little bit. After checking in, Joe had quickly run to the bathroom to wash his face, finding he had accidentally missed a few hairs when he had shaved this morning. Not noticeable, just a little itchy.

“Exemplary,” Yale responded, causing Joe to give the other two looks that said What’s with this guy?

“Let us make our way to a correspondent room, we have a lot to cover in little time.” Before Joe could comprehend what Yale had said, the other man was already walking towards an elevator. Joe quickly scurried along, waving to his pals before he was lifted up.

“How do you think he’ll do?” Dylan pondered.

“Better than the two of us so far,” Elijah pouted.

— —

“Joseph Koroll.”

“Yes?”

Yale sat straight at his desk, constantly giving off an ill-tempered glare as he peered back and forth between Joe and Joe’s resumé. What made it even more intense was that Yale’s eyes had an oddly captivating color to them. The two sat in a small conference room on the 15th floor overlooking a part of the city below. Joe didn’t feel that nervous–he actually felt quite confident–but the giant yellow chair he sat in made him seem much smaller than he actually was. Even for his muscular figure, he barely filled half the seat, and his head did not make it anywhere near the top. Not only that, but the chair was placed in the center of the room, giving him more attention than he needed.

“I despise that I must admit it,” Yale sighed. “but your experience and credentials are rather splendid.”

“Thank you?” Joe replied back, a little confused.

“If you want to be a part of the Carmichael Corporation however, there are some aspects that must be changed or enhanced.”

“I understand.”

“The Carmichael Corporation is not some urban start-up with jeans and herbal teas. This is a very demanding industry, one that expects all employees to be obedient and loyal.”

“Of course,” Joe nodded along. “That would make sense.”

“I do not know or care what went on at your last position, but if you want to succeed in this company, it is imperative that orders from a superior be followed. Would you be okay with this level of obedience?”

“Yes sir.” Joe slyly added in the title, sensing he had to accept a power shift.

“That is more appropriate,” Yale smiled. “Now, let us first address the things that need to be changed to be hired. Your attire is the most noticeable facet, as it is unsightly to say in the kindest of terms.”

“Unsightly?” Joe was surprised, finding his red sweater and black slacks quite refined before making eye contact with Yale.

“And that is the kindest of words,” Yale snickered back. “If you want to succeed, you will need to learn how to dress like a man. Let me read you a small excerpt from the company handbook.”

Yale stuck a hand into his bag and pulled out the largest book Joe had ever seen. It had to be at least 1000 pages, yet Yale had no trouble finding the exact description he was looking for.

“Blazers are classic items that work for semi-formal occasions and casual office places. Even as a man transitions to daily suits, a blazer will always have a place at a garden party or fraternity alumni event. Ties and bowties are a delightful way to add color to an outfit. Business attire defaults to long ties, and more conservative workplaces require more conservative choices. Consider emulating the attire of your superiors.”

Yale continued, “Supports should be practical and supportive. Belts are fine for casual outings; however, braces are more desirable for suiting, both for support and style as it allows a more traditional and flattering cut. Similarly, undergarments should provide support and coverage. Briefs are the most appropriate underwear choice, as it provides support without being extraneous. It is also compatible with tennis and golf; sports you will be expected to participate in and the only sports you will be allowed to play.”

Yale paused and took a deep breath. Once he had finished gathering himself, he looked over at Joe and gleamed with satisfaction. “I believe it is secure to say that you have already anticipated these particular needs of the company. Am I assuming correctly?”

“Yes sir,” Joe quickly replied. He had made sure to dress in one of his casual outfits today, something comfortable yet reputable. Along with a navy blazer that had been hung on the door, Joe had paired his classic navy polka-dotted tie with a blue button-up and wool dress pants. Sheer socks silently encased his Size 11 feet inside expensive-looking Oxfords, while two bright, yellow suspenders and a hefty watch worked as the statement pieces. He’d also made sure to shave his beard into a beautiful stubble, something that really made him seem both masculine and well-kept. Joe had originally been concerned that the look was a little too casual, but the fact that his superior had noticed it brought a smile to his lips.

“Superb,” Yale acknowledged. “If you are hired here, you will be expected to meet a certain standard of fitness.”

Yale once again examined Joe before meeting eyes, causing Joe to respond with a smug look.

“Interpreting what I have seen and read, I suspect you will be engaging in a routine similar to the one when you were in varsity golf?”

“Very similar, indeed.” Joe resituated himself in the chair, sitting a little straighter to truly show off his 6’1 height. His tight clothing did an impeccable job showcasing his muscular build, which wasn’t as massive as a bodybuilder’s but definitely imposing. He kicked up one of his Size 14 feet onto his knee, knowing he could now get a little more comfortable.

“You will also need to adapt to our image of masculinity, Joe. This is something that has an adjusting definition for everyone here at the Carmichael Corporation. Do you understand what I am referring to?”

“Not exactly, sir.”

“To explain further,” Yale eyes had a piercing gleam to them. “the duty of a man is to understand that when lacking in some areas of presence, he must identify other ways to consume the devoid territory. Men are meant to take up a certain amount of space, no matter their stature. This does seem appropriate, correct?”

“Yes sir.” Joe completely interpreted what Yale was referring to. It was only natural that some men had larger presences than others, so it was Joe’s duty to match that same standard. Readjusting in his seat once more, Joe felt his wide, plump bottom jiggling about, consuming the entirety of the extra wide seat. He bagged his pants as he sat, causing the crotch of his pants to ride up and give him a distinct moose knuckle. The fluid movement accidentally made him hard, but Joe knew no one would be able to see his 4 inches.

“Now, I believe the next issue is your tone and speech.” Yale pulled out his handbook once more and flipped to another random page.

“Our manual refers to multiple accessible forms of dialogue, but you will be working with men of all ages from assets and banking within accounting. Therefore, it would be best if you learned how to speak slower and adapt your vocabulary to something better cultivated.”

“Why would that help me exactly?” Joe questioned.

Yale, once again annoyed by Joe’s indecency, glared directly at him before explaining. “It will deepen your voice and give you more presence, which will be extremely helpful in business. You will also be able to use a fuller, more masculine tone–much like my own. I expect that is what you desire?”

“Yes sir.” The words spilled out in nearly double the time they had before. Joe’s tongue felt heavy as he spoke as every syllable seemed to require extra effort to spit out.

“Finally, if you aspire to work at the Carmichael Corporation, it is imperative that you adjust your title.” Yale moved along calmly, not at all caring about Joe’s confusion. “Joe is a very informal name. Lazy and lackadaisical. It sets you up casually in a professional world, agree with me?”

“I guess I don’t know…” Joe muttered, his voice sluggish and insensitive.

“In business, you know how important it is to give the right impression. The men in these industries expect a certain standard of professionality, even in your title. And you must give yourself every possible advantage.”

“Yes, of course sir,” Joe monotoned.

“Professionally, I think you should introduce yourself as your full name, John Millard Koroll.”

“I apologize for the inconvenience, but that is not-”

“And where is your surname from?” Yale interrupted. “Is it German?”

“No, it is most certainly-”

“Make it German. It will give you a much more asserting presence. And I reckon a suffix would add some competency as well. From now on, we shall refer to each other by our full names to emulate what the atmosphere is like here at the Carmichael Corporation.”

Joe was still at a loss over the last few comments. He was starting to feel a little panicked over the thought of losing his own identity to the corporate world, but before he could think any further on the topic, Yale stepped in.

“That will work for you, will it not,” Yale stood up from his chair and extended a hand, making sure to share a mutual gaze with Joe. “John Millard Koehler III?”

“By all means, Yale Stockton Rockefeller IV.” John Millard’s thick, slow voice drawled out. He got out of his own seat and shook Yale’s hand in a firm motion.

“Splendid!” Yale replied. “Then I can confidently declare that you are precisely what the Carmichael Corporation is scouting for. John Millard Koehler III, you will be starting as early as next week.”

“That is just grand!” John Millard responded cordially. “It is truly an honor, my gratitude, Yale Stockton Rockefeller IV.”

