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A Night at the Kings Theatre

The Kings Theatre had been long abandoned by the city for over half a century, haunted by the memory of that fateful night in 1978. No one knows exactly what happened, but from tragedy arose legend. 143 people entered the auditorium that April night, prepared to see a terrifying new film just recently brought to America out of West Germany. "Der Kuss der Lust" was some sort of return to the German Expressionist Horror of the 1920's, a film scarcely heard of outside art houses in Berlin, and the hapless crowd came in droves. By the end of the showing, the police had arrived, the majority of patrons leaving the theatre in handcuffs or straightjackets. The city never released any information on the event, opting instead to board up the grand building and never speak of the subject again. That is, until 2024.

The group stared up at the Grandiose Marquee, excited for the long awaited return of their neighborhood movie palace. The four of them giddy with anticipation, they each had their tickets in hand: all found mysteriously in their post boxes that morning. Teddy stood with his mouth agape in awe at the sheer beauty of the facade, while Rod, Sabrina, and Pete gossiped amongst themselves.

"Yeah, it was literally in my mailbox this morning." Sabrina's characteristic monotone delivery making the two boys snicker.

"Girl I can tell you're sooo excited." Rod rolling his eyes at his roommate, well acquainted with her stoic persona. Pete stood looking down at his phone, trying to browse the theatre website to see what film they were about to be subjected to.

"All it says on here is 'Grand Opening Event.' It doesn't say what movie it is. OH! I bet it's that new one we've been seeing trailers all over the place about! The one with Ryan Gosling and Ross Lynch necking while Jennifer Coolidge just sits there!" Pete's boisterous and brash demeanor yet again shining through. A lack of volume control was a typical symptom of his theatre gay archetype, but nothing his friends were unprepared for.

"Shhhh. Look, they're letting people in!" Teddy hushed his little group, pointing to the tall gentleman at the door, now checking ticket stubs as the patrons slowly trickled inside. Teddy was merely along for the ride, roped into the outing by Rod, who was continuously concerned with his homebody lifestyle. "So we don't know what we're watching tonight, huh?" The three others shrugged.

"Does it really matter? It's something to do, Teddy..." Sabrina scoffing under her breath as they slowly inched toward the front doors. Teddy looked at the ticket man up ahead, his eyes sunken in and hunching over the audience members like Frankenstein's Monster.

"I bet he's in character for the movie! I've heard about this in class. They used to have all the staff act all spooky and improv with the crowd to get them in the mood for the movie! I bet it's a horror movie then!" Pete's enthusiasm was not exactly reciprocated as the boys shrugged and Sabrina rolled her eyes. Teddy felt a twinge of foreboding as they approached the towering man, each handing him their tickets. He stared at the group for a moment, the four tickets just hanging loosely from his grey fingers.

"Uh, are we good to go?" Rod stared at the man, whose head slowly turned down to meet his gaze before a demented grin crawled across his decrepit face. He bowed dramatically, waving his arm to usher them into the building, not a single utterance leaving his blue lips.

"Wow, impressive acting. Let's go, boys." Sabrina pushed the three through the open brass doors, Teddy's gaze having a hard time breaking with the strange man. His grin seemed to melt away almost instantly, returning to stonefaced indifference as he attended to the group behind.

"What the fuck was that?" Teddy turned to his group, Rod the only one taking the time to even acknowledge his query.

"Listen, they're just gettin' you in the mood! Like Pete was saying! Lighten up, man. I promise we'll take you home right after this, and you don't have to come out until next week. And we're doin' karaoke baby!" Rod nudged Teddy, whose response was a coy smile as he stared at his feet. He didn't want to be there, but for the sake of his friends he was making an effort.

The lobby was bright and opulent, the Beaux-Arts architecture perfectly coordinating with the beautiful exterior. Heavy red velvet drapes hung between the marble columns, a grand staircase likely bringing folks to the mezzanine, and a modest but well stocked concessions stand stood in the middle of the room. Historic film posters hung prominently against the walls: Casablanca, Dracula, Gone with the Wind, Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte, Rebel Without A Cause, Rebecca... all with bold 'COMING SOON' stickers plastered against the glass displays.

"I guess they're doing a whole retro movies vibe! Ooh! I wanna come back to see James Dean on the Silver Screen!" Pete jumped excitedly at the prospect, running over to the poster to take a picture as Sabrina walked to concessions to get popcorn. Rod and Teddy stood there, just admiring the grandeur of the space before the chandeliers began to flicker rather ominously.

"I think that means we need to find our seats." Teddy turned to look at Rod, who was squinting at the tickets to see what seat they'd all been assigned.

"We're in something called MEZ? What the fuck does that mean?" Teddy snatched the ticket, pointing to the top of the stairs in response.

"It means mezzanine, we're upstairs." Teddy motioned to Pete to rejoin them just as Sabrina returned with a gigantic barrel of buttery popcorn, munching away. The group ascended the stone stairs, avoiding brushing against the eager spectators as they rushed to their seats.

The auditorium was equally as grand. A massive brass chandelier hung prominently above the house, boxes lining the sides of the walls above row after row of velvet seats. The group made their way to their rows: Rod and Sabrina in row 3, Pete and Teddy in row 2 immediately in front. They took their seats as the vintage concessions ad played on the massive screen. Teddy heard Rod and Sabrina bickering about roomie problems he cared nothing about, as Pete blathered on about the history of the anthropomorphic dancing popcorn box. The mood in the room was one of excitement, of anticipation, yet for Teddy... it was off. The air felt stale and stagnant, the uncanniness of the movie palace long after it's prime seemed to hang differently in his mind. It felt like a time capsule, a liminal space where time had just frozen still, waiting to swallow it's naive visitors. Perhaps it was just the social anxiety, as Rod would likely dismiss it as. Yet, for whatever reason, Teddy sat on edge and alert. The lights began to dim, and a hush fell over the auditorium as previews began to roll for the films advertised in the lobby.

