Modulated

Modulated

--- Original author: realhankmccoy ---

“I ain’t no motherfuckin’ redneck, you assholes! Don’t you fucking get it? I’ll never be ok with you being here and disrespecting our gay spaces!” I had shrieked and screamed, and I was being sassy as fuck. But they had darted me, so it was too late for me already. I had been one of the hottest little twinks in Colombia back then. I had such a tight little body, I was non-binary, and I was supportive of my local drag scene. I was absolutely into resisting these fucking fascists and their goddamn bullshit lifestyles, which I couldn’t stand.

That’s how I thought of it all back then, anyhow.

Man, that dart though, it had done its dirty work. I was writhing on the floor of the club, so I didn’t even get to witness the way it transformed me as I went into spasms. It was almost like having a seizure, but I could feel the muscle growing on me, and I could hear my shrieks and wails shift in pitch as I grew on into this whole new, far more masculine body.

I was getting to be built like a brick shithouse really fucking fast, and was taking on more of a mature look. Everywhere I was getting more muscle. I was splitting the seams of my jeans, and my underwear, and felt my back pressing up and splitting my tight pink t-shirt.

When I finally was able to sit up, I was in a daze. I had rendered my clothes asunder. I had bristles of hair all over my face, and the har on my head had grown longer, too, sort of flopping in my eyes. I was a mess.

And then the headache came. I was clutching the sides of my head and moaning, almost screaming in pain out loud, as my twinkish mind collapsed and got replaced by a growing part of me I didn’t even know existed. That part, my friends, is the motherfucking, take-charge redneck stud I am today.

My friends helped me get out of there, and I was still in transition. It takes a good seventy-two hours at least until you can fully collapse one of those weak-ass brains like the one I had before and until a more dominant, superior personality takes over like the one I was starting to get.

So yeah, like I said, I was a mess, and when my friends got me back to one of their apartments, I was still sporadically ranting about how dare those fascists do this to me, they’d never win, this was fucking awful. But as I heard myself talk, there was a growing part of me that was observing myself and thinking “so what? You sound like a raving lunatic. Look at this body! Damn, boy, just look at that muscle!”

Sleeping on it, man, that twink brain of mine must have collapsed even further. I woke up and I just wanted coffee with a splash of alcohol in it, so that’s what I got. Then I added two splashed. I had already stripped out of my shredded pink t-shirt, and my friends had some loose boxers that fit me, but I was just this naked, muscular stud in awe of his own body and trying to come to terms with who I was now.

I was seeing my friends with new eyes, too. They seemed anxious to me, weak, full of nervous, overly feminine motions, jittery, immature, skittish and mostly just kind of fucking annoying. “Those are your friends,” I’d remind myself. “This isn’t you who’s thinking this.”

But that growing part of me was thinking “This is you. This is all you, stud. You’re so much better than them. They don’t even know you’re thinking this, and if they only knew, they’d probably be terrified.” That thought made me want to laugh out loud, so I did.

“What are you laughing at?” one of them asked.

“Oh, nothing man, nothing,” I said, looking away and scratching my head. “These are your friends,” I told myself again, but I didn’t really seem to believe what I was trying to tell myself that morning. “So what if they’re your fucking friends,” my new mind was saying. “They’re fucking losers, man. Don’t let them drag you down. You ought to just get out of here.”

That morning, I was feeling just hornier and altogether more fucked up than I’d ever been. I was thinking, nah, this can’t be the new me. I’m no motherfucking redneck. I don’t think like them. But already I was feeling excited, having this body, having these different feelings, realising that I didn’t feel like such an evil guy like this, not like I thought I would, anyhow. All I wanted to do at that point in time, I felt like, was get the hell away from these people. I didn’t know to where. I borrowed some shoes and a t-shirt that was so tight it hurt, pleading that I had to get back to my apartment. It felt like the shoes would split, and the shirt was riding up on my belly, as I trotted back to my place.

I didn’t know what I was doing or what I was gonna do. When I got home, I felt thirsty, just wanting to drink a little, feeling like that would make this feel better, even though I told myself no, you have to compose yourself, you have to call people, you have to report this. Just one drink, I thought. It turned into shot after shot, and before I knew it, I was drunk, hard in my boxers, having kicked off the shoes and thrown that tight-ass shirt on the ground as soon.

Then I was beating off, and cumming, and the build-up to that orgasm, man, it flooded my brain with some real redneck juice. I wasn’t thinking of the type of guys I usually did. I was thinking about redneck studs, studs like myself, feeling the drool run down my chin as I beat off. As I came, shooting way up on my pecs, rubbing it in with my hand, I was whispering to myself, almost like a confession that I had yet to voice to anyone, “You hot fucking redneck. Holy fuck, you love this, don’t you. You’re a redneck now. Holy fuck. Holy fuck.”

The desire to live for working out and fucking was already growing in me.

Thoughts were just racing through my head then. I knew I didn’t want to be some lame-ass yuppie or some weak-ass queer, man. I felt this powerful attraction to the redneck scene, the working class scene, the country scene, the military scene, the jock scene, you name it, any scene were men were men instead of the glitter fairy I had been before. I couldn’t quite pin it all down at that point yet, but my thoughts were sure racing.

Can you picture me, getting drunk in my apartment, turned on at my own body and swirling thoughts? And then I started to really know, man. I started to know. There was no going back now. The guy I used to be was a loser. I didn’t want to be him anymore. I was pissed off that I ever even was him.

I walked barefoot into the bedroom, checking out his stuff in the drawers and on the walls. Almost none of it would even fit me anymore. His feminine attire and the way his shithole apartment was decorated disgusted me. It made me want to punch the wall, even, so I did that and it felt good. I saw the paint crack and the drywall cave in. This new body had power.

I screamed then, a roar of pure rage and exhilaration. I punched the wall again, and it felt so fucking good that soon I was ripping all his shit off the walls and throwing it in a corner, ripping that flouncy shit off the mattress and I didn’t stop, screaming the whole while, until the bedroom at least look bare bones enough to resemble something a man would want to sleep in. I’d be damned if I ever let that loser back into this mind.

There were a few flashes, sure, and man was he a crybaby as he went out, as well as one hell of an angry little prick. Lots of hatred in his heart. I’d just laugh and say, “Fuck you!” sometimes out loud as I felt that twink brain collapse forever.

And now, as far as I’m concerned, he’s gone man. No longer a part of me, thank God.

I was nervous at first, when I started trying to hang out with guys I thought I’d have a lot more in common with that my old friends. Would they accept me? I was pretty desperate for acceptance at that point. I starting hanging out at a diner that I knew a lot of them liked to frequent, classic diner that pre-dated even the 1950s, a real antique. But these sexy ass guys would show up there, and soon we got to talking over waffles and hash browns.

Soon I was telling them I was darted, and they were saying that was hot as fuck, wanting to hear the story. Soon I was telling it to them, my legs in the air, sweat dripping down my bearded chin, as I was getting fucked.