“The honor is all mine, you will be an illustrious addition to our department.” Yale sat back down in his chair and ushered John Millard to do the same. “Before I dismiss you, let us discuss acquisitions and the baseline salary. Here at the Carmichael Corporation, we want to make sure that you can ‘be audit you can be’.”

The two chortled merrily at the accounting joke before getting back to business, knowing they had a prosperous future ahead.

— —

“It’s been almost an hour,” Elijah exhaled. “Shouldn’t Joe be done with his interview by now?” The two other men were still sitting on the same bench, waiting for anyone to come and greet them like Yale had appeared before. Countless businessmen had passed in front of them, but all of them seemed so eager to work that they didn’t recognize the recently-graduated college students.

“I don’t know,” Dylan replied honestly, twisting a lock of his curly mane within his fingers out of boredom. “I mean maybe this is the corporate world and everything takes a little longer than expected.” He then stretched to loosen up his joints, showcasing the body of a former running back for everyone to see.

“Yeah, but how many questions do they have to ask to see if Joe is a good fit or not?”

“Apparently a lot.” Dylan began swinging his legs back and forth like a child on a swing to entertain himself. The Size 13 canvas shoes went to and fro, hypnotizing him more than they should have. Elijah watched on too, somehow entertained by the small amount of movement.

“Ahem.”

The two young men quickly shot up off the bench, standing solid. In front of them was a brawny man between the pair’s heights. He looked to be somewhere around sixty, as displayed by his slicked-back salt-and-pepper hair, prominent jaw, and robust torso. His body was brilliantly exhibited in a multi-layered suit, one that displayed every shade from silver to slate.

“I assume the two of you are here for the hiring process, correct?”

The two men nodded their heads quickly.

“Very good.” The man made a quick glance at Dylan and motioned him to follow. Dylan did just that, giving a thumbs-up to Elijah before disappearing down a hall.

— —

“Dylan Pringle.”

“Yes… sir?”

Dylan watched a small smile creep onto the man’s lips after his little addition. There had been a few minutes of back and forth eye contact from Dylan’s resumé and Dylan himself, but he wasn’t feeling too apprehensive. Although the man seemed extremely uptight, Dylan knew there was nothing in his credentials that wouldn’t seem impressive. Plus, the man had already seemed to take a liking to Dylan, as he had been escorted to an expansive office that Dylan assumed had to be the man’s own. It was simply decorated with a few modern black-and-white pictures and two tables lined with retro leather chairs. There were also a few closets and coat racks holding different suits and other formal wear, probably owned by the man himself.

“I must inform you that the position you have applied for has already been filled.”

The sentence came as a shock to Dylan, causing him to twitch a little in his seat. Dylan was so perplexed that he had to examine the man’s eyes carefully to see if he was telling the truth. He was surprised to discover that they had an oddly charming hue.

“I would regard that as a godsend however, as you were not at all qualified for the position.”

“What do you mean?” Dylan’s bass tone became thundering. “I have everything the job requires… and more!”

“Surely you meant to say ‘Sorry Sir, is there another position open?’ as here I thought you were serious about working here at the Carmichael Corporation.”

Dylan was once again caught off-guard.

“Hmm, they told me you were more articulate.” The man made a disappointed grimace before moving on. “I was willing to offer you another position working under me rather than in the financial department as it seems you have no competence in the area. That is generous of me, is it not?”

“Yes, definitely sir.” Dylan was relieved that he still had a chance to work at the Carmichael Corporation, especially after applying for a job he never could have performed.

“Good.” The man walked over to a table and grabbed a rather large book. Dylan was able to catch a quick peek as the man passed by, noticing the pages were lined with questions and guides. Dylan hoped these weren’t all going to be used in the interview for the other position.

“There are a few things you will need to learn quickly if you expect to succeed in this business, do you understand?”

“Yes sir.” Dylan made sure to maintain eye contact to confirm his answer.

“Very good. First, we have a completely reasonable dress code here. I know you may not have expected to wear a suit every day, but it will be required. And by a suit, I expect a minimum of 3 layers in some shape or form.” Dylan cringed in his seat barely, knowing that his black turtleneck and jeans probably didn’t make the cut.

“Sir, are you-” Before Dylan could protest, the man pushed forward.

“I find a certain degree of conformity aids in office morale, is that not fair? I can tell by how you present yourself you also believe this to be true.”

“It is fair, sir.” Dylan agreed. He always made sure to wear multiple articles underneath his blazer, as it made him feel more polished. Even though he was forced to take off his tan blazer at the door, it had allowed him to expose the other garments on his body. These included matching tan pleated pants that graciously showed off his hefty pouch, a white button-up with matching white suspenders that strained heavily against his pecs, and a striped tie that shared the same charcoal color with his wing-tipped derbies. Readjusting his glasses, Dylan waited patiently for the man to continue.

“I believe it is also appropriate to have a strict haircut policy. Your hair is to be cut every two weeks, and I will refer you to my own barber. You will style it neatly and you will use whatever product I chose.”

“Sir, if I may interrupt.”

“No, you may not.” The man glared down on Dylan. “I expect to see comb lines so sharp that even from a mile away a man could tell you know how to use pomade. Understood?”

“Completely, sir.” Dylan felt like this task would be no problem, as he already maintained his hair strictly. Brushing a hand across his scalp, he was delighted to feel his sharp quiff still held stiffly in place with not a single hair sticking out. He also made sure to rub a hand across his jaw, feeling up the sculpted beard contemptuously.

“Now, you recognize that you would not be starting at the top, correct?”

“Yes sir.”

“Meaning that you would have a certain number of superiors, including myself, correct?”

“Yes sir.”

“So to clarify,” the man began, making sure that their eyes met so he could verify. “You would be an inferior male, underneath me and a plethora of other men.”

“Wait, that isn’t-” Dylan’s booming register was somehow once again cut off.

“You will need to present yourself to this position accordingly, but I believe it is fair to say that will not be an issue.”

“That is accurate, Sir,” Dylan replied reverently in a soft, creamy tenor. He understood where he was on the ladder, and how he’d have to act accordingly. Still sitting in his chair comfortably, the 5’7 man brought his legs closer together, allowing the sides of the Size 8 feet to touch. While doing so, Dylan felt his micropenis twitch eagerly inside his tight briefs, sending an excited reaction to the hole between his two jiggly, doughy buttocks.

“You will also be expected to attend to some other needs of mine,” Sir started. “Dry cleaning, note taking, errands, and the like.”

“Of course, Sir.”

“You will be loyal, you will be obedient, and you will be my dedicated servant.”

“Sir,” Dylan’s meek voice began. “What do you-”

“To work and succeed at the Carmichael Corporation,” Sir declared through fiery eyes. “it is imperative that orders from a superior be followed. Understood?”

“Yes Sir.” Dylan was willing to do just about anything that could give him an advantage in business; anything that would make his superiors pleased.

“So with that said,” Sir leaned back in his chair happily, dropping the handbook on the desk and crossing his arms across his chest. “If I were to ask you to, say, change your name, would you do that for me?”

“Yes Sir,” Dylan lied through his teeth. He was willing to do just about anything, but not that.

“Here at the Carmichael Corporation, we like to go by our full titles as they allude to more professional, defined statuses.”

“Absolutely, Sir.”

“Let’s first start with Dylan: just a gross, common name. You agree?”

Dylan didn’t, but the thought of a superior changing his name was suddenly tantalizing.

“Personally, I believe you would be more suited as a Dorrance. And for the surname, well,” Sir chuckled wickedly to himself. “Pringle was never an actual name, just a detrimental snack. You would be much better suited with Peabody. Classic, but preppy, which seems to be the direction you’re taking. Though I believe you should at least be a Junior.”

Before Dylan could fire back a string of arguments, Sir had ascended out of his throne and extended a strong palm.

“Congratulations, Dorrance Rotterham Peabody, Jr.,” Sir seemed very pleased with himself. “You will be a great fit as my new personal assistant.”

“Thank you immensely, Sir!” Dorrance replied, jumping out of his chair in excitement and eagerly shaking the man’s hand. “How soon may I begin to work under you?”

“Right away, boy.” Sir made sure to emphasize the demeaning word. “I have a few outfits I need you to sort through and approve of, as you know my taste quite exquisitely.”

