Getting Dumber - Tumblr Posts

Pride Month

Johnathan had never considered himself a homophobe. He didn’t mind gay men as long as they weren’t over the top or too flamboyant. But he couldn’t help despise Pride month. He thought it was unnecessary and was disgusted by it. The idea of gay men overtaking the streets, wearing little clothing, forcing their sexuality on him was revolting to Johnathan. He couldn’t help but feel anger build up inside him every June.

“Stupid pride month. They get an entire month to shove their gayness down my throat” he mumbled as he looked out his apartment window seeing the Pride parade below him.

“I wish I got a whole month dedicated to my sexuality” he said smugly.

As soon as the words left his mouth, there was a knock at his apartment door. Johnathan was shocked. He wasn’t expecting anyone. Johnathan waltzed his way to the door and opened it. A big beefy masculine man stood in the doorway grinning at him. He was only wearing a pair of tight pink underwear. “He’s a queer” Johnathan thought to himself. Johnathan could see the outline of the hairy man’s meaty cock straining against his underwear. Even Johnathan was stunned by it’s size. It was as thick as a beer can. Johnathan could see glitter on the man. Johnathan could tell the beefy man had been down there partying with all the other annoying gays.

“You coming to the parade, boy?” the man growled in a condescending tone.

Johnathan was taken back. He had never been called ‘boy’ before. It was almost as if the strange man was trying to humiliate Johnathan.

“What? I ain’t no queer. I don’t want anything to do with that disgusting parade” Johnathan retaliated.

“What are you talking about, boy?” the mysterious man chuckled. He then used his big meaty hands to push Johnathan back into his apartment. The strange man then walked in and locked the door behind him.

“You must be confused” the hairy man said in his deep husky voice. “You’ve always loved the Pride parade, Johnny boi. It gives you a chance to show off that sexy body of yours, especially that big juicy ass.” The stranger grinned.

Johnathan felt a hot pleasure build up in his skinny body, especially his arms. Johnathan looked down to see his biceps grow. They began to inflate like footballs. Becoming bigger and stronger. His flat chest began to grow too. His once flat pectoral muscles inflating. Becoming round and fuller. Almost like a pair of heavy perky tits. He could feel the weight of them on his chest. It all felt so disorientating. Johnathan grabbed his new perky tits only to let out a high pitched feminine moan. His nipples were so sensitive. The slightest touch elicited a feminine pleasure filled moan.

“I love your new bleach blonde hair, Johnny boi. You look like a total himbo” the mysterious man laughed as Johnathan’s dark hair began to lighten becoming a light blonde. Johnathan began moaning as his pecs began involuntarily bouncing. Johnathan was shocked by the high pitched feminine whimpers coming out of his mouth. But he couldn’t stop them. It felt so... natural. It felt so right.

Johnathan’s legs began growing. Becoming thick and beefy. The hot pleasure then began to focus on Johnathan’s ass. His flat ass growing. Becoming big and round. Fat and juicy. His hips becoming wider to accommodate his new melon sized cheeks. Johnathan couldn’t help but fondle them. His new cheeks jiggled with every movement. His new ass looked so inviting. As if his ass cheeks were begging to have a nice big cock jammed up in between them.

“I’m loving your new style” the beefy man said “All you wear now is slutty pink clothes. In fact, you find it impossible to wear any other colour now.”

Johnathan’s suit began to change. The trousers shortened to become a nice pair of pink shorts not even long enough to cover his new big himbo cheeks. His shirt and jacket moulded together to become a nice crop top, exposing his new six pack. The crop top barely concealed Johnathan’s new pair of sensitive titties.

“What are you doing to me?” Johnathan shouts in fear. “I look so...”