"Ooooooh! Bela Lugosi was so hot. Like seriously." Pete chimed with his typically chipper demeanor, stealthily stealing a handful of Sabrina's popcorn from behind him as they whispered deep in their argument. "Like can you even blame her for falling for him? I mean come on." Teddy just nodded along, peering around him at the crowd of exceedingly normal people watching the old trailer with glee.

The trailers ended with the screams of Bette Davis and Olivia de Havilland; Hush, Hush Sweet Charotte ending it's preview as the room was flooded in blackness. Teddy swore he could faintly hear whispers emanating from all around him in the dark cavern, before the room was once again illuminated as the black and white title card brightly shone on the canvas screen. The words were in a strange font, clearly not in English.

"Durr kusss durr loost... Ahh shit is this some kind of foreign film?" Sabrina sighed and reclined back into her chair, taking solace in the handfuls of popcorn she'd been shoveling into her mouth. Teddy recognized none of the actors names as they quickly flashed before his eyes, nor could he understand any of the words in the opening credits. He didn't speak German, but he couldn't wait to rub the hiccup in Rod's face: yet another social outing turning out completely unintended. Thankfully, as the camera opened onto some old Baroque village, as dialogue began, he was relieved to see English subtitles scurrying at the bottom of the screen.

He struggled to keep up with the narrative, as the translation may have been rather poor to begin with, instead opting to focus on the increasingly strange sets these actors were traversing. From what he could tell, there was a nobleman of some sort who found a village woman he'd fallen in love with. The book was promising powers of love beyond human comprehension, and in his hubris, the nobleman tries to cast a spell of lust on the beautiful young woman.

"I mean look at the set design, it's giving Nosferatu. NO! Cabinet of Dr. Caligari.... Oooh it's so cool!" Rod nudged Pete with his shoe, shushing him as neighboring patrons shoot dirty looks in their direction. Teddy became completely enveloped in the bizarre imagery rather quickly. The film was almost dreamlike in quality, walls seemed to jut out in different directions, the lighting was dim at best and only illuminating essential props or entrances and exits for characters. The sounds of the auditorium slowly faded away into the periphery, and all that could be perceived was the muffled voices of the actors.

Time was not a consistent factor in the film, it just meandered from scene to scene, with disconcerting Dutch angles increasing dread at every turn. What felt like one minute could easily have been twenty, but fortune momentarily smiled on the encapsulated young man. Teddy felt his stomach rumble, momentarily breaking him from his trancelike state to reach behind him into their popcorn bowl. He'd fully expected a wrist slap from Sabrina, but after three or four handfuls of popcorn, that moment never came. This moment of sheer confusion pulled him out of his tunnel vision, if only to reassure Sabrina that he'd pitch in for the popcorn. As he turned around, he was met with a sight he never could have ever imagined.

Sabrina's head was turned toward Rod, and for a moment, Teddy thought they were just whispering to eachother, continuing their asinine argument over who ate the pickle chips the night before. Though as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room around him, it became clearer just what it was they were doing. Her lips were planted firmly on Rod's, his left hand slowly sliding up her thigh. Teddy quickly swiveled his head back to the screen, eyes wide with shock. Rod was a flaming queer, just as he was and just as Pete was. Sure, Sabrina was straight, but he couldn't imagine her boyfriend being thrilled at the sight of Rod necking her in a movie theatre.

"Dude! Look at their facial expressions! You don't even need subtitles, you just need to see their faces!" Pete's voice hummed distantly, being completely ignored by all around him, doing little to aid Teddy's growing discomfort. The sounds of wet, sloppy kissing began to ring out from behind him, their breaths shallow and low. Teddy's eyes darted around him, the faded outlines of the other patrons not getting any clearer, nothing but the film there to distract him. Especially as the sounds of comingling tongues abruptly came to an end, only to quickly be replaced by another more terrifying sound.

*Slurp* *Slurp* *Slurp* *Slurp* "Ahhhh yeah, baby..." It was unmistakable. That was Rod... With each stifled moan, every snarling growl and wet slurp, he could hear his friend's voice growing lower and lower. His growls becoming louder... rougher... more animalistic. Teddy stared forward, beads of sweat starting to seep out of his forehead as he listened to the two most ill-matched people get it on directly behind him. He heard their pace quicken, Sabrina's slurps turning into gags as he heard more bizarre sounds arising from behind. Creaking... The sound of shifting leather, or maybe it was tearing fabric... Or the sound of an inflating balloon... Teddy felt his breath start to quiver, as he looked down between the armrests, seeing Rod's Chuck Taylors start to wriggle and writhe. His eyes widened, seeing the black canvas fabric start to flush white, growing larger and larger. He recognized the Nike symbol starting to protrude from the sides of the sneaker, and as Rod's voice growled into an enraptured release, the Converse were now a pair of large, beat up AirForce1's, covered vulgarities written in black Sharpie. Teddy whipped his head back to the screen, Sabrina giggling as he heard the sound of a waistband snapping back to place. It was silent for a moment, Teddy too nervous to look behind him, but desperately wanting to know what happened to his friends.