“Of course, Sir.” Dorrance followed Sir to a table covered in sheets displaying different suits and styles. He immediately immersed himself into the work, separating out the preferable blacks, navys, and grays from the disgusting other palettes. This extremely pleased Sir, so much so that he wanted to reward Dorrance with something special. So, Sir gave Dorrance’s butt a big appreciation swat as he strutted away, causing Dorrance’s ample rump to shudder within his pants as he continued his work.

— —

Elijah grimaced, noticing the time on the gigantic clock inside the main lobby had only moved by a minute. The wait had been a lot longer than he had expected, forcing him to cancel an event with friends and a hookup from Grindr. It had been about an hour since Dylan had been taken away to his interview, and almost 2 hours since Joe’s disappearance. He was concerned about what this meant for them, but he was becoming more concerned about what this could’ve possibly meant for himself. Maybe he didn’t have a chance within the Carmichael Corporation. Elijah was beginning to feel as if the employers had completely forgotten him when a young man magically appeared before him, answering his plea.

The man wore a tight fitting suit, seemingly strained at both the broad shoulders and around the crotch. It was exceptionally subdued, a rather pale black color with a white button-up shirt and a gray tie with a subtle windowpane pattern. He carried a briefcase that looked both rather expensive and rather ordinary. The young man stood ramrod straight, his muscular build hidden by the extremely high rise of his pants, sitting above his belly button just under the rib cage. His powerful jaw–while covered in a little youthful baby fat–spread wide and hung low, giving his face a square, lantern shape.

“Elijah Grove.”

“Yes?”

“I assume you are the last respondent today?” His voice was slow and deep, catching Elijah off guard.

“I guess?”

“Do you guess or do you know?” The young man seemed to get rather disgusted by Elijah’s uncertainty. “If you expect to succeed at the Carmichael Corporation, you are going to have to know.”

“I-” Elijah was almost sure he saw the young man’s eyes flash dazzlingly as he began. “I know I am the last respondent, yes.”

“Grand.” The man ushered Elijah to get up and tread closely behind. Following quickly, Elijah was surprised to see that they were leaving the building.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Elijah chose his words carefully. “Where are we going?”

“I am fond of conducting my interviews over promenades,” the young man replied. They steered their way around crowds of businessmen as they ventured into the streets, making random turns here and there. “It shows how well you can think on your feet, literally. It is an aptitude you will need to be proficient in if you want to become an Associate like myself.”

“Associate?” Elijah blinked a few times out of confusion, knowing that he had applied to work as an intern in the financial department. Although he was a few inches taller than the young man, he was having a little difficulty catching up, causing him to fall in and out of the conversation.

“Indeed,” the man misinterpreted the question. “I was recently put in charge of development acquisitions and advanced from Junior Associate to an Associate. Fascinating, is it not?”

“Sure.”

The two strolled a little further out of the city, moving away from the busy center where the Carmichael Corporation headquarters stood. They came upon streets a little emptier then before until they finally turned into an old park. It was actually quite beautiful, covered in old knotty trees and overgrown plants. Birds were constantly chirping and squirrels chased after each other like there was no tomorrow. It was also littered in large stones, adding an oddly picturesque feel to it. Elijah was surprised that he had lived in the city for so long and had never once been to this place.

After a while more of walking, the man led them to an old picnic table before turning around and offering a large, rough hand. Confused, Elijah accepted it and the grip practically shattered his bones. Elijah had kept his body fit since his high school basketball days, so he was surprised to feel such a sheer strength in the young man’s shake.

“My name is Keating Eckley Whitlyn, Jr.,” the young man stated before placing his briefcase down and taking a seat at the table. “Our interview should not extend too lengthily, as I have some imperative work to attend to after this.”

“What would that be?” Elijah asked earnestly, his jovial tone a major contrast to Keating’s flat, molasses-like demeanor. At 6’7, it was fairly difficult for him to get his skinny legs under the table, but he managed.

“I have been assigned to a downtown acquisition project, a potential development on 520 Porter where we need to clear the lot.”

“Huh, okay,” Elijah strangely got interested. “So what is it that you are removing?”

“Currently the future site of the Carmichael Settlement on Porter is occupied by this park we are lounging in right now.”

“This park?” Elijah was surprised. “But it’s stunning! There’s so much life and nature here. You wanna tear it down?”

“It is an eyesore and it occupies a lot with high economic potential. It is better suited for development.”

“How could you be such a soulless jerk?” Elijah scolded, getting angrier faster than he had anticipated. He began caring less and less about the job and more about his own morality. Sure, Elijah got how important money was, but he didn’t think he would be able to live with the guilt of destroying an animal’s habitat, let alone an entire population’s. “Don’t you understand what you would be doing? The impact this will have?”

“I’m offended by your tone.” Even after being insulted, Keating’s voice still sounded low, slow, and empty. His eyes however seemed to flare up before he continued. “And yes, I understand exactly the impact this will have. It will create a serviceable, profitable property for the Carmichael Corporation, which in turn will compensate me with enough money to survive. That is what any respectable man like you and I would desire.”

“Survive?” Elijah mocked, now getting extremely annoyed that Keating had compared the two of them.

“Obviously.” Keating wasn’t defending himself, but instead explaining what he thought was a common fact. “I just bought a house out in Fenwick, the only neighborhood in this squalid city with expansive acreage, tree-shaded streets, and good schools. It is very difficult to purchase a home in that neighborhood, especially one with the seven bedrooms, four floors, and private tennis court I required. Plus, I’m working on my country club application. The application fee alone is $50,000. Looking over your records earlier, I had gathered that was something you desired as well, correct?”

“Yes, that is true.” The idea was buried inside Elijah’s mind. Far from feeling like a fresh fantasy, it was embedded deep, as though it had always been there, as though he’d always wanted to buy a giant mansion in a gated neighborhood with an expensive country club. It was always the goal to move out to Fenwick for corporate shark Elijah.

“I am relieved that that is settled.” Keating opened his briefcase to reveal a combination of different documents, papers, and a massive book that Elijah couldn’t believe fit in the bag. Keating proceeded to pull it out and flipped open to a page somewhere in the middle.

“To become an Associate, you will first be assigned underneath me as a Junior before moving up the ladder. You will still make a good deal of money however, so do not feel too unsettled. Do you understand?”

Although they were maintaining a shared gaze, Keating was not able to read the confusion on Elijah’s face.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’s correct.” Elijah was here for a position in the financial department, not to be an Associate, so he was embarrassed to point out the error that Keating had made. Not embarrassed enough however to not correct him.

“As a Junior Associate, you’d start with a baseline of 100 plus three percent commission with incentives quarterly based on goals and projects,” Keating answered, once again misreading. “I believe that will be appropriate compensation, am I accurate?”

“Yes, indeed you are,” Elijah replied cheerfully, glad that the issue was all cleared up. He had wanted to start as an Associate right away as he was worried it the Junior position wouldn’t give him the pay he had hoped for, but apparently it wasn’t that far below. Plus, if he did well, he could quickly move up like Keating had.

“Your job will require calls, lots of calls,” Keating droned, his piercing eyes drilling right into Elijah’s. “Calls to landowners, historical groups, insurance companies, auctioneers, all with their own opinions and interests. A few calls will be less productive, with upset protestors yelling at you about our improvement upon the lot. You will have to decelerate your speech to command attention better. Be direct and contain emotions. You will be better suited to appear calm and in control at all times. There is no need to ever appear energetic or excited.”

The hurling of information confused Elijah. “So you are saying I shouldn’t care about the clients?”

“Yes,” Keating confirmed. “You can try being sympathetic, but you will quickly find that being stern and direct will get them off the line quicker so you can return to work. Based off of what I have already perceived, this will not be a hindrance.”

“Thank you.” Elijah found himself mimicking Keating’s voice: deep, dull, and disinterested.

“There are many perks of the job, including a corporate gym on the fifth floor which I highly recommend you use.” After investigating Elijah’s long, fit body, Keating brought his eyes back to Elijah’s own. “We expect every man to have a sense of presence at the Carmichael Corporation. Currently, you are far from meeting those standards.”