“Gay?” the hairy man interrupted. “That’s because you are gay, Johnny. You’re a big homosexual himbo”

HOMOSEXUAL. HIMBO. The words rang out in Johnathan’s mind. He could feel himself fading. Being replaced. His mind was being rewritten by the dominant intruder. His attraction to women dissipated while his attraction to men increased. His fantasies of breeding women were replaced with thoughts of having his hole being stretched by big fat cocks. His apartment began to change. Pride flags appearing on the wall, his walls and furniture turning into a light playful pink and the clothes in his closet being turned into slutty pink crop tops and thongs. The dominant stranger began to fill Johnathan’s thoughts. Johnathan blushed as he imagined his hole being filled by the beast. Johnathan found himself daydreaming about sucking on the man’s big hairy cock. Johnathan began to get hard as all the new gay fantasies filled his little head. Johnathan couldn’t make eye contact with the beast anymore. He felt lesser than him. He was just a hole for him to fuck his potent cum into. Nothing more. His hole began to loosen. No more did he have a tight straight hole. His hole was now loose and sloppy. It had seen many years of penetration. And it was ready for many years more. To encourage anal penetration, Johnathan could now no longer cum from just stroking his penis. He needed a big dom daddy to jam their cock into his prostate in order to feel pleasure. As a result of this, Johnathan’s cock shrank. Shrank until it was nothing more than a one inch nub. He didn’t need his cock anymore. All he needed was his new big juicy melon sized ass cheeks. Johnathan’s nub began to leak precum as he fantasised about the dominant man stuffing his sloppy hole.

“You don’t have to hide your precummy nub from me” the big man cooed. “You’re a big dumb horny himbo. You can’t help it”

DUMB. HORNY. HIMBO. Johnathan felt his brain begin to melt away. The warm pleasure draining away his IQ. Johnathan got dumber and dumber. The dumber he got, the more vacant his face looked. His mouth dropped open. His drool dribbled out onto the floor as he let his intelligence drip away. His IQ dropped to a mind numbingly stupid 40. He was so stupid. His face was forever stuck in a dumb himbo expression. Everyone could tell he was just a big dumb himbo now. Johnathan didn’t even finish high school. He didn’t understand anything. He just sat at the back of the class dribbling on his big fat tits, thinking about getting his hole stuffed full of cum.

“I like totally forgot how stupid I was hehehe” Johnathan giggled in an extremely feminine voice.

“Don’t worry, Johnny. I’ll always be here to do the thinking for you” the daddy smirked. “That’s why I married you”

A wedding ring appeared on Johnny’s finger. Johnny let out an effeminate sigh as he looked at his new dominant husband.

“I like totally love you daddy” he swooned as he let out a high pitched giggle.

“Now show daddy how much you love him. Shake that ass for me, boi” the man deviously grinned.

Johnny immediately started shaking his massive jiggling ass. He began twerking for his daddy. He wanted to make him proud. That was Johnny’s main goal in life now. Looking sexy for his new dom daddy.

Johnny’s fat ass began to ache. It felt like it was missing something. Johnny felt so... empty.

“I need your cock, sir” Johnny whimpered as he nudged his husbands fat pecs with his face. Johnny rubbed his face all over his husband’s chest. He covered himself in his stink. He wanted to be able to smell his daddy at all times.

“Listen boy, go into your room. Strip. Get on all fours and get ready for the pounding of a lifetime” the hairy man smiled. Johnny did as he was told.

Johnny loves his new life as a gay himbo. He has a big fuckable body and a sexy daddy that would buy him anything he wanted. But most importantly, Johnny got exactly what he wished for. Johnny now has an entire month dedicated to his sexuality. Pride Month.

Sam and Mikey

“Sam, stop.” Michael laughed as his best friend Sam fondled the hunk’s breasts.

“I can’t believe it! I can’t believe the spell worked!” Sam yelled in disbelief. “Who would have thought it! Grandad’s old spell book…”

“Yeah Sam. With a body like this, no one is gonna mess with us now!” Michael celebrated.

