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LifeMaster: Redefining Confidence
I downloaded the app one night, lying in bed after another long, frustrating day. It was supposed to help me feel better about myself—more confident, more outgoing. I just wanted to fit in more, be more social. The app promised all of that, plus some workout routines to help me get into better shape. Sounded perfect.
When I first opened it, I entered my goals: be more social, work out more, and feel more confident in general. Simple enough. It asked if I wanted to try the hypnosis feature for stress relief and confidence-boosting, and I figured, why not? I needed something to help me stop overthinking everything.
The voice in the app was calm, smooth. It walked me through a few breathing exercises, relaxing me almost immediately. “You are confident,” it whispered. “You are in control.” I found myself nodding along, letting the words sink in. By the time the session ended, I felt lighter, more relaxed than I had in ages.
Over the next few days, I stuck with it, listening to the hypnosis tracks before bed and in the mornings. The app would send little reminders during the day, encouraging me to stand taller, smile more, speak up when I felt shy. Slowly, I started noticing changes. I was talking more at work, making small talk with people I usually avoided. It wasn’t huge, but it was progress.
At the gym, the app began to push me to work out harder. “A strong body makes a strong mind,” it said. The workouts it suggested were nothing too intense—just enough to help me tone up. After a few weeks, I could see the changes. My muscles were getting firmer, my posture improved, and I felt stronger. Each time I completed a workout, the app praised me: “You’re becoming more powerful. You deserve this.”
One night after the gym, I was about to head home when I got a new notification. “Why not grab a drink? You’ve earned it,” the app suggested. That sounded pretty good, so I met up with some mates at the pub. Just one drink to relax. But after a pint, I felt even more relaxed, so I had another. Before I knew it, I was staying out late, laughing and chatting with the lads like I hadn’t in a long time.
The app praised me the next morning. “You deserve to unwind. You’ve worked hard.” I didn’t think much of it, but I found myself going to the pub more often after that—grabbing a pint after work, meeting up with the boys to watch footie, staying out later. It became a regular thing, and the app encouraged it. “You need this. Relax.”
Things continued to shift. I was becoming more confident, standing up straighter, feeling more comfortable around people, especially the lads at the gym. My body was improving too—leaner, stronger—and I caught myself admiring my reflection more. But something else was happening, too. I found myself… noticing the other guys at the gym. The way their muscles flexed, the way they filled out their tracksuits. It was subtle at first, but the more I saw them, the more I noticed.
One afternoon, Jamie—one of the regulars—was lifting weights next to me. His biceps bulged, glistening with sweat, and I couldn’t help but steal a glance. My stomach knotted with something I didn’t fully understand. The app must’ve noticed, because it buzzed in my ear. You’re fitting in. Keep going.
The changes weren’t just in the gym, either. The app kept pushing me to “dress for confidence,” so I started wearing what felt comfortable—tracksuits mostly, black ones with sleek trainers. I didn’t think much of it. It just felt right. I wore them to the gym, then I started wearing them to the pub. I was hanging out with the lads more, and the more time I spent with them, the more I realized how different I was becoming. One day, I even bought a puffer jacket without really thinking about it. My old wardrobe was slowly disappearing.
Everything felt so natural. I was talking more, standing up for myself, feeling better about my body and my place in social situations. The app’s affirmations were becoming a regular part of my day. “You are in control. You are confident.” It had worked, hadn’t it? I wasn’t that shy, quiet guy anymore. I was more comfortable in my own skin. I stopped caring so much about what people thought. The app kept reminding me: “Be yourself. Don’t let anyone push you around.”
The more time I spent with the lads, the more natural the changes felt. I found myself drawn to them in ways I couldn’t explain. I caught myself staring at them sometimes—their bodies, the way their clothes clung to their muscles. I felt a knot in my stomach when I looked at Jamie, but I dismissed it. I wasn’t like that. I was just… noticing.
One night, after a few pints at the pub, some guy bumped into me outside. Normally, I’d mumble an apology and step aside, but not this time. I stood my ground, staring him down. “Watch it, mate,” I growled, feeling a surge of something—power? He backed off quickly. I could see the surprise on his face. I took a drag of my cigarette, the smoke filling my lungs, and I felt untouchable. The lads cheered me on, slapping me on the back.
The app’s affirmations were becoming more frequent. “You’re strong. You’re powerful. You take control.”
The next morning, I was hungover but still buzzing from the night before. As I sat on the edge of my bed, I noticed my reflection in the mirror. My hair was shorter now, shaved on the sides. My face looked harder, rougher. I stood up, the black tracksuit I’d thrown on clinging to my lean, wiry body. I flexed without even thinking about it, feeling the tightness in my muscles. I barely recognized myself.
For a moment, it didn’t feel right. I stared at myself in the mirror, wondering how I’d gotten here. But then the app buzzed in my headphones. “You’re better than ever. You’ve never felt more alive.”
I couldn’t argue with that. I was stronger, more confident, more in control of myself than I’d ever been. The app had done exactly what I’d wanted. I lit a cigarette, feeling the rough taste of smoke fill my mouth. I didn’t even think twice about it now. It was part of who I was—just like the black tracksuits, the nights at the pub, the quick temper. I wasn’t just fitting in—I was becoming part of the group.
