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City Boy

“Please don’t break down now. Not here. Anywhere but here!”

Nick had been travelling through the countryside when his rusty car broke down. Nick was a rich city boy. Being stranded in the countryside was completely out of his comfort zone. Nick stepped out of the rickety old car. He was surrounded by nothing but corn fields. Not a single person or house in sight.

Nick began walked along the side of the road, hoping a car would pass by. Nick had been walking for around an hour before he saw something in the distance. It was a house. A big bright farmhouse with a barn out the back. It was the first house Nick had seen in miles. Nick precariously approached the farmhouse. He could see a big hulking farmer feeding cows out the back. The shirtless farmer glanced back at the 19 year old.

“What do you want, city boy?” The reeking man’s voice growled.

The cowboy brought Nick into his home and sat him down in the kitchen. Nick explained what had happened. The cowboy barely seemed to be paying attention. He kept staring lustfully at the 19 year old. His disgusting farm stench filled Nick’s nostrils.

“So city boy, I’ve been looking for some help on the farm” The cowboy said in his southern drawl. “Are yer interested?”

Nick laughed nervously. “No, man. I just need to use your phon-”

“Man?” The cowboy questioned angrily.

USE YOUR MANNERS, BOY

“I’m sorry, sir” Nick blurted out. It was almost as if the words just slipped out of his mouth. As if the cowboy’s words had infected his brain, forcing him to say it. Nick was confused.

YOU WANT TO WORK HERE

“I want to work here, sir” Nick blurted out again. Nick had no control over his mouth anymore. He felt like the cowboy’s puppet. Completely suggestable to everything he was saying. The cowboy’s words embedded themselves in Nick’s brain. His words were not only changing Nick’s reality, but they were also changing Nick as a person...

Nick jumped up from his seat in fear. Nick looked at the hulking cowboy. His 6’8 stature. Nick could smell the cowboy’s hairy body which reeked of pigs and hay. Nick then made a B line for the back door. He needed to escape. What was this man doing to him?

YOU CAN’T RUN AWAY, BOY.

The cowboy’s words buried deep into Nick’s mind. He couldn’t just run away... could he? He can’t just leave the cowboy. It wouldn’t be right. Deep inside, Nick knew it was immoral to leave the farmer, but Nick forced himself to keep running. Nick ran until he reached the front of the farm. He was ready to run back to his car but... his feet refused to bring him any further. His body refused to take a step outside of the farm. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t leave. He was trapped here...

YOU GREW UP ON THIS FARM, BOY

The cowboy’s words began to tamper with Nick’s memories. Nick’s recollection of growing up in the city vanished. They were replaced with fake memories. Memories of growing up in the South. He remembered life on the farm. How he loved milking the cows, feeding the chickens and stacking the hay. It was his favourite thing to do ever since he was a kid. The 19 year old grabbed his head. He knew the memories were fake. But they felt so... real. Wait... maybe they weren’t fake? Maybe Nick did grow up on the farm?

“What are yer doin to me?! This ain’t my home! I’m from over yonder. I ain’t some hillbilly farmboy!”

Nick’s hands clasped at his mouth. Nick’s accent was now completely Southern. There was not a trace of city boy left in him. It sounded like he had never even been to the city. It sounded like the only place he had ever been was.... the countryside.

YOU TAKE AFTER YOUR FATHER, SON

The cowboy began to rewrite Nick’s genetics. His lineage being rewritten. Nick began to forget about his real father. All memories of living with his loving father faded until there was nothing left. But new memories filled their place. Nick’s mind began to be filled with memories of working on the farm with the cowbo- no... not ‘the cowboy’... his father.

Nick’s genes began rewriting themselves. Changing to adopt the genetics of the muscular cowboy standing in front of him. Nick grew in height as his genetics were replaced with the cowboy’s. He went from a generous 5’8 to a monstrous 6’5. Nick’s muscles began growing. His biceps grew bigger and bigger. His chest bulked up. His abs became more defined. His shoulders broadened. His small dainty hands began thickening, turning into big meaty paws. His fingers fat like sausages. Callouses formed on his hands due to the copious amounts of farm work he had done throughout his entire life in the countryside.

His body grew hairier and hairer. His smooth boyish skin became more coarse and manly. His 19 year old face began aging. It aged until the 19 year old looked like he was in his 30s... and that’s because he was. The 33 year old’s face was now covered by a thick manly beard. His testosterone levels sky rocketed. Sweat covered his body, embedding itself in his new body hair. His hairy armpits reeked. He smelled as bad as the pig sty out back. No amount of showers or soap could get rid of the smell. It was the smell of a true country boy. Nick’s city boy clothing began disappearing, being replaced by his milking uniform.

“Pops, what’s happening to m-?”

YOU ARE AN UNEDUCATED COUNTRY BOY

Nick was cut off by his father. His eyes grew dim and vacant. His jaw dropped open. Drool began forming in his mouth. Nick’s IQ had plummeted. His IQ went from 140 to 80 in a matter of seconds. It began slipping down further and further.

“NO! POPS, YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME!”

His IQ slipped from 80 to 70.

“NO POPS! I WASSA SMART BOY!”

His IQ slipped from 70 to 50.

“NO! I DID DONE WENT TO COLLEGE!”

It slipped down further and further until it eventually fell to a mind numbingly stupid 30.

“Imma dumb farmboy, pops” Nick flexed his massive biceps releasing his pit stink into his father’s nostrils. His father smirked.

A dumb blissful expression crossed Nick’s face. Nick felt so at home in his father’s hands. So safe. So vacant. So dumb.

“Sarry for trynna run away, pops. I dunno whut I were thinkin, sir” Nick rubbed his empty head.

LET’S MAKE SURE YOU REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU DISOBEY ME

Nick’s new father clicked his fingers. And with that, Nick felt a swelling in his chest. It felt as if his pecs were filling up. Filling up with liquid. They felt so heavy. The new weight on his chest almost caused Nick to fall over. He shifted his new weight causing the fat pecs on his chest to jiggle. Nick dumbly looked at his tits. There seemed to be a white liquid leaking out of his nipple. It looked like... milk. Nick’s once lean pecs began getting bigger and fatter as they filled up with milk. They looked so heavy. So fuckable. His nipples grew so sensitive. The slightest touch evoking the most intense pleasure. Nick’s father just wanted titty fuck his son right then and there.

“Ma boobs done grown so big, pops”

“As punishment for trying to run away, your fat tits will now supply our farm’s milk” Nick’s father deviously grinned as he stared at his son’s leaking breasts.

Nick’s father forcefully grabbed his son’s nipples and began milking his tits. It felt so orgasmic. So pleasurable. Nick felt his intelligence being milked out of his tits. He moaned in pleasure. The more Nick was milked, the more he tried to fight back against his natural urges. But the pleasure soon became too much for the farm boy. He couldn’t hold it in anymore. The dumb country boy tried to resist, but he couldn’t help but let out a big

“MOOOOOOOOOOOO”

———————————————————————

And so, Nick lived out the rest of his life on his father’s farm. The dumb country boy happily fulfilled his duties on the farm. He fed the chickens, stacked the hay, let his father cum deep inside his ass. But most importantly, he supplied the farm’s dairy by letting his father milk his fat tits. Nick’s father glanced at the buckets full of his son’s milk. He grinned.

“Go get me some firewood, son. If you disobey, I’ll make it so the only thing comin out that dumb mouth of yours is MOOOOOO.”

Hey there! - I was accidentally daydreaming when I was searching for dude ranches, and ever since, this city boy's inbox just keeps piling up with invitations to them. No,no I didn't follow through with any of them, but I've been eying the flyer to visit a rodeo though. I'd love to be a badass cowboy, but I know I would stick out a mile standing next the real deals. Plus, I've been hearing strange rumors about what happens to rodeo protestors who get lassoed in the arena. Fuck it! I'm going!

While it was true that New You Industries was supplying the small, rural farming town of Hayside with special equipment, it wasn’t well known outside of the handful of people running the town’s rodeos. The organization that protested those same rodeos had so far lost two of their members to the town. The group believed them dead or in hiding, perhaps having been threatened. You believed you knew better though. The more bizarre circles you moved in online spoke about rumors of men turned into studs by the full moon, a police force with a seemingly endless supply of handsome, buff cops; and a shady corporation with advanced or even magical technology; but what interested you most was a series of posts claiming that the missing protestors were merely “assimilated” into the town.

There was only one way to find out if this meant what you thought. And so you arrived in the town in time for the next rodeo. Only a dozen locals sat in the arena. Along with a protester, sitting silently in the stands with a placard over their head, perhaps too afraid to vocalize given the mystery surrounding their missing colleagues.

