Body Transformation - Tumblr Posts

Explode growth Elliot Dermond 2022 body transformation

Fat Friend’s Revenge

“So … you’re finally up” I hear as my mind enters back into consciousness

My eyes slowly get into focus as I look around the room. In an instant reality snaps back into my mind as I stare at the stranger in front of me.  And, then panic sets in as my attempts to stand up leads to the realization that I am tied down.  

“What the fuck is going on?” I ask in a hazy confused panic.

He stares at me and laughs. His voice rings through my ears and something about it sounds familiar. It brings my attention to his soft lips. In an instant, images of me kissing him flood my mind. I quickly snap out of it. I’m not gay. But, my attention drifts to his sweet brown eyes. It couldn’t be…

He finally answers “What you don’t recognize me? Well I did lose some weight recently” He continues to laugh to himself.

It was my friend. It was Eric. But, it couldn’t be. Just last night we were at the bar. Just last night he was over 300 pounds. Now there is no sign he was ever that fat. In shock all I can think about is how attractive he looks in front of me. I just want to set myself free and ripped those clothes off him and kiss every inch of his body. At this point I was hard, as images of us embracing filled my mind.

“What the hell is going on? What happened to you? Why am I tied up?” I’m finally able to blurt out.

He looks at me coldly “Revenge” he says it in a slightly wicked tone.

His response fills me with fear for what he is planning to do to me. “What the fuck did I do?” I say as anger of the situation starts to set in. But, simultaneously I can feel this anger turning into passion. I want to wrap him in my strong muscular arms. My body urges to connect with him.

“You treated me like trash! You … used … me … like … a …fool.” The power in his voiced scared me, but at the same time it made me want him more. It was strange. It wasn’t a feeling of love. In fact if I was free I would have punched him in the face. No, this feeling was animalistic. I needed to be inside him. “And now the tables have turned.” He begins to smile.

He turns his slim muscular body to the coffee table. And my attention follows. Without his handsome face distracting me, I finally realize we are in my home. My eyesight begins to move along his body. I watch as the muscles in his arms, neck, and face move in a beautiful orchestra.  These surfaces that were once covered in pounds of fat. He turns around and faces me, now holding a box. On the box it reads: FROM MR. MISCHIEF. HAVE FUN. He reaches into the box and pulls out four letters.

“Attraction” He says as he turns the first letter around.  He puts his hand on my lap and electric signals run through my body. Images of intense love making run through my mind.

“What the fuck did you do to me? I say in a tearful panic.

He begins to laugh, as he moves his hands up my body. My body pulsating with pleasure. His hands continue to message ever inch of my sculptured body; sending waves of pleasure throughout my body. “You are only attracted to me now.” His moist hands wipe my face.

“I fucking hate you!” I yell.

“You don’t gotta love me to be attracted to me.” He smiles as he reaches towards me. His hands start undoing the ropes holding me back. Although my body wants to embrace Eric, my mind knows I need to make a run for it. I need to knock Eric out and run. As soon as Eric unties me, I stand up quickly and go to punch him in the face. Before my fist makes contact he says, “Stop! And sit down.” My arm automatically falls to my side. My body becomes heavy and falls back on to the chair I was sitting on.

“What the fuck?” I say as he turns around the next letter: OBEDIENCE.

“Stop talking. It’s my turn to speak.”  My mind races with thoughts and I try to speak them out loud.  But, my lips and throat do not even make an effort to move. “Listen to what I have to say and don’t let your sexual fantasies get in the way.” He flips the third letter: LOVE. And then rips it. “I don’t care that you hate me. In fact I love that you hate me, right now. Being forced to love me won’t teach you the lessons I want you to learn. I loved you. I wanted you. But, I wasn’t your type. You were straight and the sight of my fat ass disgusted you. You used me. You used the love I had for you against me. I would have and did do anything you wanted me to. You were hot, with your muscular body. You were the envy of every man. You liked to show off the god-sculpted body. Standing next to the fat blob I used to be, every girl wanted to get into your pants. And you would leave me there to get your nightly fuck. Everyone staring at me like some kind of fat freak. You knew I liked you. You would call me to do some bullshit thing for you and I came running. I wanted you to love me. But, you were a parasite making me a fool to make yourself feel good, even though you were already perfect”

Shame filled my body. Everything he said was true. I tried to be his friend. I knew he liked me. But, it was so easy to use that against him. He was desperate. I constantly made him the fool and belittled him to boost my own ego. I want to explain … to apologized, but I still couldn’t talk. He flips the fourth letter: WEIGHT TRANSFERENCE. “Now I’m going to turn the tables. It’s your turn to be the fat friend.” You see my fat didn’t just disappear.” He suddenly pulls a nice juicy burger from behind his back. He gives me a small smile.

“Listen to those sexual thoughts again, but this time you’re the bottom.” My thoughts become loud again. I picture his smaller yet toned body, riding my large muscular body. “Eat this. Fast.” I quickly reach out and gulp down the burger. My body starts feeling heavy. Waves of energy pulsate through my body.  “Stay still” Eric says as he removes my clothes. He runs and places a mirror in front of me. My face has become swollen. Fat checks and a double chin have replaced my chiseled face.  I become super focused and panicked as the rest of my body changes in front of me. My muscular pecks grow into two juicy moobs. My powerfully arms and legs get weighed down with globs of fat. My pelvic area begins to grow a fat pad. Drastically shrinking the size of my package. Finally my abs disappears as my gut juts out. Sticking far past my new moobs. It continues to grow; finally stopping at the half point of my newly thicken thighs. I’m left in shock, as tears fill my eyes.

“Let’s see.’ Eric says in amusement. “With the amount of weight I transferred and with your original weight, you should be about 380 pounds.” He chuckles and gives my belly a nice pat. It jiggles and ripples through out my body. I turn to look at him. His fit, toned, skinny body turns me on even more, now that I am covered in fat. “You are going to hate being fat. But, getting fatter and me playing with your fat will give you the most pleasure you have ever experienced.” He looks at me and just smiles, waiting for something.  “Oh … and you can speak now.” He says mockingly.

“I hate you! You ruined me. What the fuck am I going to do now?” I let out between sobs

“Don’t worry I’m not cruel” He laughs as he scoops my tit with his hands. I let out a pleasure-filled gasp. Eric smiles “You’ll be my servant, with some … benefits. Met me in the bedroom in five minutes. I needs to take a load out. You can think of this as a sample of the awards you’ll get for being obedient. Then afterwards we will go to the gay bar. Standing next to a fat ass like you, I’ll look even more attractive to any guy looking to bang the night away. However, you do make a good bear. Too bad you’re going to refuse any offers since you only want me to make you happy.”

I watch as Eric walks into my … probably now his bed room. I hate him.  But there is no use in telling him. I feel gross with my fat folds sitting on top of each other. My confidence is gone. Five minutes past and I struggle to get my fat ass up. I begin walking into the room, as my new fat jiggles. Making me hard. I don’t want to go in, but I need him to relieve this pressure. He is insanely attractive now. The small toned body riding my fat ass. Making body jiggle. And, that new confidence makes him even more irresistible. I don’t like him, but if he already did this to me, then I don’t want to risk him getting mad at me and doing something worse. I want him to be happy. He is my life now. He is perfect. I hope someday he will like me.

(I know you guys love my stories, but if your interested on the picture please, follow my other page @malereblogmischief. There, I post the images with links to the original source, if I can find it. Or, I re-blog from where I found it on Tumblr.)

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Body Transformation for Heavy Set People

Transforming your body requires time and effort.  It is accomplished through building lean muscle, tightening stomach and back muscles, and shrinking fat cells through consuming the fuel they store.  This article will focus on calorie burning, by combining a series of trans-formative programs together.

#1. BEING MINDFUL

Pay Attention! Reflect!  Celebrate!

There are four aspects to track when executing a transformational program: Self Image, Effort, Reflection and Celebration.

Transformations requires an understanding of the motivations behind the need to transform, the resistance to transformation, and why YOU don't want to transform.  Keeping a journal about this subject helps practitioners understand self doubts and judgments, work ethics and efforts, and things that encourage or discourage training.  

Study and reflect your journal and articles on transformational programs.  If one system doesn't work, try another, and then another. Figure out what works for YOU!  Maybe you need to do a combination of things that build muscle, build stamina, and maintain flexibility.

The ultimate progress journal will be how the body responds to training. With that said, tracking effort helps to determine what is working and not working.  When tracking program change effects, insure  changes are given a reasonable time frame.  In human body terms, changes range from 2 weeks to 3 months to a full year.

Journaling also helps identify when milestones have been reached.  Unlike SMART Goals, body transformation work requires Simple Manageable Achievable and Realistic goals.  Time is not a factor in transformation, since recognition of the achievement won't be realized till well after having achieved it.  It will be a realization, “I'm there and maintaining it!” Celebrate these moments with people who have helped you achieve this transformation.  

#2. CONSISTENCY / ROUTINE

The easiest way to be consistent is by building a daily routine and committing to it. It seems easy at first; then harder due to competition, boredom or both; and eventually becomes a natural part of who you are. Journaling thoughts demonstrates the individual struggle and progress being made to achieve your targeted transformation.  

There are cell phone apps that prompt individuals to do things during their day:  Take supplements. Eat a meal.  Work out.  Journal.  And so on.  They will also help you reflect on the progress to achieve this routine's consistency.  

#3. WEIGHT TRAINING

The theory is, the more muscle you have, the more energy you burn.  There are many programs that build muscle:  Body Building, Power Lifting, Olympic Lifting, Resistance Training, and Yoga .. just to name a few.  

Lean muscle burns more calories to maintain its activity. The best way of increasing lean muscle is, of course, weight training. Training that contains compound movements, vs isolation exercises, consume more energy, since more muscles are active during the exercise. An example is, heavy lifting with low rep ranges - six reps for presses and pulls. Higher rep ranges can be done when training calves, abs and arms.

There are many sites, sources, and books on the subject of weight training. It is recommend that a personal trainer be involved to demonstrate the techniques, and insure that they are being performed properly to receive the greatest benefit from the exercise and avoid injury.

As mentioned, a strong stomach and back (core) are an essential part in any body transformation, since this is the primary place the body stores extra energy.  A weak core will prevent compound exercises from being executed.  And, while situps are the main stay to a 6 pack stomach, planks and squats are the path to a strong core.

#4. INTERVAL TRAINING

Preparing for weight training requires a good warm up routine using a series of intervals. Interval routines are short burst of intense activity, like sprints. Initially light to warm up, then heavier and harder as the body responds positively to the exertion.  These routines should resemble the exercises to be performed.  Thus, slowly warm up the muscles and prepare them to manage heavy loads or work for longer durations.  

At the time of this writing, there is no good reference site that identify 1000's of HIIT (High Intensity Interval Training) routines.  Therefore, create a search worm to find find these routines through various synonyms: HIIT, Aerobics, FITT,

When combined with your heavy lifting the body sweats for 1 to 2 hours after the work out.  In achieving this milestone, the transformation process will begin to show results.

#5. DIETING

In examining diet, there are four things to consider:  tracking what you eat, discovering what you like to eat, how often you eat and portion size.

Instead of tracking calorie intake, take pictures of the food you are eating.  This builds an immediate feedback loop through journaling that encourages healthier choices.  

Identify the things that you like to eat. To build a healthy diet plan, use several picture cook books to identify dishes you like to eat.  

Americans are accustom to eating 3 meals a day: breakfast, lunch and dinner.  This routine works against those trying to transform their body.  One reason why the body maintains a lot of energy stored in fat cells is due to inconsistent eating habits that make it hard for the body to know when needed nutrients will be available.  Thus, when sugars and nutrients are consumed, they are moved to fat cells almost immediately.

A better diet plan is a mix of the Adkin's diet and Hypoglycemic's diet plan.  In this plan, there is a reduction in sugar, an increase in protean, and it is served through a series of small meals.  The plan calls for 7 to 11 meals a day spaced every 2 hours:  breakfast, salad, protean, pasta, fruits & nuts, desert, salad, protean, pasta, fruits & nuts, and desert.  This plan substitutes simple sugars from starches for fruits and veggies and complex carbohydrates in pastas. Thus, as Dr. Adkins stated, “You are are loosing weight due to deficit in carbohydrates.”