Sammy continued to knead his friend’s perky breasts. Michael’s chest looked so big and soft, the exact opposite as it had looked 20 minutes ago. Just half an hour ago, Michael was just your average skinny twink. But now… now he was this muscular jock. Well, a jock with the mind of a nerd.

“When does the spell wear off…. bro?” Michael asks absentmindedly, admiring his new flexed bicep.

Sam looked at Michael in confusion. Was he joking? ‘Bro’. Michael would never say such a thing. At least, not in a serious manner like he just did. It just wasn’t in his vernacular. Nor was it in Sam’s. Sam hoped Michael was mocking the jock stereotype. I mean, he wouldn’t put it past Michael to play a joke like this. But it was just the way he said it… it just slipped out of his lips with ease. As if it was a common occurrence.

“Bro?” Sam laughed nervously. “Is everything alright, Michael?”

Michael, who was still admiring his new sexy body, scoffs and laughs. “Dude, who are you, my mother? It’s Mikey. When have you ever called me by my full name, man?”

Sam’s heart dropped into his stomach. Something was wrong. Sam had never called Michael ‘Mikey’ in his life. It had always felt so… so weird. While the two were the closest of friends, they never called each other by anything other than their proper names. Michael and Sam. Sam and Michael. That’s how it had always been. Not Sam and ‘Mikey’.

“I’m getting worried, Michael. I think we should just refer the spell. We can try again later-” Sam panicked, grasping at his grandfather’s spell book. He frantically flicked through the pages before Mikey’s thick hands snatched it away from him.

“I said, DON’T call me that!” Mikey grunts, carelessly swinging the spell book around. “I’m not some fuckin nerd like you, bro!”

Sam flinches, almost cowering before his best friend. This wasn’t part of the plan. The spell book said nothing about mental changes. Only physical. Sam’s hands shake and sweat begins to glisten his skin.

“Calm down, Micha- I mean, Mikey… you’re scaring me-” Sam stutters.

“SCARING YOU? YOU FUCKIN PUSSY, BRO?” Mikey pushes Sam against the wall, his pecs pressing against the twink’s face. “YOU WANNA ACT LIKE A PUSSY? THEN I’M GONNA TREAT YOU LIKE ONE… ISN’T THAT RIGHT, FUCKTOY?”

“No… no please. Don’t-” Before Sam can finish his sentence, Mikey grabs Sam’s head and forces his lips onto his massive pecs. Mikey’s nipples slip their way into Sam’s mouth, forcing him to nurse on his friend’s tits. “SUCK LIKE THE GOOD BITCH YOU ARE!”

Sam, still pressed against the wall, could feel Mikey’s cock pressing against his stomach. Michael, whose cock was around 5 inches on a good day, now had a fat 11 inch cock. A cock big enough to force any slut into submission. Sam didn’t think the spell would affect Michael this much. It was only supposed to turn him into “the man he desired to be”. But Michael didn’t mention that he wanted to be anything like this.

Mikey took a step back, letting Sam fall to his knees. Sam felt dazed from sucking his friend-turned-bully’s tit. He sat back against the wall and noticed something lying on the ground. On the floor, behind the jock, lay Sam’s one chance at escape: the spell book. Maybe there was a way at reversing all this. Changing the hot-headed horny jock Mikey back to sweet caring Michael. Sam had no other choice.

As soon as Sam saw the big hunk admiring his biceps, he made a break for it. He threw himself across the room and onto the book. He clawed at it, scrambling to find the reverse spell. Just as Sam opens the correct page, he feels a force tug him from behind.

Mikey flips Sam on his back and sits on him. The jock’s weight making it impossible for Sam to move. The jock rips the book from Sam’s small hands and stared at it. Mikey squinted at the front cover, struggling to pronounce the words taped onto the book.

“Gran…. grand-fath-er’s spell-book…. Grandfather’s Spellbook!” he yelled triumphantly as drool trickled down the side of his mouth.