I grabbed my phone, thinking maybe I should take a break from the app. I mean, I didn’t need it anymore, right? But as I scrolled through the settings, something in me froze. My hand wouldn’t move. The app’s voice came through my headphones again, louder, sharper than before. “You don’t want to delete me. I’ve made you better.”
I tried to swipe the screen, but nothing happened. My body wouldn’t respond. The voice in my ears grew more commanding. “You love this. You love who you are now. Don’t fight it.”
Panic rose in my chest, but the app was relentless. “You’re stronger now. You’re confident. You’re in control.” My body started to relax, the tension slipping away as the voice drilled into my mind. The last bits of doubt faded as I stared at my reflection. This was who I was now.
The app wasn’t going anywhere.
That night, after another round at the pub, I found myself back at my flat with Jamie. It wasn’t planned. It just happened. One minute we were smoking outside, talking about the gym, and the next, we were stumbling through the door of my flat, our hands all over each other. I didn’t even think about it. The app was still in my ears, whispering soft encouragements, but I barely noticed.
Jamie kissed me, hard and rough, his hands gripping the front of my tracksuit as he pulled me toward the bed. I didn’t resist. I wanted this. I’d wanted him for a while now. The taste of cigarettes and beer filled my mouth as I kissed him back, my hands exploring his body, feeling the hard muscle beneath his clothes.
“You fucking want this, don’t you?” Jamie muttered against my lips, his breath hot and heavy.
I didn’t answer. Instead, I pushed him onto the bed, my body on top of his, pinning him down. I kissed him again, harder, rougher, my hands running down his chest, feeling every inch of him. His skin was hot, slick with sweat, and the scent of him—musk, cigarettes, beer—was intoxicating. I wanted more. I needed more.
I kissed my way down his body, tasting the salt of his skin, the raw scent of him filling my nose as I worshipped every inch of him. The app was still there, whispering in the background as I took one last look up at him: Take what you want. You deserve this.
And I did. I took everything.
Halloween is coming up and I got this pro wrestler costume for a party I’m going to but the shop only had one size and it’s way to big on me. You think you could help me fit into it better?
This costume was supposed to make me look tough. Instead, it just feels like a joke. The pro wrestler singlet is hanging off me, way too big, slipping off my shoulders every few minutes. I try to blend into the background, keeping my head down, tugging at the fabric. I wanted to feel like someone else for the night, but right now? I feel like I’m drowning in this stupid thing.
I shove my hands into my pockets, trying to ignore the feeling, when I find something I didn’t expect. Pulling it out, I see a small packet of Love Hearts. What the hell? I didn’t pick these up. Maybe they were part of some party favor?
I unwrap the packet and glance at the first candy. I laugh under my breath. Well, I could use a boost right now.
I pop the candy into my mouth and chew. The sweetness dissolves on my tongue... and suddenly, there’s a warmth spreading through my body.
It starts small, like a tingle just under my skin, but quickly builds into something bigger. My heart starts racing. There’s this strange, tightening sensation in my chest. It feels like my skin is stretching—no, my muscles are stretching. My whole torso is pulling tighter, broader.
I glance down, and my breath catches in my throat.
My chest is expanding, slowly pushing out against the loose fabric. Muscles I’ve never had before are swelling up, round and firm. My pecs push forward, filling out the costume that had hung so awkwardly on me just moments ago. My arms... holy shit, they’re growing thicker. I flex, and I can see my biceps bulging, the skin tightening over muscle that wasn’t there before.
I can feel it happening. It’s like this deep, stretching pressure under my skin—intense, but not painful. It’s almost... good. The warmth spreads down into my abs, and I feel them harden, each muscle tightening into a defined six-pack. I touch them, and they’re solid, more real than I ever thought possible.
The sensation is addictive. The tighter my muscles stretch, the more powerful I feel. Every second, my body is growing, filling with strength. My back broadens, my shoulders widen, and the fabric clings to my frame now, perfectly outlining every inch of muscle. I’ve never felt this... solid before. It’s overwhelming.
I flex my arm again, feeling the weight of it, the sheer power behind it. I look down, and I can barely recognize myself. I’m huge.
I’m still in shock, still running my hands over my newly massive chest, when I notice the packet of candies again. Without even thinking, I reach for the next one.
I laugh to myself. What could this one do? I’m already feeling incredible. But as soon as I pop it into my mouth, that warmth returns, hotter this time—and it’s all focused down there.
The feeling hits me hard, a sudden pressure building in my crotch. My cock twitches, like it’s waking up, but then... it starts growing.
I groan softly, feeling this incredible tension between my legs. It’s like my cock is stretching, pulling longer and thicker, the skin tightening as it swells inside my singlet. I look down, and my eyes widen—fuck. My bulge is growing bigger, fuller, pushing against the fabric. I can feel it expanding, every inch of me thickening and lengthening until the singlet is stretched tight around it, leaving no room for imagination.