“What do you mean by that?” Elijah responded. It was hard for a man of his height to keep a healthy weight. A high metabolism meant he was always fairly skinny, but he didn’t expect it would be such a problem.

“The gym is a good source of weight training,” Keating continued, ignoring the question. “I personally workout an hour before work each day and one hour afterwards. You will be expected to maintain a similar routine. It appears however that you already understand the importance of presence, but if you are interested in a tour of the corporate gym I would not be affronted.”

“Thank you, I would be very fond of that.” Elijah smiled politely after his reply, moving his legs a little under the picnic table. At 6’3, it was a little difficult for him to keep his well-defined legs under the table, but he managed. Although he’d left golf after college (and hoped to get back into it with his admission into the country club) Elijah had made sure to keep his body in excellent shape by working out almost everyday. His proof could be seen through the skin-tight quarter-zip sweater and the black khaki’s that hugged his meaty quads and calves.

“At the Carmichael Corporation, we do have a dress code, but it is reasonably undemanding.” Keating turned the manual around to show Elijah. The page that Keating had flipped to displayed a model covered head to toe in a full, very dapper yet very posh suit. Elijah’s eyes fluttered quickly before looking back to Keating for confirmation.

“‘Reasonably undemanding’?”

“I would say so. A suit works as the foundation of a man’s future in business.” Keating closed the handbook and placed it back into his briefcase. Elijah could have sworn a tiny smile crept onto the corners of Keating’s mouth during the action. “I appreciate that you have already generated this knowledge.”

“I’m glad you noticed,” Elijah flourished, his voice still plodding. Elijah had made sure to pick out an outfit that had shown off all of his best features. First, a drab, beige, perfectly-cut jacket with matching pleated pants, accompanied by a striped salmon button-up that contrasted well against his pale skin. He had matched his coffee-colored tie to similar shaded Size 13 tassel loafers and a pair of bronze supports that were hidden expertly beneath his coat. Finally, he had styled his blond hair into a fashionable ivy-league cut, making sure to also get a fresh shave earlier that morning. Just the thought of himself in the outfit made him perk up inside his white briefs, bringing his dick to a 6.5-inch mast.

“There are only a few more things we must address, one being your character and ethics.”

“What is it the company expects?” Elijah asked.

“You must understand,” Keating glared. “the Carmichael Corporation expects every man to share the same morale system. We want a unified front; a collective conscience per say.”

“Alright,” Elijah accepted. “What are these shared values?”

“There are the equitable ideals like marrying a woman of the same class, having an abundance of children, and being a member of good standing at multiple prestigious clubs.”

Elijah sighed to himself quietly while still maintaining eye contact, disappointed in these old-fashioned beliefs.

“At the Carmichael Corporation, we also have intimate objectives that stand high above the others. You must want to move upwards on the corporate ladder. You must want to fully commit yourself to your work. You must want to embody everything a man should be: big, strong, soon to be rich. You must want to be every title a man should own: sportsman, fraternity brother, and avaricious. You want money, do you not?”

“Yes,” Elijah confirmed deliberately. “I want money.” This brought a greedy sneer spread to Keating’s face. Elijah felt like a low, deep, and great truth had awoke inside him. Luckily, the Carmichael Corporation’s principles had aligned perfectly to his own.

“Very good.” Keating eyes also seemed to grin wildly. “Now, two imperative adjustments I would personally like to make. The first is your name.”

“My name?” Elijah opposed.

“Yes, you will need something stronger, more outdated to establish yourself as a man of the Carmichael Corporation. Is that not true?”

“Yes, I do believe that to be true,” Elijah suddenly affirmed. “Please tell me what you think my name should be.”

“Your name is not the only dilemma however, but also your nationality,” Keating resumed. “I believe a British origin would give you a brilliant presence. More mannerful, much more respectable, and it would help establish you as a leading man. Plus, a legacy will give you generational value. What do you think?”

“I-”

“But,” Keating cut off before Elijah could even attempt to reply. “I should not be bashful in saying that you already represent all those factors. Care to agree, Emerson Foley Gillingham-Smyth?”

“Most certainly,” Emerson acknowledged accordingly in a pretentious accent. He was a diligent, hard-working, and prosperous Brit, and those were only the first words that came to his head. Some may have called him smug and arrogant, but he was really just confident and self-assured. He resembled the epitome of a real man, as displayed by his stunning suit that contrasted his tanned skin eloquently. His dark, chestnut hair and beard also gave off a shocking amount of masculinity. Just the thought of himself and his own superiority made him perk up inside his white briefs, bringing his dick to a 9-inch mast. He was by no means a repulsive sodomite, but he could admit a handsome man when he saw one. And he was a handsome man.

“So what do you convey, Keating Eckley Whitlyn, Jr.?” Emerson began, taking a stand with his Size 15 feet planted firmly beneath him. “Do you believe I could become a Junior Associate at the Carmichael Corporation.”

“By all means,” Keating replied, getting up and extending a hand forward. “You’ll be a fashionable fit.” They gave a single sturdy shake before finishing their business. While heading towards the exit, they held a light conversation about stocks, each having grabbed a business edition of the Times along the way.

Gripping the paper tightly as they drifted away from the park, Emerson felt almost restless. The idea of stripping away that atrocity of a park to add in a new, profitable site was so thrilling it was mildly arousing. After his success here, Emerson knew he would receive a promotion, which pleased him mightily. Making their way across a boulevard, Emerson watched the Carmichael Corporation’s headquarters come into view, the place where he knew he would accomplish everything he desired.

Good Game

---

Originally posted on 2022-06-06 by dumb-and-jocked.

This was a collaboration piece with @rozza22365.

---

“Babe, how did you know exactly what I needed?” Brenden asked, skipping happily along the trail with his boyfriend’s hand in his own.

“I have my ways,” Chaz replied nonchalantly, although it was evident he’d thought about this long and hard. The whole day had gone according to his plan of making Brenden feel as relaxed as possible. After a very stressful promotion process at Brenden’s hair salon, Chaz knew the 22-year-old was going to need a break. He planned a romantic weekend getaway involving time at the beach, a stroll through the local park, and a fancy meal for dinner followed by “dessert”. Chaz was working hard to help his boyfriend take a step back from reality. Brenden just needed to slow down to keep his miniature body from exploding.

And by miniature, Chaz meant the 5’5 skinnier-than-a-flagpole twink hopping beside him like a delicate gazelle. His stick-like figure (along with the platinum-blonde locks gelled up in the front and a pair of beach balls in the back) often made him a target for bullying, including homophobia. Luckily, Chaz was usually enough to scare them off. The recent college-grad was only 5’11, but thanks to his many years on the swim team had developed a modest frame. He’d also gained a comfortability with public speaking and argumentation thanks to his political science degree. Once he got a job, then Chaz believed he would have everything he would need to be happy in life.

“Oh! Honey, look!”

Before Chaz could even follow Brenden’s sight line, his boyfriend was already skidding across the field. Chaz walked comfortably behind, smiling as he noticed how the light breeze blew through Brenden’s salmon-striped tank and ripped white jeans. Chaz thought about catching up, but he didn’t want to run in his cheap sandals. Not only that, but the last thing he wanted to do was rip his khakis and sweat through his casual button-up. It was already pretty warm out, so any extra effort might have strained Chaz’s body in ways that wouldn’t be attractive.

“Yum…” Brenden was basically drooling as Chaz joined him at the top of the hill. About 200 feet away were a group of jocks wrapping up what looked to be a game of baseball. They all appeared to be around the same age as the couple, except each was about double the size of both boyfriends put together. Even from a distance, one could see the jocks’ bulging muscles, shimmering layer of sweat, and (thanks to their lack of shirts) set of washboard abs. And their gym shorts perfectly showcased the numerous perky behinds and overstuffed pouches. With their hats all turned backwards as well, they looked exactly like the stereotypical college jocks.