The rodeo proceeded as one typically would, with the townspeople paying both you and the protestor little mind, until the very end at least.

“So, uh, how’d you enjoy tonight’s show?” asked the cowboy in the center of the arena, gesturing at the protestor.

“M- me?” the thin, young man replied.

“Yeah, you. Why don’t you come down ‘ere and tell us all what you wanna say?”

The man shuffled nervously.

“C'mon there, don’t be shy!”

Anxiously, the man got up and made his way to the arena, clearing his throat as he was passed the microphone. He barely got a word out before another handsome strutted out from the passage underneath the bleachers and threw a lasso round the young man’s chest.

“And how’s that, we got another one ladies and gentlemen!” the announcer chuckled as the dozen or so people in seats hollered and hooted, “Let’s get you outta here, city-slicker.”

You watched closely as the protestor was dragged out of the arena. But something was amiss. He thrashed and wriggled strangely and his mouth seemed to slacken. More of his legs appeared to be visible out the ends of his jeans and his arms looked swollen in his shirt. This was your chance, you had to follow, and so you did.

You waited a few minutes as the rest of the crowd filtered out while you slipped down to the arena and through the passageway. Grumbling and moaning echoed down the corridor as you quietly crept closer. Shouts and growls boomed out from behind a half-closed door. You carefully pushed it open before stumbling back at what you saw. The protestor was tied to a pole by the rope he’d been captured with, newly hirsute muscles and lengthy, thick limbs protruding through his slim-cut clothing. Though you never got a very close look at the man earlier, he was easily bigger in every regard than he’d been just minutes ago. Most impressive of all was the huge, hard, slick cock pressed up against his bulging abs, held there by the waist of his increasingly tight jeans.

He tilted his head up at you, breathing heavily with a charming smile on his freshly bearded face. He looked different; sharper, sunkissed, and rugged.

“Holy shit… I was right,” you muttered aloud.

And that’s when you felt a powerful tug around your waist before being smashing into the floor.

“Right about what? You didn’t come here with him, so why are you down here, city boy?”

The voice was deep and serious. You looked upward to see the beautifully rugged rodeo master standing over you.

“I… I want… you to do… that… to me,” you gulped, glancing back at the tied-up protester.

“My oh my, can’t say this has ever happened before,” the studly cowboy chuckled, his sinister tone shifting to one of amusement, “but if you haven’t noticed, it’s already happening.”

Everything had happened so fast that you didn’t even realize that it was rope lasso that sent you hurtling to the ground. It was at that moment you realized you were getting exactly what you wanted.

Sweat pooled onto the concrete floor while you tried to stand up, only to fall to your knees as every bone, tendon, and muscle in your body began to reconfigure. You moaned loud and uninhibited at the feeling of your spine stretching and your legs lengthening wildly. What you hadn’t anticipated is how intensely pleasurable it would feel. It was like every part that grew and shifted brought with it a powerful sexual edging.

“You people normally fight it, but I’m sure you can tell now there’s no point,” the redneck chuckled, tapping his boot against the raging tent in your tightening pants.

You held yourself up by your hands, the rope dangling from your waist against the floor. Arching your back with a groan, your arms grew longer, pushing you further off the floor. You watched in delight at your hands spreading out larger and larger against the dirty ground. The fingers stretched long and thick, the skin on your swelling palms hardening from farm labor.

Upward from your massive hands, your veins began to bulge. Holding yourself up by your trembling arms became easier and easier as your arms inflated with thick, hard muscle, stretching and tearing your shirt. Hair densified across your thickening forearms.

The growth spread through your upper body. Howling in ecstasy you ripped open the front of your shirt with your powerful arms, revealing the rapidly expanding pecs and abs underneath. You rubbed your huge, rough hands along the growing, hairier mounds. Memories flooded your brain, these weren’t the muscles of someone who worked out, these were formed by years of real, hard, manly work.

A sudden and forceful pulling in your feet forced you to flip onto your back as tightness in your shoes intensified. Removing them was no use, they were far too tight now. You could feel your feet mercilessly stretching against their confines until with a shred and a moan of relief, two long, wide, and hairy feet burst forth.

And upward from the huge appendages came more growth, flooding your thighs and calves with hefty, ballooning muscle and thick, manly hair. As your ass pressed outward, hairier and rounder, you felt thoughts of your past life draining away, making way for one of small-town living and honest, hard work. You gave a dumb smile as a short beard spread across your increasingly handsome, rugged face. Your hair became short and maintainable, while also accentuating your manly, country features.

“G- gosh… darn it,” you gasped in a thick, rural accent feeling your cock stretch and swell. You fidgeted with your large, clumsy fingers for the waist buckle on your pants, groaning deeply as you loosened it and allowed the swelling head of your cock to inch further and further out of the pants. You were so close it was almost unbearable. Your hips thrust involuntarily as your member throbbed larger, toward a glorious, thick nine inches; your balls aching as they too inflated. Then, with a gruff cry of pleasure, you came; spewing load after load across the concrete and marking the conclusion of your metamorphosis.

The cowboy, who had stayed to watch the entire process, helped you to your feet. The rope around your waist morphed as you rose, replacing your old belt with one significantly larger. Your pants morphed into tough, worn boot-cut jeans while the huge feet protruding out of the front of your shoes were quickly covered as the tattered remains shifted into a pair of size fifteen boots. Your torn shirt similarly repaired itself, though dirtier and muskier with a plaid pattern.

“Welcome to Hayside, rancher,” the rodeo master said, “You ready to get to work?”

Everything seemed like a distant memory now, you knew this was all brand new, but it also seemed so familiar.

“Yessir,” you uttered, your charming smile shining through your new beard.

One Fad Fits All: Cowboy Up

--- Want to read more? View all stories by TheBurdenBorne ---

"Oh God, take a look at this shit," Cody said to me as he took a pair of black leather boots off the shelf and tossed them at me.

"I know right, who would wear this!" I said back.

Cody and I often went to the mall after school. We were just two good-for-nothings at home, and most of the time the skate park was overrun by much more hardcore punks then us. So we'd head over to the mall and talk shit with each other. Today, we walked into a store that sold a variety of men's clothing. We were wearing your basic high school freshman dark hoodies, loose-fit jeans, and skater shoes. Cody brushed hair away from his eyes because his bangs always got in the way. He picked up a big shiny belt buckle and held it in front of his crotch. I laughed out loud.

"This shit is so gay," he said. "I know, right?" I answered.

"Can I help you find anything?" said a young girl's voice. It startled us both.

"Nah, just screwin' around," I answered.

"All right," she said. "How about you try these on instead?" She handed me and Cody each a pair of blue jeans.

"No, we better go," I said.

"C'mon dude! It'll be funny," whispered Cody. I followed him and the girl back to the dressing rooms. We glanced at each other and Cody grabbed his crotch, suggesting something dirty about the girl helping us. I smiled back, trying not to laugh.

"Here you go," she said, pointing towards two adjacent rooms. When she left, Cody and I both busted out laughing.

"Dude, you have to try it on. I gotta see this," he said. "No, man. This is stupid," I said as I took off my shoes and dropped my pants. I pulled the bright blue denim over my skinny high-school legs. They were clearly too big for me. I look around the room and saw that the girl had left a big leather belt, so I used it to hold my jeans up.

"Oh, shit," I heard from the stall next to me. Suddenly, the room started to feel really warm and I could feel myself starting to sweat.

"You boys almost ready," I heard the girl say on the other side of the door.

"Yes, ma'am," Cody said in a polite Texas drawl -- but I only assumed he was joking. "Well, that's good," here I brought these for you. She slid a pair of leather boots under the door. I picked one of them up. It smelled like fresh hay and cow shit, like they had been worn for years. I reached to put them on but noticed that my jeans were no longer loose. Instead, they felt tightly fitted. I slipped into the boots and stood up. I felt inches taller but was still sweating like a pig.

"Hey, Cody, you all right over there? Sort of hot, ain't it?" I opened the door of the stall and saw Cody standing by the three-way mirror, but he looked completely different. He was a rugged six-foot-tall cowboy. His jeans were faded and worn. He put his hands in his pockets and I noticed how the belt buckle accentuated his bulging crotch. He had taken off his shirt and I could see smooth lean muscles on his upper body glistening with sweat.

"Howdy, stranger," he said when he noticed me. "Oh, shut up, Cody," I said. "What's going on. This isn't funny anymore." He walked over to me and pulled up my t-shirt. "You've changed too," he said. "What?" I pulled off my shirt and stepped in front of the mirror. Just like Cody, my skinny teenage body had matured. My pale flabby arms were tan and taught with muscles. My pecs flexed a little as I moved and my abs were rock-hard. My upper body was shaved smooth, but the skin was tan, tough and leathery, like I had worked outside bareback for months.