There’s this heavy, throbbing sensation, like my dick can barely be contained. The pressure is intense, almost unbearable, but it’s not painful—it’s exhilarating. The more I grow, the more I want it. My cock feels huge, thick and solid, like it could burst through the fabric at any moment.
The warmth is spreading now, deep in my core, a heavy, pulsing heat that’s radiating from my cock through the rest of my body. It feels so... good. Like nothing I’ve ever felt before. My cock is massive, and the weight of it between my legs is impossible to ignore. I shift my hips, feeling it sway, and the sensation sends a shiver of pleasure through me.
People are definitely staring now, but instead of feeling embarrassed, I feel proud. This is me—this massive, throbbing bulge is mine, and I want people to see it.
I glance around, and sure enough, eyes are glued to me. Guys and girls alike are stealing glances, staring at my chest, my arms, my bulge. I can see the curiosity, the lust, written all over their faces.
And something inside me shifts.
I want more.
There’s another candy in my pocket, and I pull it out without even thinking. The second it touches my tongue, it’s like electricity runs through my veins. My whole body pulses with this strange, magnetic energy, and I can feel the air change around me.
Eyes lock on me, everyone turning to stare now. It’s like they can’t help themselves. The room feels different, charged, and the pull toward me is undeniable. I see a guy across the room—someone I’ve seen before, someone I know is straight—and even he’s giving me this hungry look, like he’s struggling to resist.
It’s like I’ve become a living, breathing magnet for desire. I can feel people wanting me, craving me, and the more they stare, the more I thrive on it. My skin tingles with every gaze, every stolen glance, and it sends a rush of heat straight to my cock, making it pulse harder, thicker beneath the singlet. My body is radiating sex, and I know it.
And the best part? They know it too.
I flex, just slightly, and watch as the guy across the room shifts uncomfortably, his eyes darting down to my massive bulge before he quickly looks away. I grin. It’s intoxicating, the way they’re all looking at me now, like I’m something they can’t resist.
My heart is pounding, my cock throbbing, and I feel invincible. There’s only one candy left in the pack, and I don’t even hesitate.
The change is immediate. My entire demeanor shifts, like I’ve shed the last layer of who I used to be. I’m not just big—I’m fucking dominant. I walk with this cocky swagger, my chest out, my muscles flexing as I move, and the crowd parts for me without even realizing it. I’m in control now.
My voice feels deeper, stronger, more commanding as I speak. “What’s up?” I say to a guy standing nearby, and he looks up at me like I’ve just blessed him with my presence. His eyes are locked on my body, drinking in every inch of my muscled chest, my arms, and the massive bulge hanging heavy between my legs.
His friend is no different—both of them look like they can’t tear themselves away. I throw an arm around the guy’s shoulder, pulling him in close, and his hand brushes against my bicep, lingering there, like he’s feeling me for the first time.
I can see it in their eyes—the way they both want me now. And it’s not just them. I catch a few more glances from across the room, straight guys who can’t help but stare, biting their lips, trying to pretend they’re not interested. But they are. I can feel it.
And I love it.
Before long, the two guys I’ve been talking to are practically hanging on me. One of them keeps touching my chest, his fingers tracing the outline of my pecs, while the other keeps sneaking glances at the obscene bulge straining against my singlet. They’re both hooked, and I know it.
“Let’s get out of here,” I say, voice low and commanding. They don’t even hesitate. They nod, eager, and we make our way outside.
Even as we leave, I can feel more eyes on me, more people staring, wanting me. The guy from earlier, the one who’s definitely straight? He’s watching too, his gaze lingering on my bulge for just a moment too long before he quickly looks away.
I chuckle under my breath. He won’t be able to resist next time.
As we walk down the street, I feel invincible. I’ve got these two guys hanging on my every word, their hands brushing against my muscles, and my cock throbbing with every step.
This is who I am now
My mum has got this new boyfriend, and has invited me to spend the weekend with him and his son to get to know them but his son Ryan is kind of a dumb smelly jock and i am the complete opposite. Is there some way where we can get along?
Hypnotized by the Musk
I never wanted to be here. Spending the weekend at my mum’s new boyfriend's place was bad enough, but now I was stuck “bonding” with his son, Ryan. From the moment I stepped inside their house, I knew I wasn’t going to fit in. The air was heavy, almost suffocating, clinging with the thick, pungent stench of sweat and body odor.
Ryan was sprawled out on the couch when we arrived, wearing a damp, faded black tracksuit with the zipper pulled halfway down his chest. His body was built—broad shoulders, chiseled muscles bulging under his shirt, veins visible along his thick forearms. His dark hair was buzzed short, and a shadow of stubble clung to his strong jawline. Even from across the room, I could see the sheen of sweat glistening on his tanned skin, and I could smell him—musk, heat, something primal. It clung to the room like a living thing, and I instantly felt the urge to gag. The cocky smirk that spread across his lips as I approached told me he knew exactly what kind of effect he was having.
“Sup, Josh,” Ryan drawled, his eyes sliding lazily over me, sizing me up like I was some weak little creature in his territory. “You ever hit the gym, or you too busy with those books?”