"Ahhhhhhh yeah, babe." There was a thud, Teddy peering down to his right and seeing the gigantic sneaker resting on his arm rest. Taking a deep breath, he slowly turned his head. There, leaning forward with his hands on his head was Rod- or at least, someone that once was Rod. The tall, skinny little gay boy he'd befriended had been replaced with a gigantic, tattooed man. His hair cropped short, his muscles bulging, his shirt sitting on his thigh below his exposed torso now adorned with thick silver chains.

"Huhu, my bad, bro. When duty calls, am I right?" Rod grabbed onto his monstrous bulge, hiding behind the cum stained fabric of his white shorts. Teddy felt the blood rush from his head at the very sight of it. He watched as Sabrina, now equally scantily clad with tattoos, jet black hair, and devious grin mischievously slithered her hand beneath his waistband, grabbing ahold of his thick cock and slowly pumping. Rod winked at Teddy, turning again to Sabrina and kissing her once again.

Teddy whipped his head back to the screen, mortified and terrified in equal measure. He looked around him yet again, only seeing once again the dim outlines of the other patrons completely enveloped in the film before them. He turned behind him, doing his best to ignore the slimy sound of Rod's handjob to see the doors had staff members blocking each exit.

"Fuuuuuuck, bro. This shit is tight. Lemme tell you, man. I need this shit on Netflix." Teddy ignored Pete's typical unwarranted commentary, peering down over the house to see if the patrons below were also... different. Through the dark haze of the auditorium, he received his answer. The vast majority of the audience was completely enraptured with the film, not so much as flinching as they watched the nightmarish visions on screen. However, he'd started to notice the dim outlines of a couple people leaning in toward eachother. He couldn't pry his eyes away, so Teddy could only watch as he saw the patrons start to grope, kiss, and go down on eachother. A couple up front necking in the first row, two guys sliding their hands into eachother's pants in box 5, a group of what he'd assumed were bachelorettes just sliding their hands over eachother's breasts.

"Pete... Pete, we gotta get the fuck out of here." Teddy whispered to his friend, not taking his eyes off of the filth that was unraveling around them. Three seats over, one man was now bent over the railing of the balcony, three other men taking turns railing him right there in public to no outcry whatsoever. Teddy whipped his head toward Pete, still intently watching the film. "Pete! Pete, let's go!" He grabbed onto his wrist, feeling a strange rubbery texture tightly wrapped around it. He looked down, watching in terror as his friend's pristine watch slowly warped beneath his hands. Tightening until all that was left were three rubber bracelets in bright vivid colors.

Teddy's gaze slowly rose from his friend's hand as his fingernails slowly turned black. The rotund theatre gay was rapidly losing mass. His tight sweatervest growing looser and looser before his eyes. Fat seemed to shrink into nothingness as the sleeves of his shirt began to slowly rise up the length of his arms.

"Dude... I feel kinda funky, bro." The typical chipper demeanor was slowly vanishing, his eager eyes began to droop, as his short brown hair started to grow. The dark brown hairs quickly were flushed with a wash of bright blonde as it snaked out of his scalp down to the nape of his neck in sweaty, messy curls. His jawline was sharpening, his lips getting plump and thick.

"Pete... PETE!" Teddy screamed at the top of his lungs, not a single patron even flinching at the toil in his voice. "HELP! SOMETHING IS WRONG! SOMETHING IS VERY VERY WRONG!" Teddy shot up out of his seat, his ankle painfully hitting something hard. He peered down to see a heavily used skateboard resting under his friend's feet, absentmindedly rolling side to side as his loafers warped quickly into large, well worn white Vans. Teddy clamped his hand over his mouth as he followed the shifting clothes, up the khakis turning tight and ripped against lean thighs, up to the growing bulge and wet patch bulging out of his groin, up to the studded belt tightly wrapped around his lean waist.

"Heheh..." Pete's voice was growing duller, more coarse as the scent of sweat and cannabis began to waft off him. His sweatervest and shirt shrinking into a sweat stained white tee shirt, and as Teddy's gaze finally fell on Pete's face... he knew he was gone.

"Broooo this shit is sick... Oooh, man. I got a j in my pocket, man. I'll let you hit it if you let me..." Pete's fingers inched toward his belt buckle, slipping under the fabric of his jeans. "C'mon bro. Don't let Rod be the only one gettin' some dick attention tonight." He winked through the colored sunglasses hiding the red, stoned eyes behind.

"I..." Teddy nervously stood there as Pete unbuckled his pants, his twinky, sweaty hand sliding down into his underwear and wrapping around his slowly growing cock.

"Yeah, bro... Come let Petey take care of this." Teddy was lost in a moment of bliss as Pete slowly and tenderly stroked his cock in his pants, igniting the joint between his lips as he pumped.

"Whuh.... Wait... I uh... I need to go to the bathroom. Really bad. I'll be back, just give me a minute..." Pete smirked, letting his hand retract from Teddy's groin.

"Well, don't be too long, bro. My throat is waitin' for ya. Heheh." He stuck out his long tongue with a vulgar whip. Teddy wasted no time bolting toward the door, realizing only as he was chest to chest with the decrepit usher that the restrooms were merely to his right and left. The creepy man flashed the same unhinged smile, not budging an inch. Teddy burst into the men's room, leaning against the ceramic pedestal sink and peering into the mirror. He flipped the faucet, water flowing from the tap as he splashed it against his face. Then, he heard it. The creaking of leather. He looked down at his feet in horror as the New Balance sneakers he sported started to quiver and undulate.