"Where's your buckle," Cody said. He knelt down and fastened the big silver buckle he had found in the store earlier. I could feel my cock stir and press against my jeans.

"You guys look great!" We both looked up and saw the girl walk in with two cowboy hats -- one black and one white. She walked over and put the white one on my head and the black one on Cody. We said nothing, but as she walked away, I tipped my hat, winked, and said, "Thank you, ma'am" in the same droll voice as Cody used earlier.

I turned to look at myself in the mirror again, amazed at this transformation, but then saw Cody walk up behind me and nibble my ear playfully.

"What was that for?" I asked in protest. But when I looked into his steely blue eyes and saw his five-o-clock shadow and his rugged body, I moved in for a kiss. Within seconds, we were up against the mirror, making out with an infinite series of reflections of ourselves. Our sweaty shirtless bodies pressed against each other. Everything that we were before that kiss was wiped from our memory and when we walked out of the mall later, I could resist putting my hand on Cody's ass as he held a shopping bag full of worn denim, chaps, flannel, chewing tobacco, jean jackets, and leather boots.

Wish: Hey please do what ever you’d like to me …

@willwritesagain​ 

– – –

You were sitting at your desk, typing away on your laptop when you started to squirm in your chair. A tingling sensation blew over you and before you could react, your body started to feel flush.

The first thing you noticed was that your hoodie started to feel snug, almost constricting. Your first fear was that your clothes were shrinking, but the moment you tore your top layer off, you were quick to realize that you were in fact growing.

Your jaw dropped when you witnessed your arms bulk up, your biceps blowing to insane proportions and curling out of the short sleeves of your white t-shirt. Your pecs were next and they bubbled out in front of you and you had to readjust your arms around them due to their massive size, looking like they were straining your shirt to burst.

“What in tarnation is happenin’?” you asked aloud, wincing at the odd way you spoke and the new southern accent you’d acquired.

You shoved yourself away from your desk in time to see your sweatpants turn into a deep blue color, the cotton material growing firmer as they morphed into bootcut denim jeans. Out of nowhere, cowboy boots appeared on your feet. They had flecks of dirt on them, letting you know that you’d been hard at work. Speaking of, your beefier hands grew rougher as callouses formed, illustrating your new hardworking lifestyle.

You hurried over to the mirror and stared in shock at the reflection that looked back at you.

In the mirror was a muscled up cowboy who wore a tight t-shirt that did little to conceal his heavy pecs and pants that hugged his bubblebutt tantalizingly. You noticed you were also wearing a cowboy hat that completed your sexy look, making you look like a country model on the cover of those cheap romance novels.

Your fear quickly disappeared as you examined your bulky new body in the mirror, smiling widely as you flexed your massive arms, enjoying the groaning sounds of your sleeves as your biceps flexed.

“Dog gone, I gotta be the finest cowboy out ‘ere!” you beamed, walking out to your Dodge Cummins to head to the bar to pick up a guy who was into cowboys.

– – –

[Photo Source: https://www.deviantart.com/bigbergman/art/Cowboy-Muscles-481020105]

Derek Hale huffed as he followed the spastic Stiles through the Beacon Hills Mall, irritated to be surrounded by such a huge crowd of people. However, Stiles had asked him to accompany him there because he was positive that there was a hint that would help them solve the town’s latest supernatural crisis (and supposedly there was a crazy clearance sale at the retro video game store as well).

Although when he’d been asked Derek had given his trademark scowl of annoyance, he’d instantly agreed because he was helplessly in love with the nerdy human who obliviously chattered away about some obscure cheat in an old game he’d never heard of. Still, despite the gruff, annoyed expression he wore, Derek was all ears, his heart fluttering in his chest as the boy he was secretly in love with talked.

“…but you have to be careful when performing that because you can potentially softlock your game,” Stiles went on, speaking so rapidly and quickly that Derek sometimes worried the guy would pass out from a lack of oxygen.

“Mm-hmm,” Derek grunted, clenching his jaw in irritation over the fact that he was mentally unable to confess his true feelings to Stiles. Things with his ex had been so horrendous and the usual brooding-infused self-hatred made Derek feel like the human was way out of his league, even despite his status as an alpha werewolf. Therefore, he fought hard to keep Stiles at a distance, despite currently trailing him through the mall like an eager puppy… and “accidentally” letting his leather jacket-covered bulk brush up against the smaller man every so often.

The human frowned a little but shrugged his thin shoulders before perking up. “I think this is where the trickster works,” he whispered to the werewolf, pointing to a store.

“Boot Barn?” Derek scoffed, rolling his eyes as he crossed his buff arms over his muscled chest. “I have to admit that it was odd that we were seeking out a trickster at the mall, but at a cowboy store?”

Stiles shrugged in response. “Everybody has to pay bills,” he retorted before making his way towards the store that reeked of leather.

The alpha werewolf followed closely behind, sniffing at the air to see if he could catch the scent of a trickster. He swallowed down the growl that formed in his throat when he caught whiff of the sickly sweet stench that was characteristic of the magical creatures, and he took a protective step closer to the human.

“Stay close to me,” Derek whispered in Stiles’s ear. “It’s here somewhere.” Out of instinct, he wrapped a secure arm around the other man and pulled him into his leather jacket, his inner wolf preening at the proximity.

Stiles’s eyes widened and he quickly snatched the closest object off the shelf closest to them. “Um, here, act like we’re buying this,” he hurriedly said as he tossed a white cowboy hat at Derek.

The alpha werewolf scowled at the blank, white cowboy hat with the $85.95 price tag hanging from it. Still, with a deep huff, he put the cowboy hat on his head and looked down at the young man in his hold. “How’s it look?” he grunted.

Stiles fought back a giggle, making Derek’s heart speed up. “I like it.”

The sweet scent of the trickster grew stronger and Derek straightened his posture and squared his broad shoulders, glaring at the guy the scent seemed to be emanating from. “Go wait for me at the food court,” he growled to Stiles, shoving him behind him so as to leave zero room for argument.

Stiles looked conflicted as he bit down on his lower lip, but he scurried off to the food court to wait for the alpha werewolf.

Derek stalked over to the trickster who was unloading product onto a random shelf. In order to up the ante, he puffed out his chest, making his pecs look bigger as they strained against his t-shirt. He even bared his teeth the slightest bit to show off his werewolf canines.

The trickster looked up from the box he was digging through, putting on a standard customer service smile. “Hello, how may I help you— oh shit,” he groaned when he saw that he was speaking to an alpha werewolf. “Look, Dude, I haven’t down anything wrong. I get that this is your territory and all, but I haven’t even practiced any magic since I located here.”

“So you just have a passion for woking at cowboy stores?” Derek countered, crossing his powerful arms over his chest. “I don’t buy that bullshit. You have exactly one minute to get out of my sight and leave my territory.” To emphasis his threat, his flashed his canines as he checked his watch.

The trickster tossed his hands up in the air exasperatedly. “Fine,” he sighed. “Your territory’s shit anyways.” He ripped his name tag off his polo and tossed it to the ground before stomping off. He glanced over his shoulder as he was about to exit to store and smirked. “And ‘cowboy store’?” He snapped his fingers and disappeared into the crowd of mall shoppers.

There was an odd electric quality to the air, but it passed just as quickly as it had come, making Derek doubt that he’d even felt it in the first place.

He shook his head, but paused when he caught sight of his reflection in one of the many store mirrors. He thought he looked ridiculous wearing the cowboy hat when it was paired with his favorite leather jacket. He reached up to take the hat off, but found that it was stuck.

“What the hell?” Derek grunted as he grabbed at the cowboy hat with both of his hands and tugged at it, clenching his teeth as he yanked with all of his strength, but the hat stayed in place. He pulled until he was red in the face and panting from exerting so much energy, scowling at his reflection that still had him wearing such a tacky cowboy hat.

However, Derek’s attention was quickly torn away from the cowboy hat stuck on his head when he looked down at the huge belt buckle that was in the front of his jeans. It was about as large as his hand and it had such intricate designs on it that depicted cowboys and longhorns. Derek hadn’t even been wearing a belt earlier, let alone one with such a garish buckle that only served to draw peoples’ attention straight to his groin.

The werewolf gasped loudly when he saw that even his generic shoes had somehow magically been replaced with cowboy boots, his pants even shifting to accommodate them by becoming bootcut style.

“Now what the heck am I wearin’?” Derek asked aloud, his eyes going wide at the way he heard himself speak. His normally rough and pointed tone had morphed into a deeper bass-filled voice with such a heavy southern twang that it was almost comical. “Now what had gone and ‘appened to mah voice?”