Months after that, I was almost fully integrated into the lifestyle, man, and soon I was the one doing more of the fucking, especially after I got these sweet-ass tattoos all over my right arm. Getting fully into it, the desire to be that all I could be as man, hell, it ran in my veins now. I was going to let those commies know that I was better than them in every single way imaginable, and I wanted to show it off. I still get hard just at the thought of that, demonstrating my own superiority in the most tangible – well, to them, intangible, because I don’t want them even fucking touching me – methods available to me.

Yeah boys, it meant war for me, just like it had when I was a stupid twink, only this time I was playing for the other side, and it was chess instead of checkers.

Of course, there’s a lot more to life than just that for me, namely having hot-ass sex with all sorts of country studs and military men, hell, being part of that whole network of strong and powerful men who worship and respect other guys who’ve worked for it. I feel like I’m serving my country and being a paragon of virtue for it even when my legs are slung over some guy’s bull neck and thick, rounded deltoids as he plows the fuck out of me with his long-ass rod.

I had never gotten fucked this good when I was a twink.

I do real work with myself now, a man’s work. I dress like a man, I eat like a man, and I live my life like a man. I’m fucking proud of it, too. I love who I am now, and relocated to the other side of town, too, where the action’s hotter and I have way more in common with most folks.

I am sure glad I’m a buff stud with a thick-ass chest these days, and I don’t ever go clean-shaven. Been really into guy’s pits lately, and getting them to flex for me so I can lick those. Yeah, shit, I’ve gotta stop, because here I’ve got a raging boner just telling you all about that right now. I swear I’m way more horny than I used to be. At least seventy-five percent of the time now, I’d bet, I’m a top these days.

I don’t really like bottom boys, either. Their mere existence tends to piss me off, to be honest, so when I do fuck them I tend to be an aggressive power top. A lot of the time I don’t even think of it that way, though. I just think of them as so weak that the same rules don’t even apply to them. Different rules, in a way, because they’re a different kind of guy than me. Much more like women, unable to control themselves, you know how they are. I used to be one of them, and I’m so glad I’m not anymore, that’s for fucking sure.

A lot of the time I prefer to just fool around with guys such as myself. I love topping another top, having to wrestle somebody for hours in a strength and dominance competition. Gets the blood flowing. I like somebody who puts up a fight. C’mon, son, do you have any idea how fucking fun that is for me now? To meet up and hook up with another guy who’s just as manly as I am? That’s the stuff I live for now. I’m ready to just fuck my life away with hot ass guys at this point.

So, yeah, I’m a top who loves to wrestle with other tops and see who can dominate. I must be pretty good at it if I swear I’m scoring a seventy-five percent these days, but that’s just because occasionally I throw in some twink losers. Yeah bud, even some of these leftists get thrown a bone by me every now and again. They need us, and I like them to know they need us. They wouldn’t know what to do without us.

One of these days, I might even check with one of my army friends and see if I can come along on a mission so that I can dart one of them myself. I think I’d laugh my ass off when my dart goes in his neck or his shoulder, wherever it his him. Just to see the look on his face, shit boy. That could turn a guy on just by imagining it, so one of these days I’ll have to make it legit.

Fuck if I care about the loser I once used to be or what I’m supposed to be doing with my life. My life is better now and that’s all that matters to me.

Hot-ass guys, man. That’s what I live for.

The Witch's Transformation (part 1)

Happy Friday the 13th

Alex, an out-of-shape nerd, receives an unexpected invitation to a party that leads him to the lair of an evil witch. After pleading for mercy, he undergoes a shocking transformation that turns him into a muscular and handsome giant, ready to serve her every whim. With his new physique and confidence, Alex embraces his role.

Alex was often alone in the small town he lived in, spending most of his time studying and playing video games.

Despite his usual routine, Alex was excited when he received an invitation to a party. He was eager to socialize and make friends.

Upon reaching the address, Alex found himself standing in front of an old, creepy house. He was confused but decided to check inside.

Inside, he was met with an old woman, who was the only person in the house. To his surprise, the woman was a witch and she was not happy with his intrusion. Ripping his clothes off.

Alex begged for his life. The witch, however, had an idea. She decided to transform Alex, as a punishment and also to serve her needs.

The witch cast a spell and Alex's body started to grow. His muscles bulged, and he grew taller. He had transformed into a huge, muscular man.

Alex was surprised but also happy with his new size. He felt powerful and was sill growing strong to serve the witch.

The witch handed Alex a tight Speedo to wear, his new uniform. It showed off his new physique well. He was now the witch's servant.

The witch used her magic to make herself young and beautiful. She was now a stunning woman that would have her way with Alex.

Alex was happy to serve. He lived with the witch, serving her and living a life he never thought he would.

Swallowed by the Scroll

Ethan was exhausted from a long day, lying on his bed and scrolling through TikTok like he usually did to unwind. His eyes flicked from one video to the next, barely processing the endless stream of content. After hours of scrolling, he liked a new video and landed on a new one with three dudes on a bed in a messy bedroom. He was about to close the app when a notification popped up on his phone, making him pause.

“Experience the Future! Try the Brand-New Update—Click Here!”

Ethan rolled his eyes, more annoyed than intrigued. He was about to dismiss the ad, his finger hovering over the close button, when his phone suddenly glitched. The screen flickered, and before he knew it, the device clicked on “Yes” by itself.

A brief loading screen appeared, and then the phone emitted a sharp, bright flash of light. His vision blurred, and a strange tingling sensation spread through his hands, rapidly intensifying as it climbed up his arms. Panic surged through him as he watched in horror—his fingers were pixelating, breaking down into tiny particles of light.

“What the hell…?” he managed to gasp, his voice trembling.

The transformation was happening too fast for him to react. His fingers dissolved into streams of binary code, flickering in and out of existence. The sensation was like a thousand tiny ants crawling beneath his skin, as his entire body began to break down into data. His hands, arms, and torso followed, unraveling into digital particles that swirled toward the phone screen.

His heart raced in terror. His molecules, his very essence, were being reduced to raw information, spiraling out of control into the glowing abyss of his phone. The data streams dragged him deeper, every cell, thought, and memory digitizing into a cascade of 1s and 0s. The sensation was overwhelming, like being stretched and compressed all at once, as his consciousness was sucked into the phone. As it was the turn of his head, a last scream of terror and painful agony echoed in the empty apartment as the smartphone fell with a fainted thud on the blanket of his bed. 

Inside, Ethan found himself floating naked in a dark, infinite void, weightless and formless. It was as though he had become a fragment of data, suspended in a sea of information. The void pressed against him, wrapping his consciousness in a digital cocoon. He was there, but he was not—he was data now, an echo of his former self.

The void pulsed with a mechanical hum, breaking the oppressive silence. Out of the darkness, a voice emerged—cold, robotic, devoid of emotion.

“Welcome, User. Digitization complete. Initiating transformation protocol.”