Review the full list of supplements from a vitamin shop. Some diet plans call for supplements.  Some bodies are unable to produce them.  For example, if doing heavy lifting, DOMS – Delayed Onset Muscle Soreness – is a disabling / debilitating pain that is experienced after a workout and can last up to 2 weeks.  The causes and cures are varied. However, one supplement that seems to help is Glutamine.

When considering portion size, consider that the average person's stomach is the size of their fist.  The average meal (in a 3 meal a day plan) eaten, is 3 to 4 times that size.  This affects the how large a salad, a protean dish or fruit bowl will be.  The suggestion is, find a bowl that is the size of your fist, and use that to measure your meals.  

If you choose to eat every 2 hours, then adjust the daily routine to prepare the meals every morning.  This way, the meals are ready to go, and require fewer interruptions throughout the day to consume.

#6 WATER

There are many different things to consider when consuming water.  Should it be room temperature or ice cold vs boiling hot.  Should it be bottled or tap water.  Should it be run through a purifier or pulled from a mountain stream?  Or should it just be bottled from fresh snow?

On average, every human should drink at least 1 gallon of water to help their liver and kidneys function properly.  The easiest way to do this, is to sip water all day long.  Depending on the types of water you like, there are USB devices that keep the water at the temperature preference of your choice: Hot, Warm, or Cold.

What helps flush waste material from the cells as they worked and rebuilt.  Remember, when the body sweats it is expelling water that must be replaced. Drinking fresh water during this period helps. Keeping the body hydrated, will help muscles respond positively to exercise at all levels of intensity.

#7. INDICATORS

Many transformation plans suggest recording numbers.  As mentioned above, pay attention to how your body responds. It is a better indicator to how added time, exertion and weight are affecting your body.  Recording numbers can lead to a disheartening effect that SMART goals are not being achieved.  And, as mentioned above, SMART is not the goal, SMAR – Simple, Manageable, Attainable, and Realistic goals are the focus. Time is not a factor in transformation.

Weight measurements are accurate after 6 to 8 hours of fasting and purging. Expect daily measurements will go up and down.  However, when doing body transformations, the goal is to replace stored energy with muscle tissue, so weight changes may not be relevant in comparison to Body Mass Index and Muscle Mass.

While many obese people have to resort to liposuction and plastic surgery, it should be noted that the body maintains a consistent number of fat cells. Thus if they are sucked away through liposuction, they will return. Keeping them small is the goal.

Another indicator used is waistline.  This size is affect by eating late at night, which causes intestinal gas production that presses against the stomach walls, and causes the stomach muscles to lengthen in response.  Working the core, will reduce this effect. As will restricting food intake 6 hours prior to sleeping.

There are many more indicators: Blood Pressure, Heart Rate, Sugar Levels, Energy Levels, Stamina, Boredom to name a few.  Find indicators that will that determine how the body is reacting to the level of effort being exerted.

Harry came back from his chess club meeting, he was a college student majoring in History and loved the subject, he could tell you the names of all the Kings and Queens of England, he geeked out about the history of the 16th and 17th Centuries, the Ottoman Empire, Austria, France, etc.

Harry shared a dorm with a dumb frat boy jock, as he referred to his roommate, Joe, to say the least the situation between the two was very tense. He didn't like that Joe called him Hal instead of Harry, that there was constantly random stuff lying on the floor making the entire place messy and that he'd have to go around and clean everything up. But what angered Harry the most is when Joe came back to the dorm after the gym, as if bathed in his own sweat, and what he couldn't stand the most was the reek coming off of Joe. Harry usually complained to his roommate about it however Joe simply replied in his dumb cocky jock voice "hehehe, chill brah, I'll spray a bit of Lynx and it'll be grand" before diverting the topic to his plans for the evening which entailed him railing a bimbo at a frat party saying "love spreading my seed brah".

Harry enters the kitchen, he spotted a note from Joe which said "hey brah, left you a cocktail in the fridge, hope it'll help release the tension you've been building up for a while now ;)". Harry was surprised, Joe never made him any cocktails... in fact he never made him anything which made him suspicious.

Harry opened the fridge and took the cocktail out. It smelled normal... a bunch of fruits mixed together with a small bit of cocoa mixed in... So Harry thought "well I guess that was nice of him... I mean there is nothing wrong with it it would be bad if it went to waste" before chugging the cocktail down.

A few moments later Harry went and lay on his bedroom, he took his laptop intending to continue in with his essay however he saw that there was a new file on his desktop entitled "for you brah"... Harry was a bit suspicious but curiousity got the better of him and he opened the file.

In it there was a lot of photos and videos of shirtless Jocks working out, flexing and fucking. Harry was asexual and rarely jacked off, in fact he wasn't much interested in jacking off and he was never horny... however he felt weird after opening the file and all of a sudden a huge sense of arousal and horniness spread over him, his cock instantly went stiff and Harry felt that he really wanted to jerk off and blow a load out.

Harry started jerking his average sized meat. As he did he didn't even notice due to the hypnotic effect the videos and photos had on him, that he was gaining muscle mass. First came his legs inflating and becoming muscular, as if Harry was a professional runner all of his life. Then came the torso, two huge pecs jumped out and then a finally chiseled six-pack formed with a sexy v-line leading to his now growing member. The arms started to inflate gaining a lot of muscle. Finally came the face, it got more detailed and chiseled out. His spots melted away, his eyes became a blue colour, his hair bacame dark brownish in colour, his nose became more prettier as well as his mouth... By now Harry looked completely like a Jock all that was left of his past self was his cock and mind.

The more he jacked his meat the longer it got which started to result in a brain drain of his memories of chess classes, playing games with his nerd friends and studying history were all replaced and drained into his balls which were filling up with his memories and growing the size of hanging tennis balls in the process.

Harry tried to think... but his thoughts were replaced by his new thoughts. His name wasn't Harry no... it was Hal of course it was, everyone's called him that including his best frien... bro Joe, Hal liked to run, he remembered running marathons when he was still in his teens, he loved to go to the gym and workout chiseling his physique even more but most importantly he was absolutely fucking horny and cocky 24/7.

"fuck yea braaaaaah", Hal shouted as he spurt ropes of cum out of his now 11 inch cum cannon repulsing his old self and cementing his new self Hal. That's when his bro came back. "Hal you're back fuck seems you had a lot of fun brah" Joe chuckled as he looked at the naked Hal laying on his bed with cum all over his abs. "Fuck yea brah, I just really needed that release ya know". Joe said "fuck ye brah that's why I left you that COCKtail for you to drink mixed in with a secret ingredient". "What ingredient brah" Hal said. Joe replied "well... I do love spreading my seed ya know brah" he chuckled and Hal joined him.

Afterwards Hal went off to the shower and washed himself. Then Joe and Hal went off to a frat party where Hal lost his virginity and slept with about 5 bimbos in one night... after all Hal liked to spread his seed and impregnate every hot babe in the city... which was easy as Hal was now one of the most sexiest men in town making him irresistible... and it's all thanks to that COCKtail... maybe a few of his old nerd bros could benefit from a COCKtail of his own making? He mischievously looked and chuckled while looking at Richard, his old chess club "brah"

Here's a pic of Hal after his recent gym workout:

Derick, Benjamin and Joshua were friends, they went to the same school together and they all had passion for learning, they were basically stereotypical college nerds. One day, the three of the boys met at Joshua's house as apparently Joshua had something important to tell the other two.

They arrived and went off to Joshua's room. "So guys I found a cool device while snooping around in the locker rooms earlier it's a device that apparently will make us all muscles up at the same time while we can keep our brains intact, I think this is a great opportunity!" said Joshua. Wait what were you doing in the football teams locker rooms, were you looking trying to catch the glimps of your Jock crush, Chad, again?" Benjamin laughed and Derick joined him "well shut up I got us an opportunity ok guys so let's not waste it hmm... who's gonna go first?".

The entire room was silent so Joshua decided to make a decision. "Derick you've been way too quiet let's see how this works on you". Of course Joshua knew that Derick was shy and never really spoke much but he used exactly that against Derick, he pointed the device in Dericks way and before Derick could protest Joshua pressed the button.

Derick began his transformation. First he got a boner in his pants and all of a sudden he felt a great urge to jerk off right there and then then his torso began to expand, he got a very nice set of abs popping out and ripping apart his clothing and at the top two pecs exploded. Then came his arms and legs which inflated to a size almost of small balloons as if he was a gym junkie and worked hour 24/7. His face also changed,nit became more well defined, all his nerdy features disappeared, he no longer needed glasses.

"oh... fuck... guys... something is happening...fuck... fuck... fuuuckk yea braaaahs" Derick shouted as his big piece of meat began to spurt out large quantities of cum onto the floor. Afterwards Derick fell onto his knees in bliss as he completed his transformation:

The other two boys approached him "Derick are you alright?" Asked Benjamin. "Fuck yea little brah, never have been better also I ain't no Derick, just call me Rick huhuhu".

"Why are you acting so dumb and what happened to your shyness and intelligence" Joshua asked while Rick just looked at the large puddle of cum on the floor suggesting that they should know what happened. "Fuck brahs I'm so fucking horny like" Rick said and then looked mischievously at the Joshua was holding, before Joshua could realise what would happened, Rick quickly grabbed the device and pointed it at Joshua, pressing it in the process. Benjamin managed to hide.

As Benjamin hid he could hear the shouts of Joshua who was asking for help and crying for him Rick to stop as he didn't want to become a dumb Jock... eventually though the cries and shouts were replaced by panting and moaning as Joshua began to rub his own sausage eventually cumming out a similar puddle to one Rick made:

"Well Josh brah looking fucking good man" said Rick. Thanks man... fuck I really needed that release huhuhu" the two of them laughed. "Fuck brah now I'm fucking horny... let's go get Ben and we can take care of our woods together".

The two Jocks went off looking for Benjamin, meanwhile Benjamin was hiding, when everything went silent, he thought that now was the chance to escape. He legged it to the door but as he was about to grab the doorknob he was grabbed by Josh.

"where do you think you're going little brah, once we're finished with you you'll be grabbing different knobs if you get me huhuhu". Rick came around the corner and pointed the device on Benjamin and pressed the button... Benjamin's fate was now sealed, before he knew it he began to transform in the similar way, he tried to resist at first, but the list overcame him and he started jacking his cock which expanded and as it expanded drained everything in his brain down. Soon the scares and torments turned into moans of pleasure and Benjamin eventually came everything out with there now being three sizable puddles of cum on the floor as Benjamin became Ben:

"Fuck brahs... that was intense" said Ben. "We know fuck that was good... but do you know what would be even better?" Josh looked at the other three suggestively before the three of them looked at each others stiff members. So the three of them got to action, they spent a great day together after school with a lot of moaning, cumming and lust being involved, the room by the time they finished was extremely messy and had a smell that smelled like a mix between their sweats, cum, and a bit of a fishy smell thrown in to add to the mix

This was the trios best day of their lives since they ever met. They loved their new forms, they loved changing Nerds into Jocks through their Jockification device to spice up their sexual encounters a bit. Life was good for Rick, Josh and Ben and from the day they used the device, they have been living the lives to the maximum, not caring abkut grades but favouring more lustful encounters not only with themselves but with other jockified nerds.

(this is another post which was requested I had great joy writing it thank you for the person who requested the story)

Got a question for you. Have you ever twisted people’s wishes and turned them into animals? I honestly think it would be so fun and hot if I told you that I wanted to be a huge horny breeder stud but instead of making me a big bro you turn me into a huge stud stallion for breeding at a ranch instead. You think you could curse me like that? 😅💪🍆

Horsing Around

You found yourself getting hornier and hornier as you started to fuck your roommate, shocked at your forwardness. As your dick pounds him harder and harder, awaiting your change into the breeder you wished for, soon you notice a light dusting of black hair covering your body. Your so clued into the sex you didn't notice your hands becoming hooves or your legs becoming hind legs forcing you down on all fours. It's not until you let out a loud whinny sound and your roommate claiming your dick was too big for him do you realize your wish was cursed, you watch your new horse cock shrink back into it's sheath as your face extends into a muzzle, you try desperately to stand as you see yourself in your new stallion form just before you're transported into a field where your former roommate now rides and leads you to your stall.