"No... Noo... NOOO." He vigorously splashed his face with the cold water, rubbing his face like a maniac. It was only then that he started to feel the roughness around his upper lip and jaw. He couldn't bring himself to look into the mirror, as he felt hair sprout below his nose and stubble poking around his sharpening jawline. He could only peer down as he slowly began to accept his fate. The sneakers quickly stretched wide and big, a scuffed black leather replacing the grey suede as they shifted into a pair of heavy black harness boots.

His breath grew shallow and rapid, watching his sweatpants suction in tight around his inflating calves and thighs, turning slick and black. The comfortable grey Champion sweats were nearly skintight now, as if painted on atop his lengthening legs. The bottoms slipped into his boots and fastened beneath the damp fabric of his black socks, and the shiny black leather pants began to creak as his own bulge started to grow round and distended. Teddy gasped for air as he felt his shaft stretch out, a foreskin creeping over the head of his weeping cockhead, seeping into the sweat and cum inundated jockstrap now around his waist and thick ass.

"Ohhh... fuuuuuuuck." His fingernails turned black as tattoos began to sprawl from his knuckles up his swelling arms. The sweatshirt he wore felt tighter and tighter as his shoulders broadened and his torso stretched upward, taking on a lighter tone as little tears started to appear around the collar and along the seams. "Unnnnnnnnff" His voice started to dip lower and lower as the heavy sweatshirt's sleeves retracted in toward his shoulders. He felt himself sweating, wiping the sweat from his lowering brow and brushing the now frosted blonde tips of his mullet to the side. He looked at his hands, undeniably his own, yet completely unfamiliar; watching them as they slowly slipped lower toward his throbbing cock. He pulled up his weathered, well loved white tank top, the intricate ink across his rippled abs begging him to go lower and lower, his head throwing itself back as his fingers slipped into his creaking leather pants.

"Brooooooo you in here? What, didja fall in?" As he heard Petey's stoned ass voice echo off the tiled walls, he turned his head as he groped his slimy cock in his pouch. His three friends, vaguely familiar now, all sauntered in looking at him with knowing smirks. "Awww, Theo. I told ya not to get started without me."

Theo leaned on the sink, groping himself with a devilish smirk, beckoning his favorite throat goat to come gobble up his musky rod. Petey took a hit off the joint, handing it to Sabrina before getting on his knees before their bisexual bad boy. He opened his maw, Theo knowing right away what to do as he spit in Petey's eager mouth, and pulled out his throbbing dick. As the skater expertly wrapped his lips around his manhood, Theo turned to Rod and Sabrina, winking. Rod grinned.

"Yeah, boy. Gimme summa that, no homo though, bro." The 6'5 basketball stud sauntered over to his bro, planting a wet kiss onto Theo's supple, cigarette stained lips. As Sabrina took Rod's monstrous cock into her mouth, the four of them fucked in the bathroom surrounded by the stench of sex. Swapping partners at the drop of a hat, sucking face and dick with no hesitation, worshipping Theo & Rod's big smelly feet or railing Petey's tight little hole while Sabrina ate out Theo's sweaty rear. By the time the Usher came in to tell them the film was over, buckets of cum were splattered over the walls, floor, ceiling, and friends.

"Heh, c'mon guys. We can continue this back at my place." Theo wrangled his little posse of fuck buddies out of the bathroom, past the outrageous orgy slapping about in the auditorium. The four walked out of the Kings Theatre, stinking of cum and sweat in the night air, knowing fully well they'd be returning soon enough.

Branding night

Hey 

so this took me a long time to finish, its the longest I’ve written. This story is inspired by Dumb and jocked’s story “Branded”, which I absolutely loved

Enjoy reading

Rozza   

———————————————–

“Ugh, how long until we get into this stupid event?” moaned Edward.

“Don’t worry Eddie, it won’t be that long,” replied George trying to calm down his irritated friend. The two were part of a bigger group of five nerds who were waiting in multiple lines to enter some stupid event. The group came about after they were put together in temporary student housing at the college. 

Eddie had spent a lot on this college and, so far it had only disappointed him. Day one and he was given a random group to live with for a week, luckily for him, they were all nerds and, they got on. However, afterwards, they all found out that this college was not as they had perceived it. Blackwater University was supposed to be one of the top Science unis in the country, with spacious labs for chemistry, a library so great it could rival that of the ancient ones, and professional scientists to help guide them to achieve the best results. As it turned out, this was mostly a lie. There were labs and a library, but not as big as they were expecting. Hopefully, the teachers would be better. But what made them feel more uncomfortable was the amount of high-end sport and gym equipment. The place seemed to be some kind of sports college rather than a science one. There were jocks everywhere, and they influenced everything here. 

The jocks had such an influence on the campus culture they were allowed to organise mandatory special days, which overrode all classes and outings, like the one they were waiting for now. 

It was a freshman event organised by the multiple frats on campus. The Patriots, Phoenix fighters, and The American Wolves were the most popular, but there were at least ten others around.