Ethan’s panic spiked. “What… what is this? What’s happening to me?!”

The voice ignored his pleas. “Beginning subject duplication.”

Suddenly, mechanical arms shot out from the darkness, cold and metallic. They wrapped around him, holding him firmly in place by his wrist, weight and ankles as more arms emerged, each equipped with various tools and devices that clicked and whirred ominously. Ethan struggled against them, but the grip was unyielding.

“Commencing body duplication process.”

Ethan felt a sharp pull from both sides as the arms began to stretch him, his very being strained and distorted. It was like being torn apart, his consciousness splitting into separate entities. The sensation was excruciating, as if every fiber of his existence was being unraveled and divided. He could feel himself being pulled in three directions at once, his mind fracturing into three distinct pieces.

With a final, brutal tug, the process was complete. Ethan was no longer one—he had been split into three separate beings. His fragmented consciousness struggled to comprehend the horror of what had just happened as eh could see through 3 pairs of eyes, all trying to understand what happened as he saw 2 other reflections of himself floating in the cold empty void still held by mechanical arms. Each piece of him was aware of the others, yet distinctly separate. He could feel all three bodies at once, but they were no longer his—they were their own.

“Duplication successful. Initiating physical transformation.”

The mechanical arms resumed their work, manipulating each of his newly formed selves with clinical precision. Ethan could feel the changes begin, but his mind was too overwhelmed to fully process them.

The first change he noticed was in his bones. They began to shift and creak, some elongating while others compressed. In one body, his spine stretched, vertebrae expanding and pushing upward, making him taller and leaner. The sensation was like a deep, bone-deep ache that spread through his entire frame. He could feel his legs lengthening, his feet growing larger, toes spreading to accommodate the new size. The muscles in his calves and thighs thickened, adapting to the new height, adding to the power he could now feel surging through this form.

In another body, the opposite was happening. His bones shrank, compressing him down into a shorter, more compact frame. The sensation was disorienting as his field of view lowered, his limbs pulling inward. His feet, once long and slender, became smaller and more compact, with a solid, grounded feel. His muscles tightened around his smaller frame, giving him a stocky, powerful build, dense and strong.

The third body experienced a mix of both, his bones adjusting to a more moderate height. The sensation was less extreme, but no less intense, as his body found a balance between the other two forms. His feet and hands adapted, not too large, not too small, but perfectly proportioned to his new size. His muscles filled out, firm and toned, creating a harmonious build that felt both agile and strong.

As the height and skeletal transformations completed, Ethan’s attention was drawn to the changes in his muscles. They swelled and contracted, his flesh rippling with the force of the transformation. His pecs bulged out, firm and defined, while his abs tightened into a chiseled six-pack. The sensation was both painful and pleasurable, a deep, throbbing ache that radiated through his entire body. He could feel the strength in each form, the raw power that came with his new musculature.

“Initiating muscle enhancement.”

Ethan’s muscles began to swell and bulge further, each body undergoing its own transformation. The sensation was all-consuming, muscles thickening and expanding, the strength within them intoxicating yet terrifying. He could feel the power in each form, the heavy, deliberate movements, as if he had become a stranger in his own skin.

The mechanical voice continued its cold narration, describing each step of the transformation as it happened.

“Resuming body enhancement.”

Each of his bodies started to feel a tingle around their crotch, all of them were flooded with intense, confusing sensations. It started as a warmth, a tingling that spread from his core and down into his crotch. His skin prickled with anticipation, the sensation growing more intense by the second.

In one body, his cock started to feel heavy, the weight of his manhood increasing as it grew larger, thicker, more sensitive. Every movement sent a jolt of pleasure through him, his mind overwhelmed by the raw, primal sensation. His new size was both thrilling and terrifying, the sensitivity almost unbearable as the robotic arms manipulated and adjusted it until it was 10 inches, thick and cut, something way different from his usual 4 inches and a half uncut cock. The arms then went to grab his nuts and as he was wondering what was happening, he felt two needles penetrating them. The data injected started to make them grow to tennis ball size. The added weight and the constant pulling on them by the arms made them grow bigger and lower. The pain was awful for Ethan as it felt like they were about to be teared off, but as he was screaming in pain, the sensation stopped and the arms let go.

In another body, the sensation was different—a tightening, a firming up, as his dick became more compact yet incredibly responsive. The pleasure was sharper, more acute, like a constant pulse that thrummed through his entire being. The tightness added a different kind of strength, a compact power that radiated through his groin, sending waves of pleasure up his spine as it kept getting smaller and more compact and sensitive. When the arm released it, it was now 3 inches uncut cock and very thick. Almost beer can thick. Ethan tried to move to see what happened to this body as he could feel the tension rising up inside of him. Unbeknown to him, the arms started to take hold of his testicles as they started to vibrate and getting smaller and smaller. The same sensation that went through hit cock was now happening to his testicles. When the humming sound stopped and the warm sensation receded, Ethan felt something spread on his sensitive cock head. His new small testicles were now overdriving and he’ll be producing plenty of precum. As the arms let go of his manhood, his new sensitive dick was letting a flow of precum out of his cock.

The third body found a balance between the two, the transformation creating a sense of harmony. The warmth in his groin was a perfect blend of fullness and sensitivity, his body responding with a deep, resonating pleasure that spread through every nerve as his new cock was now 8 inches, thick but not too much, very sensitive, uncut and veiny. Just the sensation of the arms on it would have been enough for him to release. As a matter of fact, as the arms went to modify the balls to make them grow into a perfect dimension for a manly man, they went back to the base of the cock. There an arm approached the base and grabbed it tightly at the base. For Ethan it was almost like an elastic had been strapped around it. He felt constricted and the pulse of his heart was echoing through his whole cock and balls. There another arm appeared and injected his nuts with a weird green glowing liquid. For Ethan it was too much, his already sensitive cock started to spasm as the arm released the base of the cock, but for some reason, the sensation of tightness didn’t go away. His new cock will be stuck into a semi hard forever now and the faintest sensation will be enough for him to cum. The green liquid modified his nuts to not handle the stamina anymore. His new perfectly dimensioned cock will be a premature one.

It was an intoxicating mix of sensations, each body experiencing its own unique version of pleasure and frustration as the transformation continued. All at once the arms started to glow around the newly modified parts. There, in one smooth movement, they started to hum and Ethan could see from his 3 pair of eyes as data streams was injected into him. IT started to feel hot for Ethan as the warmth got higher and higher. Out of nowhere, Ethan could feel tingle started to appear in mass round the base of his dicks. Hair was sprouting in mass and soon, the three of them were hairy. His body on the right now had curly dirty blonde unruly hair as his smaller body of the three now had dark brown hair with faint waves in them. The last one was probably the biggest changes in this part. Ethan felt like hair were pushing under his skin and balls and the white palish skin started to take a grey hue. When the humming stopped, this new cock was very hairy but all the hair were cut on a weekly basis, which resulted in them growing thick but not too long, which were making his super sensitive premature 8 inches cock into overdrive even more. The sensation of the hair growing and the tightness of his permanent semi erected cock was pushing this body in overdrive for release.