Derek hurried out of the store in a panic, clearing his throat over and over and rubbing at it frantically. This couldn’t be happening. He knew that the trickster was behind this and somehow the cowboy hat that was stuck on his head was acting as a catalyst for this transformation.

He continued to shove his way through the crowd of people, none of them paying attention to the panicking alpha werewolf.

Derek took a deep breath and tried to mentally psyche himself up to speak in his normal voice. My name is Derek Hale and I live in Beacon Hills, he mentally chanted. Just say it.

“Mah name’s Derek Hale. I was born ’n’ raised here in Beacon Hills,” he said in his thick country accent that he couldn’t shake. “Darn it!” He stomped his cowboy boot down in irritation before he was alerted to something else.

He looked down at his gray t-shirt, frowning when he was realized that he was no longer wearing his trademark leather jacket. He rolled his eyes but quickly froze as he examined his forearms, his stomach dropping as he saw the dark hair that was thickening over them. In a panic, Derek looked over the rest of his body, the blood draining from his face when he saw the wisps of new chest hair curling over the collar of his tight t-shirt.

“Now what in the Sam Hill is happenin’ to me?” he wondered aloud, wincing at his altered vernacular.

The changing Derek pushed through the crowd of people and made his way to the food court, his eyes immediately honing in on Stiles who was happily munching down on fries. For a brief second, he was embarrassed to have Stiles see him like this, but he knew that the human was incredibly intelligent and may have an idea to help him.

“Whoa doggy, ain’t ya a sight for sore eyes,” Derek cried as soon as he reached him.

Stiles looked up in confusion, cocking his eyebrow at the werewolf who sounded like some caricature from CMT and who dressed like someone’s exaggerated, stereotypical idea of what a Texan might dress like. “Derek?” he asked, looking the alpha up and down before smiling slightly. “So, you decided to buy the hat.”

Despite basking in the fact that Stiles was smiling at him, Derek grabbed a hold of his hand and yanked him out of his chair, quickly ushering him out of the mall and towards the parking garage.

“Uh, Derek?” Stiles muttered as he was practically dragged behind him.

“What is it, mah darlin’?” Derek answered, flinching when he heard how he’d just referred to Stiles. 

Luckily the human seemed to ignore it for the moment. “Um,” he stalled, sounding conflicted. “Either your shirt is shrinking or you’re growing.”

The werewolf yelped and stopped in his tracks, immediately starting to feel just how snug his already tight t-shirt had become. Looking down, his jaw dropped at he witnessed his pecs puff up and pack on meat as they pushed further away from his torso. His nipples hardened and perked up, poking tantalizingly against the tight fabric of his shirt that was strained to bursting. His already-broad shoulders pushed further outwards as his back widened, pushing him to near bodybuilder proportions. Derek watched with awe as his now hairy arms thickened, his biceps inflating to the size of bowling balls, displaying the upmost masculine power. Even his thighs widened and he felt his cock and balls start to feel extremely confined in his bootcut jeans.

RIIIPPPP!

Derek’s gray t-shirt finally gave up, bursting into tatters and leaving the bulky, hairy werewolf standing shirtless in the parking garage of the mall, wearing his cowboy hat, jeans with a huge belt buckle, and his cowboy boots. His inflated, hairier form oozed manliness and seemed to be a mixture of being obtained through his alpha genes and years of hard, physical labor.

“Damn, Derek,” Stiles gasped in wonder, “you look like a—”

“Like some redneck cowboy werewolf,” Derek finished for him in his country accent, a frown settling in on his face as he examined his new form in the reflection of a tinted window on some nearby car. His broad, beefy shoulders dropped as he walked towards where he parked his Camaro, gritting his teeth in annoyance at the new way his thighs rolled over each other and the awkward way his biceps and lats kept pushing against each other, making his arms hang at a weird angle by his sides. His fuzzy pecs felt so cumbersome and heavy, and he found himself arching his back to help support their weight, which only seemed to accentuate the massive muscle mounds.

However, a large piece of him was hyperaware of the fact that he still had a strong hold of Stiles’s hand. Not only that, but the human had even gone to far as to intertwine his fingers with his, making the alpha blush. Derek was so focused on how he was walking hand in hand with Stiles that when he reached his vehicle, he was hit with such shock.

“What in tarnation?!” Derek roared in irritation as the space where he’d parked his Camaro was now occupied by an old, red pickup truck.

Stiles kept his mouth shut (for once), knowing that Derek had loved his Camaro. He gave the cowboy werewolf’s beefy, hairy hand a reassuring squeeze, not unaware of the way Derek unconsciously ran his thumb up and down his.

The alpha sighed in resignation, unsure of how to fix this. “C’mon, Darlin’,” he grunted as he led Stiles to his new truck, taking a while to realize that he’d just called Stiles “Darlin’” for a second time.

The two of them settled into the pickup truck. Derek fought back a growl when he realized just how much muscle he’d packed on once he was in the tiny cab of the old truck. His broad shoulders made it so that his left was pressed against the driver side door and his right had Stiles pressed tightly against him. His massive biceps made it hard to bend his arms to grip the steering wheel, and his pecs were so large that he had to readjust his grip around them constantly; and his seatbelt completely disappeared into their deep hairy crevice. Worse was that his larger, erect nipples kept getting stimulated by his massive biceps jostling against them as he turned the wheel, making him stifle a moan and feel the front of his pants grow tighter and tighter.

As he drove back to his loft, Derek glanced in the rearview mirror, a frown deep on his face. “I really got no idea how I’ma fix this,” he sighed.

Stiles offered him another smile. “I don’t think you look that bad,” he offered, placing a reassuring hand on the alpha’s inflated bicep.

The newly transfigured Derek was unsure if it was by his own will or a result of his transformation, but he felt himself wrap a buffed up arm around Stiles’s thin shoulders and pull him into his beefy, hairy body. “C’mere, Darlin’,” he cooed, finding it oddly hot how he completely dwarfed the smaller man.

Stiles snickered as he leaned into the alpha cowboy werewolf, running an admiring hand over Derek’s larger pecs, sending a shudder though the other man. “It’s about time you make a move,” he teased. “I just didn’t think it took you turning into some cowboy to finally get the balls.”

Derek jerked back and looked down at Stiles in wonder, his heart racing in his massive chest. “Whaddya just say?” he asked, starting to finally feel hopeful since his transformation started.

Stiles blushed and squirmed a little in his hold. “I’ve had a thing for you for a bit,” he admitted, looking away momentarily before glancing back up at the alpha.

Derek stopped at a red light and took advantage of the situation to yank Stiles closer and deeply kiss him, moaning loudly as he did so. His inner wolf howled with pride over having finally kissed his mate. He pulled back for a moment, feeling his smile taking over every expanse of his face. “I’ve been in love with ya, Darlin’ ever since ya trespassed on mah land,” he gushed, leaning back down to pepper kissed all over the human in his grasp.

Stiles leaned into it and quickly reached up and took the cowboy hat off Derek’s head, setting it onto the dash. “The brim keeps getting in the way,” he muttered before resuming their make out session.

It took Derek a moment to realize that the cowboy hat was finally off his head. He still held Stiles in his hold and let the human’s hands travel all over his bulky form. They were still making out in an old pickup truck. Derek was still wearing cowboy boots and had an obscenely large belt buckle. And Derek’s body was still at least sixty pounds heavier and much more hairier. His stomach dropped at the revelation that, although the cowboy hat had began his transformation, apparently it’s work was done and permanent. A part of the alpha werewolf winced as he knew deep down that normal Derek Hale, the stud who’d spent a chunk of his life in the city and was known to wear leather jackets and drive a hot sportscar around town, was gone. In his place was the new Derek Hale: the redneck cowboy who had a thick country accent and muscles so large that they barely fit in his pickup truck. 

And this new Derek Hale had Stiles.

Immediately all of his indignation disappeared and Derek puffed out his chest with pride, tightening his grip on his boy and planting another kiss on his lips as the light turned green. If it meant that he had Stiles in his life and that they were finally together, Derek could make it work as some muscled-up cowboy.

“Darlin’, I’ma take ya back to mah loft and I’ma knot that tight hole of yours,” Derek playfully growled at the blushing man. 

He started to drive forward again, but couldn’t ignore a brand new sensation that washed over him and told him that he was missing something. He snorted and shook his head, knowing just what it was.

Derek reached over and snatched his cowboy hat off the dash and put it back onto his head, that anxiety disappearing as soon as it was back in place. “Gotta have my hat,” he winked down at Stiles, rock hard as he envisioned all the things he was going to do to his mate… and he knew he’d be wearing his cowboy hat the entire time.