“No kidding…” Chaz joined in the ogling, watching as they packed up their gear and started heading out. The boyfriends couldn’t stop admiring how the jocks looked, strutted, and acted. Their physical features weren’t the only thing the pair noticed however. The jocks were all engaging in playful gay banter, fake-kissing and bromanticizing with each other. Although it was pretty obvious that all of them were typical arrogant, straight boys pretending to be men, Brenden and Chaz couldn’t help but fantasize about the simplicity of their life.

The couple watched on as the jocks got into two lines facing opposite directions, ready to give each other the classic “Good Game” sendoff. However, instead of giving high-fives, they instead swatted every butt playfully. Brenden and Chaz bit their lip, every jiggle of a straight male’s buttock translating into a tiny pulse of pleasure through their modest boners.

“Did we…” Chaz started. “Did we just get baited?”

“No, at least I don’t think so,” Brenden retorted, taking a breath. “I think that was all natural. Nothing gay about it.”

“No homo,” Chaz imitated in a broish tone, gaining a laugh out of his boyfriend. “Ready to head out, sweetheart?”

“Just a second.” Brenden was still looking down at the field. “I think the boys might’ve left us a present.”

Sitting on home base lay two blue baseball caps. Making sure no one else was watching, Brenden instantly made a run for it. With a small smirk, Chaz followed behind at a quicker stroll. Apparently tonight’s “dessert” was going to involve roleplay.

“Chazzy! How do I look?”

The blue hat sat comfortably on Brenden’s head, the bill shading his cute face from the harsh sun.

“Exactly like them,” Chaz responded sarcastically, placing the other hat on his head.

“Thanks, bro,” Brenden replied in his version of a broish tone before leaning in for a kiss.

“Mmm!” Chaz was surprised to feel his boyfriend’s tongue quickly slide through his mouth. Once they pulled apart, Chaz stopped any further affection, “Darling, let’s roleplay when we get home.”

“But no one’s here,” Brenden whined. “No one will see us. Now, flip your cap around.”

Chaz quickly surrendered, too horny to use any of the argumentation skills he had learned over the years. Rushed, he did one more sweep around the field before following instructions. Brenden flipped his own as well, letting the front of his quiff pour out of the empty hole in the front. Instantly, the pair felt a sharp shock strike through their bodies. They physically lurched in extreme agony for a moment, but seconds later they had already forgotten about the pain.

“So what do you say, babe,” Brenden tried replicating his broish tone again. “Should we…”

Chaz, getting the memo, leaned down for a kiss. He closed his eyes, ready to feel his boyfriend's soft lips touch the bottom of his own. Chaz kept feeling himself get lower and lower, but eventually he became confused as to why he hadn’t reached Brenden yet.

“Dude! Open your eyes!”

Chaz’s eyelids lifted to reveal Brenden’s crotch right in his face.

“Ah ew babe!” Chaz backed away in disgust. “How could you prank me like that?” Brenden however was laughing so hard that Chaz could see each one of his skinny abs rippling on his lanky body. The 6’5 beanpole was cackling up a storm.

“Gotcha!”

“I didn’t even realize I had leaned in so far,” Chaz joined in with Brenden’s jovial nature. At 6’4, he must’ve bent almost straight down in order to get to his boyfriend’s crotch. “Ok, so can I kiss you now?”

“No bro, we’re still roleplaying.” Chaz noticed how Brenden was getting more in touch with his broish tone, so he decided to follow suit.

“Alright then…broski…what’s next?”

“What’s next babe is a game of gay chicken.” Brenden appeared extremely eager for this. Chaz could tell by the way his boyfriend’s cut-like-steel and shaped-like-diamonds calves bounced excitedly back and forth.

“What’s that?” Chaz replied, positioning his own legs out into a kickstand. Thanks to his khaki shorts, people were also able to see the fine, rugged calves he owned. Similarly cut like Brenden’s, yet just a little tanner and meatier. Although if Chaz ever brought this up, Brenden would just compete by acknowledging how he was slightly taller so his calves were drawn out more.

“It’s simple, bro. It’s where basically two dudes get as close to a kiss while trying not to. The person who kisses first loses.”

Chaz considered this, a little thrown off by the game. The rules seemed simple enough, but why would his boyfriend want to play this? Chaz was so horned up right now that he could just stick his head between Brenden’s two massive thighs. Chaz could just daydream about how if he placed his skull into Brenden’s gym shorts, then his boyfriend would probably be able to break him open like a ripe watermelon. Their chunky, meaty size was almost tangible, but unfortunately that’s not the game his boyfriend wanted to play right now. Chaz instead reminded himself that it could happen tonight for dessert.

“Ok, I’m in,” Chan announced, suddenly enthused over the prospect of a challenge. He clapped his own thighs together in anticipation, sending ripples across his soft and muscular quads. Just like his boyfriend’s, they too filled his own gym shorts nicely, looking like candy with a tight wrapper.

“Sweet dude! Since I brought the game up I have to go first.” Although Brender had seemed excited, Chan noted the new tone in his voice. The use of “have'' accented a new emotion laced into his boyfriend’s words: fear. The emotion was also evident in the way Brender’s torso was super tense. The man’s abs were extremely hard, flexed to their max capacity. His tender pecs were solid while his silver-dollar nipples were rock hard. Even the man’s delts displayed apprehension, hiding away from their true larger-than-life wingspan.

Slowly but surely, Brender slowly reclined forward. To make sure he didn’t get too close and lose in the first round, he placed a porcelain hand against Chan’s carved chest. He subtly felt up his boyfriend’s 6-pack, noting how each one felt like a stone plucked straight from the earth. Brender’s finger ran up the valley into the upper torso, giving each of the mounds of flesh Chan called pectorals a cheeky squeeze. He also made sure to give a little flick to one of Chan’s nipples, which truly looked more like an udder than something meant for nothing.

Brendor got close, but he paused at about 6 inches. “Gonna be hard for you to beat that!”

“Pfft, sure bro.” Chant was pretty confident this wouldn’t be as difficult as his boyfriend had made it look. Chant took a similarly sluggish speed that Brendor had, making sure to move forward at a cautious pace. To assure he didn’t fall forward, Chant grabbed his boyfriend’s massive arms. Brendor’s forearms were so long and sturdy with veins accentuating their muscular mass. His biceps were so firm and his triceps had a similar amount of vigor. Even the other man’s hands were gigantic, looking big and solid enough to catch a baseball without the mitt.

Getting to the 6-inch mark that Brendor had made it to, Chant slowed down his pace even more. He felt his own brawny appendages become strained, his own veins snaking across robust arms. Similarly to Brendor, Chant’s biceps stood as two proud mounds atop his tanned flesh. His triceps had a identical mass, and his forearms displayed a strength that had been built up over years of hard work. His heavily-calloused, giant hands only furthered the argument by looking more fit for a package of Hamburger Helper than a human being. Right as he passed Brendor’s previous attempt, Chant gave an obnoxious set of kissy lips before taking a step back.

“Almost had me there bro,” Brenor replied in a tone that was deep, masculine, and empty.

“Huhuhuh, you wish dude.” Chent couldn’t help but guffaw, his voice an almost identical replica. Absentmindedly adjusting his rope wristband, Chent felt a rush of adrenaline race through him as he said, “Ball’s in your court.”

Brenor gave a quick nod, his bulging Adam’s apple shaking in agreement. Bending his tremendous upper traps, Brenor approached Chent’s face once again. While watching his boyfriend dip closer, Chent took his time studying every part of the other man’s face. A square jaw loosened gently with some baby fat that made him look extra adorable. Eyebrows bushy but his brown hair was at a crew cut length beneath the cap. Big nose to circulate air while working out and fading eye black to advertise that there wasn’t much behind those dull brown eyes.

Reaching in on Chent’s last milestone, Brenor carefully cupped one of his gargantuan hands against his boyfriend’s face to steady himself. He loved how it perfectly fit against the other man’s carved jaw, the way it caressed the other man’s Neatherandthal-like bone structure. He couldn’t stop himself from analyzing Chent’s crooked nose after being broken from a previous game, or the way that his blond crew cut matched his light eyebrows. Even Chent’s lackluster eyes had a certain shine to them. He wasn’t hypnotized by the looks however, he was just purely appreciating aesthetics. And with that realization, Brenor pulled away gleefully.