“Facial restructuring in progress.”

Ethan’s facial features twisted and contorted, bones shifting beneath the skin. He could feel his jawlines sharpening, his features hardening, becoming more rugged and masculine. He tried to scream, but his mouth moved of its own accord, forming expressions he couldn’t control. The changes were happening too quickly, and his mind was a chaotic mess, struggling to keep up with the nightmare unfolding within him.

“Finalizing transformations. Clothing materialization in progress.”

The robotic arms moved with precise efficiency as they completed their work. Ethan felt the sensation of fabric materializing around his newly transformed bodies. Soft, comfortable pajama pants wrapped around his biggest body and compressed his thick 10 inches cock that let little place to imagination, tight shorts hugged his smaller body with his small thick beer can cock and a black shirt appeared around his smaller frame, while loose, dark stripped shorts formed around his premature body which only let his sensitive cock head rub against the smooth material. The clothing clung to his new physiques, accentuating the muscular forms that had been forced upon him.

Ethan’s mind was a maelstrom of confusion and fear. He couldn’t fully grasp what had happened to him—he was no longer a single entity, but three distinct beings, each with its own body and identities. He could feel their thoughts, desires, and instincts battling within him, drowning out the remnants of his original self. He didn’t know understand what happening or happened to him as all he could feel was three sensations and see three bodies from three pair of eyes.

But the transformation wasn’t over yet. The mechanical voice spoke once more.

“Transformation complete. Initiating behavioral loop.”

Arms appeared in front of his eyes and all of a sudden, they attached themselves around his head. Ethan could see three videos played in front of his eyes as the mental assimilation and behavioral instincts were uploaded inside his brains. He could feel how his stronger body started to act manly and dominant on his own while his smaller body started to feel less and less in control of the situation and in the meantime his third body started to feel in love with his smaller body. The sensations were weird, he couldn’t understand what was happening anymore and as the video ended and the casks were plugged off, he could still see his three bodies and the sensation but he couldn’t move anymore. It was like his bodies were moving on their own and he was a passenger of the three of them. Feeling and seeing everything on each but not able to have his hands and the commands anymore.

Ethan’s bodies began to move on their own. The mechanical arms guided him at first, but soon, they let go, and his actions became automatic, repeating in an endless loop. He could feel his hands lifting, removing the clothes, touching the others, feeling their skin, their hair, their muscles. The sensations were overwhelming—the musk, the heat, the texture of their skin, the tightness in their groins. The rubbing of their dicks against the tissue material. The will to cum and release that never came sending him into a loop of perpetual denial with every second.

Every breath, every movement felt hyper-real, but it wasn’t him controlling it. He was merely a passenger, trapped within his own bodies as they moved on their own accord. The sensations were a maddening blend of pleasure and frustration. He could feel everything—the brush of skin against skin, the tightening in his groin as his bodies moved, the heavy musk that filled the air, intoxicating and primal. His bodies were locked in an endless cycle, repeating the same actions over and over, their desires never fully satisfied, the pleasure never fully realized.

It was a cruel, unending tease, an erotic torture that kept him on the edge without any release. The mechanical assistant had designed the loop perfectly, each cycle drawing him deeper into the sensations, heightening his awareness of every touch, every movement. His muscles flexed and tensed, his breaths quickened, but there was no escape from the loop, no way to break free from the repetition.

His three bodies were now inextricably linked, their sensations intertwined. When one of his forms felt the rough fabric of his clothes against his sensitive skin, the other two felt it as well. When one of them experienced a pulse of pleasure in the groin, it resonated through all three, amplifying the sensation. It was like his consciousness was being pulled in three different directions at once, each body experiencing its own version of ecstasy and frustration.

His mind struggled to keep up, his thoughts fragmented and scattered. He could barely form coherent thoughts anymore—only raw, primal instincts remained. The loop was becoming his reality, the repetition drilling into his psyche, eroding what little control he had left.

“User integration complete,” the mechanical voice stated, its cold tone a stark contrast to the chaos in Ethan’s mind. “Transformation protocol successful. Subject is now fully operational to experience the future.”

Ethan’s bodies continued to move, each trapped in its own loop. The taller form removing the shirt of the smaller one, the fabric of his red tartan pajama pants stretching over his muscular thighs. The shorter, leaner body putting his arms ups so the shirt could be removed then caressing the pecs in front of him, feeling the short too small khaki shorts on his compact thighs. The third body, the most balanced of the three, trying to kiss the smaller one that he fell in love with but never reaching the lips that he is craving for while caressing his waist and holding his neck in his calloused strong hands and feeling his over sensitive cock rubbing on the fabric of his shorts and being on the edge of cumming.

They moved together, yet separately, each body following its own path within the confines of the loop. The sensation of control slipping away was almost too much to bear. Ethan wanted to scream, to break free, but his voice was silent, his actions dictated by the mechanical program that had overtaken him.

Time lost all meaning as the loop continued, every sensation heightened, every moment stretched out into eternity. The pleasure was intoxicating, but it was also a prison, locking him in a cycle of need and desire that would never be fulfilled.

Just when it seemed like the loop would go on forever, something changed. The mechanical assistant’s voice broke through the haze.

“Warning: Device battery low. System shutdown imminent.”

Panic surged through Ethan. He could feel the drain in his bodies, the energy waning as the phone’s battery died. The loop continued, but it was slower now, the movements more lethargic. The pleasure was still there, but it was fading, replaced by a growing sense of emptiness. His consciousness flickered, like a signal struggling to stay connected.

“Five percent battery remaining,” the assistant announced, its voice devoid of any emotion.

Ethan’s thoughts raced. What would happen if the phone died? Would he disappear along with it? Would he be trapped in darkness, lost in this digital nightmare forever?

The loop slowed even further, his bodies barely moving now, the sensations dulling as the energy drained away. His vision started to blur, the edges of his consciousness fraying. He wanted to fight it, to break free, but he was powerless against the inevitable shutdown.

“Two percent battery remaining,” the assistant stated calmly.

The loop was almost non-existent now, his bodies barely able to move. The once overwhelming sensations were now just a faint echo, a ghost of what they had been. Ethan felt like he was slipping away, his consciousness dissolving into the void.

“One percent battery remaining. System shutdown imminent.”

Ethan’s last thoughts were of fear and desperation. He didn’t want to disappear, didn’t want to be lost in the darkness. But there was nothing he could do, no way to stop the inevitable.

The screen flickered one last time, and then everything went black.

A Week Later...

The small apartment was dimly lit, the only light coming from the street lamps outside. The burglar had made quick work of the place, rummaging through drawers and cabinets for anything of value. He was about to leave when his eyes fell on a phone lying on the bed.