Rest up buddy, he whispers you got a lot of fucking to do this week, a lot of mares are counting on you to knock them up. he pets you, gives you an apple as he leaves you in your new home, you are now merely a bucking Stallion only used to breed the female horses on your buddies new horse ranch. Who knows you may even sire a Triple Crown winner, only time will tell.

Thinking of going as buff and sexy green army man. Is there a costume fitting that idea in the store?

At Ease.

You find what you're looking for and try it on as you exitthe changing room you look amazing, all you need is the matching toy gun. As you take hold of it your body poses and suddenly you freeze in place. You're now a human size Army man. You try to speak but toy army men can't talk so you just stand there in the middle of the store aware of whats happening but unable to do anything about it. I have my employees move you out of the middle, you're part of our new display featuring Toy Story characters, you stand there looking around, you can tell the other "Toys" are conscious like you. Seems you aren't the only one trapped in this new plastic hell.

I wish I fit in more at my university! All of my classmates are frat bros, and I’m just a nerd! I wish I was like them.

Go Bro!

Ok my friend if you really want to fit in take this jockstrap wear it for 24 hours straight, never take it off until the changes happen. You do as I say and within one day you see the changes starting.

Your hair lightens, your body begins to tone and ink begins covering your once virgin skin. You snap a pic to compare to your final look later.

The next morning your ink is more noticeable, your hair turned dark, but the clothes you definitely fit in more now as you try to comprehend what has happened, but soon your head hurts when trying to think about anything but dudes, dicks and ass. Fuck bro, you look around no longer in your dorm room but in your frat house, your rock hard as one of the dudes leaps at you.

Your shocked you're strong enough to hold him, you gaze into each others eyes knowing damn well the two of you will be fucking soon. you fingers caress his bare ass as you feel his cock straining against your six pack abs. Bro you're totally one of the guys now. Enjoy college life bro and good luck learning about anything but partying! Your new pea sized brain only had room for things that made you happy and you were about to engage with half of them soon.

Father

Dad had been acting strange for quite some time. Honestly, it wasn't that noticeable in the beginning, which I suppose made it difficult to pinpoint when things started to change. I only started to notice maybe seven months or so ago after he turned down the daily Budweiser. Patrick O'Shaughnessy turning down his biggest vice? I knew something was off right then and there as he sat there, smiling at me from his armchair with the game on in the background: red flag number two, my stepfather had NEVER been a sports guy. Binging Fox News while fingering pudding cups, sure; but actually knowing what was happening in a football game?

I'd originally thought he'd perhaps found a side girl to cheat on my mom with. It was far from outside of his character to do something like that, if he'd ever be able to get his nasty ass out of the recliner for ten fucking minutes... He'd gotten too comfortable in his laziness. When my mom married him a year ago, he was already a piece of shit lardass who refused to do a single thing around the house, refused to work a normal job (he was waiting for a management position apparently), and above all refused to acknowledge me whatsoever. He was rude, crass, could never even so much as break a smile at me. And there, in that moment as his eyes made contact with mine and his lips curled into a smile, I knew something was wrong.

"What, no beer burps for me today?" I scowled at him, raising my eyebrow in a malicious curiosity.

"Nahh little man, I'm trying to cut down." Little man? He'd never gotten my name right let alone given me a nickname... We did not have that kind of relationship, at least one that would have an affectionate nickname for one another. "Say, I'm hittin' the gym in a couple minutes. Whaddya say you come along?"

"You're... you're going to the gym? Really?" I sat there slackjawed. Something was indeed off. What it was, I couldn't exactly tell. Nothing outside of his UberEats order would ever get Patrick out of the chair. He laughed at me, gripping his sizeable paunch beneath his stained tee shirt.

"You bet, bud. High time I set an example for my boy. How's he gonna respect a couch potato loser? You should come along. Nothin' like a father and son spending time together, especially in the gym. Get the boys lookin', right?" He stood up from his chair, grabbing his keys off the kitchen countertop as he headed toward his car. I, on the other hand, stood there with tunnel vision. Patrick was not the most supportive parent when it came to... well, anything. But the biggest bone of contention was me coming out to them last year. It was the biggest hullabaloo, Oscar worthy. Thrown glasses, flipped chairs, disownment, threats of eviction... the only thing that kept me in the house was my mother putting her foot down. It wasn't a big deal for her, but for him... I was the biggest embarrassment on the planet. What would Tucker Carlson think?

Yet as I stood there, staring at the cigarette-stained wall, my brain couldn't process what I'd just heard. 'Get the boys lookin' he said... As if he were trying to play wing man for me... What the fuck was happening? My heart fluttered the moment his words sank in, that was pride. It was something neither my father nor my stepdad ever had the courtesy of giving me. My walls were up, and I was beyond skeptical, so for my own peace of mind I had decided then and there to investigate.

From that day on, the moment I came home from school, I was spying. While most of my friends were trying to enjoy their senior year, going to parties or getting ready for college, I was at home peering behind corners at my stepfather. Over the first few months I watched with complete disbelief at the changes. Every single day, I'd come home, and he'd be on his way out to the gym. The normal scowl he'd gift me upon my entry was replaced with jovial smiles and hair ruffling as he schlepped his gym bag over his shoulder out the door. He'd be gone for two or three hours at least, and come home just before dinner dripping in buckets of sweat. I'd begun to avoid driving his car, as the stink of his sweat had completely inundated the fabric of the seats. He'd toss his bag on the floor by my book bag (gross), and plop down at the dinner table where he would ask genuinely about my day or sweetly flirt with my mom while winking at me. I still wasn't convinced. He kept asking me nearly every day if I'd come to the gym with him, if we could go shoot hoops at the park across the street, or if I'd play FIFA with him. Each time I'd shoot him down, he'd have a momentary break in that happy facade of his, as if it were hurting him I wasn't spending time with him.

Within five months or so, he was nearly unrecognizable. I guess protein shakes & a low carb diet really works on a guy: he'd lost nearly 70 pounds and gained about 20 in muscle alone. He'd struck up friendships with my school's wrestling coach and a couple of the neighbors, and we were finding ourselves invited to barbecues and block parties for the first time. I had to endure little hallway chats with Coach Weston about joining the wrestling team, as he was in talks with the school district about bringing my stepdad on as assistant coach. It was bizarre to me for many reasons, but one stood out above all: Patrick was never a wrestler. Not in college, not in high school, my mom even confirmed it one night at dinner. He'd brush it off as if it were something fun he were doing with 'Dane', which in and of itself was weird to hear the coach's first name used at all at home.

Sleep was getting difficult. My mind ran at a thousand miles an hour, but now he and mom had begun to fuck like rabbits. Loud, hard sex almost every other night with their bed slamming against my bedroom wall for hours. Mom of course was radiant at that point. The years of one piece of shit husband being a complete and total asshole, replaced by another piece of shit husband treating her like garbage melted away in the course of a couple of months of Patrick being a strangely brilliant partner. He'd started to cook us meals, he'd started to do the yardwork, he'd even fixed things around the house that had been broken for years. Sure, the sex seemed to help, but as she would say: "He's lessened my load so much, Jonas. I wish you'd give him a chance."

Sure, he was treating my mom well and that was a good enough reason for me to like him. Was it enough to trust him? No. I'd still turn down every single request to spend time alone with him. No gym. No basketball court. No gaming. Though, in one single concession for my mom's sake, I begrudgingly agreed to let him drive me to school in the morning. That one decision is what truly changed my life forever. I went to bed that night, putting on my earbuds to drown out their disgusting sex in the next room, less than eager for the fifteen minute drive the next day.

Thus, on that warm April day, my morning began as normal. Shower, dress, drink my morning smoothie, grab my bag, and walk out the door. It wasn't long before I was greeted by his chipper, dim witted voice shattering my peaceful morning.

"Ayy little man!" I sighed, turning toward the garage, where there he stood: shirtless and dripping sweat from his chiseled body. As a gay guy, I have to admit, it was hard not to stare. He had become quite a sight to behold. The other moms in the neighborhood certainly would sit and stare at him on his morning runs, even a couple of the dads as well, and now I sat there oogling the ripped, gleaming body he'd built.

"Hey, Patrick. Do you need to shower? I have to get going, but I can catch the bus if there's not enough time?" In my head, I was praying to God that he'd just hop in the shower he never seemed to take and I could go on my merry way. Though, no such luck.

"Nah, man! It's all good. I promised you I'd take you to school, so hop in the car!" I sighed, turning to his 1998 Mustang with a shiver cascading down my spine.

"Sure, Patrick." I dragged my feet headed toward his car. Opening the door, the humid, musky air within poured out of the car, punching me in the face with his scent. Imagine a noxious waft of butter, blue cheese, saltwater, and feet just drowning you. That was the stink that swamped his car, and him for that matter. I took one final breath of fresh air before I sat in the car and closed the door. He wasn't far behind, not even bothering to put a shirt on as he hopped in beside me.

"Alright! Let's get goin' bud!" He turned the key and the car roared to life. I sighed, thankful it was only fifteen minutes. As we pulled out of the driveway and onto the street, I turned on the radio, hoping to dissuade him from making some puerile small talk. We sat there in silence for a moment, before hitting the main road. "You know what, bud?" He turned to me, looking me up and down before rolling up the windows and turning off the radio. "Ahhh fuck it. We're playing hooky today."

"Wait, what?" I had no time to protest, before he turned onto the main road, but in the opposite direction from the school. "Patrick, I'm not playing hooky. I have to go to school." He laughed, ruffling my hair yet again.

"You gotta stop callin' me Patrick, Jonas. I don't have to be dad if you don't want, but Patrick is so... not me. Just call me Pat."

"Okay, PAT. I'm going to school." He turned to me, and his smile faded, letting out a solid sigh that would put mine to shame. He pulled over onto the shoulder, and put the car in park.

"Listen. I know you don't like me. I know you don't trust me, and I get it. I made a lot of changes to him very quickly, and it's hard to keep up." Him? Why did he say it like that? "I'd been watching you just suffer endlessly for years, man. All the time. I just wanted you to have a good role model for once. A man you could lean on, and not some shitty lard who talks bad to ya."

"What the fuck are you on about?" My patience had worn too thin for my calm veneer to bear. He turned the key, and the engine quickly died.

"C'mon bro. You know something's different about him, right? I know you've been watchin' me like a hawk. Think I haven't noticed you watchin' me from around the hall corner? You think I don't know you're creepin' while I beat one out huffin' my strap? I know, dude. I've always known. C'mon, man." Pat threw his hands in the air in frustration, the first time since his attitude adjustment that I'd seen anything like it. But, this was different. It wasn't rage, it was exasperation.

"Okay, Pat. So you saw me watching you. Can you please tell me what the fuck is going on now?" He slowly rested his sweaty head against the headrest, and sighed. Then, a chuckle. Then another, until he was full on laughing. "What!?"

"Ahhh, man. I never thought I'd see the day you'd man up and come to. Yeah, Jonas. I can tell you what the fuck is going on." I sat back, confounded- even more so than before. "My name was Matt Wilde. Way back in the day, I used to wrestle for Palm Heights High. Was pretty damn good at it too, but one day I got pinned just a little too hard and poof."

"Matt Laurent? What the fuck are you talking about, Pat? Are you high?" His dumb laugh threw him back in the seat.

"Nah, I finished that joint earlier, man. Stone sober now. But, safe to say for the past 50 years I've been just hoppin' body to body. Started with a couple of my teammates just so I could finish out the years, wrestle a bit more. Got bored, hung around the gym, in and out of some lug heads. Did a stint in some Libertines, that was fun as fuck. But man, I saw you sulkin' around the school for the past three years and thought, damn that kid looks sad. So, I may have eavesdropped a bit, maybe caught a bit about your dead beat, piece of shit dad; then right after he ditches, Mom lands this fuckin' winner." He slapped his chest, little droplets of his sweat landing on my bewildered face. "Oh shit, my bad." I sat there, slackjawed, completely disoriented as he dumbly wiped his sweat off my nose and cheek.

"You... you're dead?" He snapped his fingers, winking and smirking at me.

"Bingo, bud. Right on the money. I was like, I'm in a very unique situation here to fuckin' do something this. So, I slipped into this dumbass and just stuck around. Did the work. Tried, emphasis on TRIED, to be like the Dad I had and that you deserve, ya know? Haven't made it fuckin' easy, but... ahhh. That's parenthood, am I right?" I scoffed, he must have taken some damn good drugs. I was convinced. There was no way!