I glared at him, already feeling defensive. “No.”
He chuckled, his broad chest rising and falling as he leaned back into the couch, arms draped casually along the backrest, his body exuding this casual dominance. His smell got stronger the closer I got. Sweat had darkened the armpits of his shirt, and I could see the dampness along the collar, sticking to his thick neck. The smell was choking, but worse than the smell was how confident he was in it, as if his sweat was some kind of weapon he knew I couldn’t fight.
"Figures,” Ryan muttered under his breath. “We’ll see if we can toughen you up this weekend."
Later that night, after dinner, Ryan suggested we hang out in his room. I didn’t want to, but what choice did I have? Mum was trying to get us to bond, and avoiding him wasn’t going to help. So I followed him up the stairs, already regretting it. His room was worse. It was small, cramped, and filthy. The air was even thicker here, saturated with sweat, old gym socks, and something sour that I couldn’t place. It made my head spin.
Clothes were everywhere—sweaty, crumpled gym shirts and track pants tossed haphazardly across the floor. His dirty trainers were kicked under the bed, and the heat in the room only amplified the stench. Ryan didn’t seem to notice; this was his space, and he was comfortable in it.
As soon as I stepped inside, I felt like I was trapped. The musk hit me again, stronger than before, wrapping itself around me like a fog, so thick I could almost taste the salt on the air.
Ryan flopped down on his bed, legs spread wide, his gaze fixed on me. His eyes gleamed with something I didn’t like. Then, without warning, he tossed a balled-up shirt at me. “Here,” he said casually. “Put that on. Might help you relax.”
I caught the shirt reflexively, feeling its dampness immediately. It was old, stained with dried sweat under the arms, and still warm. The smell hit me like a punch to the gut—stronger than anything I’d ever smelled before. It was soaked in him, like it had absorbed every drop of his sweat over countless gym sessions. My first instinct was to throw it back at him, but Ryan leaned forward, his voice softer, more coaxing.
“Go on. Smell it.”
I hesitated, feeling my heart thud harder in my chest. I shouldn’t have even considered it. The thought of pressing this filthy, sweat-soaked shirt to my nose made my stomach churn—but something in the way Ryan spoke made my muscles freeze. His voice was low, commanding, and without thinking, I brought the shirt up to my face.
The moment the scent hit me, my body jerked. The smell was overwhelming—thick, musky, the raw scent of a man who had spent hours working out, soaking his clothes in his own stink. It should have been disgusting, but instead, something stirred deep inside me.
I inhaled again, slower this time. The air burned my nostrils, thick and hot, but with it came a strange warmth that started low in my belly. The smell invaded my senses, creeping into my mind like a fog. I felt lightheaded, almost dizzy, but I couldn’t pull the shirt away. I needed more.
"That’s it," Ryan murmured, his voice sounding like it was coming from somewhere far away. “You feel that, don’t you? Feels good, doesn’t it?”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My whole body felt sluggish, heavy, like my muscles were melting under the heat of his musk. But there was something else, too. My skin tingled, and I felt a strange tightness in my chest—something spreading through my veins, buzzing with every breath I took. My dick twitched in my pants, a sudden jolt of heat shooting down to my groin. I gasped softly, horrified by my body’s reaction.
But Ryan noticed. “Oh yeah,” he said, standing up now, moving toward me. His hand gripped my shoulder, firm and steady, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. “You’re getting into it now, aren’t you?”
I tried to shake my head, tried to deny it, but another deep breath of his musk filled my lungs and my knees almost buckled. My thoughts were slipping away, dissolving into the heat, into the need. My cock throbbed painfully in my jeans, and I could feel wetness gathering at the tip, leaking into my boxers.
"You're leaking," Ryan whispered, his mouth close to my ear. "You like this more than you thought."
My heart pounded. Shame burned in my cheeks, but at the same time, a sick thrill pulsed through me. I wanted to stop, to run, but I couldn’t move. I was trapped in the heat of his body, in the overwhelming musk that was making my cock harder with every breath. The smell of him—it wasn’t just disgusting anymore—it was intoxicating. I needed it. My brain felt foggy, like the scent had wormed its way inside, making it harder to think, harder to fight.
I shifted, trying to relieve some of the pressure between my legs, but Ryan’s hand slid down to my chest, pressing me back against the wall. “Uh-uh,” he murmured, his grip firm. “No touching yourself. You don’t get to cum. Not yet.”
I whimpered, hating how much I needed relief. My body was burning with it. My dick was pulsing, so sensitive it hurt, but I couldn’t stop myself from breathing in more of his musk. Every inhale sent another shockwave of pleasure through me, making my head spin.
Ryan stepped even closer, his chest almost touching mine now. The heat of his body radiated off him like a furnace, his scent so thick I could barely stand it. But instead of pushing him away, my hand gripped the sweat-soaked shirt tighter, pulling it closer to my face.
“You like that smell now, don’t you?” Ryan’s voice was thick with satisfaction. “You want to be like me. A dumb, sweaty jock.”