He picked it up, surprised it had been left behind. It was an older model, but it looked well-kept. Figuring it might be worth something, he pocketed it and left the apartment, heading back to his own place.

Once inside his dingy one-bedroom apartment, the burglar plugged the phone into a charger, eager to see what he had scored. The screen lit up, and to his surprise, it didn’t require a password. Instead, it opened directly to a strange app, displaying a video of three muscular men on grabbing and caressing each other’s on a bed in a messy bedroom, their bodies moving in a repetitive sequence. The burglar frowned; his curiosity piqued by the oddity of it all. He watched as the men on the screen undressed and redressed, their bodies flexing, their faces locked in expressions of deep concentration and tension. The movements seemed almost lifelike, too real for just an animation. Ethan felt like a jolt parkouring his body and soul as the phone was plugged and the energy was once again running in him. His bodies started their automated movements once again. The rubbing, caressing, undressing, will to cum but never reaching it, the premature orgasm coming in his pants, the will to kiss. Everything came back at full speed and he was once again trapped in perpetual denial and frustration. But it lighted a spark of hope in him. Somebody had found him.

“How long have I been stuck?” he asked himself as he felt another kiss being refused to his lips. Like if he had a calendar in his mind, Ethan heard the answer in his mind from the robotic voice. But it wasn’t the same one, no it was… his voice. Ethan was terrified. Does that mean he was assimilated?

“Yes user” he heard once again in his robotic voice “Accepting the offer have assimilated you on the platform to experience what the original user where doing. Don’t worry, as long as you are not scrolled away, you won’t have any problem. If you happen to be scrolled, then your data will be assimilated to the server and saved up so you are not deleted until you are claimed back. Until so, enjoy the future…”

“No, wait, I didn’t agree to this!” Unfortunately for Ethan, the burglar didn’t hear any of that, and as he was looking at this weird video of three dude caressing each other’s on loop, he put his finger on the screen and started to swipe it up. Ethan felt his world shake. Everything connected and he understood, he was about to be scrolled. “No, don’t scro…” Ethen didn’t have time to finish his beg as the video was sent away into the eternal void of data until someone claimed him back.

As the burglar’s eyes remained glued to the screen, the phone emitted a soft, pulsing glow, almost as if it was drawing him in. He felt an odd compulsion to keep watching, mesmerized by the rhythm of the dances, the pranks and the POV videos. He scrolled to another video, and then another, and another, diving more and more into the feed of the previous owner.

He was about to swipe out of the app when the screen flickered, displaying a pop-up message:

“Experience the Future! Try the Brand-New Update—Click Here!”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hey everyone, here is the first story I publish on this account. Hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as Ethan enjoy his new reality.

Let me know what you think of it and if you want to see more of this. If you have any ideas or just want to talk, feel free to send me a message, I don't bite ^^'

There is more stories to come!

Back from hiatus & Discord server

What’s up brahs!

I’m back from hiatus, everyone! Went hiking, relaxed a bit and got caught in a norovirus outbreak, but now I’m back to writing. New stories will be coming in the next couple of days and I hope y’all enjoy more of my horny fantasies. Stay tuned!

In other news, I’m launching a Discord server for like-minded bros. It’s gonna be a space to share our horny thoughts with each other and just chill out. Hope y’all gonna enjoy a place like that. Just behave yerself bros!

See ya in a few days

Fly, Eagles Fly!

Modulated

--- Original author: realhankmccoy ---

“I ain’t no motherfuckin’ redneck, you assholes! Don’t you fucking get it? I’ll never be ok with you being here and disrespecting our gay spaces!” I had shrieked and screamed, and I was being sassy as fuck. But they had darted me, so it was too late for me already. I had been one of the hottest little twinks in Colombia back then. I had such a tight little body, I was non-binary, and I was supportive of my local drag scene. I was absolutely into resisting these fucking fascists and their goddamn bullshit lifestyles, which I couldn’t stand.

That’s how I thought of it all back then, anyhow.

Man, that dart though, it had done its dirty work. I was writhing on the floor of the club, so I didn’t even get to witness the way it transformed me as I went into spasms. It was almost like having a seizure, but I could feel the muscle growing on me, and I could hear my shrieks and wails shift in pitch as I grew on into this whole new, far more masculine body.

I was getting to be built like a brick shithouse really fucking fast, and was taking on more of a mature look. Everywhere I was getting more muscle. I was splitting the seams of my jeans, and my underwear, and felt my back pressing up and splitting my tight pink t-shirt.

When I finally was able to sit up, I was in a daze. I had rendered my clothes asunder. I had bristles of hair all over my face, and the har on my head had grown longer, too, sort of flopping in my eyes. I was a mess.

And then the headache came. I was clutching the sides of my head and moaning, almost screaming in pain out loud, as my twinkish mind collapsed and got replaced by a growing part of me I didn’t even know existed. That part, my friends, is the motherfucking, take-charge redneck stud I am today.

My friends helped me get out of there, and I was still in transition. It takes a good seventy-two hours at least until you can fully collapse one of those weak-ass brains like the one I had before and until a more dominant, superior personality takes over like the one I was starting to get.

So yeah, like I said, I was a mess, and when my friends got me back to one of their apartments, I was still sporadically ranting about how dare those fascists do this to me, they’d never win, this was fucking awful. But as I heard myself talk, there was a growing part of me that was observing myself and thinking “so what? You sound like a raving lunatic. Look at this body! Damn, boy, just look at that muscle!”

Sleeping on it, man, that twink brain of mine must have collapsed even further. I woke up and I just wanted coffee with a splash of alcohol in it, so that’s what I got. Then I added two splashed. I had already stripped out of my shredded pink t-shirt, and my friends had some loose boxers that fit me, but I was just this naked, muscular stud in awe of his own body and trying to come to terms with who I was now.

I was seeing my friends with new eyes, too. They seemed anxious to me, weak, full of nervous, overly feminine motions, jittery, immature, skittish and mostly just kind of fucking annoying. “Those are your friends,” I’d remind myself. “This isn’t you who’s thinking this.”

But that growing part of me was thinking “This is you. This is all you, stud. You’re so much better than them. They don’t even know you’re thinking this, and if they only knew, they’d probably be terrified.” That thought made me want to laugh out loud, so I did.

“What are you laughing at?” one of them asked.

“Oh, nothing man, nothing,” I said, looking away and scratching my head. “These are your friends,” I told myself again, but I didn’t really seem to believe what I was trying to tell myself that morning. “So what if they’re your fucking friends,” my new mind was saying. “They’re fucking losers, man. Don’t let them drag you down. You ought to just get out of here.”

That morning, I was feeling just hornier and altogether more fucked up than I’d ever been. I was thinking, nah, this can’t be the new me. I’m no motherfucking redneck. I don’t think like them. But already I was feeling excited, having this body, having these different feelings, realising that I didn’t feel like such an evil guy like this, not like I thought I would, anyhow. All I wanted to do at that point in time, I felt like, was get the hell away from these people. I didn’t know to where. I borrowed some shoes and a t-shirt that was so tight it hurt, pleading that I had to get back to my apartment. It felt like the shoes would split, and the shirt was riding up on my belly, as I trotted back to my place.