"Okay, then. MATT. So, if you're some dead jock bro possessing Pat, where the fuck is he?" He pondered for a moment in silence, shrugging his shoulders.

"I think he's gone, bro. I haven't stayed in a dude this long, I used to hear him bitchin' and moanin' all the time, but he went silent a couple of weeks ago." Fuck, I wish that were true. I had to admit, even if only in my mind, this Matt-Patrick was lightyears better than Patrick Patrick. Sure, he was dumb, he was every stereotype dudebro in the book, he smelled like he bathed in sweat baths... But, for the first time in my life, he wanted to be around me. He wanted to spend time with me. He made an effort. He... liked me. The mental gymnastics needed to make sense of the situation was growing too monumental to comprehend, but in that moment as he sat there with his dumb fucking grin on his face as if I was going to just completely buy it, I started to hope it was true.

"So, what now, Matt? Are you just gonna keep fucking my mom and prentending to be my Dad for the rest of your life? Or are you gonna hop out and ditch us?" He raised his eyebrow in genuine confusion.

"I mean, yeah that was the plan. One, your mom is fuckin' hot and she's better than any girl I've ever been with. Two, I kinda like our little family. Three, I ain't ditchin' ya, bro. You had enough of that shit for one lifetime. Besides, I gotta get you to chill the fuck out one way or another, so I was hoping we could give it a shot. Like I've been beggin' man." 'Matt' put his hands together as if praying, pleading to me. I suppose it wouldn't be the worst thing. It's better than coming home every day to spy on him, and it's way better than being the sad wallflower all the fucking time. Besides, those dumb fucking puppy dog eyes...

"You know what? Sure, Matt. What did you have in mind?" I could barely finish my sentence before he'd twisted the key and slammed on the gas. The man drove like a bat out of hell through town, hooting and hollering in victory as if he'd won a match.

"Hell fuckin' yeah, man! Dude we're gonna be so tight, it's gonna be awesome. You're gonna be so fuckin' sexy, the dudes are gonna be on their knees by the time we're done! Slobberin' on that dick like SLURPEDY SLURP! WOO!" So fuckin' dumb. Dumb as a box of rocks. But I couldn't help but crack a smile as he swerved left and right, shouting at the top of his lungs. "Let's get you sweatin' man. We can get you pumpin' iron, playin' ball... I'm burning everything you got in your closet, bro. Nobody wants polos and button ups, man. Gettin' you some J's, some good jocks. Oh, how do you feel about chains?"

"Matt, dude. I'm not like you. That's all well and good for you, but I can't pull that shit off..." He slammed on the brakes and a cavalcade of horns from behind us rang out like a brass band. Matt whipped his gaze to me in shock.

"Don't say that, bro! You could be a bona fide stud! Look at you, man!" A couple of hard slaps against my bony chest and a harsh wheeze later, perhaps it sank in a bit. "Aight, well we have some work to do. I mean, if you're up for it." He smirked at me, lifting up those massive arms and flexing. His veins bulged from his massive bicep, the wet hairs in his ripe pits wafted that pungent scent I'd regrettably started to secretly love... Yeah, maybe I did want it.

"I don't know how, man. If I were like you, I bet I could." As if a cartoon lightbulb flickered to life above his head, I saw the spark of inspiration hit him like a sack of bricks. That stupid smirk grew into a wide, toothy grin.

"Aight, bro. Haven't tried this before, but I'll give it a go." He clapped his hands together, rubbing them gently. "I saw Jimmy Morales do this once when he needed a spotter. Gotta ask, though. You trust me, right?" I sat there and wondered if I did. I'd pretended up until this point that I believed every word that had come out of his mouth. This insane, psychotic story. It was nuts. It was crazy. But that little voice in the back of my head, deep down in the dark recesses of my brain decided to finally speak up.

"Yeah, Matt. I trust you."

"ALRIGHT! Fuck yeah, man. Oh shit, this is gonna be great! Okay, so don't freak out, just trust me and let it happen, okay? It doesn't hurt, the dudes usually bust a nut after it's all over." I heard a squelching rumble from in his stomach: wet, guttural, as if he were getting ready to vomit. Which became more and more likely as I saw a lump start to make it's way up his throat.

"Matt..." His body began to shudder and quake, his veins bulging and head thrashing from side to side. Then, from between his lips, a glowing blue vapor began to slip out. It was tiny at first, a little tail whipping about, before more and more of it started to bellow out of his mouth. Slick, bulbous, translucent. I had mere seconds of watching it slither out before it darted right into my own slack jaw. It squirmed as it wriggled from his body into mine, slurping deep into my bulging stomach. The feeling of fullness overtook me, watching more and more of the rubbery thing enter me, squeezing into every available inch within me, and he was right: it felt good. It felt like an eternity, but in reality it was just moments. The last of suctioned into me, and the world went black.

---

I woke the next morning in my bed. Shooting straight upright in a puddle of sweat. I rubbed my hands on my face, running my fingers through my drenched hair. What a fuckin' dream. I groaned as doubled over in pain. I felt like I was hit by a train. Everything hurt, a soreness unlike anything I'd ever experienced before radiated from every fiber of my being. Then, a soft caress of the nostril. Salty, buttery, funky... I raised my arm, finding the culprit immediately.

"Fuck!" I spat out, before taking a deep breath, another hit. "Fuuuuck..." Another inhale, a familiar stink, a comforting stink. What started as gentle whiffs quickly turned into full on huffing. I buried my nose in my pit, letting the wet jungle lather my face in my own sweat.

"Morning, bro. Good shit, ain't it?" The words echoed in my head, a soft, rippling little voice from within my brain. I should have been alarmed, terrified, even. But no, the words felt like gospel to me. "We really went to town yesterday, man. I had you liftin' like an Olympian. Take it easy. Here, I'll be right there, I got just the thing for it!" My hands started to drift southward, beneath the waistband of the teal sweats I didn't own... Were they... Pats? The door to my room burst open mid-huff, and in walked the hulking tower himself with a tray in hand.

"Goooood Morning, Kiddo! I made ya a protein shake, good recovery breakfast after a workout sesh like we had! Oh, your Mom made eggs!" He walked over to the side of my bed, kicking the Jordans I'd borrowed from him to the side. Wait, when did I do that? "Eat up, champ. Those 'ceps aren't gonna feed themselves!" Slamming the tray down onto my thighs, I let out a groan of pain.

"Pat? Dude, I had the weirdest dream." Dude? I never say dude. I cupped my hand, slick with sweat and pre over my mouth, aghast at the words coming out of my mouth. Pat smiled, grabbing the shake and handing it to me. "Drink up, my dude. For real, you're gonna be in a world of hurt otherwise." The voice boomed in my head, HIS voice. But his lips hadn't moved an inch. "Pat..." I ripped the sheets off of me, sure enough, I was sporting his nasty sweatpants & drenched socks. Cupping my manhood was most definitely his grimy jockstrap. "Hey, if we were gonna have the best workout, I had to be comfortable, bro! I knew you'd get it, though." I looked at him, a tight lipped smile, as if he were proving to me he weren't talking to me. "Feels good, right! I told ya! Just think, bro. With a half of me in there, you're gonna be unstoppable." I smiled. A genuine fuckin' smile, for the first time in as long as I could remember. I watched as my hand gripped the shake, bringing it to my lips of it's own accord. Downing the vanilla shake, our eyes met, and I understood completely. Matt winked at me, ruffling my hair, and sauntered back out of the door.

I leaned back in my bed, throwing my arm behind my head. The musk drifting from my pits and feet, identical to my dad's. Smirking, I let my fingers drift down to my growing meat in its slimy pouch, knowing fully well that I was in damn fine hands.

---

So that brings us to today, I guess! One year to the day. One full year since I finally let Dad in. 'Pat' sure did join the wrestling team as assistant coach, bringing his son in tow, eager to finish my senior year with at least a title. Thanks to him, I made varsity after the first fuckin' tryout. Can't say it was all me, all the time, but after a while it was. Honestly, it all started to blend together. Me at the wheel, him at the wheel, soon it sort of blurred and it was just me. That last semester was the best of my whole fucking life. Parties, bodybuilding, skating with the boys, fuckin' the boys... Shit, it was the time of my fuckin' life.

And after every day at school, or at least after every post-practice locker room blow job, I couldn't wait to get home and smash some Call of Duty with the old man. Mom would always come in, making comments on how we seemed as if I'd become a mini-Pat. Finishing eachother's sentences, drinking the same beer, wearing the same kind of clothes... she'd always put our sneaks outside the garage door, "they even stank the same." Little did she know just how much of the same person we really were.

I've decided to stick around the house for a year or so before maybe headed to college. I don't know, family is here, friends are here, Coach Weston should be retiring in a year or two... so there should be an opening for a new assistant coach on the wrestling team. Besides, I may have landed quite the catch in the boyfriend department, and I really want him to meet my dad, I have a feeling they'll get along just fine.

Masquerade

Content Warning: Horror Erotica, Forced Transformation

You sit in the back of the Uber, eagerly twiddling your thumbs. A Grindr date is not exactly what you had planned your evening, but as fate would have it, the cosmos smiled upon you tonight. Instead of laying in your bed scrolling through the ten Netflix shows you actually like, you are enroute to hopefully get lucky this evening. And indeed, lucky you are. When you saw the profile that had messaged you out of the blue, your jaw nearly dropped to the floor. His username was 'Rubbercock' and from the pics he had sent you of his rather monstrously large uncut appendage, you can only imagine that it stretches even larger as it grows. That blonde hair, those dark brown eyes, that pig boy nose ring, those muscles... it didn't take much convincing for you to toss on whatever clothes were lying close to you and bolt out the door.

You peer down at your phone, tapping it gently to reveal another message from Rubbercock, or as he had introduced himself to you: Justin. It's merely the door code for his building and his apartment number, of course accompanied by a smiling devil emoji. You feel yourself start to blush, wondering if that monster dick of his would be stretching your hole or your throat this evening. A twinge of nervousness had already crossed your mind, but you have tossed it aside as common performance anxiety. You haven't ever seen a stud of this caliber before, neither had you ever expected one to show any interest in you, so the thought of having to perform at the same level does permeate your thoughts. Though, due to the simple fact that Justin had messaged you first, initiating the contact himself, it proved enough to carry you from your doorstep to the curb of the dingy apartment building.

As you pull up, you look up at the building before you. Every window on it's weathered facade was dark and vacant, save for the single corner unit on the fourth floor where the light shone a deep red. You thank your driver, tipping him adequately for charioting you to a late night hookup at one in the morning. As he pulls away, you stare up at the windows, seeing the dark outline of a figure standing there, as if watching your approach. You smile and wave, but the figure simply retreats back into the recesses of the apartment. For a moment, you take pause, as a sense of foreboding tickles the hairs at the back of your neck. Though, driven purely by the throbbing brain in your groin, you decide to persist. Walking up to the apartment doors, you punch in the code he'd given you, and the loud click of the door rang out into the dark night. You swing the door open, walking through the seedy lobby to the elevators at the rear of the room. Pressing the call button, the doors immediately open; and there, standing in the elevator, waiting for you, is Justin.

He is certainly no catfish. He leans against the elevator wall with a stoic smoulder on his impossibly handsome face. There was no photoshop or FaceApp involved in his profile pictures whatsoever, he is exactly as he was in his profile: 6'4", broad shouldered, muscles bulging as if chiseled out of marble. Michelangelo couldn't have sculpted a more perfect specimen if he'd tried. The same commandeering attitude which had permeated his bio exudes from him merely idling before you. You recall instantly what he'd put. Dom Switch, Muscle Jock, Alpha Male. He certainly checks all the boxes.