Nick Jonas's New Career

Part 1

“Have you heard from Kevin lately?” Joe asked his brother, Nick, as he lounged on the couch.

Nick shook his head. “Nope,” he frowned. “I think he’s really set on that new streaming career.”

Joe grimaced. “Gross…” he muttered under his breath.

Nick frowned too, but mainly out of concern for his brother. It’d been a few weeks since Kevin had quit their boy band in order to pursue his new career as a streamer, along with curating his OnlyFans account where he would show off his hairy body. Although Nick had never watched any of the videos, he’d had several of his friends tell him that Kevin’s most popular videos were the ones where he’d show off his smelly pits, even going so far as to sniff them and give them a lick for the camera.

It was definitely out of the ordinary for Kevin, especially given the clean cut, boy next door look that the brothers had been so careful to craft.

“He’s been living with that one doctor,” Joe pointed out. “Maybe he’ll be able to help him out.”

Nick shrugged his broad shoulders, figuring that it was worth a shot. Kevin had mentioned that he’d planned on seeing a hypnotherapist he’d met online to help him sort out some things, so Nick thought that it couldn’t hurt to look into it. 

After doing a quick Google search, Nick was able to get the number of the office and hit dial, signaling at Joe to turn down the TV volume.

Joe grunted and lowered the sound, by one.

“Hello, this is Dr. Blue speaking,” answered the smooth, deep voiced hypnotherapist. “How may I help you?”

“Yes, hi,” Nick said, wondering how he was going to navigate this with HIPAA and whatnot, “I’m Nick Jonas and I’m the brother of your, um, roommate Kevin Jonas…”

“Oh, yes,” Blue said, a little inflection audible in his voice, “Kevin’s told me a lot about you. What can I do for you?”

Nick cocked his eyebrow in confusion, unsure what his brother would want to say about him to a therapist. He shook it off and tried to continue. “I’m just trying to check in on my brother,” he explained, “to see how he’s doing.”

The other line was silent for a moment as Blue thought of something, making him smirk. “Well, I can assure you that Kevin is doing very well, in fact, I think he’d like to talk to you,” Blue said.

“Great,” Nick sighed, relieved. 

“Just let me grab him,” Blue said. “I’m just going to put you on hold really quick…”

Hold music was played, but unlike the typical elevator-esque sounds, more country-like tones began to play. The beats were catchy, and Nick even caught himself humming along to the guitar. The music grew louder and much more consuming, and it was so deafening that Nick couldn’t even hear the voices on the TV that was in the same room as him. All he could concentrate on was the country music playing on the phone, falling deeper and deeper into a state of relaxation where all that there was was the country song playing and muffling all of his thoughts…

“Nick?” Blue’s smooth voice asked, snapping Nick out of his daze.

The singer/actor jerked back, blushing when he’d realized that he’d completely zoned out. His blush grew even deeper when he shuffled his feet, noticing that his hard cock was tenting out his shorts. “Oh, uh, y-yeah?” he stuttered, noting an odd quality to his deep voice.

“It seems as if Kevin’s a bit busy at the moment,” Blue happily hummed, “but why don’t you come over later in the month? I’m sure he’d love to see you.”

Nick cleared his throat. “Sure, that sounds good,” Nick agreed, scrunching his eyebrows together in confusion when he spoke. For some strange reason, Nick swore that his voice sounded different, almost like he was starting to develop an accent that would better suit a country singer instead of a pop boy band member.

“Good, we’ll see you then,” Blue said before hanging up the phone.

His heart racing in his chest and his cock still rock hard, Nick rubbed at his temples as he attempted to piece together what had just happened.

Oblivious, Joe called out from the couch. “Well?”

“Nothin’! I wasn’t able t’ talk to ‘em!” Nick answered, wincing as his myserteous new country accent was much more pronounced.

His brother snickered. “Okay then, Cowboy,” he laughed from his position on the couch.

Nick kept clearing his throat as he lumbered down the hall to take care of his aching member. He knew that his voice was different, and despite not being able to stop speaking in his new country boy accent, he couldn’t get himself to worry about it. In a matter of seconds, his heart rate slowed down and he shrugged off that minuscule panic he’d felt. His voice sounded nice and deep, oozing hot masculinity.

By the time he’d entered his bedroom, he couldn’t even point out that he was speaking differently.

His cock was throbbing with intense want, and Nick couldn’t resist tearing away his clothes the mere second he was alone in his room. He immediately wrapped his fingers around his aching, hard eight inch member, trying desperately to gain some sort of relief. He felt as if his cock was harder than ever, a thick fog settling over his mind and demanding that he get off.

As he pumped away, Nick’s thoughts traveled far away from his usual fantasies of hot, sexy women— instead, his horny mind kept thinking about bulging, hairy pecs along with large, round biceps. Hot muscular men, especially those with sexy hairy chests began to filter into his mind, his hard cock leaking precum the more and more he kept envisioning them.

As Nick toyed with his hard cock, he grit his teeth as he could feel a pressure forming in his aching groin. However, he couldn’t bring himself close to climax, feeling as if he were being edged instead.

“C’mon,” he growled in his thick, country boy accent as he tried to cum. 

His cock throbbed with intense want, and he couldn’t think of anything else besides getting off.  The fog in his head continued to grow, and Nick continued to pump away at his aching cock that throbbed with need. Naked men of all shapes and sizes continued to flow through his head, and his mouth watered as he thought about all of their big cocks and what it’d feel like to be stuffed full by every single one of them; and every single time he imagined himself on all fours, getting fucked by a big, hairy stud, his cock got closer and closer to release.

Despite all of that, Nick continued to pump away at his hard cock, feeling nowhere near cumming.

“What in tarnation is goin’ on?” Nick asked through clenched teeth. Normally, the stud would last for a decent amount of time, but he’d cum without a problem. Now, however, he felt like he was having to work even harder to get off. 

His free hand traveled upwards, grazing over this smooth chest until it brushed up against a hard nipple.

“Mmmm,” Nick groaned, his toes curling as soon as he made physical contact with an unbelievably sensitive nipple. The nubs on his chest were incredibly hard, and they felt like they were directly wired straight to his throbbing cock— no, better yet, they were even more sensitive than his throbbing member. The exact second he rubbed one, his cock began to ooze out precum like a leaky faucet.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Nick let go of his aching cock and grabbed onto both of his hard nipples, giving them each a rough tug.

“OooOOhhh!” Nick loudly moaned like a slut as his he thumbed his sensitive nipples, his eyes rolling to the back of his head with pleasure. Never before had he ever felt such intense pleasure, especially from his newly sensitive chest. 

He had the wherewithal to inwardly panic over how strange this all felt. The normally vanilla stud was lying on his bed, tugging on his nipples while unable to keep his mouth closed, unleashing heated moans that belonged on OnlyFans. 

Nick gave his nipples one final tug, all of his impressive muscles tensing up simultaneously as he came. His untouched cock spewed a large load that shot up and landed on his sweat-slicked pecs.

“Holy shit,” Nick gasped for breath, his thick new country accent audible as his meaty pecs heaved and his still-hard nipples simmered with want in the open air. The thick fog caked over his mind, and instead of thinking to wipe the cum off of his chest or to wonder what was going on, the dazed hunk only began to look forward to working out at the gym. 

A rigorous Chest Day in his sights, the stud hopped off the bed and changed into his workout clothes which typically consisted of some small spandex shorts and a loose tank top. Nick yanked on the small black shorts that hugged his ass nicely, lifting his sizable cheeks. However, the hunk paused when he grabbed his loose fitting tank top. Something about it being so large and baggy was almost repulsive to the singer, and without a second thought, he tossed the offending shirt into the nearby trash bin.

Nick dug through his closet and near the back he spotted an old tank top that was at least two sizes smaller than his normal one— it was one he’d worn back before he’d begun to bulk up.

Just as he’d suspected, the tank top was nearly skin tight on Nick. Once he had it on, he looked into the mirror, and a foreign excitement traveled through him, his cock starting to harden again noticeably in his shorts. His pecs spilled out of the top that was meant for someone half his size, and his nipples poked out conspicuously against the thin fabric. Speaking of which, his nipples were still incredibly hard, and just the slight sensation of the cotton-blend running up against them was enough to make the stud’s cock twitch in his spandex shorts. A wet mark was beginning to form on the front of them.

“Lookin’ good!” he chuckled to himself as he was about to head out of the house; but he paused once he spotted something else up on the top shelf in his closet. Nick snatched up his old cowboy hat from one of his old roles and put it on. Puffing out his chest proudly, he left the house in slutty get up, heading straight for the gym. The whole time, his hard cock bobbed out in front of him.