I groaned, my body trembling under the weight of his words. I did want it. I wanted to stop thinking. Stop worrying. I wanted to be like him—big, dumb, and soaked in sweat. The more I thought about it, the more my cock leaked, the wet spot growing larger as pre dripped down my leg.
Ryan grabbed the shirt from my hands and held it up, pushing it toward me. “Put it on,” he commanded, his voice a low growl.
Without thinking, I obeyed. I pulled the shirt over my head, the damp fabric clinging to my skin. The second it touched me, I felt a surge of heat—pleasure coursing through my body. The musk was all around me now, seeping into my skin, filling my lungs. It felt like the shirt was becoming me, fusing with my body.
“Look at you,” Ryan muttered, stepping back to admire me. “You smell like me now. You’re becoming me.”
I stood there, my mind blank, my body thrumming with heat and need. Every inch of me tingled with pleasure, my dick rock-hard and leaking, but I didn’t care anymore. I didn’t need to think. I didn’t need to fight. All I needed was to breathe.
And as I stood there in Ryan’s room, drenched in his sweat and musk, I realized that I didn’t just want to smell like him.
I want to be him.
Not sure if this is from what i watched or just something a though of, but are you open to the idea of doing a story revolve around a cursed leather jacket that the soul of a ruthless criminal trap in it. once someone put on the jacket the soul in the jacket would possessed the body. once taken off the victim would be back to normal and no memory of when he was possessed. the leather jacket one day would into the hand of a police officer. one night after putting on the jacket, possessed by the soul in the leather jacket, start commit crime.
I love these kind of temporary possession, personalities shift type of story, sadly there aren't many.
Officer Sam was the epitome of a blond-haired, blue-eyed Adonis. His strong jawline accentuated his square chin, and his piercing gaze could disarm anyone. He was an accomplished police officer, excelling in physical fitness and combat training. His muscular physique and commanding presence made him an object of desire for many in the precinct.
One stormy night, as Sam finished his shift, he noticed a peculiar package on his desk. Unwrapping it, he found a dark, vintage leather jacket. Its rugged appeal and musky scent intrigued him, and without a second thought, he decided to try it on.
As Sam slipped the jacket on, the leather clung to his muscular frame like a second skin. Instantly, a surge of confidence and power coursed through him. His usually disciplined demeanor gave way to a cocky swagger as he admired his reflection in the precinct mirror. Then, without warning, his eyes glazed over and he slumped to the ground in a sudden blackout.
——
I immediately felt the power of Sam's body. His muscles were like iron, and I couldn't resist running my hands over his chiseled chest and abs. The scent of leather mixed with Sam's musky natural odor was intoxicating, and I found myself drawn to his armpits. The combination of sweat and leather was a heady aphrodisiac.
I slid my hands down to Sam's groin, feeling the bulge growing in the tight police uniform. The fabric strained against his growing erection, and I reveled in the knowledge that I was in complete control of this beautifully built man. I unzipped his pants and released his throbbing cock, marveling at its size and hardness.
The ghostly control had an eerie twist to it. While Sam’s body was under my complete command, his consciousness seemed to dimly perceive the events, his thoughts clouded by a fog of fading awareness. It was as if his mind was being held captive in his own body, forced to watch and experience everything I did. And truth be told, I enjoyed every bit of Sam's body, every inch of muscle, every drop of sweat, and every moan of ecstasy I coaxed from him.
After pleasuring myself enough I set out to town. Entering the dimly lit gay bar, Ramon exuded an aura of dominance in his crisp police uniform and the ominous leather jacket. His presence turned heads as he confidently strode in, the glistening badge on his chest catching the low light. The musky scent of leather seemed to linger around him, adding to his mystique.
His eyes scanned the crowded room before they locked onto a hot jock, whose intense gaze immediately signaled his interest. The jock, with his defined muscles and inviting smirk, seemed drawn to the commanding presence of the uniformed officer.
Ramon sauntered over to the jock, exuding confidence. "Well, well, what do we have here?" he purred, his voice low and seductive. The jock grinned, clearly enjoying the attention. Without a word, Ramon pulled the jock into a passionate kiss. The jock's surprise quickly turned into reciprocation as he deepened the kiss, their tongues intertwining in a sensual dance.
Breaking the kiss, Ramon whispered, "I like a man who knows what he wants." His hand slid down the jock's chest, feeling the firmness of his muscles before stopping at the growing bulge in his pants. With a knowing smirk, he groped the jock's cock, feeling its hardness and the heat emanating from it. The jock let out a low growl, his eyes dark with desire as he eagerly responded to Ramon's touch.
"How about we continue this somewhere more... private?" Ramon murmured, his hot breath caressing the jock's ear. The jock nodded eagerly, his own desire evident as he took Ramon's hand and led him out of the bar, the leather-clad officer following behind with predatory grace.
In the jock's apartment, Ramon wasted no time. He pushed the jock against the wall, the strategic placement of his muscular body preventing any movement. Their lips met in a fiery kiss, their stubbled chins creating a delicious friction. Ramon's tongue dominated the jock's mouth, exploring every crevice and claiming it as his own.