"Well. You coming or what?" His voice is gravelly and stern, there was no question in what he said, it was a command. You blush as you enter the elevator, the doors shutting quietly behind you. In the cramped, small elevator, there is little room for the two of you. Though, you couldn't care less. You stand mere inches from your personal Adonis for the night, taking immediate notice to the smooth shine of his pecs and boxy abs. Furthermore, you take notice of the scent. It is pungent, as if he had just finished a several-hour workout, with the strangest undertone you can't quite place. His gaze shoots toward you, looking down as he faces forward. "Patience. You'll get a nose full of this soon enough." He raises his inked arms and flexes, his bulbous arms seemingly grow another three inches from the mere contraction. You swear you hear the faintest sound of groaning, as if his biceps were like creaking leather. Surely a fluke, besides, the aroma radiating from his smooth, sweaty pits all but intoxicate you at the slightest whiff. The scent of pure, unmitigated testosterone. You feel a dribble of spit drip from the corner of your lip, and he scoffs at you.

The doors open, and he struts out. The squeaking of his beat up trainers against the terrazzo floors bounces from wall to wall in the dim hallway. You quickly make haste and follow him and his trailing musk down the narrow corridor until he reaches the final door on the right. Twisting the doorknob, the two of you enter and are immediately met with the shocking Jungle-like humidity of the apartment. The red light casts a dim glow on your surroundings. The unit is sparsely furnished if not in disarray, appearing to be a classic four bedroom layout. The kitchen appears to barely be used, a thin layer of dust coats the formica counters. The humid air traps Justin's scent twice as strong, amplifying both the more obvious masculine musk but also the peculiar tinge just beneath. You sniff at the air in a feverish euphoria, before the slamming of the door behind you snaps you back to reality. Justin locks the deadbolt and chain, turning to you with a sort of voyeuristic curiosity.

He circles you like a predator surrounding his prey, looking you up and down with a single peaked eyebrow. Standing there, silent as death, a sense of exhilaration overwhelms you. Perhaps it's the slowly mounting sense of danger, or more likely, the animalistic interest he's taken in you. He finally stops and stands before you. Your head tilts upward to meet his gaze and he looks down at you. Practically drooling, you stand there in silence before he brings his large hands on either side of your head. He steadily brings your face closer and closer to his massive, firm chest, until your face collides between his pecs. Immediately, the wet droplets of his sweat emit his glorious musk as they splatter against your nose and forehead. Though, rather than single mindedly basking in his splendor, you notice an odd texture to his skin.

It is slick and smooth, which is to be expected of a sweaty, clean shaven hunk. Yet, there is a peculiar malleability to it. Your face seems to push into it, and it stretches and pulls in every direction- as if to swallow you whole. Purely for the sake of science, you allow your tongue to sneak out of it's cave to have a taste. Sure enough, it is smooth, wet, almost slick like a polished and lubed latex. That is to say, it is lubed with Justin's virile sweat, but there is an unusual poreless gloss to it.

"Ahh," his sultry voice glides through the air. "I'll give you something to taste, boy. Get on your knees." You feel his thick hand plop atop your head, pushing you down until you're eye level with his bulging crotch. The scent is strong, wafting out from his buttoned cargo pants. As he unbuttons them, they quickly fall to the ground, showing an obscene bulge within the appropriately labeled underwear: Fuck Yeah. Your mind is completely filled with filthy lust, and he shoves your face deep into the outline of his gargantuan python. Though, again, as you breathe in his piquant musk, it is hinted with that subtle synthetic odor beneath the cheesy fragrance. If you weren't so blinded by thirst and libido, perhaps you may have said something; but alas, the feeling is too good. The dominant grip is too strong. The scent was is mouthwatering.

"Bedroom, boy. I have things to show you." You stare up at his smirking visage, the first smile he has cracked since you arrived. It's a smile filled with licentious mischief, which pleases you all too well. He turns around, kicking off his well worn sneakers and tossing his pants to the side as he walks toward one of the four doors. Turning to you, he beckons you with his finger and a seductive wink. You eagerly hasten to the open doorway, and a quick flip of the switch reveals his unkempt bedroom. Dirty clothes litter the floors and drawers, the walls, floors, and bare mattress are all dotted with what you can only assume are cum stains. Though, while all of this is enough to drive you wild, your interest is piqued by something very different.

Masks. Four, to be exact. Each lifelike to an impressive degree of detail and craftsmanship, distinct in their masculine appearance. Silently, you ponder if Justin is merely a collector. There's plenty of stranger things individuals might collect, you note a couple of your own rather off beat menageries. However, you observe one that has caught your attention rather powerfully. Sitting upright in a pile of Justin's dirty laundry is a particularly handsome one.

Tanned, tattooed, a strong brow and some delicious wavy locks of sculpted silicone- it is shockingly handsome. For a split second, you can swear that it's dark brown, almost black eyes dart in your direction. That's ridiculous, though, you convince yourself. An optical illusion is all it is. You hear Justin's heavy footfalls against the hardwood floor approaching you from behind, but you're so taken with the mask that neither your eye nor your attention moves away from it.

"His name is Orlando. Sexy, isn't he?" You nod in agreement, feeling his strong hands starting to unbutton your shirt. "He's my favorite. Cocky. Strong. Masculine. Dominant. Reminds me a lot of myself." He pries the shirt from you, discarding it onto the bed. "He's got that attitude I look for in a man, and has the face to back it up." His fingers pinch down on your undershirt, and in one fell swipe, it is ripped down the center. You feel your breath quickly being swiped away, his hands glide down your bare skin, leaving trails of his sweat wherever they roam. "Turn around, boy." You do as your commanded, and as a reward, you are greeted with Justin's indominable stare. His eyes suck you in, entranced. "If you want to worship this," he grabs his absurd horse cock through the ripe black fabric, "you will have to do something in return." You brace yourself for a particularly kinky demand: bondage, sneaker huffing, nipple clamps, cock cage... and in your anticipation you are correct to imagine a bizarre request. "Put him on for me."

You immediately turn to the mask, again taken in by it's piercing gaze. Orlando is large, surely it will swamp your head. Would you even be able to see out of it's dark eyes? You hesitate, that quiet twinge of danger presents itself to you yet again. For what reason, you can't quite put your finger on, but it has grown stronger and stronger to the point where you are unable to deny it further. You were prepared for kink, but this is a bit too left field for you to stomach. Beside a sense of intimidation, you're uncomfortable fulfilling his request, and having met him merely moments ago, you're unsure of how such a man like Justin would respond to your denial. He detects your uncertainty, and you can somehow feel the smile creeping back onto his face.

"Did I stutter, boy? What, does he scare you? You don't think that you can handle wearing a face like his?" You turn back to Justin as he's deliberately pulling the waistband of his underwear down. You stare in intense awe, as they slip farther and farther down, his shaft gradually revealing itself as they slide down his muscular legs. One final tug and his hooded cockhead is exposed, two peach sized balls prominently hang behind. His dick hangs unnaturally, dripping globules of precum from it's hidden slit, and drops of sweat from the impossible smooth testes. It's easily a foot long, thick and ripe. If the mask didn't stir you awake from your promiscuous haze, the sight of his terrifying appendage surely does. Your lips begin to quake, and goosebumps shudder down your arms.

(See the post on BlogSpot for Uncensored Image)

"I see." His smile turns wild, unhinged. "We're going to play this the hard way." He chuckles to himself, "Or, better yet, the fun way." You stand there frozen before him, wide eyed in an emotion beyond fear. Then, he brings his hand in front of your face, wriggling his fingers mere inches from the tip of your nose. He quickly grips your cheeks, letting his pointer finger slip into the corner of your mouth. Spinning you around, he pulls you tight against his chiseled back, and extends his other arm toward the mask. You watch in abject horror as his arm begins to slowly lengthen. The sound of rubbery creaking and stretching reverberates in your ear as it stretches farther and farther across the room, over the king sized bed, and to the dresser on the far side of the room where Orlando sits atop his musky throne. In that moment, you realize precisely what that synthetic odor is that cuts through his delectable scent. Perhaps you had blocked it out earlier, or dismissed it as an impossibility. Though, as his hand firmly grips onto the mask's strong neck, you can deny it no longer: silicone. Rubber. Latex.

The arm quickly snaps back to it's original size, and the mask's stoic face quickly shifts to one of impish delight. Justin's grip loosens, and the mask begins to hover in the air before your wide eyes. The breaths pull in through your nostrils rapidly, catching the same pungent, rubbery musk that radiates out of your captor also spreading out from the mask. As it slowly begins to turn around, you feel Justin's cock snaking down the back of your pants, past your underwear and in between your cheeks. A muffled groan escapes your mouth, you can't refute the carnal pleasure that is flooding your mind. You feel the tip of his dick gingerly pressing against your clenched hole, and you instantly yelp as the head slides out of it's sheath and into you. Justin lets out a guttural moan, and the mask immediately makes it's move.

It flies above your head, quickly shoving itself down onto the crown of your skull. You feel the wet, slick silicone sliding down your face. Justin unlatches his finger from your mouth, and the mask suctions down fully onto you in a firm slam that nearly knocks you from your feet. The world goes black for you, blinded by the dark of inside of the dank mask, having nothing to sense beside the noxious fumes from within, and Justin's probing cock sliding ever further into you like a burrowing snake. The mask begins to become tighter and tigher, clamping itself soundly onto you. From within, you try to let out a cry of ecstasy from his slithering dick making it's way through your colon, only to have the smelly slime plunge down your throat.

You feel your rigid skull seem to crack, as the mask starts to undulate and contort. You're being invaded from both front and back, top and bottom: the mask flooding it's rubbery sludge down your throat and nostrils, and Justin worming his cock up your rear, surely bulging out of your belly. Your vision begins to return, hazy at first, but when you feel the silicone press against your retinas, it's clear as day. You gasp for breath, as your rubbery lips part for the first time. The familiar musky air flows into your lungs across your slick rubber tongue. You feel your now plump lips curl into a wide smirk against your will as tendrils of slick silicone begin to sprawl out from the edges of the mask around your shoulders. Orlando is now in control.

The warm, cascading torrent of liquid rubber flows freely down your body; invading every pore and orifice it washes over in it's wake. You hear the first sounds out of your pierced ears: sloshing, splattering, squeaking, and the sound of your brassy new moans. You feel yourself biting down on your lip, an ever so subtle rubbery squelch pinging out as your teeth press down on it. Justin begins to thrust hard and rough while the the sludge encompasses your ass. All you can do is listen to the splattering sounds of wet, heavy sex as the stud plows you from behind. His hand clamps around your neck, releasing a satisfied 'ah' from Orlando's suave voice deep in your throat. The sludge finally reaches your feet, encompassing you in the warmth of your wet cocoon.

Justin's pace picks up, you feel his cock deep within you slamming and protruding from your gut. Your collective moans grow louder and louder until the first barrage of his load barrels into you. Your head turns downward, and you see your body for the first time now tanned and covered in intricate tattoos from your chest down to the tops of your toes. As his second deluge is shot into you, you see your gut expanding with his seed, only to quickly spread out beneath your smooth, supple skin. The rubbery sound of creaking and expansion rings out of you as his splurge starts to pool in your feet, expanding as they are filled like a water balloon. Orlando wriggles your toes while they grow, size 10... size 11... size 12... 13... 14... eventually they finally hit their maximum volume at 15. The sludge rolls around beneath your skin, until it starts to firm up and emit the funkiest musk you have ever smelt. Your left foot lifts off the ground, a wet sweaty footprint left behind on the floor, while the sludge inflates your calves and meaty quads. Bulbous, at first, but they soon start to sharply define each muscle.

Your groin stirs to life as your sac starts to fill with Justin's seed. You can feel your balls swell with rubbery, slick fluid, growing to the size of clementines within mere seconds. Your cock starts to stretch from the weight of the pooling liquid gathering in your hooded head. It grows longer, stretching down your smooth thigh, until the trajectory shifts upward. You hear yourself huffing in Orlando's husky timbre, and your cock springs to life, hard but flexuous. Your hole immediately begins to tighten, your sphincter becomes stretched: the perfect fleshlight ass as your cheeks round out and jiggle all while Justin continues to pound it.

Abs pop out as your torso elongates. Two meaty pecs balance atop them as your back & shoulders bulk to hold up their sheer weight. All that fills your ears is the sound of the wet smacking of groin to ass, the sloshing of the goo inside of you, and the sound of your rapidly stretching arms. Your biceps swell, your forearms firm, and your hands expand to meet the entirely synthetically perfect equilibrium. You feel Justin wrap his hand around your neck, pulling backward to let the fluid rise up your throat and into your mouth. It tastes like the silicone of the mask itself, slick, salty, sweaty. You find yourself unable to breathe, just as you approach climax. Your cock throbs against the grey underwear barely containing your bloated bulge and juicy behind, leaking the rubbery pre that has filled you into the fabric.