“This is what you wanted, lil bro? Wanted to change me? As if…” the jock smiled deviously. “How about I change you, bro. Anything is better than being a nerd, man.”

“How about turning you into my submissive pet or an inflatable sexdoll… or maybe a jock like me…?” Mikey grinned as Sam began pleading to the huge jock.

“Huhuhuhu bro. Oh no bro. You’re fucked huhuhu. This one is perfect.” He dumbly chuckles.

“Don’t worry, brah. You’re gonna love being my happy, air-headed submissive boiwife” the jock smiled and recited the wish.

Sam began growing beneath him. More fuckable. More bouncy. More slutty. His brain emptying of all thoughts and worries. Leaving him as nothing more than a big assed fuckable himbo.

Mikey looked down at his creation beneath him, smirking at the wedding ring trapped on former Sam’s finger.

“Oh fuck man… you’re perfect.”

Waking up to the GothamEnlighten App

Alan sat stiffly on the hotel bed, his demeanor rigid and disapproving as he scrolled through Grindr with a critical eye. His white button-up shirt and meticulously tailored suit conveyed an aura of primness and control, starkly contrasting with the chaotic energy of New York City that seeped through the windows.

"Ugh… too fat… ugh too femm… ugh… there's no way he's a top," he muttered disdainfully, dismissing profiles with a flick of his thumb. Each rejection was punctuated by a derisive tap of his phone screen: Brrrrup! "Ugh, no Mexicans!" he sent with a cocky smile, followed by muttered complaints about the diversity of men in the city. Brrrrup! "Ew. there's no way I'm hooking up with a dirty Arab!" he hissed. Brrrrup! Brrrrup! Brrrrup! Brrrrup! Brrrrup! Brrrrup! Brrrrup!

Alan was an enigma of sorts in his own right—a gay man who staunchly identified as a Republican, aligning himself with conservative values even as he navigated the complexities of his sexuality. Raised in Texas, he found solace in the familiar landscapes and cultural norms of his upbringing, viewing them as a bastion of what he deemed "real American values."

To him, New York City was an assault on everything he held dear. The cacophony of languages, the litter-strewn streets, and the perceived lack of order grated against his sensibilities. In his mind, this concrete jungle was a far cry from the rugged plains and prairies of home, where, despite its challenges, he felt a sense of belonging among those who shared his background and beliefs.

Alan epitomized a privileged, narrow-minded perspective within the gay community—an individual who adhered strictly to his own standards of acceptability, rejecting anyone who didn't fit his idealized image.

An intrusive ad suddenly popped up on Grindr: "Looking for the perfect New York night? Let GothamEnlighten help." Alan's attempts to dismiss it were futile; the ad persisted, appearing repeatedly until he reluctantly clicked "accept," his confusion palpable.

A sudden static shock coursed through Alan's body from his phone, causing him to flinch involuntarily. His screen flashed with frenetic activity, numbers and images cascading as if his digital life was being laid bare.

His Instagram feed revealed a carefully curated façade: images of Alan at conservative gatherings and high-society events in Texas, always impeccably dressed and surrounded by like-minded individuals. The posts projected an image of success and conformity, carefully cultivated to reinforce his status within his chosen circles.

On Twitter, Alan's posts and tweets echoed his disdain for "woke culture" and his grievances about the changes he perceived in society. His timeline was a testament to his unwavering adherence to traditional values and his resistance to any form of progress that challenged his worldview.

Abruptly, the phone's screen went black, plunging Alan into a momentary void. Then, a luminous green progress bar appeared with the word "Processing."

Alan felt an overwhelming heaviness settle upon him, as if the weight of his own prejudices and insecurities was pressing down upon his shoulders. His expensive suit and tie began to disintegrate piece by piece, unraveling until he was left in nothing but his designer underwear—stripped bare of his armor of privilege.

His head throbbed with a pulsating intensity, each throb a reminder of the internal conflict he had long suppressed. Instinctively, he began to massage his temples, seeking relief from the mounting pressure.