Keep reading

Covered myself? That's such a laughable concept. Now fuckin cmere and I'll cover that stupid mouth of yours with my pits, you sfupid pig. Yeah, that tiny pecker cannot help itself but to get hard, isn't it? Well, I know what turned that piggy brain of yours on, that used to be my pathetic brain, after all. But I think you really stepped in to your role this past few days, lost that scowl and arrogance, and now you cannot help yourself but to get hard at your former body. Now chop chop piggy boy, starts licking, gotta fuck that bitch Denise after this and she wants her man squeaky clean

I've grown....tired of my life. Like, it's the same pointless thing day after day. Caring so much about making the world better. I work a sad little non profit. Living in the big city and making little money. I haven't been on a date with a gay in over a year. Straight guys have it so much easier. Sometimes I wish I was more like them...dumb... obnoxious and loud...always having some crude joke....hehe....that'd be fun...to be some loudmouth hot as hell straight comedian or some famous straight actor who could get away with whatever he wanted because he was dumb, hot and young. Like maybe a lean muscular dude or a big bodybuilding buff guy. It wouldn't matter just as long as you make me some obnoxious hot straight asshole.

You say you’re tired of your life… but I don’t think tired is the right word. The word tired suggests you‘ve used up all your energy, that you’ve reached the end of your endurance and need to stop. That’s not what’s happening here. You aren’t tired, you’re restless. It’s not that you’ve used up all your energy, it’s that you haven’t used any of it. You’ve been standing still, living the same life the same way for too long now, and now all that energy you were supposed to be using to be a real man has built up so much you’re about to burst, and as silly as it sounds I’m not speaking in metaphors. Masculinity has its own, literal, actual energy.

Not much is known about it. It’s been called a number of things throughout the years, one of the best known and crudest nicknames being ‘Big Dick Energy’. But what we do know is that it’s real, and you’ve built up quite a lot of it. That happens sometimes, when someone generates said energy but doesn’t actually use it by doing anything manly. See, every guy generates some, jocks generate a lot, sissys generate a little, and most people use just as much as they generate. But not you. You haven’t been using any of your energy, so it’s built up inside you and now… it’s going to burst out. From what you’ve told me it seems like you’re already experiencing the first symptoms. An urge to act manly, toxic and obnoxious. But that’s just the beginning. Soon the buildup will become too much, and it’ll take over.

The transformation will be almost instant. You’ll beef up, dumb down, and lose yourself in pure, toxic masculinity. It’ll come off of you in waves, and you’ll feel like it’s the greatest high of your life. But like every high it won’t last forever. Eventually, probably after a few weeks of fucking sluts and beating up nerds, you’ll run out of energy and go back to you’re regular self, probably confused and strangely horny. That doesn’t mean you’ll never see your straight douchebag self again. Once you’re overloaded by masculine energy once, it’s easier for it to happen again. Not only that, the next time it happens it’ll happen longer.

You could try to keep it from happening again. Do something manly regularly, something simple like watching sports or working out. Or you could let it happen again. Keep turning into a straight jock for longer and longer, until eventually you completely overload on it and end up like that permanently. Whatever choice you make, I’m sure you won’t be tired of your life anymore.

Quality Time

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

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

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

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

In the kettlebell room. Hurry up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"W... What kind of favor?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

Hey Wishmaster, This is Funhouse seems awful scary. I was coming here with my friends in the GSA and they've all left me. There are so many bright neon lights, and well this one door. The door is painted in loud, obnoxious colors – bold green with some odd symbols on it, almost clashing with the rest of the funhouse's aesthetic. The doorknob was adorned with a cheap, plastic beer bottle opener, and the handle itself had an unmistakably pungent odor of stale beer, sweat, and the musk.

You walk in and suddenly your IQ drops. Your vocabulary suddenly consists of the words Bro, Dude and Fuck AS you move further in you see that you've changed physically as well

You find yourself setting your phone to record you. Fuck Bro, you say as thinking about anything but looking damn good made your brain hurt. You wink a th camera as you quickly film a vid of yourself for TiTok, that usually gets the ladies going crazy, wait.. ladies, weren't you gay? Fuck no I ain't no faggot you think.

You flx your body, you feel powerful as you refocus on your sexuality.

You turn to look in the miror.

I'd fuck me you laughed as you quickly rethought things, maybe you wouldn't mind one of your bros sticking their tasty dick in you mouth, If you don't swallow or get cum in you it's not gay..right?

Fuck, bro...dude my head hurts I need something to distract me.

you see your bro sitting there, so you drop trow and start sucking his cock, he's shocked at first as you seem very good at blowing him. He blows his load down your throat next thing you know you're suddenly the House Bitch, by the end of the night you got your bros jizz leaking from both your holes. You chug a beer as cum is still covering your face, damn you love being a Frat Bro, Yo!

Just Borrowing You

You ever wonder about the aftermath of some fuckin' body hopper shoving their whole ass selves inside your body? Ever wonder what happens to a guy that's worn as a suit for three years by a 6'4, 240 lb muscle daddy? Walking around as you, looking like you just roided up in the span of a week? Acting like some top dom "alpha male," fuckin' every twink that comes in sight? Yeah, hi: that's me.

Three years ago to the day, I was on the trolly, minding my own fucking business... and I saw him. He sat in the back of the car, obscured by shelves of transit brochures, but I did see his huge combat boots stuck out in the middle of the aisle, his tight black jeans hugged gigantic calves and quads, but the rest of him completely unknown. To this day I have no fucking clue. All I know is that voice: low... gruff... demanding... cold. I'm 5'2, proudly a twink, and that particular day I was literally on my way to get railed by some sexy jock from Grindr. I can remember sitting there, ignoring his existence entirely, then we approached the West Tunnel. The trolley slowed down before entering the tunnel, and as the blackness of the cavernous void swallowed the train whole... I heard the heavy footfalls of his massive boots approaching.