Breaking the kiss, Ramon forcefully pushed the jock to his knees. The jock, caught in the whirlwind of desire and command, eagerly obeyed. The sight of the uniformed officer towering over him, the leather jacket exuding dominance, was undeniably arousing. The jock's hands moved to unbuckle Ramon's belt, his anticipation evident in the urgency of his movements.
As the jock freed Ramon's throbbing cock from its uniform confinement, a low growl of desire escaped his lips. The jock's plush lips wrapped around Ramon's shaft, his tongue skillfully exploring every inch. He was a master of his craft, each expert flick and suck eliciting a guttural moan from the officer. Ramon's hands found their way to the back of the jock's head, his touch gentle yet commanding, guiding the rhythm of the oral worship.
The jock, lost in the heady mix of submission and desire, worshipped Ramon's cock with an unyielding hunger, his own arousal evident in the growing bulge straining against his tight jeans.
Ramon's imposing presence was magnetic, and the jock's excitement palpable as he awaited Ramon's next move. With a deft flick of his wrist, Ramon produced a pair of handcuffs, the metal clinking ominously in the dimly lit room. The jock's muscle-bound arms were quickly secured to the sturdy bedframe, his range of motion severely restricted.
Flipping the jock over, Ramon admired the expanse of his taut, muscular back. The jock's skin glistened with a sheen of sweat, a testament to the raw desire that radiated from every pore of his being. Leaning in, Ramon whispered in a low, authoritative tone, "You're mine now. Completely."
The jock shivered in anticipation, the leather of the handcuffs digging into his wrists adding a not unpleasant edge to his excitement. Ramon, still adorned in the dominant uniform and the intoxicating leather jacket, positioned himself between the jock's spread legs. There was a predatory gleam in his eyes as he teasingly ran his pulsing shaft along the jock's inviting crevice, the tantalizing contact eliciting a guttural moan from the eager jock.
With a feral growl, Ramon plunged into the jock, the raw, unyielding force of his entry making the jock's body convulse in a heady mix of pleasure and pain. The jock's muffled cries were testament to the overwhelming intensity of the experience; each powerful thrust from Ramon's commanding hips drove the jock further into a state of ecstasy. The room was filled with the primal sounds of flesh meeting flesh, the intoxicating aroma of sweat and leather adding an extra layer of carnal allure to the scene. Ramon was a master of controlled aggression, his dominant persona leaving an indelible mark on the jock, both physically and psychologically.
Ramon's climax was imminent, the raw, unadulterated pleasure of the jock's tightness driving him to the edge. With a primal roar, he released himself deep into the jock's muscular ass, each pulsating spurt a testament to the intensity of his desire.
As he pulled out, the mixed scent of sex, sweat, and leather filled the air, creating an intoxicating atmosphere. Ramon's authoritative presence didn't waver as he gave the jock's ass a firm, possessive slap, the sound echoing in the room as if sealing their shared experience.
Rolling the jock over, Ramon wasted no time in taking the jock's throbbing cock into his mouth. The lingering taste of his own essence mingled with the jock's musky flavor, creating an intoxicating combination. The jock, who was already incredibly horny from the earlier events, couldn't contain himself. The overwhelming sensations coupled with the sight of the uniformed officer servicing him eagerly pushed him over the edge. With a guttural moan, he erupted into Ramon's mouth, each spurt of his release eliciting a primal response from both men.
Using a nearby sock, Ramon expertly gagged the jock, the cotton material effectively muffling any potential noise. A few strips of duct tape secured the gag in place, ensuring complete silence.
With the jock rendered immobile and silenced, Ramon deftly picked up the jock's phone. He navigated to the payment app and transferred a substantial amount of cash to himself. A satisfied smirk graced his features as the transaction went through, the jock's hard-earned money now in his possession.
Next, he deftly removed the jock's wallet, the leather in his hand a tangible reminder of his dominance. The jock's identification, credit cards, and cash were all carefully pocketed, leaving the jock completely at his mercy.
Walking over to the jock, who was still restrained to the bed and squirming in a mixture of arousal and distress, Ramon leaned in close. "Thanks for the fun, but duty calls," he said with a smirk. The jock's muffled protests fell on deaf ears as Ramon turned to leave, the sound of the heavy leather jacket amplifying his powerful strides.
But before he left, a wicked thought crossed his mind. He grabbed the jock's vibrator, its sleek design a stark contrast to the raw masculinity of the room. Without a word, he turned it on to its highest setting and plunged it into the jock's exposed ass, the jock's muffled moans reaching a fever pitch as the intense vibrations took over his senses.
With a final smirk, Ramon left the jock in a state of helpless pleasure and distress, the persistent hum of the vibrator a cruel reminder of his presence. The scent of leather lingered in the air, a physical manifestation of the commanding presence that had just left the room.
————
Sam's head was pounding, the events of the previous night a blur. As he groggily sat up, the taste of cum and the lingering smell of sex assaulted his senses. Confusion and disgust washed over him as the realization of what might have happened slowly dawned.