[One Month Later]

A knock at the door alerted Blue to his new visitor. With a knowing grin on his face, he pushed himself away from his desk and walked over towards the front door.

“Kevin!” he called out into the house. “Someone’s here to see you.”

From upstairs, Kevin paused his video game and walked down to the entry way. As per his instructions, the stud was clad in small boxers that had anime print on them. His hairy chest was on full display, looking a lot bigger since he worked out whenever he wasn’t fucking or streaming. Since he’d hopped onto his PC immediately after his morning workout, the stud was as musky as ever.

“Who is it?” Kevin asked as he walked down the stairs to stand next to Blue, instinctively putting a large arm around him. His musk radiated off of him in waves, clinging to the doctor too.

“See for yourself,” Blue grinned as he opened up the door. 

In the entryway was the newly formed Nick, having fully adjusted to Blue’s instructions that were hidden in the audio that had played during the wait music.

The first noticeable thing was that Nick wore a large cowboy hat, an article of clothing was now a permanent fixture in his wardrobe. Besides that, Nick wore a tight button-down shirt that had the sleeves ripped off. His massive biceps glistened with sweat as his large arms hung awkwardly at his side; and having just finished a workout too, musky emanated off of the cowboy hunk. He left all the buttons undone, showing off his hairier chest since he’d stopped shaving it. All of the extra Chest Days at the gym had resulted in his furry pecs looking much more plump and larger than the rest of his muscle groups, indicating that the stud preferred Chest Day over any other day at the gym. Plus, the stud must’ve been pumping his nipples because they were huge and hard, protruding off his plump pecs like pencil erasers. Nick wore cut off jean shorts that were so small that his bubble butt nearly swallowed up the back of them, and in the front his hard cock was easily on display.

Nick had even stopped shaving his face, thick scruff scattered on his square jaw. His new mustache was fuller, making him look like he was ripped straight out of an old 70’s porn flick.

“Looking really good, Nick,” Blue purred as the dazed hunk entered his home. “I’m happy to see that you’ve taken well to your new instructions. In fact, both you and Kevin have seemed to be great toys.”

Blue playfully snapped his fingers.

On cue, Nick’s eyes widened as he took in how differently his brother looked in front of him.

“Damn Kev!” he gasped, his thick country twang still dripping all over his words. “What in the world done happened to ya?” His face turned bright red when he heard his voice, and he cleared his throat over and over. “Why am I talkin’ like some kinda redneck?”

A dull smile formed on Kevin’s face, and he let out a little chuckle. “Whoa, Doc,” he mused as he looked his new cowboy brother up and down, “you did a great job!”

“‘A great job’?” Nick repeated in disbelief. “Look at ya! Look at me! What am I wearin’?”

“You’re wearing what a good ol’ slutty cowboy would wear,” Blue answered for him, placing a tender hand on his hairy pec, loving how Nick tensed up at the touch.

“A wh-what?” he gasped, more from the sensation of a man’s fingers playing with his chest hair than from shock.

“You were concerned about your brother, who is much more happier in his new fuckboy life than he was with you and your band,” Blue explained, still toying with Nick’s larger pecs. “So I thought that maybe you’d like it here too. So instead of having to maintain that good boy look for your boy band, I thought you’d like things better like this.”

“B-but…” Nick tried to argue, but the words dried up in his mouth as soon as Blue began to thumb one of his nubby nipples.

Nick wanted to argue, to demand that he and Kevin be changed back, but all lucid thought melted away as soon as Blue began to toy with his hard nipples. He went slack jawed and rolled his head back, bellowing out a low moan of pleasure. 

His hard cock sprung out of his tiny shorts, bobbing out in front of him. It throbbed and leaked precum, all from having his nipples toyed with.

Deep down, Nick knew that he wasn’t supposed to be some slutty cowboy who could only get off by having his chest played with. But the pleasurable sensations overclouded his worried mind, and it wasn’t long until the man grunted as he came, his cum squirting up and landing on his hairy pecs.

“I think you’ll love being a slutty cowboy,” Blue smirked as he watched the panting Nick.

As he tried to catch his breath from his mind-shattering orgasm, a dull smile formed on the cowboy’s lips.

— — —

The stream started up, and on screen was Kevin, already flexing his massive arms for the camera so that all of his followers could admire his huge, hairy form. “Hey what’s up everyone?” Kevin asked, smiling widely into the camera. “I’m back to continue with our playthrough of…”

He trailed off, his arms still flexed, when he leaned over and sniffed at one of his hairy pits.

“Damn, that’s musky,” he slowly chuckled. He lowered his arms and gestured towards someone off camera. “I also have a special guest this stream. Please welcome: my brother, Nick!”

From the side of the screen lumbered Nick, clad in just boxers and his cowboy hat. His hard nipples protruded off his hairy chest by at least an inch. He took a seat right next to his brother, sitting so close that their sides were pressed tightly together.

“Howdy,” Nick greeted Kevin’s followers, even tipping his cowboy hat with his free hand.

“So my brother’s here to help me finish up the last few levels of—“

“Oooh…”

Kevin looked over and playfully rolled his eyes when he saw that Nick had gotten distracted by playing with his hard nipples on stream for everyone to see. He was moaning loud and his eyes had rolled to the back of his head, unable to stop himself once he started.

“Well, I guess I’ll just finish up the last few levels while Nick is busy,” Kevin chuckled, taking one last whiff of his musky pit before starting the game.

The chat exploded as they watched the newly altered brothers feel themselves up on stream, loving the new slutty versions of Kevin and Nick.

Country Charm

1500 Follower Special here! Thank you all yet again for following and reading :)

Probably for the best not to vacation at a ranch unless you want to learn what a real man is.

My word, this turned into my longest story yet! I hope you enjoy- Given the close finish do keep an eye out for the second place story coming soon! -Occam

The Old Red River Ranch had sent Louis coupons for an all inclusive vacation. Obviously he found the idea immediately shady and dubious, but checking reviews online it looks like the place is legit. He holds onto a healthy suspicion that the offer remains too good to be true but starts packing up to head out nevertheless. After what feels like no time at all he’s headed west to get some rest and relaxation at the Old Triple R.

Arriving at the ranch proper, Louis does not make it far at all before his expectations are dashed. None of the photos or information in his little pamphlet suggested that he would be working but as he rode a shuttle in he passed large advertisements boasting of the opportunity for visitors to labor for such a high caliber ranch as the Triple R. It’s not like he was expecting a spa, but dude ranches don’t typically have you herding cattle right?

Louis is crestfallen as he is dropped off on the dusty road with his luggage. The shuttle driver tips his hat and says, “Be back in a week aye?” and promptly speeds back the way he came. Louis stares off dumbfounded at the trail of dust in his wake, that can’t be right can it? He would’ve sworn it was only three or four days, really he should know eh. Louis is interrupted before he is really able to interrogate his memory by a large hand patting his back.

“Hey there partner, you must be Louie.” Louis catches himself before he falls over and struggles to hide the fear in his eyes by plastering a tight-lipped smile on. Looking to see his assailant he finds a shockingly large man, at least a foot and a half taller than himself and a chest wide and hairy enough that Louis can’t help but think of the livestock the man must help rear. He opens his mouth to say something though his mind bombards him with too many options to spit out. The cowboy throws out a hand to shake which, nothing if not a gentleman, Louis cannot help but meet with his own.

Clearly not from the South, Louis is not at all expecting his hand to be trapped in an iron grip. His eyes widen as he sees the tendons in the man’s arm tense to enact this pain unto him, his eyes glistening above a perpetual grin, “Names Rusty, happy to have ya here Louie.” In response Louis struggles to put any power into his own grip before sheepishly replying, “It’s uh Louis actually.” Rusty lets loose a hearty laugh and slams his meaty palm into Louis’ back once more, “Hah sorry ‘bout that bud. Trust I’ll get it right next time. How ‘bout we get you inside there?”

Without waiting for a response Rusty hoists up Louis’ luggage and breaks for the ranch house at the end of a long dirt path. Louis watches him run off, unable to overlook how powerful his ass and thighs are in his tight jeans. He sighs before bouncing on his backpack and slowly following after, reconsidering if this experience is even worth suffering through for free. First things first though, he’ll need to get his stuff back from the oaf that just made off with it. 