Memories of his upbringing in Texas as a gay man began to surface, intertwined with the ache in his head. The struggles, the fear of rejection, the compromises made to fit into a society that often felt hostile and unwelcoming—they all resurfaced, unbidden.

As Alan sat on the hotel bed, his initial chuckle was low and restrained, but it softened gradually as something stirred within him. Memories that had long been buried beneath layers of disdain and conformity began to resurface, bubbling up from the depths of his subconscious.

He remembered the streets of New York, where he had once walked as a boy, navigating the crowds and absorbing the vibrant, eclectic culture around him. He recalled the public school he attended, where the education was far from stellar but where he had discovered a deep passion for art and music. His hands, resting on his lap, began to move as if strumming an invisible guitar, fingers dancing over imaginary strings.

As these memories flooded back, a series of tattoos seemed to materialize on his skin, intricate designs that told stories of rebellion and creativity. His expression shifted subtly, his face transforming as more memories wove themselves into the fabric of his consciousness.

Gone was the rigid, uptight demeanor. Instead, a smile began to spread across his face—a genuine, inviting smile that revealed perfect teeth and softened his features. A beard and stubble started to grow on his jaw, framing a face that was becoming more handsome by the moment. His plain, average countenance seemed to rewind in time, settling into the visage of a 23-year-old with eyes that sparkled with newfound clarity and depth.

Those eyes, now piercing and intense, seemed to see through pretense and into the soul of anyone who met his gaze. Meanwhile, a pair of tight, skinny jeans began to hug his legs, muscles forming beneath his skin as if sculpted by his newfound sense of self. His feet, seemingly larger and more rugged, gave off a faint odor, a mix of Axe body spray and a distinct aroma of pot, hinting at a carefree lifestyle he had once shunned.

He chuckled again, this time with a sense of liberation and amusement, as he embraced the person he had buried deep inside—the young, spirited soul who had once roamed the streets of New York with a guitar in hand and dreams in his heart.

A chant began to echo in his head—a vivid memory from a time when he marched proudly in a women's march, waving a rainbow flag and chanting for gay rights. But as the memory replayed, something felt amiss. The edges of the memory blurred, and scenes of nervously asking a boy out on Grindr faded away, replaced by images of him standing alongside his LGBTQ+ friends as a staunch straight ally.

He recalled how he had tried to connect with other men on Grindr, attempting to fit into a mold that never quite felt right. Eventually, he had come to terms with his true identity and courageously came out to his friends as straight during his Senior year. The revelation had been met with unwavering support from his liberal and open-minded circle—they understood him, they celebrated him, and they embraced him.

With each passing moment, Alan's heart swelled with empathy, a newfound compassion that extended to every living creature. He vividly remembered adopting a strict vegan lifestyle, guided by his deepening respect for all beings and a growing awareness of environmental issues. His demeanor shifted from uptight to carefree, embracing a goofball nature that had long been suppressed.

In his mind's eye, Alan saw himself as he truly was—a person who respected others, who valued diversity, and who cherished the connections he had forged with people of all backgrounds and orientations. As this realization settled within him, a transformation swept over his physical form. A deep, dark brown tan enveloped his body, symbolizing a shedding of old identities and a rebirth into a new understanding of himself.

Gone was the rigid, buttoned-up exterior. In its place stood a man who radiated warmth and acceptance, embodying the principles of inclusivity and love that he had come to embrace. Alan's journey of self-discovery had led him not only to accept others but also to embrace his own authenticity with a newfound sense of joy and fulfillment.

As the deep, rich tan washed over Alan, memories flooded back with surprising clarity. He remembered being raised by his abuela in a cozy one-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn, surrounded by the vibrant hustle and bustle of the city. In this upbringing, Alan had embraced a total "straight softboy" persona, guided by his abuela's teachings to always show respect and kindness to women.