“Let’s go bro!” Brevor cheered, stomping his Size 15 blue Nike’s hard on the ground.

“I thought I was just about to win there, babe.” Crent playfully kicked Brevor’s shin with a Size 14 black Adidas, not noticing how the term of endearment had come out more like an insult. Noting his socks had fallen down a little, he faithfully bent down to pull them up before continuing.

“You still have time to surrender,” Crent sniggered.

“Nah bro, you’re about to fade!” Brevor may have been right, that last stretch was getting close. But that didn’t mean Crent was going to give up! Confidently, he grabbed his boyfriends behind and pulled him in. Crent may have been focusing on his game of gay chicken, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t allowed to feel up his bro’s ample bottom on the side. And wow, was he glad he did. It was thick and tough. Soft, yet too muscular to derive any pleasure from. Sneakily, Crent shoved a finger into Brevor’s butthole, finding it was way too tight to be welcoming.

“Hey!” Brevor yelped.

“Sorry, brohama,” Crent purred. “I’m just luring you in.”

“The point of the game isn’t to turn me on, dude,” Brevor sneered. “That’s a different game of gay chicken.”

“I just gotta get comfortable, bro. Just doin’ the same thing to you I do to a…”

Crent stopped himself, unsure of what word was supposed to finish that sentence. Instead of dwelling on it however, he continued. With one hand still on the butt, Crent slowly explored the rest of Brevor’s midsection. He found a pair of heavy kumquats hiding in the man’s shorts, so large they were probably painful to contain in clothing. Above those was his boyfriend’s babymaker, a soft 7 inch sausage stuffed not so subtly. Right as Crent passed Brevor’s previous point, mere centimeters away from the lips, Crent gave the other man’s dick a quick squeeze and backed off.

“Is somebro feeling a little frisky?” Brevor remarked.

“We’ll see when you kiss me,” Crent antagonized back. Not being one to back down, Brevor stuck his hand right into Crent’s shorts. Finding the soft 7 inch joystick, he pulled the other man so close that he could feel Crent’s balls rub against his. Even though they were separated by layers of fabric, Brevor was able to feel their succulent, robust nature. After giving the pouch a good squeeze, Brevor found that Crent’s buttocks shared the same descriptive adjectives. Succulent and robust, but also tense.

“What…what are you doing…bro?” Crent murmured, finding Brevor’s actions were a little less playful than his own.

“I’m losing.”

And with that, Brevor pushed himself into Crent’s lips. At first it was only Brevor kissing, but Crent got the memo and quickly began reciprocating. It wasn’t very long and it wasn’t involving tongues, but it was a kiss nonetheless. Both of the men felt odd and weird about the kiss, but part of them felt good about it too.

Immediately, the two men felt their dicks get hard followed by a constantly-looming need to touch them. Being preoccupied by their strange kiss however, they could only think of one way to resolve their issue: grinding. The two bros instantly started humping each other, as if the same, horny thought process was guiding their decisions. But with each rub against the other body, their attraction and horniness faded, becoming nothing more but amusement towards each other. The thought of actually liking each other felt pretty gay. And the more the two bros shared their gaze while kissing and humping, the less desire they felt. Instead, they discovered a great friendship and comradery towards each other.

The fading of attraction towards was closely followed by their homosexuality as a whole. Even though they were physically with their bro, they were mentally dreaming about boobs and tight pussy. Their homosexualities weren’t the only things disappearing however, as their IQ had been steadily dropping during their entire process of “appreciation of the male form”. Their minds began restructuring, new memories settling in and piecing together their new lives.

Flashes of sports, porn, and endless sex. Bad grades and rich parents, privileged backgrounds and dull futures. Lots of banter with the bros, even a bit of gay banter. Obviously, they sucked and jerked their bros off every now and then but that wasn't gay–just dude stuff. Sometimes they even destroyed nerds’ holes in order to make them do their homework, but as long as they topped it wasn’t gay. And a simple “no homo” always cleared things up though.

Laughing more as they humped, the two men (if they could really be called that) began thinking of this more as a stupid game. With so many memories of banging and impregnating countless cheerleaders and sorority chicks over the years, the thought of being gay seemed like a foreign concept. Just the idea of motorboating or ramming their cocks and seeding some bimbo made the two jocks want to-

“OH BRO!” they both shouted in unison as giant blasts of cum soaked the front of their shorts. With IQs under 90, the pair began showcasing the best of male intellect by jokingly rubbing their wet fronts against each other.

“You’re such a fag, bro!” Trent guffawed. “I knew I was gonna win.”

“Oh whatever dude,” Trevor huffed. “I wasn’t the fairy who was enjoying it.”

They both continued bantering with each other before realizing the rest of their crew had already gone back to the frat house. Accepting defeat for now, Trevor smirked and gave Trent a playful spank.

“Good game, bro,” Trevor ceded. “But I’ll getcha next time.” Trent chuckled dully before giving a smack back to Trevor’s behind.

“Sure, broski. Good game.”

Table of contents

Hi I'm a long time lurker on the platform and have been reading TF stories for quite a while.

Ever since Tumblr started cracking down and seeing my favorite blogs disappearing left and right I've started archiving some of my favorite posts.

I'll be reposting some stories from my archive. There's some stories that I can not find the original post nor author for so please help me with finding them!

Stories (author unknown):

A day at the beach

Aronik

Body to brag

Civilian Casualties

Taller and Stronger

Stories (author deactivated)

3TH93USA [dumb-and-jocked]

Admirable Confidence [makingrealalphas]

A Gamer's Paradise [paradisetf]

Alpha Orders [dumb-and-jocked]

Ape boy [realhankmccoy]

Ball Practice [time-to-transform]

Be of Service [dumb-and-jocked]

Becoming Bryce [newyoutf]

Branded [dumb-and-jocked]

Bro-Job [dumb-and-jocked]

Chronivac Coworkers [davidrodge]

Cop Out [newyoutf]

Drawn [breedertfs]

Everything has a price [makingrealalphas]

For a better life [makingrealalphas]

Gearing Up! [ZacharyEverlust@DA]

Gnarly Tides [ZacharyEverlust@DA]

Good Game [dumb-and-jocked]

Gym Goggles [ZacharyEverlust@DA]

Here's to 28! [dumb-and-jocked]

Hotel Korea: Chapter One [dumb-and-jocked]

Hotel Korea: Chapter Two [dumb-and-jocked]

Hotel Korea: Chapter Three [dumb-and-jocked]

Hotel Korea: Chapter Four [dumb-and-jocked]

Identity Death [dumb-and-jocked]

Josh [dumbbro]

Kenny's Uniform [makingrealalphas]

Level Up! [themuscleparadise]

Protocol 69 [dumb-and-jocked]

Red Wave [dumb-and-jocked]

Set Free [breedertfs]

Swapsidite stone [dumb-and-jocked]

Swimming Confidence [ZacharyEverlust]

The Bald Bug [dumb-and-jocked]

The Driver: Richard [dumbmusclejockboi]

The Interviews [dumb-and-jocked]

Totally Normal [dumb-and-jocked]

White Hat [grandwagonranchmaker]

Story index:

TheBurdenBorne

Breedertfs/Hogtfs

If you are the writer of any of these stories and you want them deleted please let me know.

Reposted with explicit permission:

Barbarian Dungeon [cinaedefuri]

Removed on request of author:

Ancestral roots [@king-craftsman]

Briefs make a jock [@king-craftsman]

Cody Christian [@king-craftsman]

New Cologne [@king-craftsman]

Officer Davies [@king-craftsman]

Strange Oil [@king-craftsman]

Nanites [@cinaedefuri2]

Original creations:

The Rings: Jake [me]

Fighters Paradise [me]

Geared Up [me]

Do you have what it takes? [me]

Massive & Mindless [me]

Red Wave

--- Originally posted on 2023-01-05 by dumb-and-jocked ---

Ethan rushed home as fast as he could, excited to finally be able to play the most popular video game on the market. At $25, Red Wave certainly wasn’t one of the most expensive games out there, but it had still been out of Ethan’s price range when it had dropped a few weeks ago. Since then, the game had blown up all over the internet and had even been promoted in the news. Well, Fox News (they had thought the title “Red Wave” was associated with the prophesied Republican rebound), but still news nonetheless. 