It all happened so quickly, the guy was clearly a professional. He'd done this a million times before, and I was merely one in a sea of thousands. His calloused hands gripped tight around my wrists, hoisting me to my feet, bracing me against the trolley windows. His breath was warm and stank of cigars, and his voice low and commanding.

"Get ready to become a man, boy." A hand clamped around my mouth before I felt it first in my calves. It started as pressure, like a charley horse in your muscle that doesn't exactly hurt- it's just... tight. It didn't stay that way though. I felt every single fiber of my skin stretch wider and wider, hearing the rubbery creaks and groan of my legs and feet. My arms and hands spasmed as they grew thicker, my chest felt like a balloon just inflating and inflating and inflating... Though none of it was as surreal as feeling my dick warp and grow, my balls swell and drop, the entire region feeling full and tight and stretch. By the time I felt the tension press against the back of my head, the trolley was approaching the end of the tunnel. I gargled as my tongue swelled thick and long, my lips curly into a dirty grin. As the blackness subsided, and the daylight of the station finally swarmed into the train, I was no longer in control- just a passenger in my own fuckin' body. He grinned with my own face, looking down at my skin stretched over his gigantic fuckin' muscles, wearing his sweaty, tobacco stinking clothes. He stepped off the trolley, stretching and cracking his joints, and for the next three fucking years of my life I was muscle daddy dom.

I'd be lying if I didn't get some kick out of it. I lived my whole life as a twig-skinny little twink, always having to look up to make eye contact, always having to bottom for some boring fuckin' top... It was wild suddently being over six feet, suddenly having big fuckin' muscles, but I was just along for the ride. Using my cock to rail six twinks in one hour, wearing my face to degrade and command them. It almost felt after being little more than a costume for so long, that his life really was gonna be my life. By year two I'd gotten accustomed to it, I'd started to like the feeling of him face fuckin' his subs or the power he exuded as he forced my swollen sweaty size 15 feet onto their faces, his own foot stench wafting out from beneath my soles and his sweat pouring from my pores. I'd grown to love the feeling of dominance, of control. By year three, I couldn't tell where he ended and I began. At that point, he was who I was: alpha, masculine, dominant, confident. The little twink that he invaded that day was gone, and all that was left was us.

Then one day, poof. He saw some other little otter that caught his fancy, and he pulled out of me like a bat outta hell. Droppin' my empty skin in the bushes like trash before slippin' into the guy even quicker than he did with me. He strutted over to my husk, adjusting his face as he did, before leaning down and leaving me with just one sentence as an end to three years of his rule:

"You were a damn good time, boy." I was back to my normal twiggy self, put back just as I was on that fateful day all those years ago. But I was no longer that kid, I was a fuckin' dom. Boys worshipped my feet at my command, sucked my cock when I said, opened their holes to my breeding. And now it was all gone. My life both before and during him was dust in the fucking wind.

I couldn't go back, my friends and family long being told to fuck themselves had left me nowhere to go. I stayed at a hostel for a couple of weeks, and after a couple of guys trying to fuck me like a little toy, I'd had enough. I was gonna be a fuckin' stud again. I was gonna make 'em beg for my seed; stuff 'em so good those boys would be pregnant with my slime. So, I hatched a plan.

It was really fuckin' wasy actually. I was living in a hostel- tons of young people coming in and out, here for a couple of days and then back to wherever they came from. Perfect for finding a guy who fit the profile: sexy, cocky, and ready to rail. It took weeks of taking it up the ass to find the perfect guy: what better way to know how they'll fuck than to be fucked? Will was fine, thick dick but he cried after cumming. Darrius was hot as fuck, built like a fuckin' stallion, but he was a port worker back in Houston and I didn't wanna live some boring fuckin' 9-5 every day. Quinton was ugly as hell, but had a rockin' bod and a nice round ass. Yet, none of them hit the spot in the way that I needed. No one had the power, the assertion, the authority... and I was starting to lose hope. That was, until I finally came across Vaughn.

He was in the city for a boys weekend, hitting the streets with his dumb ass entourage of college dropout surf junkies. An Aussie, by the thick Queenslander accent that bellowed out of his throat. The day he checked in, seeing him standing there with those hot dumbasses just smackin' ass and bragging about gettin' laid all day and night, I knew he was the one. That thick blonde hair, those tight, sculpted arms bulging out of his stringer tank... the big fuckin' AF1's lookin' worn as hell and beggin' to be huffed by some willing slave. Yeah, he'd be another tight squeeze, but damn, I wanted to be him.

I watched him around the hostel that entire day, never taking a single solitary second away from my surveillance. In the span of four hours, I knew just about all I needed to know- having it all scribbled down in my notebook:

Name: Vaughan David Carter Age: 24 Home: Brisbane, Queensland Occupation: Influencer/Brand Ambassador Orientation: Unknown? Friends: Donnie, Alan, Tayn, and Reggie Height: 6'2 Foot: Size 14 Hobbies: Surfing, Gym, Fucking Education: Uni Dropout Odor: Strong Personality: Loud, Cocky, Boisterous, Horny, Dominant I studied him like an animal in a cage, and planned precisely how I was gonna approach this. He'd only talked about fuckin' girls, which fine or whatever, all I wanted to know was if he would be the kind to stick his fist up a leather daddy's ass. So, I waited for nightfall, when the likelihood of him bringing some booty call back to the hostel was at it's highest. I was in luck.