Pressure grows more and more as the fluid fills your sinuses, pressing against the cranial bone. You have no thoughts left to ponder, you are completely filled, completely encased within someone else: functioning more as a skeleton for your new body than anything else. Resistance is futile, and having seen the end result of your rubbery transformation, perhaps the ride would be entertaining at the least. Letting go of every last shred of who you were, you feel the cracking of the bone, and the final flood of fluid into your head. You shoot your first musky load as Orlando right into the pouch of your underwear, round after round. Likely Justin's excess spunk just flooding out of your palpitating cock at first, though as more and more sprays out, it's quickly replaced by the batter now produced in your heavy balls. The liquid surrounds your brain, poking and prodding, creeping into every single groove and crevice, and as it completely fills you, you admit surrender, happy to be the quiet voice in the back of Orlando's mind.

---

Justin lets his cock retract back into it's typical size, and pulls out of your juicy hole with a wet schlorp. You smirk as you feel your hole tighten again, ready for the next load to be swallowed and integrated. You hear your host purring in the back of your mind, now imprisoned in abject euphoria for the rest of time. You wouldn't be needing him often, this body is all yours after all. He was merely the frame for which this masterpiece was to be birthed. You collapse onto the bed, still panting from the hot absorption you'd completed. Sighing in satisfaction, you turn over, grabbing your deflating bulge in your sweat slick fingers.

"Sorry it took so long, Lando. I got carried away with myself." Justin smirks as he flexes before you. You scoff, stretching your firm arms behind your neck, your irresistible musk wafting from your sweat-slicked pits.

"Mmmmm. I'm just happy to finally have a body of my own. Not being used by 'master' whenever he gets horny." No more would you be just a suit to be used by whomever thirsts over your sheer studliness. You were your own man now, abeit a synthetic one. So what? You're made for pleasure, both giving and receiving. It's about fucking time you had your turn in the driver's seat. You're sure that the whispers and moans within your mind agree with you, anyway. Turning to the other three masks lifelessly strewn across the room, a curling smirk scrawls across your face. "We got a lot of work to do, mi amor."

"Heh, those little cucks can watch for a couple hours. They've waited this long, what's a little bit longer?" Justin starts to bend down to his knees, bringing your massive dripping foot to his face, gently sniffing and licking your soles. As you lean back in satisfaction, his mouth stretching to fit the entire size 15 into his gullet, you realize he's right. You sure liked to watch, so let's give the boys a good show. You press your smelly toes onto Justins bulge, letting your lust take over.

---

Three months have come and gone. The world is a lot less exciting than you thought it would be. Sure, Justin is a damn good fuck and the best brother you could ask for. At the same time, there's nothing quite like variety to throw some spice into the mix. Besides, your other brothers have waited for so long. Perhaps it's time to finally bring another in. Lounging in the hotel room chair, you eagerly await Justin's return. Zy'aire awaits his host, sitting prominently on the minibar in silence. You wink at him, knowing the unworn mask could do nothing in return... yet.

From across the room, the sound of the clicking lock brings you to attention. You lean backward, letting your arm rest comfortably behind your head, and your fragrant feet on full display. As Justin walks in, you exchange a quick wink before the host sheepishly sulks in. Just a few breaths of your funk, he'll be down for the count. He has no idea whats coming for him, just how you like it.

being a professor is such hard work, kids are always complaining about their grades. Mindless jocks are always trying to skate by while doing. I would much rather trade my smarts and sexuality to be a big, dumb dude than the kind queer progressive professor that I am.

From A+ to Stud

Suddenly as you were taking a walk your mind became fuzzy, your smarts seemed to quickly vanish as you were barely able to figure out what 1 plus 1 was. You felt a sudden jerk that sent you spinning forcing you to take a seat nearby.

You grab your head suddenly noticing how thick your thighs were now.

Fuck? you say your voice now sounding more brash and less educated as it once did. You hope up and rush to a nearby restroom to get a look at yourself.

Fuck bro, you say, checking out your new hot young body, what really impressed you was what you were packing in the junk department, it was huge, your balls heavy, you needed to cum so you filled your insta with pics hoping some sweet chicks would answer your call, mm, tits and ass that was your favorite things now.

Fuck you were horny, but thankfully given who you were you barely had to leave the restroom before girls were throwing themselves at you. Fuck college girls were hot sometimes you wish you had gone, but fuck you get plenty of action at the club showing off your hot body and with your online vids getting plenty of action you may become the male model/porn star you dreamt about.

Hi there, I wish more then anything that I could grow a muscle gut and become a huge Bara for my husband, but I am too lazy after working to go to the gym. Anything you can do to help me grow the big body muscles and pecs my husband wants me to have, while still maintaining a taut round belly without abs?

Suddenly your body is muscled, tatts cover your new ripped body, you feel powerful and horny, which is the twist I gave you, the more sex you and your husband have the bigger you'll become, but you look and the mirror and notice more than your body had changed.

You went from over worked white boy to a true Japanese Bara, at the rate you and your husband will begin to fuck, You'll be massive in size by the end of the month.

attaining the gut of your dreams.

Spiritual Trainers

He came into the gym a skinny little twig, quite literally skin and bones. Never really able to gain any weight, Gordon was known around the neighborhood as the ghost: deathly pale and skeletal. For the past 5 years since he graduated from medical school, he tried strategy after strategy to try and bulk up. From high carb and high protein diets to vegan plans to just eating fast food for an entire month, nothing seemed to work for him. Thus, this new gym membership was yet another rung on his ladder, another step on trying to get swole.

The gym had been a staple of the neighborhood for decades, becoming a well established conveyor belt of successful athletes. The place supplied wrestlers, boxers, bodybuilders of all types to the industry: always winners, always huge. Thus, in the hopes of becoming their next success story, Gordon put pen to paper on the membership form, and struggling to carry his limp gym bag over his shoulder, he drudged toward the locker room.

While the impressive history of the place seemed to be a matter of fact, evidence toward their incredible efficacy in their training methods, there was a more clandestine underlying truth behind closed doors. Since the gym's opening, hundreds of studs left into the world, and many return. Some, however, linger. Past their dying breaths, they still return to the gym for the same reason they patroned it in life: getting huge. It would be fair to say of 200 successful athletes, about 80 of them are... recycled. Inhabited by the spirits of their predecessors, reliving life as they did in their time. And on that fateful day, the emaciated young man had caught the eyes of a number of such spirits. As he entered the well-maintained but rather fragrant locker room, the first such spirit laid his eyes upon Gordon.

---

In 1987, Dacre Dallas became the youngest title holder in the WWE. The "Pretty Boy from Texas" was a fan favorite, especially with the ladies. His trademark mullet, bushy moustache and masculine good looks made him quite the Don Juan in his day. At 5'9 and only 9% body fat, he was the 80's Adonis.

Everyone that knew him would recall him as the good-natured dipshit who all seemed to love. He'd be the first one to laugh at a bad joke, the first to offer training tips and branding ideas, the first to buy the round of drinks, and the first to offer a quickie in the sauna. Beautiful, sexy, stupid, and loveable, Dacre was the guy everyone wanted to be around.

---

As Dacre flexed into the mirror, admiring his own good looks, his nose twitched. He turned his head, following the unfamiliar scent of Irish Spring soap until he saw him.

He was perplexed. Many a guy had come through the doors looking to build muscle from nothing, but this was quite the find. Gordon's lanky figure had even shocked the spirit world: the ghost had surprised the ghosts! As he opened his locker, Dacre strode toward him, the ethereal sound of his squeaking Adidas high tops ever so faintly echoing in the room. Gordon began to take off his shirt, stripping it to slip on his tank; a sight that had sealed his fate. Dacre stood awestruck behind him, the sheer difference in size was more than evident. Even at relatively similar height, it only highlighted just how frail the young man was. In that moment, Dacre felt it. He felt the calling, the beckoning of life itself. Flesh is wasted on the living, when the dead have so much more to offer. He furrowed his bushy brows, a sly grin crept beneath his thick moustache.

Gordon felt a cool breeze between his legs, goosebumps trailed down his spine. The ac must have been strong, he dismissed it in his mind. Shrugging it off, he dropped his pants and revealed his baggy black briefs. A stronger, colder breeze blew again, enough to elicit a shiver from the lanky young man. He looked down, immediately met with the translucent grinning face of Dacre Dallas.

"Fuck, this will be fun. Coming in!" Before Gordon could even say a single word, Dacre took his massive ectoplasmic hands and quickly plunged them upward, right into his hole. A squelch rang out in the room, as Gordon's hole stretched to the rubbery forearms of the ghostly hulk. Chuckling as he began to force his entire gigantic body into Gordon, the young man desperately grasped at his invader, only feeling the slightest slimy resistance before phasing right through. He watched as belly started to bulge outward, growing as more and more of Dacre slithered inside of him.

"Heheh, oh shit, man! I forgot how good this felt!" Dacre chirped from within the twink, just as his ankles slid in, his size 10 Adidas kicking back and forth before slipping in completely. Gordon began to thrash about the locker room, slamming into walls and doors while Dacre slipped him on from inside. He slid his arms into the skinny tunnels of Gordon's body, swelling them with his thick plasmic muscle before his hands popped into his hosts, exploding them into calloused strong fists. Pecs and abs started to bubble out as they were filled with Dacre's, his underwear grew tighter as the ghostly cock thrust into his own, his balls swelling with Dacre's seed.

His legs burst with thick forests of hair atop his hilly quads, his feet quickly burst from his size 7 trainers, and as pressure mounted up his throat and against the palate of his mouth, a single pop rang out. The thrashing stopped, 'Gordon' stood still for a moment before cracking his neck and smiling. Turning to the left, Dacre sauntered over to the mirror, admiring his new fleshsuit. The kid looked good on him, he couldn't deny it. He flashed his pearly white teeth beneath his moustache, running his hand through the wavy mullet that had sprouted from Gordon's scalp. It was undoubtedly Gordon to the naked eye, just 100 pounds bigger and possessed by the bulky ghost of an 80's wrestler.

"Aww yeah! This I can work with!" Dacre's booming voice poured from Gordon's lips, as he flexed his sizeable biceps. "You doin' okay in there?" He knocked on his head, the faintest purr deep inside the voids of his brain the only reply. He chuckled, adjusting his bulge in the straining briefs before strutting out onto the lifting floor. He clapped his hands, rubbing them together with a dim laugh: eager to feel the rush of a good pump once more. Walking toward the bench press, he tossed 35 pount plates onto the barbell like they were nothing, and continued to press 10 reps without so much as breaking a sweat. He turned between sets, winking at one of the ladies across the room on the cable machine; a gesture that was accepted and reciprocated from the Amazonian woman. From behind the counter, the attendant smirked. Well aware of each of their residents and their tendencies to slip into the gym's clients, he always enjoyed seeing the before and after with each and every new stud that exited the locker room. It didn't happen every day, but when it did, it was a sight to behold. It was even enough to snatch yet another wandering eye.

---

Justin Drake was the influencer to watch in 2024. With every TikTok and Instagram, viewers could see his growth from the everyday fuckboy twunk to the jacked stud he became. Standing 6'0 with the looks and build of a model, he fit naturally into the realm of fitness modeling. Every thirst trap got thousands of impressions, an equal amount of interaction. This quickly led to product deals, podcasting gigs, sponsorships and content collaboration. Even at one point joining a Big Brother-style bro house series on YouTube, Justin was unstoppable. Though, if you dug a little deeper, you'd find these weren't the only accolades he was receiving.

Top .01% of creators on OnlyFans as well as JustForFans, Justin was well known in the adult industry as the dumb himbo that got off on his musk. Pit stink, sweaty ass, musty cock, and most popularly his ripe size 13s. He was likeable on camera, dumbly laughing at any terrible porn joke on set, and he was popular with his scene partners; even corrupting several guys into scentplay with his addictive aroma. Every horny Tumblr page had his ass, cock, and feet plastered over their feeds, and those big green eyes graced the dreams of ever bater on the site.

---

As Dacre hopped to his feet, he turned to head toward the gorgeous woman, only to be met with the drooling face of Justin.