Over time, Alan had evolved into a hopeless romantic, yearning to find connection and love. He recalled his earnest attempts at dating women, only to face disappointment when they found him too sensitive or not masculine enough for their tastes. Despite these setbacks, Alan remained steadfast in his belief that treating women with respect and tenderness was paramount.

His heritage as a Mexican-American became a source of pride and identity. Alan cherished the traditions instilled by his abuela—family gatherings filled with delicious homemade food, lively music, and a strong work ethic. He spent his days working hard at his Tio's restaurant, learning the art of cooking and hospitality that defined his community.

Alan's path led him to NYU, where he earned a full scholarship in music production. It was here, amidst the creative energy of New York City, that he truly found his voice. Nights were spent with friends, drinking, smoking pot, and pouring his heart into love ballads and rock songs that reflected his romantic soul.

Alan's transformation began with a dull ache spreading throughout his body, as if every cell was undergoing a profound change. He looked down, startled to see fat dissolving from his frame, reshaping into lean muscle that glistened with a sheen of sweat. His once chubby, soft body morphed before his eyes, revealing a muscular physique that seemed sculpted by determination and resilience.

Standing in the dimly lit room, Alan leaned against the wall, crossing his muscular arms over a chest adorned with a tapestry of tattoos. Each inked design told a story—bold geometric patterns interwoven with intricate images of cultural symbolism. Against his warm olive skin, the tattoos pulsed with life, vibrant against the subdued lighting.

His arms, now taut with sinewy muscles, flexed subtly as he shifted his weight. Veins traced their way along his forearms, a testament to the strength that lay beneath his bronzed complexion. Faded scars crisscrossed his skin, souvenirs of past battles that added to his rugged charm and hinted at a life fully lived.

The tattoos continued their journey across his broad chest, weaving around his collarbones and down towards his abdomen. Each motif seemed to flow seamlessly, enhancing the contours of his muscular physique and highlighting his newfound physical strength.

Alan's face, framed by tousled waves of grungy hair, bore the rugged lines of a man who had weathered storms. His jawline was strong and defined, accentuated by a hint of stubble that added to his masculine allure. Dark eyes, intense and piercing, scanned the room with a mix of confidence and aloofness, commanding attention with their magnetic gaze. As pulled out his phone trying to find the perfect--mate? girlfriend? lover? He wasn't sure.

Alan stumbled upon a profile that immediately caught his eye. Her name was Luna, and her bio read "Afro-Latina feminist artist and activist." Her feed was filled with powerful portraits of women from diverse backgrounds, along with thoughtful captions about intersectional feminism and social justice issues.

Luna's profile picture showed her standing confidently in front of a mural she had painted - it depicted a group of strong, empowered women holding hands across different races and cultures. Alan couldn't help but feel drawn to this incredible woman who shared so many of his values and passions. He liked every one of her posts, hoping she would notice him amidst the thousands of other followers admiring her work.

Alan's direct messages to Luna were carefully crafted, expressing his admiration for her work and aligning himself with her beliefs. He shared his own journey of self-discovery and transformation, mentioning how inspired he was by her art and activism. In response, Luna messaged back warmly but cautiously, appreciating the genuine connection they seemed to share.

As they arranged to meet in the park for a casual get-together, Alan brought along his guitar as a sign of goodwill - he hoped it would help break the ice between them. When he spotted Luna from afar underneath one of the trees, she was engrossed in her phone screen; unphased by anything else around her.

He strummed gently on his guitar strings as he approached closer; composing an impromptu love song specifically dedicated just for this moment…his heart pounding rapidly inside his chest with every word sung out loud: "Your eyes are like stars that guide my way / Through this chaotic world full of fray / And I swear upon everything holy / That you hold all secrets deep inside your soul."