People were obsessed with it, and it was pretty obvious why. Although Ethan hadn’t actually played the game yet, he already knew how it worked. Red Wave was an alternative survival game, one of those campaign-style strategies where the player tries to live as long as possible under growing amounts of enemies. It was paintball, blue versus red. As the game progressed, the player was able to buy upgrades and unlock new parts of the map, but every round a new “red wave” would descend upon them. 

What made the game unique however was that if the player was hit by a red paintball, they could not earn health back. They would be stuck with that health throughout the rest of the game until it was slowly lowered down to 0. Not only that, but Red Wave could only be played once through. Somehow, the company behind the game had been able to put an uninstaller agent deeply rooted inside the game. This meant that once the player died, the game deleted itself permanently from the console’s system and became completely inaccessible. Since Red Wave had launched, nobody had been able to figure out how to reinstall the game back on its original console.

Unlocking his apartment’s front door, Ethan quickly shut it behind him and kicked off his loafers. He then loosened his tie and threw his argyle socks towards the hamper. Usually, Ethan would have been a less careless when he got home, but the 5'7 gaymer was way too excited to dive into Red Wave. Within moments, he had his console booting up and then the game purchased and downloaded. 

While he waited, Ethan strolled to the mirror underneath his pride flag to unbutton his shirt a little, noting that it was a bit tight near the bottom. It seemed like the fast-food lunches he’d recently been treating himself to were taking a toll, the small paunch alerting him that he didn’t have an athlete’s metabolism. Not only that, but the fat gathering up around his cheeks was certainly not to be blamed on by his youth. The curly, black locks paired with the chubby face did make him look boyish however.

“Maybe I should start dieting…” Ethan mumbled as he heard a ding from across the room. Instantly, he rushed over to his chair and grabbed the controller. Red Wave was displayed broadly on the monitor. Flashes of red blotched themselves on the screen, and without hesitating Ethan pressed play. He was then presented with the initial agreement and warning, stating that the player would only be able to engage in the game once and when started would not be able to stop. Besides money, that was also why Ethan had waited so long to play the game–he wanted to see how long he could make it without stopping. With the whole weekend ahead of him, he was sure he’d get himself an impressive, braggable score.

The game was pretty simple at first. Ethan was equipped with a basic paintball gun, and his blue paintballs would knock out the red opponents before they even had a chance to fight back. Ethan was a pretty invested gaymer, but video games were always second to the real world for him. As a founding member of his university’s branch of the Gender-Sexuality Alliance and the president of the Business Casual Club along with the work of his graduate studies, Ethan was almost always focused on reality. However, when he did have time to escape to a virtual world, Ethan would always be found with a controller between his gentle hands. And he had become good at shooter games because of it.

A couple of hours had passed by and Ethan had already unlocked a third of the map, upgraded his paintball gun to fire more rounds at once, and had unlocked a variety of paint bombs. Currently, he was saving up for a bowling ball explosive–a giant blue paintball that would roll down the enemy team and explode after a few seconds. Ethan did notice that each new wave was getting a little more difficult though. The enemies were always a little bit faster, a little bit more competent, and had recently begun spawning themselves in numbers that Ethan couldn’t take out all at once. He wasn’t alarmed however; he still had too many things to unlock and plenty of time left.

When he got hit by a red paintball the first time, Ethan was literally shocked. As in physically shocked. His controller sent out a tiny pulse that sparked across Ethan’s bloodstream, causing him to twitch as the red paint stained itself on his blue player. It was harsh, but Ethan owed it to Red Wave having impressive haptics. In the top left corner of his screen, he watched as his blue health bar lowered just barely. It tainted itself a little too, becoming a darker hue. The concentrated smile that Ethan had been wearing faltered slightly, but in moments he had regained himself and the round was over. He quickly reloaded his gun and moved around the map to purchase some more items.

While Ethan prepared for the next round, he didn’t notice that his body had stretched along his gaming chair. Once at an average height, his torso and legs had elongated after the initial shock that had emitted from his controller. Inch by inch, his bones lengthened and brought flesh and tissue along with it. By the time the round had finished, Ethan would now stand at a well-reaching 6’1. But due to him sitting down, Ethan didn’t register that his head was now almost completely above his gaming chair, or that he was now leaning back slightly in order to give his legs more room.

Ethan continued on, racking up additional points as he became more invested in the game. As time ticked by, Ethan gained stronger power-ups. By four hours in, he was able to run faster across the map, now granting himself access to half of the rooms available. Just a little while later, his paintball gun was upgraded to having two barrels, allowing him to shoot more than one blue-splattering bullet at a time. He gained access to more explosives and traps, and was soon covering the map in different devices to explode any red enemies before they even reached him.

A second shock emitted from his controller after he was hit by a sniper, a new character that had emerged only a few waves earlier. Grunting, Ethan instantly shot back and killed the enemy, yet the damage had already been done. His health bar depleted a little further, shifting into something akin to indigo. Ethan however continued playing, defending himself well against the waves of red that descended upon him. As he did, his legs slowly firmed up underneath his pressed khakis. They grew thinner and more muscular at the same time, gaining strength as they became sharpened from years of running rather than sitting. Ethan’s quads too gained bulk, solidifying as a soft coat of hair descended upon his thighs and calves.

Ethan released a small sigh as he defeated the last enemy, the blue-stained character melting downwards and dissolving into the ground. He quickly did what he had done countless times before: purchased a few traps, stored some more explosives, and browsed across the upgrades he should be saving up for. As soon as he was finished, the round number flashed on the screen and he was back in the game.

The next shock came a little bit quicker than Ethan had thought it would, and a little harder too. It had only been a few rounds since the last hit, but this time he had been caught by a sentry. The robotic cannon had landed its target on Ethan’s blue character before he had had time to react, blasting a red laser right through the player. It took a little bit more health off of him then the other hits had. Ethan blamed this on the game’s length however. The longer the game went on, then probably the harder each “red wave” would hit. The bar in the top left shifted accordingly while also brightening up a tad.

Ethan pushed forward through the round. In his chair, his straight back slowly bubbled along the surface as it filled in with muscle. His shoulders broadened outwards, but as the changes descended lower, his proportions shrunk inwards. Ethan’s growing moobs hardened and pulled back into sturdy pectorals. The expanded stomach he noted earlier imploded into itself, leaving behind defined abs. It suctioned all the way back to the iliac crest to allow for a defined Adonis belt to emerge at the bottom of Ethan’s chest. A dusting of hair also accumulated around his belly button and slowly tread its way downwards.

Ethan made it through another hour before being greeted by a fourth shock from a grenade. Luckily, he hadn’t been hit full-on, but his health did alter into a classic purple. He ran his character away from the scene to protect himself. Ethan then decided to carefully stroll through hallways to eliminate the remaining enemies in smaller groups rather than the wave all at once. Unbeknownst to him, his arms began bulking up underneath his sleeves. Although they were rather average before, they now became a little larger and toned. Nothing too dramatic, but still defined enough to garner a reaction from any stranger when displayed. His forearms also slimmed enough to display veins while a generous helping of fur coated both tops and fluffed out his armpits. Finally, his tender hands became beefy mitts as his fingers grew thick and his palms became calloused.

The next shock came rather quickly, angering Ethan slightly as he noticed he’d missed a simple guard that had spawned near a door. It took him a little longer than he thought it would to take care of the matter, but he did destroy both the guard and the rest of the wave. His health bar had now lightened into a more magenta-like shade. He further upgraded his gun and placed a few more traps, including one specifically in front of the door he’d just been caught at. He’d opened up almost all of the map and had already gotten the majority of the weapons enhancements. Now he just had to save up and survive.