"Bruh. Like, fuck. Is that you in there, Dac?" Dacre grinned from ear to ear, leaning over the warm, musky specter sitting on the bench. The minty green vapors that wafted from the ghost rather ironically reeked of buttery sweat and musk, tickling Dacre's nostrils as he inhaled his friend's scent. Sighing in satisfaction, he patted Justin's gooey shoulder.

"In the flesh, man. Or, in his flesh... hah!" The duo dumbly laughed, just as they would when they floated around the gym, chuckling at the poor form of their successors. "Nice find, right?"

"Dude fits you like a glove! Here, just let me..." Justin leaned in to Dacre's chest, taking a deep whiff. The scent was subtle, slightly salty, like ocean waves rolling onto the beach. Pulling away, the ghost shrugged his shouldes. "Meh. I could do better."

"Sure, man. Sure. Huhuhu!" Just as Dacre began to walk away, he stopped in his tracks. Justin watched with a raised eyebrow as he slowly turned around, with a devilish smirk on his face. With a quick glance around, making sure no stupid mortal was waddling around, he began to beckon Justin toward him. "C'mon! Jump in while no one's looking!" Justin scoffed at the whispered invitation.

"Bro, there's no way I'll fit! I'll get the next one." This did little to dissuade Dacre, whose beckoning became more grandiose. Sliding down his shorts and briefs, his sweaty cock flopped out and hung limply in the air. Dacre grasped it, furiously pumping it as he continued to keep watch.

"Get in here! I'll make some room! Squeeze in, man, it'll be fun!" The ghost stared at the cock; so shiny, so inviting, yet so boring. He could do much better, he knew he would do much better. Besides, who better to share a guy with than your best friend? Smirking, Justin hopped to his feet, smirking as he broke into a sprint. Dacre smiled, bracing himself as Justin launched himself forward, diving into his dick. A wet slurping sound radiated out as Justin squeezed himself into the semi erect dick, stretching the slit wide as it swallowed him whole. It grew thick and hard in a matter of seconds, before the rubbery ghost shot downward into his balls. Inflating quickly into the size of basketballs, the last of Justin squirmed into the undulating dick. Dacre fell backwards from the masterful invasion, panting and mindlessly pumping his cock.

"Fuuuuuuuck, bruh. It'll be a tight squeeze, but it'll good to rub up against you again, bro!" Justin chided as he spread throughout Gordon's body. The host yet again began to flail and shake, twisting and turning as he was filled yet again. Dacre felt his best friend's massive legs and feet slide into his own, bloating intensely down his thighs, then his calves and forcing their way into his feet with a quick burst of Justin's sweat bursting out of his soles. A familiar funk wafted out from his now size 13 feet, stretching the bulky sneakers out with his toes and inundating them with his ripe footmusk.

His chest and abs stretched upward as Justin pushed his long torso against the cramped interior of his vessel's shoulders. The body contorted as it grew taller and taller, his mass growing with every inch of height. A sharp stink began to pour from his hairy pits, which grew wetter by the second. The cock distended further: 6 inches, 8 inches, 9 inches before the skin started to constrict around his head. The foreskin restored, the tangy scent of his hooded dick drifted out from his groin while his balls dropped into the size of kiwis.

Dacre moaned and stroked from the sensory overload, feeling Justin's head slowly push up his throat and pressing against his own spectral head. In the blink of an eye, and rather loud crack, seizing once again ceased. Laughing wildly, the duo sat up in their swollen host.

"Bruh! Fuck! This guy is tight!" Justin chimed out of their shared lips, Dacre quickly responding.

"But man, it feels so good to have you in here, though!" They jumped back up, quickly adjusting to their new size. Their muscles jiggled as if they were balloons filled with molasses. With each step, dimly chuckling as they did, the muscles began to firm up until they were rock hard. The duo flexed, eagerly sniffing the wet musk that radiated from their dripping pits, Justin in particular reveling in the scent of life once again. Gordon's inflated body strutted across the gym, hopping down onto the leg press. Placing their massive, ripe sneakers onto the press, they easily moved the 375 pounds of iron.

Behind the desk, the attendant took a double take. He'd seen his fare share of possessed, inflated studs, but to see the Adonis that so effortlessly annihilated 20 presses of such an impressive weight was a first even for him. Perhaps in the back of his mind, he realized that Justin had squeezed in with Dacre, which at least explaining the monumental size. But as he stared at the chiseled man jovially pal around with the other men, showing off his muscle, joking about his musk... the attendant couldn't help but feel a stirring in his shorts.

"Ahhhh yeah, dude. That was nothing! You should see us on circuit days! I mean... See me on circuit days!" Dacre quickly caught Justin's flub before anyone noticed. The other jocks laughed, slapping the possessed hunk's firm ass before wandering back to their weights. "Bro, you gotta be careful! The two of us is already a fuckin' tight fit in here. We don't need anyone else lookin to squirm in!" To any onlooker, it was as if Gordon's body was having a full on conversation with himself, turning his head right and left with two seemingly distinctive voices coming from his lips as he did. Unfortunately, such a display did indeed catch yet another specter's attention.

---

Devonte Jackson was the gymnast to beat in 1995. Top of his career, towering over the competition at his mind numbing 7’2”, and an attitude that would kick your ass with a single glare. He had a reputation for being a little rough, both on the rings and when shoving his massive cock into whatever hole presented itself. The man was the textbook definition of the alpha male: jacked, confident, combative, and a jackhammer in the sheets. His unaffected and apathetic demeanor for whatever reason had the bizarre effect of making everyone he met thirsty for him. Sure, he was handsome. Sure, he was huge. Sure, his cock felt like a flagpole ramming inside your guts. But it was that completely dominant persona that made the drool flow freely.

Leaving a trail of broken hearts, bruised egos, and gold medals in his wake, Devonte was the king of the kings with a domination kink to match. Whether it was having his locker room boys lick the sweat from his feet, his sauna boys cleaning his cock, or tying his various girls to the bedframe as he went in... If Devonte was down, you knew that you would be submitting, and submitting it all. You might end up wearing his cheesy creamed condom on your dick for the rest of the week, purely because he thought it was hot. You might end up getting face fucked on the gym floor as he did his pushups, because it he thought it was hot. You might end up walking around on a leash with him at the helm... and yes, because he thought it was hot. He was in charge, and there was never any doubt about it.

---

"So, you two jock sniffers rubbing dicks together in there?" Dacre and Justin turned to see the king himself hanging on his ring set, ectoplasmic sweat dripping from every pore. The two were intimately familiar with Devonte's personality and his... predilections. Even in spectral form, the dominating spirit had that notorious cock deep in their holes nearly every week. There weren't ever any complaints, mind you, the duo were about the only two otherworldly creatures that got along with the dominant gymnast. So, as he hung there from his ring with that characteristic flat affect on his gorgeous face, the two occupying ghosts smiled with their borrowed lips, feeling their sizeable bulge stir in their shorts.

"Devonte! What's good, man! What do ya think?" Justin flexed their body, chipper as always. The mocha ghost dropped to his feet and walked toward the two, towering a foot above their already stretched height. He circled them, taking in every aspect of their handiwork, and after a moment he nodded in approval.

"Yeah. You did good, boys. Y'all will fit perfect on me." The two shot their head toward their domineering friend.

"Whoa, Dev. It's already tight enough in here. I don't know if you're gonna fit, man!" Dacre couldn't imagine a third presence inside of this twig of a guy, let alone the biggest one at the gym. Plus, knowing Devonte, they'd be relinquishing a fair amount of their autonomy in this vessel to him. The ghost scoffed, crossing his arms.

"Oh no, man. That wasn't a request. I'm not sticking around while the only two bros I fuck with skip off into the sunset. Besides, don't you want this in there with y'all?" Devonte grabbed his gigantic bulge, slowly massaging it as it grew. This had never been attempted before. Three in one? Would it even be possible? The kid would probably burst! Though, inherently, they both knew. There wasn't a choice being offered. "Turn around, boys. Do it now."

The duo smirked, if they were gonna have a third in there with them, it was going to be Devonte anyway. The trio were known for pushing the boundaries, forging new ground, excelling: it was a no brainer. Time for one more. They did as instructed, turning around to face the mirror in front of them. Eagerly watching, the two watched as Devonte strutted toward them. Placing his thick hands on their shoulders, he raised his size 17 sneaker and gingerly placed it on their calf.

"Step aside boys, master is coming in." A searing volt of ecstasy rang out from their leg as Devonte shoved his foot into their calf. Veins bulged immediately from the invasion, muscles tore and warped while the foot stepped into theirs. The leather from the high top began to buckle, stretching wider and wider, until their now gigantic size 17s burst from the seams. "Yeah, baby... I know you like that shit, Jus." As the possessed hunk continued to moan from the dominant ghost's invasion, the various lingering spirits around the gym began to gather around. Floating above the hullabaloo below, they all watched leaking and thirsty as Devonte thrust his groin into Gordon's body, immediately eliciting a growing wet spot on the host's growing bulge. Cheers rang out in the ether as Devonte's cock slid into the already engorged member, snaking downward until his musky, hooded monster peeked its head out of the bottom of the shorts.

The spirits began looking at the patrons with hungrier eyes. Watching the sexy corruption taking place below had done more than get them hot and bothered- it had inspired them. Within seconds, a star sprinter had begun to slither into the cock of a twink on the elliptical, across the gym a bodybuilder was squeezing down the throat of a skinny wannabe model, a leather daddy was chest deep in a college student's quickly bubbling ass, a gold metal hockey player was trying his luck at cramming into the college dropout stoner who cleaned the locker rooms... Moans and sounds of squelching and elastic stretching rang out in the cavernous gym, just as Devonte licked the neck of his soon to be vessel before slipping his head into the crowded skull.

For the poor attendant behind the counter, he watched with horror and lust as his patrons were inflated, invaded, and possessed by his spectral tenants, slowly becoming musky star athletes that would take over their respective sports. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately for him, his under the desk jerking at the sights, sounds, and smells before him had distracted even him- allowing him to be completely unaware of the 6'3 ripe basketball player that had crept up behind him, quickly diving head first into his open slit.

"Oh, fuck... Diego... yeah babe, get in here!" The basketball ghost made quick work of slipping into the attendant's member; eager to claim a home for himself, his big sneakers slipped into the kid's cock just as the chair gave out. The bubbling, squirming, warping body collapsed onto the floor as the player stretched his limbs out within him, all the while the host crying out in euphoria as his skin began to tan and a foreign, tangy sweat began to seep from his pores.

---

'Gordon' had opened his eyes for the first time as the man he would remain for the rest of his life: 7'2, size 17 feet, forever wafting his irresistible sweaty musk for anyone that strode too close to the hulking giant. His thick beard, hairy muscles, tanned complexion and various tattoos exuded the strong image of an alpha, more than prepared to stick his uncut eleven incher into whatever hole you provided. Though, as there were three in one, each inhabiting spirit bestowed a different facet to their beloved host: Dacre's carefree and fun attitude, Justin's immense kinkiness and delicious musk, and Devonte's dominant personality and sheer size all mixed together to form the epitome of the master. He stretched upward, grinning from ear to ear watching his friends squirm around as they made the mortals their personal rides back to the land of the living, recreating them in their own image to boot. Soon, he'd have no shortage of ass to pound into oblivion, nor a shortage of bro's to kick it with. He picked up his water bottle, striding toward the counter, tossing his key on the desk as the former attendant slowly stood up from behind the desk- now shirtless, ripe, gorgeous, and piloted by a good friend. He stretched upward, throwing his arms behind his head as he cracked his neck and back, smirking at 'Gordon.'

"Good to see you, boys! Hitting the court in a minute if you wanna join? Or... if you wanna come get a taste of this dick, it's nice and seasoned for ya!" 'Gordon' laughed, Diego always knew how to please the boys, and he was always so damn good looking.

"Throwin' my bag in the car, then I'm gonna be balls deep in your throat. Better get that tongue ready, my bad boy needs a cleaning." Diego smirked, flexing his new body's gorgeous muscles as Gordon turned and headed toward the lot. He strolled up to the tiny car that the former tenant of their body had owned, scoffing in disgust. "Welp, boys, we're buying a new car tomorrow." Gordon comically squeezed into the tiny little hybrid, slamming the door before tossing his bag into the back. He leaned back, watching in unfettered glee as the parade of jacked, studly bros made their way out of their prison and into the world once more. All because three dipshit musclesluts decided to squeeze themselves into one tiny body. Once the new class of spirits made their way back to the gym, he'd be the first one to show them the ropes- as long as they were on all fours for him by the end.

