Age Reduction - Tumblr Posts
My asshole of a cousin won’t stop being a homophobic little shit! He keeps talking about how gays are all about sex! I think it’s time to make him eat his words as a gay fuckboy!
What a shame your cousin is such a homophobic asshole. I mean, he really is hot as hell. I think he could be the star of any pole in a gay club. But not with that attitude… Let's change that then…
The picture of a guy sitting at the bar and actually wants to grunt "Buddy, bring me another beer". But instead he whispers "Honey, can you bring me a pink martini please?" All eyes at the bar are on him. He is shocked himself. He tries to clear his throat. He tries to sound manly again. But all he gets is "If it's no trouble, sweetheart!"
The barman says that he doesn't serve perverted faggots here. Your cousin smiles at him and says that's too bad, he can serve him any way he wants. He gets up, throws the waiter an air kiss and leaves. His phone plays a Taylor Swift song. He pulls an iPhone in a pink glitter case out of his trouser pocket. "Honey, yes, I'm on my way. Really, you'll never guess what just happened to me. I'm telling you, a demigod! But so straight. Not a chance." His gait becomes more and more prancing. It could also be because his rough biker boots are turning into silver pumps. He passes a shop window with a mirror. "Mon Dieu, what do I look like?" he says and pulls a lipstick out of the inside pocket of his leather jacket. As he touches up his lips, his beard begins to recede into flawless skin.
When he arrives at his new hangout, he looks like a scarecrow. Hair already platinum blonde, but still in a self-cut mullet. His super slim body doesn't even begin to fill out his clothes. Nothing is left of his magnificent muscles. But his fine fingers are perfectly manicured. "Honey, could you bring me a pink martini, please?" he whispers to the bartender. "Not until I get a smack," he replies. It turns into a deep French kiss. Not the last one the boy who used to be your cousin will give out today.
It's still quite empty in the bar. But the door opens and the party people start to pour in. The boy who used to be your cousin assesses every single new guest and gives notes in his head. Eight and better comes into question for a discreet meeting in the toilet. The one or two lucky ones who get a ten even get to take him home. But let's not kid ourselves. The only ten tonight is himself.
A random guy in a car runs a red light, almost crashing into a group of young bikers. Normally they would either road rage or keep going, but they ain't doing that this time. Further down the road, the random guy stops at a gas station, and the bikers trap him and transform him into a young leather biker of their choice, there could be a little punishment added since they were mad and decided to cut them off, like either make him really dumb, smelly, make his cock shrink, or just what you wish.
“Lousy bikers, always getting in the way.”
Terrance groaned to himself as he drove through the city in his Cadillac. A biker gang had almost wiped out the side of his SUV, but Terrance didn’t register that the crash could have been his fault. He had been the one to run the red light, but time was money and Terrance was the one supposed to be making it. At least, that’s what the 50-year-old pompous businessman believed.
“Come on!” Terrance mumbled as he noticed his gauge suddenly shift down to empty. He could’ve sworn he’d just filled it up a while ago. Shifting his paunch in the seat, Terrance turned into the next available gas station. Fumbling his way out of the SUV, he didn’t notice one of the bikers sneak up on him from behind. He did however see the pair of dirty socks shoved into his face. He smelt them too, and that was the last thing Terrance could remember before waking up on a rooftop terrace.
“What the…” Terrance’s eyes went wide, looking around the area nervously. He didn’t understand how he had gotten up there. And by the positioning of the skyscrapers, he had ended up on the opposite side of the city.
“Thanks for joining us, dirthead,” one of the young bikers taunted. Terrance counted only 5 of them, all in their late teens and early twenties. Terrance tried to convince himself he could escape, even though their individual musculature were visible through their one-piece leather suits.
“You better let me go!” Terrance shouted. “Do you even know who I am?!”
“That won’t matter soon,” the second biker smirked, nodding his head at Terrance’s chest. Terrance looked down and gasped in response, only now seeing the full leather outfit he was adorning too. He was even wearing the giant boots. All he needed were the gloves and helmet and he’d look just like one of the bikers: only 30 years older and with at least 30 more pounds of fat.
With Terrance distracted, the third biker–who Terrance would have recognized as the one who had ambushed him earlier–took off his boot and brought it up to Terrance’s face. Terrance immediately choked, gulping in a breath of air and letting the musky, sweat-induced, teenage-profused scent flood his system. A wave of serenity flooded his system, along with a sudden heat. In fact, Terrance was so flustered he began to sweat profusely.
“Gotta break in the new suit,” the fourth biker quipped. The others all laughed as they watched the older man greedily inhale the boot’s pungent odor. Every sniff was entrancing to Terrance. Every sniff was enhancing to Terrance. First were his own feet, which popped up a few sizes and flooded the boots with his own odiferous stench. His calves followed second, cutting themselves like diamonds as hairs coated up and over his expanding quads. His midsection came third: belly shrinking, abs striking, pecs bouncing. Fourth were the arms, ligaments stretched and pulsed to allow for the bis and tris to easily glide the motorcycle. And in fifth came the face, both becoming more youthful and masculine as some edges softened and some sharpened.
Terrance rolled his eyes back as he kept taking in that wonderfully cheesy scent. His own body began to produce a similar aroma as the last changes took place. Fixing of the hair, dumbing of the intelligence, and shrinking of the cock. The boys deemed it best to have Terrance live with a life-long punishment of messing with the biker gang. He’d never remember it though: all his memories were being erased. The remnants of Terrance’s former life were being shoved out the back…literally. A steady stream of gas removed anything and everything that made Terrance, well, Terrance. And the silent stop signaled what was done had been done.
The boot was carefully removed as the fifth biker got up and moved forward.
“How you feeling, stud?”
Tayler looked at the biker like an animal examining his prey, his eyes carefully landing on the leather-encased pouch.
“I’m ready for some fun.”
“On the tread,” the fifth biker started. “or in my bed?”
Tayler only chuckled.