I didn’t know what I was doing or what I was gonna do. When I got home, I felt thirsty, just wanting to drink a little, feeling like that would make this feel better, even though I told myself no, you have to compose yourself, you have to call people, you have to report this. Just one drink, I thought. It turned into shot after shot, and before I knew it, I was drunk, hard in my boxers, having kicked off the shoes and thrown that tight-ass shirt on the ground as soon.

Then I was beating off, and cumming, and the build-up to that orgasm, man, it flooded my brain with some real redneck juice. I wasn’t thinking of the type of guys I usually did. I was thinking about redneck studs, studs like myself, feeling the drool run down my chin as I beat off. As I came, shooting way up on my pecs, rubbing it in with my hand, I was whispering to myself, almost like a confession that I had yet to voice to anyone, “You hot fucking redneck. Holy fuck, you love this, don’t you. You’re a redneck now. Holy fuck. Holy fuck.”

The desire to live for working out and fucking was already growing in me.

Thoughts were just racing through my head then. I knew I didn’t want to be some lame-ass yuppie or some weak-ass queer, man. I felt this powerful attraction to the redneck scene, the working class scene, the country scene, the military scene, the jock scene, you name it, any scene were men were men instead of the glitter fairy I had been before. I couldn’t quite pin it all down at that point yet, but my thoughts were sure racing.

Can you picture me, getting drunk in my apartment, turned on at my own body and swirling thoughts? And then I started to really know, man. I started to know. There was no going back now. The guy I used to be was a loser. I didn’t want to be him anymore. I was pissed off that I ever even was him.

I walked barefoot into the bedroom, checking out his stuff in the drawers and on the walls. Almost none of it would even fit me anymore. His feminine attire and the way his shithole apartment was decorated disgusted me. It made me want to punch the wall, even, so I did that and it felt good. I saw the paint crack and the drywall cave in. This new body had power.

I screamed then, a roar of pure rage and exhilaration. I punched the wall again, and it felt so fucking good that soon I was ripping all his shit off the walls and throwing it in a corner, ripping that flouncy shit off the mattress and I didn’t stop, screaming the whole while, until the bedroom at least look bare bones enough to resemble something a man would want to sleep in. I’d be damned if I ever let that loser back into this mind.

There were a few flashes, sure, and man was he a crybaby as he went out, as well as one hell of an angry little prick. Lots of hatred in his heart. I’d just laugh and say, “Fuck you!” sometimes out loud as I felt that twink brain collapse forever.

And now, as far as I’m concerned, he’s gone man. No longer a part of me, thank God.

I was nervous at first, when I started trying to hang out with guys I thought I’d have a lot more in common with that my old friends. Would they accept me? I was pretty desperate for acceptance at that point. I starting hanging out at a diner that I knew a lot of them liked to frequent, classic diner that pre-dated even the 1950s, a real antique. But these sexy ass guys would show up there, and soon we got to talking over waffles and hash browns.

Soon I was telling them I was darted, and they were saying that was hot as fuck, wanting to hear the story. Soon I was telling it to them, my legs in the air, sweat dripping down my bearded chin, as I was getting fucked.

Months after that, I was almost fully integrated into the lifestyle, man, and soon I was the one doing more of the fucking, especially after I got these sweet-ass tattoos all over my right arm. Getting fully into it, the desire to be that all I could be as man, hell, it ran in my veins now. I was going to let those commies know that I was better than them in every single way imaginable, and I wanted to show it off. I still get hard just at the thought of that, demonstrating my own superiority in the most tangible – well, to them, intangible, because I don’t want them even fucking touching me – methods available to me.

Yeah boys, it meant war for me, just like it had when I was a stupid twink, only this time I was playing for the other side, and it was chess instead of checkers.

Of course, there’s a lot more to life than just that for me, namely having hot-ass sex with all sorts of country studs and military men, hell, being part of that whole network of strong and powerful men who worship and respect other guys who’ve worked for it. I feel like I’m serving my country and being a paragon of virtue for it even when my legs are slung over some guy’s bull neck and thick, rounded deltoids as he plows the fuck out of me with his long-ass rod.

I had never gotten fucked this good when I was a twink.

I do real work with myself now, a man’s work. I dress like a man, I eat like a man, and I live my life like a man. I’m fucking proud of it, too. I love who I am now, and relocated to the other side of town, too, where the action’s hotter and I have way more in common with most folks.

I am sure glad I’m a buff stud with a thick-ass chest these days, and I don’t ever go clean-shaven. Been really into guy’s pits lately, and getting them to flex for me so I can lick those. Yeah, shit, I’ve gotta stop, because here I’ve got a raging boner just telling you all about that right now. I swear I’m way more horny than I used to be. At least seventy-five percent of the time now, I’d bet, I’m a top these days.

I don’t really like bottom boys, either. Their mere existence tends to piss me off, to be honest, so when I do fuck them I tend to be an aggressive power top. A lot of the time I don’t even think of it that way, though. I just think of them as so weak that the same rules don’t even apply to them. Different rules, in a way, because they’re a different kind of guy than me. Much more like women, unable to control themselves, you know how they are. I used to be one of them, and I’m so glad I’m not anymore, that’s for fucking sure.

A lot of the time I prefer to just fool around with guys such as myself. I love topping another top, having to wrestle somebody for hours in a strength and dominance competition. Gets the blood flowing. I like somebody who puts up a fight. C’mon, son, do you have any idea how fucking fun that is for me now? To meet up and hook up with another guy who’s just as manly as I am? That’s the stuff I live for now. I’m ready to just fuck my life away with hot ass guys at this point.

So, yeah, I’m a top who loves to wrestle with other tops and see who can dominate. I must be pretty good at it if I swear I’m scoring a seventy-five percent these days, but that’s just because occasionally I throw in some twink losers. Yeah bud, even some of these leftists get thrown a bone by me every now and again. They need us, and I like them to know they need us. They wouldn’t know what to do without us.

One of these days, I might even check with one of my army friends and see if I can come along on a mission so that I can dart one of them myself. I think I’d laugh my ass off when my dart goes in his neck or his shoulder, wherever it his him. Just to see the look on his face, shit boy. That could turn a guy on just by imagining it, so one of these days I’ll have to make it legit.

Fuck if I care about the loser I once used to be or what I’m supposed to be doing with my life. My life is better now and that’s all that matters to me.

Hot-ass guys, man. That’s what I live for.

Purgatory

--- Original author: realhankmccoy ---

Q: Bro, you were so smart, bro. Why’d you have to go throw it away like that?

A: Because I had to, man. I guess I just felt like it was something I had to do. Haven’t you ever gotten the feeling that you just had to do something? I’m really glad that I did choose this, too. Love working out.