Dragging himself to the front door Louis starts to knock before it is wrenched open by who else but the apparent welcome committee of one, Rusty who cheerily shouts, “You ready to get yer hands dirty bud!” Louis opens his mouth to say any of the litany of excuses to why he must leave right now, though seeing the excitement in Rusty’s eyes he just opts for the truth, clearing his throat before starting, “So sorry Rusty but, um, I was kind of not expecting to y’know, do manual labor on my vacation, so I think if it’s alright with you I-”

Rusty puts both his hands on Louis’ shoulders, interrupting him as the weight of his arms send an unmissable blush across his face. The joy in Rusty’s expression slightly dissipates, though he tries to keep it light, “Oh no worries there, lotta visitors ain’t about livin’ that cowboy life. I’m sure you’ll still find sumthin’ worthwhile to do around here!” Louis does not feel reassured standing in the gaze of this man, though seeing the light in him lessen he does feel a little guilty. He quickly shakes it off though, why was this bull of a man expecting him to chip in at all! He’s five feet and change and could probably not lift 100 pounds, why on earth would anyone ever expect him to perform any kind of physical work. 

Still, he is here and it is getting quite late, doubt he’ll be able to find accommodations besides spending the night here. He assuages Rusty that he’ll give it a go and Rusty leads him to his room, showing Louis his own on the way should he need anything. Louis is unconvinced that he’ll be finding any real leisure in this but he is now resolved to give it his best try. Judging by the general demeanor of Rusty and the baseline comfort of the lodgings at the very least he hasn’t been suckered into one of those fragile masculinity bootcamps, which was really what he was worried about standing on that dusty road. 

Looking out the window Louis finds evidence of some of the other men staying at the ranch. Unsurprisingly no one else seems to be of his, uh, diminished disposition. They do all seem to be having a good time doing whatever chore they’re doing after supper. As he watches a few of them discard their shirts and Louis starts to feel like a lech gawking at the sweaty men laboring. He closes his blinds and goes to sit on his bed, grabbing a book from his luggage. 

He starts to read as he awaits for the day to end and his time here at large to swiftly pass. Before too long however, he finds he just can’t get comfortable in the bed. All of a sudden he feels a little pent up, Louis shivers as he feels some all too familiar urges start to influence his mind. Unable to focus on his book as he is increasingly overcome by the demands of his loins Louis discards it and takes off his pants, though he abstains from masturbating outright thus far. Rusty was awfully touchy-feely, he’s not used to such a powerful man manhandling him as he did. He should have been more prepared to see a crowd of cowboys however.

As his mind flashes back to the events of this evening what must have made him horny it of course only makes the issue grow more pressing. He snakes his hand into his boxer-briefs and his balls pulse as they feel headway gained. He grimaces as he feels almost disgusted at the control his dick seems to have over his mind at the moment, though this only heightens the intensity of the pleasure rolling across his body. He removes his underwear and almost enters delirium as his cock bounces free of its confines, his thin chest reddens with blush as he is almost overloaded with sensuality. His balls feel heavy and full as he reaches down.

Any true control over his actions has been thoroughly abandoned as his cock grows harder than ever before in want of release. His last conscious thought figures that it would be best to get this over with as his interactions with these manliest of men are sure to be ongoing. His body contorts on the bed as his hips hump the air as he pursues pleasure in the only way he can. After seconds or hours Louis feels himself reach the pinnacle of his ecstasy as he feels his larger balls pull and he unloads into the open air of his lodgings, ropes shooting upwards onto the headboard and his body in its wake. He immediately falls into a dreamless sleep as his body prepares for whatever awaits him tomorrow.

Sun leaks in through Louis’ closed blinds as a handful of roosters crow outside in the ranch. Louis bolts up in bed as the ecstasy of the previous night returns to his mind in flashes. He rubs his face and finds it scratchy, deciding it must be time to shave again. He throws his legs over the side of his bed and sits up, pointedly not looking at the bulge in his pants as his morning wood is clearly larger than usual, nor does his mind draw attention to the absent mess he made last night. Instead he makes for his ensuite bathroom to shave. Louis usually shaves once a week so this should be the only time he has to here, he scratches at his face feeling it being just a tad thicker than usual before he lathers up with shaving cream and gets it done. 

With each pull of the razor he feels himself wake up more, by the time he’s finished he is absolutely raring with energy. It’s like coffee is running through his veins despite having had nothing to eat or drink since before his arrival. He contemplates what to throw on for his theoretical day of leisure before realizing he didn’t unpack. Looking around the room however he finds a tank-top, jeans, and some boots with a letter from Rusty, “To Louie- In case you wanna come out with the boys >:) -Rusty” The discomfort from Rusty getting inside his room aside, Louis for some reason feels drawn to putting on this outfit. 

Certainly not his usual fashion but when in Rome right. The more he thinks about it he isn’t sure if he would be comfortable just sitting around while the cowboys are all out there working anyway. His mind is of two sides, and the fact that he isn’t questioning why on Earth he is suddenly willing to throw on a wife-beater at all points to which side is sure to win. He mumbles and groans at his indecision before just opting to put on Rusty’s outfit with a jacket thrown on over top. The clothes are all a few sizes too big, though certainly not large enough for Rusty himself. Louis makes a note to grill the man over the whole situation as he steps out.

His boots click loudly on the paneled floor as he finds his footing in them, not entirely sure it’s safe to wear boots that are too big, though heading out in spite of this. Rusty’s eyes light up as he sees Louis walk down in his laid out garb. He cheers, “Good morning Louie, come on down and meet the crew!” Louis opens his mouth to correct the man before he is shouted over by the horde of men sitting around a large table eating breakfast. He sheepishly walks over to sit in the open seat by Rusty, trying to stand taller than he is, unaware that his efforts pay off as his spine stretches and his chest puffs out.

Rusty throws his arm around Louis’ shoulder and Louis can’t help but sniff as the man’s B.O. is once more forced to the front of his mind. He feels a pulse go through his only recently quieted cock as he realizes he probably should have rubbed another one out this morning. Rusty looks down at him with a coy smirk, his deep voice trying to speak so only Louis can hear, “So you wanna come see what real men do on the ranch huh?” Louis blushes from the intimacy, shrugging as he looks away to avoid getting too heated from his scent. Rusty takes this as a yes and cheers before directing the men out to the fields.

his as a yes and cheers before directing the men out to the fields. 

The men file by, giving Louis pats on the back just as Rusty did last evening before Rusty taking up the rear slaps him on the ass and drags him out alongside them, “don’t you worry ‘bout goin’ too hard now, Louie. Day one you can take a back seat and watch, mostly.” Louis rubs his ass where Rusty slapped him, perturbed at the indignity while being more than turned on at the act. He feels his ass start to better fit the pants as he wanders after the crowd of men, grateful that for whatever reason the jeans seem to be hanging better on his hips.

The day goes by without much note, despite ostensibly joining to avoid gawking at the men working, it is what makes up the bulk of Louis’ day. Sitting in the sun he throws on a ball cap to keep it out of his eyes. He struggles to ignore the dozens of erections that demand his attention as the hours pass, each one slightly more intense than the last as each time it fills his pants ever so slightly more. His balls beneath growing hungrier and fuller as the minutes trickle by. Sometime in the back half of the day Louis decides to try and engage with their activities to distract himself. Seeing the men working intense machinery and sweatily lift massive objects with a smile, Louis starts to daydream what exactly he would be able to do if he joined them.

From afar Rusty watches as the quiet man looks around the ranch, staring at hay bales and motioning with his arms. Unaware that each step in his mind towards masculinity his body will follow suit. He raises an arm behind his head and notices his jacket is catching oddly, so he discards it and reveals the show that is soon to start. Louis slowly circles the field as his arms start to put on mass. His arms snake longer and larger as he taps on a tractor and talks shop to the man sitting in its seat. The two of them laugh and Rusty watches as Louis’ chest expands, his shoulders and wingspan stretching larger with each hearty exhalation.

The rate at which Louis’ balls continue to expand he finds it hard to not simply just think with them as hormones begin to course through his mind, filling him with a confidence he has never had before. Just as everyone is starting their final tasks before supper Louis decides to step up and help out, only polite to help them get done faster right? He flexes his arms unconsciously as he makes his way towards Rusty to inquire where he could best fit. Rusty points him towards equipment to bring back to the shed, sure that even now it’d be a struggle for the tourist to handle.

Not to be emasculated, something he’s never been concerned of before, Louis stomps over, paying no mind as his shoes suddenly fit the boots he was swimming in hours ago. His jeans hug his thighs as he bends down to hug his arms around the large hunk of metal. Muscle that has never been there presses into the harsh lines of metal and he strains to stand. Veins force their way on his neck and his body bursts larger as it struggles to imbue him with the power to lift it. He smirks as his pecs force their way out larger and his core tightens with strength. Around him his, or no, the other cowboys grab the rest with expediency and little ado. Pride fills him as he does his part and gets whatever this machine is back inside before heading back to Rusty, struggling to hide the proud grin on his face.