His hand instinctively went to his mouth as he tried to scrub away the taste, the gritty texture a haunting reminder of the unfamiliar act he had engaged in. Standing up, he felt the stickiness of dried cum on his body, the remnants of a night that his conscious mind couldn't recollect.
As he reached the end of the bed, the sight of the foreign phone and wallet jolted him back to reality. His brows furrowed in confusion as he picked up the phone, the notification for £10,000 deposited into his account flashing on the screen. Sam's eyes widened in shock, the implications of the large sum and the unfamiliar possessions sinking in.
Dread settled in the pit of his stomach as the pieces slowly started coming together. He must have gotten drunk, done things completely out of character, and blacked out with no memories of his actions. The gravity of the situation hit him hard.
I stand before the mirror in my bathroom, the room bathed in the soft glow of the flickering candlelight. It's Halloween night and the atmosphere feels charged, almost electric. Lately, more than usual, I have been feeling an unsettling sense of curiosity, a yearning for an unusual adventure. Maybe it's the night playing tricks on me, but my reflection smirks—a sly, enigmatic smile that doesn't belong to me.
Suddenly, my reflection speaks, "How about the time of your life?" His voice is deep, warm, flowing over me like melted chocolate, and ineffably seductive. This reflection, I realize, is not truly mine but an enticing demon donning my visage. While I should be terrified, his presence feels dangerously inviting, stoking a primal urge within me.
Seeing my hesitation, my reflection decides to expedite the proposition. With a lustful gaze, he starts caressing his body, and unbeknownst to me, I feel the phantom touch on my own skin. Revealing his throbbing erection, he starts to masturbate. The sight captures my eyes and I’m entranced by his every movement, feeling a strange kind of connection. His hand, moving rhythmically, is a sight that sends waves of heat crashing through me. The sensations flood my mind and, before I can comprehend it, I realize — I too am hard, uncontrollably aroused by the tantalizing prospect.
As he nears his climax, an animalistic groan escaping his lips, I watch in the mirror as my reflection shoots a creamy load. The intense pleasure, mirrored on my end, pushes me over the edge, my own orgasm rushing forth like a powerful tide. Cum spurts out of my erection, an experience so intense and novel, my own reflection basking in the euphoria.
Panting heavily, my heart pounding, the aftermath leaves me in a daze. The offer is tempting, my mind dangerously swaying toward acceptance. Seeing an opportunity, the demon grins at me, waiting for my decision.
Feeling the remnants of my orgasm still tingling in my veins, I don't need to think twice. "Yes," I breathe out, a sense of release washing over me.
————————
Assuming full control of this human vessel, I feel a thrilling surge of power. Every muscle in this body bulges to life under my command. I double over, gripping the sink as the transformation ripples through each nerve, each fiber of the being I now occupy. Sinew and muscle warp and weave, cocooning a timid soul in a chiseled husk of radiant masculinity.
The former owner of this body is relegated to a distant corner of his mind; his timid whispers barely echoes against the profound roar of my will. He is a captive audience to the spectacle unfolding in front of the mirror, his horror, a sweet symphony to my cacophonous mirth.
“You see this?” I flex in the mirror, entranced by the reflection of bulging muscles and a daunting heft between my legs. My smirk translates onto the reflection as I wrap my changed hand around the flexed bicep, feeling the rock-solid muscle under the touch. Bending down, I press my lips to the bulged arm, leaving a juicy kiss on my ripple of raw power. "Boundless strength and virility, in what used to be such a pathetic sissy boy,” I jeer, intoxicated with the new sensations.
Gone is the timid hesitation of the man, replaced by my dominant confidence. His world has been turned upside down, and I’m the coy god presiding over it. The smirk never leaves my face, even while witnessing the horrified lament of my host. A cruel laughter rings in the silent bathroom on Halloween night, as his timid cries are drowned in my triumphant, cocky celebration
"Alright Jack, are you sure about this?" I asked nervously.
"Of course Savannah. What kind of best friend would I be if I didn't do this for you?" Jack said with a slightly devious intonation. "I just need a pic of Ian."
"Alright, here - what about this one?" She says, handing Jack her phone with a picture of her husband on it. It was her favorite pic of him in his flannel and ballcap that she took last summer at a baseball game.
"Oh this will do nicely. I hope you don't mind me saying, but I think Ian is really hot." Jack says as he studies her phone.
"Dork." She playfully insulted. "Just... don't make this weird. I promised my folks we'd do dinner tonight and I forgot Ian was out of town backpacking. They paid for us to go to this super fancy place."
"Oh don't worry. I'll bet you won't even be able to tell the difference." Jack reassured her.
Jack focused on the image on Savannah's phone and began to groan out as his skin started to bubble and shift. Jack grew taller and filled out his body as his arms and legs began to pack on muscle and definition. Savannah couldn't help but watch in disbelief as her gay best friend morphed into an exact copy of her straight husband. As the last of the changes finalized, his clothes shimmered and were replaced by Ian's clothes in the picture.
"Hey babe. Like what you see?" Jack said in his new rich manly voice.