1 AM rolls around, and the group struts into the lobby, three of the five guys having their arms wrapped around gorgeous women. One of which just so happened to be Vaughn. I sat in the corner, hiding behind a newspaper on the sofa as they all piled into the elevator, giggling like fuckin' morons as the doors closed. Of course, I followed. Watching the elevator climb to the fifth floor, I ran up the five flights of steps to hopefully catch the sight of him pulling her into his room. Peeking through the stairwell door, fortune smiled upon me once again. There, outside room 510, I saw them tapping his keycard on the door. He spared no time ripping the beige sweatshirt off him, pressing his lips aggressively against hers as he pulled her in.

I tiptoed down the hall, squatting down next to the door, pretending to scroll through my phone. In reality, I'm listening. It didn't take long for me to hear the squeaking of the bed, the headboard slamming against the wall, her moans of ecstasy and his guttural growls and deep "fuck yeah, bitch, take this fuckin' horsecock." Must've been wild- even from behind the thick wooden door, you could hear furniture breaking, lamps flying, the loud slaps of flesh against flesh as he shouted "lick it clean," "open your mouth," and "show me how much you want it." Words I'd used so often in a different life. Finally after a solid clock in at an hour and fifteen minutes, I heard his roar of climax; his deep bass voice booming like a loudspeaker as he spilled his batter. The mere sound of it got my dick stirring, but I maintained my composure. I scooted over to a door down the hall, watching her exit the room disheveled, panting, and grinning from ear to ear. Not long after she'd gone down the elevator, out came Vaughn- sweaty, shirtless, and his cock bulging out of the black sweatpants. He shoved his giant feet into his dirty sneakers, and walked toward the bathroom. The aura of sex wafting from him as he strut down the hall toward me, an afterglow of glistening drops of sweat and stinking of musk and cum. Oh how I missed it.

"Sup?" He brushed past me, a trail of funk drifting in his wake and pushed the door open into the communal bathroom. I wouldn't get another chance. This was it. I took a deep breath, putting my phone back into my pocket before gingerly stepping into the room. He stood before the floor length mirror, phone out and flexing his gigantic muscles, likely flaunting his conquests to his innumerable followers. He at first took little notice of me as I skulked about the room. I gazed over those firm, cut muscles posing with such command and presence. I leaned against the stalls of the bathroom, flashing my hungry eyes- which seemed to catch his attention. "The fuck you lookin' at?"

"Oh... I was just lookin'. Don't mind me." I'd plowed so much twink ass, I know what a dom is looking for in a sub. It starts with the voice: pitch high, feigned shyness, and above all big thirsty eyes. "I heard you in the hall. It sounded so hot..." I whined with reckless abandon, revealing I'd heard it all was risky, but a guy like him more often than not loves to revel in the glory.

"Heh, when you got a dick like this you oughta share it." His thick accent was leathery and gruff, swelling with masculinity.

"Fuck... Sounds so fuckin' nice. Bet you breed once a week with a horse cock like that." I use his words against him, his cockiness forcing him to grin and brag.

"You tryna come onto me, homo?" He turned around, gripping the outline of his obscene appendage snaking down his thigh. I drooled at the sight, knowing soon it would be mine. "Tryna get this python up in you?" He walked over to me, quickly pinning me against the wall, his huge hands wrapping around my wrists and pressing hard against the drywall. "What, you wanna know how a fuckin' man feels inside you?" His tone was sultry but contemptuous, he saw me as little more than a cum dump. He was perfect.

"Mmmmmmmm yes, sir. Please!" I whined, sounding even more desperate and inflating his ego even further. He grinned, nearly throwing me into the stall before closing the door behind him. He was easier to manipulate than I'd anticipated. The more I pouted, the more aggressive he became.

"Still dripping, boy. That hole better be ready for it." I eagerly dropped my shorts, bracing myself against the wall. I sat in anticipation of his insertion, but didn't have to wait very long. "Take this fuckin' cock, ya little bitch." Pain. He thrust in one go, his cock still slimed with his seed, he tore straight through me. I yelped, feeling his hand clamp around my mouth as he thrust into me.

Memories came flooding back of my first takeover, his tobacco stained fingers clasped over my face like a vice. The tightness, the roughness... I moaned in ecstasy not from the fucking, but from the reminiscence that came with it. The sound of wet slapping now bellowed in the tiled room, hearing him grunt like a neanderthal. I looked down, and saw precisely what I needed to see.

The outline of his dick protruding from my limber belly. With every thrust it bulged out of stomach and retracted, even once slipping ever so close to the base of my shaft, eliciting a deep moan from Vaughn. Little did he know he was prepping me, pre stretching me for the full 'entrance.'

"Fuck yeah, bitch... Take i... Whoa, what the fuck?" I felt it, looking down his dick had found the narrow opening of my cock, and had slightly slipped inside. His hands gripped my skull, pushing it out of the way to see what he'd hit, and his reaction was everything I'd hoped. "No fuckin' way." The thick head of his cock bulged out of my pubes, contorting the skin of my shaft into a bulbous mound. I heard him snicker as he roughly grabbed hold of my dick, thrusting once more; his cock sinking deeper into mine. "Unnf. Ohhh my, little bitch. What do we have here?" His grip on my dick tightened, squeezing it almost painfully before slowly pressing his dick further in. He moaned like he was balls deep in the tightest fleshlight, watching with wicked glee as his cock slid into mine. It bulged outward, stretching wide as his head slithered into mine. Gritting his teeth, he kept pushing, watching in amazement as my dick stretched longer and longer until his balls plummeted into my sack. We gazed down at the monstrous phallus that hung from my groin, Vaughn stroking it and groaning in pleasure. "Ho ho... Let's see how far we can take this."