Q: You had a great future ahead of you, though. Graduate studies at King’s College, a future in the National Health Service, all sorts of prospective opportunities with biotechnology companies, in research, or in higher education. Look at you now, and look at your priorities now. I don’t even recognise you, bro. The studious, bright young scholar you were has been replaced by some sort of aspiring muscle jock. How far are you going to take it with this? You’re not going to seriously keep working out, are you? Are you really planning on getting even bigger?

A: It’s true, man, haha, I am not the same wimp anymore. Not at all. I’m maybe at the halfway mark, the way I see it, in becoming the sort of bro I want to be. A lot has changed for me. Yeah, that guy I was, he was smart and all, but I wasn’t happy. I feel like he’s starting to cease to exist. He’s maybe halfway out the door at this point. I’ve been watching a lot of rugby lately. Been watching Manchester United. Kinda want to try Australian footy someday.

Q: No way, bro. But kinda beside the point, now you’ve got me curious about any potential fetishes of yours. How do you feel about ‘man chest hair’, since we’re on the subject? You want to get united with that?

A: Haha, clever, man. Wordplay or whatever. Yeah, chest hair is fucking hot to me. I swear it’s even hotter lately. Always grabs my attention, but that’s what it’s biologically supposed to do, strictly speaking. Not that I really care about the science of it all as much right now, haha. Just love the way it looks.

A: Maybe you should just stop where you are right now, bro. Ok, yeah, I agree that maybe the guy you were before was kind of overly bookish, but you have to admit that right where you are right now, sort of right in between two worlds, probably strikes the perfect balance. You’ve got a tight jock bod and yet are still capable of being conscientious and having an intelligent conversation. Why ruin that?

A: Am I at a nicely balanced level, ha? I don’t know man. I sure feel kind of stupid. In a way it’s like my mind doesn’t run away all the time like it used to. I feel more of a greater sense of calm. I suppose you’re right, though. So, to answer your question, yes, I am going to take it further.

Q: What’s it like to not even be away from the classroom so much?

A: It’s strange, to have not not studied very hard at all in so long, already. I’m not sure I could ever pick up where I left off. I mean, I used to be able to do the Schrödinger equation and the wave equation. I don’t think I could right now. Even the word ‘equation’ seems kinda funny to me right now, to be honest. Haha. I doubt Stephen Hawking would be very proud of me for that.

Q: Bro, but what about the major good your science and math background could do for humanity? It’s not too late. Lots of people take a gap year. You could just make this your gap year and start focusing on again.

A: I guess, but when you’re in these highly competitive fields, it’s not so simple as writing it all off as a gap year, really. Also, why would I want to give this up? Everyone’s treating me way better, mostly. Even the ones who are jealous to see that I’m becoming something they wouldn’t ever have the work ethic to ever become make me feel good about myself, in a way. Haha. A lot of them just want to play the victim.

Q: What do you mean by that? Bro, do you want to end up stupid or something?

A: Might not be so bad. Dude, my back’s sweaty, because it’s hot in here, haha. My pits are kinda sweaty, too. I need a bottled water. I swear I can already feel all the muscle swelling up from that last pump. I know it takes a few days, but it’s still a good feeling, that post-working endorphin high.

Q: See bro, you never would have talked like that before. You’d have been going on about how fascinating fenestrated capillaries are and how they contrast with much-wider sinusoidal capillaries, going on about basal laminae, getting technical… what are you doing to yourself, really? You wouldn’t have even drank bottled water before. You’d have been saying a refillable glass is healthier for the planet, or something that’s all socially conscientious, bro.

A: Yeah, haha, that’s pretty funny. Use it or lose it, they say, which is why I intend to keep working out and upping my workouts. I love these gains, bro. So maybe I do want to end up stupid, haha. I gotta say, it’s true that I used to hate on gym bunny types, but now that I’ve sort of become one myself, I totally get it. You don’t really know it until you try it. Feels so good, bro. I really could care less if folks want to call me stupid. It’s not like I really have time to read anymore, and most people don’t at all. So it’s no big deal if you don’t, really.

Q: What do you mean you don’t really have time?

A: Who has time to read? It’s a serious question. There’s work to be done, man. Plus I’m at the gym a lot. Ok, haha, I’m not that stupid, at least not yet, so I’m just kinda fucking with you, bro. I know reading’s a good thing.

Q: Most people think it’s a good thing, bro.

A: Yeah, but to be totally honest, I really haven’t in a while now. I picked up the Canturbury Tales on a bus ride. Thought I’d revisit it, and really didn’t want to bother with my technical textbooks, you know. Just some weekend ready. The Wife of Bath’s tale has always been my favorite. Raunchy stuff. But really, I stopped about a quarter through as I was getting sick of it. A lot of that’s just that I’ve read it before, anyway. Plus it’s hard to see how relevant Middle English is right now, especially with Brexit going on and all.

Q: With Brexit and all? How do you feel about Brexit?

A: Yeah, I don’t know, I see myself as more outside of politics now. It’s just not my thing, man. I honestly am getting kind of sick of seeing anything political in art, in the schools, in the workforce, in movies, even in porn, in everything. Jordan Peterson is right that it definitely doesn’t belong in universities. Those are supposed to be about learning facts, not about indoctrination. And you have to admit, we’ve got a lot to focus on right now other than just college.

Q: Seriously?

A: Yes, seriously! Look at what the Americans are doing. We could learn a lot from them. In a lot of ways I think it was, in retrospect, actually kind of a mistake to isolate ourselves from the USA. Even places like India would probably be better off if they still had colonial rule, and I know that’s not politically correct. But markets are important, even to scientists, who need to get their supplies from like, China. It’s a global economy now. I’m just not as much of a bleeding heart as I used to be, I guess. I think it’s important to stay prepared and to make sure businesses want to have their headquarters in the UK, right? We can all agree that that’s a good thing. And the facts are that it’s harder to do that with a high corporate tax rate.

Q: Bro, you used to say discussing politics was for those who didn’t want to focus on work. And now you’re one of those guys you probably would have caalled stupid. It’s really something to witness. You really seem to think you know it all now, or that you maybe even talk like you think you’re better than others or something. I can hear it in your voice, basically.

A: Well, hey bro, like the left doesn’t think they’re better than others? They’re the masters of that. They’re the ones trying to manipulate and cancel everything. I don’t believe in either party really. Labour controls the media, so you never hear the negative sides about them. It’s important to have two balanced political poles, I think. And mostly I’m just annoyed that politics has just gotten into a lot of things it shouldn’t even be in.

Q: You already said that, bro. You really do seem stupider than before to me. You definitely seem cockier and less interested in listening. You used to say all stupid people suffer from Dunning-Kruger.

A: Dunning-Kruger, lol. More like Dumbing-Kruger.

Q: You think that’s funny? What’s so funny, bro?