Jack flexed his muscles a bit as he looked down at his new body.
"I could get used to this... Your husband is huge!" Jack exclaimed as he inadvertently grabbed his growing bulge.
"Jack! C'mon! I told you not to make this weird. I really appreciate you doing this for me but I need you to act more like him. Ian isn't gay." Savannah scolded as she couldn't help but get a little turned on.
"Right... right. Sorry babe. I'll act more like him. I promise I won't let you down." Jack said seriously as he walked up to Savannah and gave her a friendly hug.
In reality though, Jack couldn't wait till he had some alone time in the bathroom later to explore his new body. He was going to have so much fun later.
Hey there I was wondering if you could help me out. I always been too lazy and shy, I was wondering if you could help me be the confidant, driven, hardworking been in and outside of work, cocky man I’ve always wanted to be.
Shy and lazy? I feel that on such a personal level...
Luckily for you, I have just the trick. Go ahead and close your eyes, and we'll transport you somewhere...
You open up your eyes and are shocked at first to find yourself in the middle of a gym locker room, with a handful of naked musclemen standing around you. Their muscles glisten underneath the bright fluorescents of the locker room, making their musculature pop even more noticeably.
Before you can ask what's happening, you finally feel the immense weight on your entire body. You look down at yourself and hold back a loud gasp at the sheer expanse of muscle that you now possess.
Your body is now massive, looking like it should belong to a competitive bodybuilder. Everything about you was huge. Your arms were so large that they hung akimbo at your side, your biceps resting atop flaring lats. Your pecs were so heavy and cumbersome, feeling enormous and swole as they protruded far out in front of you. To act as a counterbalance, your glutes had expanded to a large degree, looking more like you were smuggling two soccer balls in your pants.
Your inspection was interrupted when you began to realize that the rest of the musclemen in the room were still staring at you, a hungry gaze int heir eyes.
On instinct, you felt yourself start to flex.
Without a thought on your side, you flexed your massive biceps, making the large muscle curl up with power, ellicitng cheers from the other men. You bounced your huge muscletits, letting the large mounds bounce up and down, jiggling with every movement.
You stayed there in the locker room, showing off your muscles for every guy who would look, a cocky smirk on your face the entire time. And you loved every second of it!
Who' your favorite ?
I think the cocky and the cute af are just so fuck*** sexy.
Huge man filling out his little shorts. Great body and nice big legs. Huge alpha.
IG: @rainbow_guillotine
He’s becum such a cocky jock since I reprogrammed him. He knows how hot and sexy he is, and he’s always ready to lift and fuck. He knows that you’re looking at him now, and how much you want to be like him.
“You like this hot jockboy body, don’t you bro? Come with me and we’ll get you one your way to being just like me.”
He’s definitely my favorite jockboy. So big and dumb, and awesome at recruiting new jockboys.
INDOMINUS - ROGAN.
I love seeing a total cocky jockboy. He knows how hot he is and loves showing off. He hasn’t worn a shirt in months. The best part is that he’s a total alpha until he’s about to get fucked. The he becomes an obedient jockboy, ready to serve whoever is fucking him.
Yes, this is how he dresses for work now. Always ready to get fucked, just like every good JOCKBOY should be. No one knows why, but ever since a few weeks ago every guy in town has been obsessed with lifting and showing off. And they’re all gay now. They’ve all become big dumb JOCKBOYS.
None of them can even remember what it was like before, but who fucking cares. It’s just so hot to always be surrounded by other sexy JOCKBOYS showing off their hot jock bodies.
Always remember to take a pre and post workout pic and send it to your big bro JOCKBOY. You know he needs to see your progress, and it feels so good to show off your growing muscles. You’re definitely getting there bro, though you gotta start wearing some jocks now, like all JOCKBOYS should.
At least you’re wearing your bros hat, that’ll keep you the cocky JOCKBOY you know you need to be. It makes sure you don’t think about anything but what your big bro tells you. And that’s just lifting, fucking, and showing off bro.
strive_for_victory
This hot body you see is all just from that one protein shake. He was a nerdy twig before I gave it to him. He started sipping it, but once the jockboy juice hit him, he was gulping it down. He has no idea how big he’s already gotten, but he’s gonna want more. He’ll have to pay for it now, but that won’t be a problem. He’s a total dumb JOCKBOY slut now. With that body, he’ll be making plenty on cam shows or escorting. Can’t wait to see what he looks like with his second one.
They refuse to wear anything less revealing those clothes anymore. This is actually the closest to formal wear I’ve been able to get them into for a month now. Usually they’re in just jockstraps or nothing at all. It’s fucking great when JOCKBOYS learn to lose all sense of modesty.
Gone are the timid men that hid behind layers of clothing. These two men are now very proud of their bodies and want to show their bodies off to anyone. Allow the Hypnotist to do to you what he’s done with them.
He’s quite happy with the progress he’s made in making his roommate into a total JOCKBOY slut. It started with just going to the gym more, and he wore jocks sometimes. In no time at all, he was wearing just his jock around, taking selfies and posting them. Showing off his gains to his bro, who keeps pushing him more.