Louis takes off his hat to shake sweat from his hair as Rusty ruffles it and laughs, “Had fun today did ya Louie? Feelin’ stronger than you thought you were?” He tries to hide the fact that he’s blushing from the cowboy as he raises an arm to flex, no thought in his mind about correcting his name. His face between shifts disgust and delight as his suddenly masculine stink breaks through the deodorant he hastily threw on this morning. Then Rusty grabs at his jaw, angling Louis to look him in the eyes as he continues, “Oh? And yer startin’ to grow a beard too, not bad at all.” He releases the visitor’s face as he ratchets it out of eye contact to inspect his own apparently bearded face.

He knows he shaved this morning. But there is no way he would have left this little goatee combo untouched? He’s never been one to grow anything, as he feels at his face a warmth yet again begins to rise in his crotch. He worries that his hair-trigger down there might be a real problem for him, as stubble on his cheek scratches his hand his stomach turns from the sheer pleasure coursing through him. He ceases his facial inspection and ambles after the rest of the crew, scratching at his pits as he does so, toying with the hair he would’ve sworn was not nearly this long or thick. When he thinks no one is looking he brings the hand to his face to smell and he leans on a wall to avoid falling as his hips aimlessly hump in response. He feels pre start to pool in his underwear and hopes that there won’t be an obvious stain.

 Supper that night is a standard affair, Louis refrains from considering how he knows what standard is as his eyes scan the other cowboys, keeping quiet. His eyes dance across their manicured beards and massive hairy chests and where there once was just lust there is a pervasive envy as he inspects them. At one point two of the men get in a tiff and Louis watches as they aim to resolve it via wrestling. He bites the side of his cheek as he tries to inconspicuously watch the two men clutching at each-other on the floor. He hears his cock strain the pants that were impossibly large this morning as his heart starts beating faster in his chest. His chair creaks under him as he tries to quietly adjust, only making his nerves rise higher.

Rusty turns from the spat on the floor to instead observe the newcomer. He sees incredible tension as Louis reacts to every turn and adjustment in the combat, each pointedly slow and deep breath pushes his wife-beater to its limit as indeed a stain is beginning to appear in his crotch, growing darker and larger with each second of the match. Rusty starts to grin watching the goatee on his face begin to darken and connect as the stubble begins to coalesce into sideburns. Louis scratches at a lower stomach and the unmistakable sound of fingers sifting through hair reaches the ears of both men over the din of the men doing everything but frotting on the floor.

Louis hears Rusty exhale and turns to see that he was clearly watching him. His eyes widen as he falls away from the table and breaks down the hall fleeing from it all. Rusty watches as in the sprint his ass and thighs expand even further, forcing a massive tear in the seat of the jeans before he arrives at his room and slams the door. No time or thought to hop in the shower Louis instead jumps face down in bed wanting to scream into his pillow as his mind is awash with unfamiliar feelings and hormones. As his body hugs his bed however he is reminded of the tightness in his crotch as it presses into his comforter. 

The other cowboys flash through his mind as he sits there shivering with lust in his bed. His hands cramp with the strength which he clutches at his mattress as his body has no recourse but to hump the bed like a dog. He shakes his head as he struggles to understand the thoughts, or lack thereof, in his mind. He wants them? He wants to be them? He feels his arms flex and the strength in them only continues to grow as he mindlessly continues to pump into the comforter. His feet grow tight in the boots he has been wearing all day before he rips them off to reveal socks torn asunder and foot odor that would get one banned from a locker room. He continues this act, pleasuring himself in a fashion before tearing off his clothes as his body continues to burn with passion and power before once more drifting away from consciousness.

In his sleep the prickles of a treasure trail continue to grow up his torso as soreness from his work, and from whatever one would deem his session of self-love just concluded, resolve as weight and strength are piled on. His body acts while he continues in a dreamless sleep continuing to rub against the sheets as the scattered blonde hairs on his chest begin to coalesce and darken on his pecs. Louis’ face contorts slightly in his sleep as he feels his small beard grow thick and messy on his face, spreading vines of hair down under his chin before launching down his neck to meet with his chest, which is rapidly being blanketed with its own fur.

Arms upraised to the headboard as they landed when he conked out, his pits firmly wet the pillow next to his increasingly itchy head as they refuse to be left out. His bush of pit hair curls and stretches beyond its realm. Easily connecting to the chest hair as a center trail connects his cum soaked pubes to his sweat and drool stained beard. Above his arms the hair from his pecs crests over his collarbone and starts to convert whatever vellus exists on his shoulders into the thick curly body hair of a man, as the dark hair of his forearms too spreads upwards to connect each and every stray patch of manhood on the man into an irrefutable testament to his masculinity.

At some point quite near morning Rusty enters to deliver clothes, as certainly nothing this man has ever owned could hope to fit. He is reminded of his own heady days when he came to the ranch as he is filled with primal urges from the man just from his scent alone. He starts to look over this impossibly prime specimen on the bed as his eyes begin to glaze over from the sheer desire, he just shakes it off before taking one final deep breath and departing to rub one out before he starts the day.

Today Louis wakes before the crow of the roosters and he stumbles to the restroom. Taking no stock of whatever mess he left for himself as he takes a deep sniff of his pits and smirks. Even yesterday there remained trepidation in his actions, hesitation at whatever is going on at the ranch. Though it seems he must have cummed his brains, or whatever sense remained in him out last night. His thoughts meander through a fog of hungers and impulses that do not at all befit the man that once stood in this place. One that thought no harm could befall him from giving this a chance. He stares at himself in the mirror, rubbing his beard, willing it thicker and grabbing his razor to even out some edges, cowboys gotta look presentable after all.

He goes on about his day, throwing on the clothes laid out for him, just a pair of underwear and jeans that already hugs his waist. He luxuriates at the tightness in his crotch and is grateful that the pants are dark enough to hide any pre-stains sure to arise in this hard day's work. Rusty greets him as he leaves his room, “Mornin’ Louie, ready for another one?” He grimaces as he hears Rusty call him this, twisting his neck as if there was a knot and rising even taller, suddenly needing to look down at a man who felt twice his size when they met. Words spill from his mouth with profound gravel and an unmistakable accent, “Y’know Rust. Think I’ll start goin’ by Lou iffn that’s alright with you.” 

For the first time Rusty is caught off guard, blushing as he feels the bass of the man’s tone in his chest, “Oh! Of course whateve-” Lou smirks and puts a finger to the man’s lips and his eyes widen in shock. Lou grunts and stretches, Rusty’s eyes trace the pecs as after they fall larger and heavier on his chest. He leans in to whisper in Rusty’s ear, “You noticed the ranch don’t quite got a point man?” Rusty bites his tongue as for the first time  since his heady days at the ranch he is caught in a loop, wasn’t he? He would’ve sworn it was? As he looks up at the man he thought he brought in he cannot speak a word to the contrary.

Lou puts a large hand on his shoulder, patting pointedly rough on the man as he asserts himself. “How ‘bout you follow my lead today eh Rust?” He smirks and hoists his pants higher, highlighting his bulge as Rusty feels his own start to grow from the intensity of the man before him, he opens his mouth to speak but with a look down from Lou he immediately relinquishes his voice, as he would anything, to the man before him. Desire tinges his every thought in his mind, and every tensing muscle in his body as he stands by his point man. Lou throws an arm around him as the two make their way to breakfast with their crew. 

Lou commands the room with all the confidence and authority he could muster, which increases with each lustful stare of his lessers in front of him. His pecs continue to swell larger as the bulge in his tight pants expands with labored clearing of his throat. It bobs in his pants as he scratches at his still increasing jungle of pubes. Their first meal nears its close as Lou assigns their daily tasks and missions with aplomb and clarity, as if he had done so hundreds of times before, Rusty standing to his side and nodding with a submissive, hungry, admiration. Before heading out himself he brings Rusty to a side room to take off his pants and finally enjoy the company of a real man.

The two men whittle away most of the day just having at each other in a public area while the rest of their crew works. Each thrust making each both Lou and his Rusty more emblematic of masculinity, of being a true rancher. After loosing enough loads to finally get a second or two of clarity in his mind where he’s not purely thinking with his balls, Lou throws on nothing but a jock and chaps and heads out to look over the fields of the Old Triple R with all the pride he typically reserves for his own body. Sweaty arm around Rusty as he whistles with satisfaction, side-eying the man as he basks in the smell of Lou’s pits. He smirks as he thinks aloud at the glory of his domain, certain it is only going to continue to increase. “Sure can’t wait to show all the world what we got brewin’ for ‘em Rust.” Their eyes scan the horizon with an intensity as they eagerly await the bus sure to carry another lackluster recruit that they will shape into a true stallion of a man.