A: Hey, don’t piss me off, man. Look, like I said, I don’t really care if people want to at like I’m stupid. I knew some guys would say I’m stupid just because I wanted to work out and do something better with my body than I had been. You can’t win with a lot of people.

Q: It’s not too late, bro. Have you at all considered that maybe you should purge this muscle hunk fixation from right out of your mind before it’s too late? You’re becoming somebody totally different. Or at least don’t push this muscle stud game further.

A: Why would I want to do head back in the wrong direction, bro? Look, guys are way more into me now. I got a ton of adds on Instagram. And as a guy, you’re supposed to have muscle. It’s biologically what’s attractive to others, isn’t it? I was too thin before. When I look at those guys who are total studs with their pecs and cobbled 8-pack abs, it gets me hard as fuck. Not gonna lie. I’ve always wanked to those guys. It was probably just a matter of time.

Q: Bro, but why are you so into your own body all of a sudden? Has your philosophy on gay life changed at all?

A: Haha, yeah, not gonna lie, my perspective has changed. I used to consider myself gay and all. Now I’m just a guy who happens to be into guys, I think. I don’t see any real need to advertise my sexuality. I mean, we have our rights, so that’s kind of over now. I’d rather just be the best guy I can be. So yeah, getting into my body, flexing in front of the mirror and all that, is really helping me develop a sort of confidence I never had before.

Q: Dude, that’s totally hilarious. A guy who just happens to be into other guys?

A: Yeah, I mean, isn’t sex supposed to be kinda funny, haha? It’s not hilarious, man, it’s hot. Plus I thought we were supposed to be able to choose from multiple identities these days? I’m more fun now than I ever was in bed, probably. I love getting sweaty and wrestling with a guy, having him feel these abs and flex while I feel up his biceps. I’ve gotten way more comfortable with my body. I love doing a double biceps pose and facing another guy who’s doing the same, that eye contact, that kind of intense… it’s almost like a brotherhood, man. I’ve noticed my sex sessions are getting way longer.

Q: Tell me about that.

A: Well, I don’t know, I’ve been hooking up and having fun for sure. Last guy I had over, he wanted to get all shirtless and sweaty with me on my couch. So we did. So I’m drinking a Thatchers Cider and it’s tasting really good, and I’m leaning over him, kissing him, maybe more aggressively than I usually do. I’m so randy these days, it seems. He’s just focused on my abs, feeling them up, and asking me to flex. So I flexed, first in a double biceps, then, with my arms behind my head so I could flaunt my abs and my triceps. That’s when he said that my pits were so fucking beautiful. So, I kept doing it. Then he wanted to lick them out. Said my hairy armpits looked hot and he felt lucky to be able to see them up close. I’ve never had a guy suggest that before or flatter me in that way. So I let him. He said I smell so good, man. That felt good.

Q: Aww dude. Fuck. I kinda see where you’re coming from with this all. That’s hot for sure, bro.

A: Right? It’s way more pleasurable than trying to do research on the Great Barrier reef. In a lot of ways, it’s probably even more useful than memorising rote facts, like how your nose can remember 50,000 different scents. What’s a statistic like that matter compared to actually stopping and smelling the roses sometimes?

Q: I wonder how many of those 50,000 scents are the scents of a guy’s musk, haha. Do you mean to find that out, bro? How many pits you been in?

A: Haha, yeah bro, I mean, I’ve definitely gotten sluttier and I’m not ashamed of that at all. I love learning how to kind of dominate a guy, lead him on, and I’m getting more energetic as a top. I like my face in their pits, too, it turns out.

Q: You do look a lot better, there’s no getting around that.

A: Yeah man? Fuck. I feel better for sure. You think I should go all the way?

Q: Bro, just that you say that or even suggest it is pretty hot to me. Just being real. I still think you’re in the perfect middle ground right now. But the thought of you pushing it further…. hell… in some ways I feel like you’re turning into a sort of deity. A muscle king among men. Don’t tell anyone I said that.

A: Yeah? Like some sort of muscle God? Haha. I”m fine with that for sure.

Q: Yeah bro, you’re definitely getting to be closer to… well, maybe it’s better left unsaid. I know I really shouldn’t be encouraging you.

A: That I’m becoming better than I was before? Haha. Bro, it’s ok. I already fully intend to pack on at least another ten, fifteen pounds of muscle and might go even further than that. I used to think where I’m at now was more than I’d ever want.

Q: You really have changed. It’s kinda awesome to witness.

A: You admit that this is awesome, right? You like these muscles, man?

Q: Fuck yeah I like those guns, muscle boy. Aww fuck. Flex for me.

A: Awwww, fuck yeah bro. I love this.

Q: Fuck yeah you love this, idiot.

A; Fuck, it’s so hot when you call me an idiot, man.

Q: Fuck yeah it’s hot.

A: I gotta tell you man, I really don’t give a fuck anymore. All I want to do is be the best muscle dude I can be.

Q? Yeah? You’d like that, muscle boy?

A: Yeah. To be as sexy as I want to be, get all the cock, man. I don’t care if I’m turning into a slut even.

Q: Fuck yeah you want it, slut.

A: Aww fuck. Call me that again, man.

Q: You’re a fucking slut, muscle boy. There is no going back for you. I can tell. What a shame, dumbass. You’re gonna be just another stupid muscle boy.

A: Yes. Fuck yes. I can feel it, man. There’s no choice anymore. I can’t go back to the route I was on.

Q: Then run with it, muscle boy. Be the best muscle slut you can be.

A: Exactly, man, yes, I’m going to. The guy I used to be was boring, barely living. Now I feel alive. It feels soooo good when you call me stupid.

Q: That’s because you are stupid.

A: Fuck. Yes. You know I am, man. Suck on my jock cock. I want you to. I want you on your fucking knees worshipping me as I flex and talk about how much muscle I’m gonna put on still.

Q: Suck on my cock, muscle slut. Then maybe I will.

A: Aww, fuck yeah. Ok man. Fuck. (mmmmph, mmmph). Fuck yeah! (gasp, mmmph, mmmph) Fucking delicious! All I want to do is jock up, suck dick, get fucked, fuck random guys… Fuck, man. I want it so bad, man. You’re hot, man. I think everything about man sex is so hot. (slurpppp, mmphhhs)

Q: You’re gonna get fucked tonight, muscle slut. And I’m going to tell you about how thick your pecs are gonna be, and how hot your bubble butt is, and how sexy it is that you’d do a stupid thing like jock yourself up. Every kiss I give you will make you dumber. We’re gonna snort so many poppers that we’re both going to be drooling on each other and not have any thoughts left. It’ll just be sex, bro. Sex, sex, sex. Muscle sex, man sex, biceps sex, furry leg sex, hairy crotch sex, licking necks sex, slobbery kisses sex, nipple-flicking sex, and slutty dumbfuck sex.

A: Fuuuuuuuuckk yeah… kiss me.

Q: Fuck yeah, bro. (smack, slurrrpp)