Ethan may have finished the round containing the loathed guard, but not without its consequences. The spark of electricity had coursed its way up its neck, pushing the flesh outwards to make room for expanding vocal chords. His Adam’s apple became more pronounced, dropping his voice a few octaves and erasing any vocal notes of intelligence and character. His jaw was next, the chubbier cheeks sinking in as his bones cracked and restructured into a squarer, more masculine lantern cut. His nose made a gruesome crunch as it popped out and adorned a new previously-broken shape. The ears grew and studded themselves, the brow ridge jutted out a little further, and the forehead became more prominent to give Ethan a macho, yet devolved look. His hair was the last touch, straightening out and diminishing into a regular dark brown as it was pulled back and fluffed outwards at the end, as if it had been trained to permanently cushion a backwards cap.

With less than 10 upgrades yet to purchase and one room yet to unlock, Ethan cursed when he was hit by a barrage of mini shocks from a machine gun. Each shot didn’t take off too much health, but put together they brought the bar in the top left corner into a definite, murkier pink zone. It took Ethan a while to rebound back, but after a grueling back and forth, he eventually eliminated both the gunner and a good portion of the rest of the wave. He retreated back into emptier parts of the map to reuse the same strategy he had successfully conceived earlier: taking down small groups at a time.

Ethan carefully perused each room and hallway, his blue paintballs coating the red enemies before they had even spotted him. While pushing on, his attire and room shifted accordingly. The buttons on his shirt popped off one by one as the fabric was pulled together into something less starchy. The dyes darkened to black and a hood bloomed out of the collar, changing the button-up into a simpler hoodie. His khaki’s were hit next, softening and becoming cuffed at the bottom as they too blackened into ordinary sweats. Underneath, his briefs expanded into faded, well-used checkered boxers, and upon his head arrived the black baseball cap his hair had been anxiously waiting for. 

The changes around Ethan’s room also faced various levels of simplification. His attire became copies of what he was wearing, and the articles themselves were now tossed on the floor and dirty rather than hung in the closet and clean. Dirty dishes piled in the sink, a layer of dust and grime laid itself carefully around the apartment, and a bulk supply of pregnancy tests appeared underneath the desk. Behind Ethan, the pride flag above his mirror shifted too. The rainbow stripes faded into a deep navy as bolded, white letters displayed themselves upon the fabric to proclaim a different form of pride.

It had taken Ethan awhile, but he eventually purchased the last of the upgrades for his paintball gun. All he had left was the final room to completely unlock the map. It was extremely expensive, but he assumed it was for a good reason. He didn’t know what happened when he would open that last room (Did it complete the game, or would he have to keep going until he died?), but he assumed it had to be glorious. Ethan would have to play it extra safe however, because before he realized it another sniper had once again hit him and brought his health to a strawberry hue.

Propping his feet up on the desk holding his monitor, Ethan leaned further back into his chair as he dedicated his entire focus to Red Wave. Because of this, he didn’t see his feet slowly bloating upwards and outward even though they were right in front of him. Each tiny, miniscule bone cracked and stretched as his toes plumped out and grew like tiny stalks upwards. His soles plumped as tiny hairs raced across the tops of the growing landscapes. As a cherry on top, a soft, yet potent smell began to emerge from the new wide and heavy Size 13 feet. Yet their larger, cushiony nature was yet to be observed by Ethan who was completely concentrated on unlocking that last room.

After some careful, patient grinding, Ethan had finally earned enough money to expand into the final part of the map. He didn’t know what would come next, or how long he would continue fighting on, but he was ready. He had completely lost track of time, and by now the round numbers were just a blur when they passed by. It had become too bothersome to interpret the Roman numerals, so Ethan had just started to ignore them. Licking his lips anxiously, he finished the current round and instantly ran his character over to the final room. Ethan was feeling less excited and more determined at this point to open the room, the game having transformed into a mission. But he was still excited nonetheless. In seconds, Ethan had the room unlocked and opened the door.

Immediately, the entire monitor flashed red as a nuke went off in his character’s face. The last room had been a trap; it was impossible for any player to continue on at that point. Seconds later, the remaining portion of Ethan’s health bar disappeared, replacing itself with the same red that the enemy team wore. Ethan didn’t mind however. In fact, he didn’t even comprehend what had happened. That final hit had sent another shock like the ones he’d felt before, but this time it had paralyzed him completely. It was almost like Ethan had been paused in time.

At least, mentally paused in time. The shock still brought along its physical effects, this time to Ethan’s pouch. His modest 4 inch softie instantly hardened to its full erect glory, but in moments it was throbbing. It pulsed as if someone was blowing up a balloon, each throb pumping it a little larger until it was an enhanced 8.5 inches. Ethan’s balls experienced a similar inflation, descending with weight as they covered themselves in a wiry forest of pubes. Across the perineum, his butthole shrunk and tightened while his glutes became larger and solidified, no longer serving the purpose they once dutifully fulfilled for previous boyfriends and in nightclub restrooms.

With his character dead, Red Wave finished out what it was intended to do. Just like what had been discussed all over media, the game began to uninstall itself from Ethan’s console and delete any history of its existence. However, unlike what had been discussed all over media (except ironically by Fox News, who for once spoke the truth), Red Wave began to uninstall and delete any history of Ethan’s existence. The game’s true purpose was to enact the long predicted Republican return: transforming every player by the end of the game into a fully-devoted, heterosexual, God-and-gay-fearing conservative. Players were expected to die about midway through the game, but the final room was placed as a fail-safe to ensnare every last participant.

So, as Red Wave destroyed itself and any evidence of its presence, it also deteriorated Ethan’s existence. His personality was dragged down into his churning balls, along with his organized nature, preppy values, and crafty intelligence. His kind, bright attitude was ripped away, leaving room for a more cocky, aggressive being. His views and morals were simplified and tied back to tradition, no longer swayed by the repulsive, modern “progress” of today. Ethan’s homosexuality too was torn away, each piece of his gay identity plucked in order to reveal a shallower, more malevolent shell. Ethan felt each shift go through him like a shock. One moment, he was bisexual, the next a straight ally. But eventually he embraced his final form–a homophobic breeder.

The entire uninstalling process itself seemed like it had taken hours, but it was truly only a few minutes. As Red Wave approached its final seconds on Ethan’s console, his dick began to tremble like a great volcano. Inside his boxers, his two drooping testicles were churning the remains of Ethan, deleting his entirety as it was being prepared for its own uninstallation. Still under the magnetic pause of the game, Ethan’s dull eyes watched as Red Wave’s uninstallation completed, sending forth one final shock. The spark raced across Ethan’s system and instantly triggered his hefty cock to eject the massive load, removing any remnants of his former life and blasting them all across his already-stained boxer shorts.

“Huh wha…” Eric awoke from his sudden stupor. “Ahhh dude...!”

The vocal fry was apparent as Eric took one of his hands off the controller and investigated his sweats, which now had a wet, growing splotch emerging from his pouch. He hated wasting a load when it totally could’ve gone in some chick. In Eric’s eyes, nutting alone was basically a crime against his babymaker.

Although his crotch was sticky and would later become stained, Eric didn’t do anything about it. He wasn’t some faggy liberal after all–he was a real man who did real manly things. If he had a massive dick and was constantly pumping stomachs, then he had a right to show that off. He wasn’t gonna let some blue-lovin’, cock-suckin’, atheist freak take away his rights! 

And Eric knew he would always win in the battle of red versus blue. Faggots were always lining up to do anything for their superiors. They’d pay him tons of cash for a used sock. Clean the apartment thoroughly before some bimbo came over to be filled that night just to get the privilege of massaging his massive feet for a half an hour. Plus, Eric had now realized that if he led them on enough, they’d go to the polls and vote red, even if the candidate was campaigning to remove gay rights. Despite having just blown a load seconds earlier, his girthy dick was responding to the thought of knowing how many fags were waiting to serve him.

“Gotta find some slut to dump this all into,” Eric huffed as he adjusted his package. The thought of bouncing tits and wet pussy only riled him further, but with the console already booted up he decided to play a few rounds of some shooter game first. Before he did however, he noticed his juicy feet propped up in front of his monitor, uncared for and needing attention. With his sticky hand, he snatched his phone and texted one of his go-to fairies. Instantly, the boy replied back and said he was on his way to service him. Content, Eric tossed the phone onto his unmade bed and opened up a game while he waited for the fag. The Red Wave was coming, whether the libs wanted to admit it or not.