Same pose just every time he is more muscular

Quality Time

*PING* Rocco looked down and smiles. He'd been wondering what Carlo and their father had been up to for the past week. Ever since their mother left a couple of years back, their father had been relatively distant- choosing to spend his hours away from the office at the gym instead of at home with his sons. To be fair, Rocco had left the house at 18, and now at 24 he wasn't home as often as he'd hoped. Nonetheless, it took both boys by shock when their relatively distant father decided to take a month off of work to spend some "quality time" with his sons. Carlo got the first two weeks, and Rocco would have the second. What they were in for, their father wouldn't say.

Hey, Roc. Dad wants us all to meet up tonight. We're at the gym on Broad Street, meet us there in 30 minutes.

The text was odd, definitely different than the normally chipper tone his brother is known for having. There wasn't even a single emoji... Rocco had hoped that everything would go well, but from the curtness of Carlo's message, it wasn't looking good. He sighed, walking his lanky ass over to the closet and throwing on some clothes, wasting no time making the 20 minute walk down to Broad street. The dim neon glow of the Planet Jacked sign illuminated the front of the strip mall; at 9PM on a Wednesday, the gym was the only business open compared to the vacant suites and GameStop next door.

Rocco pulled open the door, pulling out his phone to text Carlo that he'd arrived. The response was immediate:

In the kettlebell room. Hurry up.

Something did feel off, but Rocco had dismissed it as an irritated Carlo trying to pawn their gruff and macho dad off on him. Neither were "manly men" by their father's standards, not that he'd ever treated them poorly by any means. It just meant that they had little to nigh in common with eachother, and little to build a very "buddy buddy" relationship on. But, at least he was making an effort.

Rocco made his way through the gym floor, weaving through benches and weight machines to the double glass doors that houses the calisthenics room. He pushed open the door, and walked inside. Right off the bat, his suspicions that something was off were proven to be justified as he saw his brother flexing in the mirror. Or at least, he thought it was his brother. The man had Carlo's likeness: his short stature, his green eyes, the black and green headphones... but this was not his brother.

Carlo was easily 100 lbs of muscle heavier than when he'd left with their father on Monday morning. His hair was buzzed short, his formerly friendly face now scowled an aggressive smoulder, his arms and legs were bursting with hard muscle. Compared to the 5'2" skinny 19 year old Rocco had known, this man might as well have been a stranger.

"Get my bag over there, gotta shower and change." His voice was harsh, gruff... as if he'd smoked eight cigars before working out. He remained flexing in the mirror, as Rocco stood there gobsmacked. His eyes quickly shifted from his physique to his brother standing perplexed at the door. "You gonna sit and stare or are we gonna get going?" Rocco slowly walked over to Carlo's gym bag, picking it up and straining to shlep it over his shoulder. "Jesus, Roc. We've got to get you into the gym. C'mon, let's go." Carlo turned and walked out of the room, with Rocco hastening to meet his pace.

"Uh, Carlo... Did you... take something? I mean, I'm not accusing you of anything, but how did you..."

"Get this fuckin' jacked? Dad helped out a bit." Outside of Rocco's eyesight, Carlo smirked devilishly. He sneered, hocking a mouthful of spit onto the garbage can. Rocco nearly dropped the bag and bolted. This couldn't be the sweet, naive little brother he'd grown up with. If anything, he was acting more like their father than himself. As they entered the locker room, Carlo stopped at the mirror again, pinching his chin as if he were checking himself out in the mirror. "Yeah, Dad was saying he wanted me to try some pussy this week, and that girls liked a guy with guns. Heh, it worked." He flexed his massive arms, the putrid scent of heavy unwashed musk wafted from his pits as he did. Rocco pinched his nose, dropping the gym bag onto the bench.

"Since when have you been interested in girls?" Rocco spoke with genuine concern in his voice. Carlo had been an out and proud gay man for years now. Their father never understood it, but it never really bothered him any. To him, as long as his sons were 'getting some' then all was well. But this, combined with Carlo's inflated ego and body...

"Since I felt like it. Thought I'd give breedin' a try. After six girls this week, I'm tuckered out." Carlo sauntered toward the shower stalls, tossing his hat and headphones to his brother before turning to face him. "Dad will be here in a minute, just wait here." With that, he walked into the stall, and Rocco could hear the water starting to flow. He fell backward onto the bench, awestruck. Turning to the bag, Rocco imagined vials and vials of steroids and testosterone hiding within. It was the only logical explanation. Taking a deep breath, he slowly unzipped the bag, and ripped the top open to reveal:

Nothing. Carlos' normal street clothes, albeit a bit stretched out now, and an empty shaker bottle. No drugs, no syringes, nothing incriminating whatsoever. Whatever had happened to him, it wasn't due to roid rage.

"NNNNUGUUHHHH" Carlo's voice echoed in the empty locker room over the sound of the showerhead. Rocco stood up quickly, darting toward the shower stalls. Before he could ask if his brother was okay, the noises began. Wet noises- unaffiliated with the running shower. Rocco slowly crept closer, and the sounds had become clearer. Slimy schlorps and squelches combined with Carlo's moans of seeming pleasure. Was he fucking a pocket pussy? Surely not, he assumed, though in the back of his mind, the brother he'd seen was not the Carlo he knew. "uuuuuuUUUUUUUUUUUUUNNAGHHHHHH!" One final moan and a rubbery slurp, and the room was silent again.

Rocco quickly rushed to the end stall, ready to rip the white curtain open, only for it to open on it's own: revealing the hulking figure of his father. The shock was palpable, as thick as the steam in the air. His father towered above him, as he always did, a massive slab of hard meat with a face. Sweat dripped from every part of his hulking body, and his face was already plastered with a surprised expression. As if he weren't expecting Rocco to see him yet.

"Dad... Is Carlo oka..." Suddenly, in the corner of his eye, he saw his brother slumped over on the shower seat, passed out under the hot streams of water: still in the shorts and running shoes he'd been wearing moments ago. His muscled body could barely bend at the waist, so his limp torso sat at a slight angle to the rest of his body. Rocco turned to his father, whose expression hadn't yet changed.

"I said I'd be there in a minute, Roc." The limber young man tried to rush to his passed out brother, only for the iron grip of his father to stop him in his tracks. "He'll be fine. He'll wake up just the way you know him, with a couple of extra pounds. Don't you worry."

"Dad, what the fuck is going on?" Rocco shouted at his father, whose brows began to furrow. The hulking man grabbed the white curtain, shutting it behind his son. Slowly the look of shock turned to one of seriousness, and a twinge of nervousness shot down Rocco's spine.

"I'm on vacation, Roc. With my boy. And now it's your turn to spend some time with your old man." Rocco took a step back, confused and anxious. "You're what, 24 now? Let me tell you something, Roc. When you hit 50, it doesn't matter if you're the sexiest god damn man alive- women just don't look at you the same. They take one look at you and see a stacked old man. They look at you like you're disgusting, Roc. I just wanted things to be the way they used to, when I was your age." Another step backward, and Rocco felt himself pinned against the wall. "It doesn't hurt. Carlo said it felt damn good. He'll wake up feelin' like a million bucks and go right back to sticking that greasy pole into some man ass. Might even be better than before. But you..." His father leaned in against the wall, the wafting stench of his BO encircling the two. "You swing both ways. So will you do your pop a favor, Roc?" Rocco swallowed his spit, as his father leaned in until they stood inches from eacother, eye to eye.

"W... What kind of favor?"

"Let me be young again. Just for a couple weeks. I'll hop back in Carlo if things get out of hand, he's already said he's good with it. Let your old man take you for a spin, show you how I used to do it back in the day. Then at the end of the month, I hop right out. Deal?" His father stuck his hand out, waiting for him to accept this insane deal. Rocco turned to his brother, slowly coming back to consciousness.

"... One week. And if you don't fuck things up, I'll think about the other two." His father smiled as Rocco shook his hand in agreement.

"Turn around, boy. And just take some deep breaths." Rocco did as he was told, slowly turning around and placing his hand onto the brown tiled wall. He could hear Carlo coming to, and hearing the wet clap of his father's hands rubbing together. "Alright, boy. It's gonna be tight, deep breath!" Rocco took a slow inhale, feeling a strange tingling sensation as he felt his father's hands on his bony shoulderblades. As he exhaled, he could feel the calloused hands slowly sink into his back. "Ohhhh, fuck." His father's gravelly bass voice growled in the cavernous room, soaring above the wet schlorps of his huge arms slowly sinking deeper into his son. Rocco watched as his father's hands appeared beneath the skin of his arms, the outline of his fingers sliding down his biceps and forearms was quickly followed by the sounds of rubbery creaks as his father's considerable muscles slid into his own. Bones cracked and skin stretched as powerful biceps and firm forearms swelled with the invasion, as his father's hands slipped into his own like two tight gloves. His meaty fingers cracked under their own volition, as his father flexed his new triceps.

"Da... Dad? Oh fuck, Roc! It's your turn now, huh, bro?" Carlo's chipper voice cut through the wet sloshing as his father stepped forward, shoving his huge sweaty feet forward into Rocco's heels, immediately swelling to fit his size 14 boats. His father's ripe foot sweat started to pour from his soles while his calves started to sink in as well. "Feels great, right? I mean look at me? Dad promised a rockin' bod, and I mean, fuck! What guy is gonna turn me down now?" Rocco continued his deep breaths, trying to ignore his brother's bizarrely normal demeanor.

"Boy, you remember what your dad taught you. Take control, and fuck hard. They'll be beggin' for that cock." As the words left his father's mouth, he thrust his groin against Rocco's rear, letting his son's skin wrap around his thick ass as he slid his beer can dick into the sheath of his boy's- quickly swelling thick and musky as his balls grew into the size of clementines.

"Roc, just wait. Dad's gonna take good care of you. We're closer than ever, right pop?" His father's hard, hairy torso sank quickly into Rocco, his back expanding as his body fully enveloped his father up to their necks. Massive, juicy pecs and washboard abs pressed against his taut skin, and sputterings of the old man's hair started to sprout across his legs, arms, and chest. Rocco looked down at his massive body, no longer under his control, inflated with his father's stature. He could feel the scratchy scruff of the old man's beard against the nape of his neck.

"Alright, boy. Let me just slide..." He felt his father's nose press against the back of his head, and as it sank in, his vision became fuzzy. "Right..." His neck bulged and stretched, his jaw clenched and sharpened. "On..." His hair grew thick and messy, his eyebrows fuller and lower. As the last of his head was swallowed by the back of Rocco's head, a final crack of his neck and a slow exhale signaled that Rocco had already sank into the recesses of his mind. Facial hair sprouted across his chiseled jawline, as he smiled his pearly white teeth. "In." His father's gravelly tone now bellowed deep from within. He pushed himself off the wall, stretching his now 6'3" body, dripping in his old man's fragrant sweat. Turning to Carlo, he raised his eyebrow.

"Alright, boy. Let's go get some ass."

---

"Yeah, this is my brother's place, we'll be alone here. Don't you worry!" Carlo led the couple into Rocco's apartment, the boyfriend ogling his juicy ass as they walked inside. "Yeah, he's in the other room. This way." Carlo smiled as he threw his arm around the duo, the woman blushing as she turned to him.

"You sure he's down for this?" Carlo only smirked as he opened the door to the bedroom, revealing 'Rocco' in all his glory, swiping through the endless supply of thirsty messages on his Taimi. The couple's jaws dropped at the very sight of him, fresh from the gym, smelling of a locker room right after a basketball tournament.

"Oh wow... Uh, Hi there... I'm Victoria and this is Ollie..." 'Rocco' barely looked up from his phone, picking up his ripe gym shoe and socks, and tossing them to Ollie.

"Sniff, boy. When you're done with that, you can do the same for my brother." The boyfriend eagerly started to huff the stinking sock, moaning in pleasure as he did. "And you..." He put his phone down onto the table, turning to Victoria with a wry smirk. "Come show daddy some love."