He thrust into his hand, his pre leaking from my cock slit and lubing his palms as his thick ass slowly slurped itself into mine. My skin wrapped around his midsection as he smacked my stretched cheek, filled entirely with his juicy glutes. He chuckled devilishly, amused and turned on by the situation and my fake shock. I could feel the tips of his sneakers pressing against my heel, before he swung his leg back and kicked straight on. It collided with my hamstrings with a splat, instantly bursting my leg with his thick muscles. My feet exploded in size as his black sweatpants and grimy sneaker suctioned themselves around my new musculature. This seemed to have tipped him over the edge, as he wriggled my feet inside his smelly Nike.

"Whooooooooo boy, you wanted to know what a man felt like." He quickly kicked his second leg into mine, still stroking his 11 incher now uncut. "Let's see how you'll handle it." His left arm flew behind me as he plunged it deep into my shoulder blade, his wide hands slipping down into my fingers like a rubber glove, veins bulging atop thick biceps. He balled a fist with my hand, wrapping it around my ripe cock before his right arm dove in as well. Vaughn cackled like a hyena, flexing his thick bicep with my 'musk master' tattoo prominently stretched atop. An apt gift from my former 'pilot', as Vaughn's sharp pit stink now wafted from the thick forest of wiry hairs. He shoved his entire chest forward, my tiny abs now replaced with thick slabs of meat tightly wrapped in my skin.

"So... let's see what kind of damage I can do as you." My hands slipped off my cock and slammed onto my face, smearing his salty cum and cheesy cocksmell over my nose and mouth as he pushed my head backward. My vision suddenly became impenetrably blurry, hearing his wild laughter growing louder and louder until I could hear it echoing inside my head. With a loud schlorp, he'd entered me completely. He pulled and pinched the skin of my face, pressing his features into mine, my lips now pulling into a wide cheshire grin I had missed so dearly.

"Oh fuck!" His voice poured from my mouth, as his seed shot out of my now musky cock. He pumped barrage after barrage of his thick, creamy release onto the tiled wall and toilet. The torrent slowly subsided, draining Vaughn of at least a quarter liter of spunk. "Strewth, mate..." He teased as he flexed his biceps, slipping my cock back into his musty Calvin Kleins. He unlocked the stall door, not even taking the moment to look in the mirror and instead walking straight out into the empty hall. He chuckled to himself, looking over every inch of his new body, his wolfish teeth gleaming behind my lips. We reentered room 510, stinking of sweat and cum from the girl he'd bred earlier. His clothes littered the floor, furniture lay upturned in every corner; by the bed, an open suitcase full of cumsoaked fleshjacks, cockrings, pocket pussies, and lube. "You're going to be very good for business, aren't you?"

---

"Where the fuck is Vaughn, mate?" Donnie looked down at his watch, sighing. The four boys stood by the elevator, already fifteen minutes late for the barcrawl that Tayn had booked them.

"I bet he's filming in his room, you know..." Tayn gestured obscenely to the others, mimicking Vaughn sticking his dick into his fleshlight, much to the amusement of their friends.

"Think he's gonna get his account reinstated? I thought he was banned?" Alan snickered, recalling their brash friend losing his successful OnlyFans account due to some bureaucratic bullshit no one could explain. The guy made at least $25k per month just jacking off on camera, or tying up some gay dude and making him sniff his notoriously fetid feet. Reggie smirked, rolling his eyes.

"C'mon let's go." The four made their way to room 510, hushing eachothers chuckles as they brought out Tayn's spare room key card. Unlocking it, the group burst into Vaughn's room, hootin' and hollerin' about finding some tail that night. As they did, they were met with quite the sight. Vaughn sat at the base of his bed, his phone in his hand, indeed filming a video for his brand new OnlyFans. However, though the four could easily recognize their mate's massive stature and the stink wafting from his dick and socks, a new face sat upon his head. He grinned at his flabbergasted freinds, flexing as his deep Aussie timbre howled from his new lips.

"Boys..." He grinned at their shocked expressions, their complete disbelief. "I think I found us a way to make some fuckin' money again." He stroked his massive uncut cock, hocking a spit into his hand to lube it. Donnie stepped forward.

"Vaughn?" The blonde stud sneered in crude reply.

"In the flesh. Heh. Or in his flesh." The four friends stood aghast as Vaughn pinched down on the skin of his cheek, slowly stretching it out a foot or so until it snapped right back into place. Tayn walked over, pulling on his friend's wrist and watching as the skin elongated effortlessly before again snapping right back. "Want me to show you how?" The four Aussie studs looked at eachother, their expressions slowly turning from one of horror to one of mischief. Their lucrative careers, cut short by red tape and bullshit, were about to rebound on a massive scale.

Mmm feels so fucking good when I finally take over again. No longer that nervous little skinny dweeb. I mean it’s kinda fun when swelling out his small little clothes, but I don’t mind this looser stuff he’s been getting. He’s knows the drill now. Can tell when I’m taking over, fueling his body with muscle and confidence. Pathetic little motherfucker. I know he likes the pics I leave behind, of the sexy hunk of muscle he becomes, makes him want it more, he fights a little less and less, gives me a little more time. Cause I’m slowly getting control. Soon it’ll just be me. He’ll be all jock.