His voice rang through clear as day across grassy fields while captivating every single bird chirping nearby too – making sure not one detail escaped unnoticed during such intimate moments shared together under sunny skies above them both! However much passion could be heard within each syllable uttered by Alan, there came another reaction quite unexpected from our fiercely independent femme fatale before him. Luna just gave a slight eye roll followed closely behind some sarcastic comment about how "this crap is kinda pathetic"

As Luna rolled her eyes at Alan's love song, he looked at her with puppy dog eyes filled with hope and longing. He wiped the sweat from his face using his shirt, revealing a muscular physique that caught Luna off guard. The sudden glimpse of masculinity ignited a spark within her, and she found herself drawn to him in ways she couldn't explain.

With each passing moment spent locked in an intense embrace, their passion grew stronger until they could barely contain themselves anymore. Their lips met once more as their tongues danced together hungrily; exploring every crevice of each other's mouths while their bodies pressed tightly against one another.

As Luna's lips found his ear and whispered "Santiago...Santiago...I want to fuck your brains out you little devil" Alan (now known as Santiago) couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the intensity of this moment. He blinked an suddenly he was in bed with Luna, in his room in a shitty, four-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn he shared with 5 other guys. His mind was clouded with desire, lust taking over any remnants of rational thought left behind after their heated encounter in the park earlier today.

Santiago grabbed onto Luna forcefully yet tenderly; his rough hands contrasting against her soft skin like sandpaper against velvet. The room reeked of marijuana smoke - a hazy veil hanging above them both as if suspended between reality and some sort of twisted fantasy world created solely for their pleasure alone! On the walls were posters featuring iconic Mexican artists like Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera; their bold brushstrokes providing an appropriate backdrop for these two passionate souls engaging in unbridled passion beneath dimly lit lights cast from an old Edison bulb dangling precariously above them…

Luna arched her back while crying out loud - signaling for more intensity which only served to fuel Santiago's fire burning inside him even brighter than before… He slammed into her harder than ever before, driving deep into places where no man had gone before – igniting sparks that illuminated not just darkness surrounding them but also lighting up whatever remained untouchable deep within themselves previously hidden away due fear or uncertainty alone! This raw animalistic fury carried on relentlessly until both were left breathless…and satisfied beyond measure…as if experiencing true love at first sight all over again.

As Luna's breasts bounced rhythmically against Santiago's chest, he couldn't help but feel a surge of masculine pride wash over him. "And you are the most beautiful lover."he whispered into her ear, his voice hoarse from passion.

Luna laughed softly before replying, "And you are---you are a good fuck Santi" Her words sent shivers down his spine - a validation that only served to fuel his desire even further.

Santiago passed out soon afterward, exhausted from their intense lovemaking session earlier in the evening. When he awoke sometime later with an empty bed beside him and a faint trace of marijuana lingering in the air around him…he lit up another joint for himself and sank back into bed with contentment etched across every feature on his face – knowing full well that while keeping hold onto such fiery tempers might prove difficult at times…at least when it came to pleasing women like Luna? Well…that part wasn't so hard after all!

Party Material

By: davidrodge

“Copy that Dispatch, we’re just pulling up to the home.” Said Officer Raymond as he switched his cruiser off. He looked over to his partner, Jennings who was fidgeting with his vest and sighed. “Let’s go shut down another house party.” Jennings pumped his fist in the air and put on a fake grin. “Gotta love Fall Break!” 

The two officers stepped out of the patrol car and into the cold November night. They had been shutting down drunken parties since 8 PM. Now it was 1:00 AM. They had no idea why this usually quiet suburban town had decided to go crazy tonight. Officer Raymond appreciate the easy going partner Jennings was, but it was obvious that they would both rather be somewhere else. Jennings would rather be at home with his young family, and Raymond would have liked to have some weekend fun with his wife. 

Officer Jennings was a shorter man. One of the younger officers on the force. He was still rocking the new cop patchy mustache, and strode up the walkway steps with ease. Officer Raymond was a little bit on the heavier side. He had been on the force long enough to know that looks don't matter that much as a cop, and long enough to be winded by a few steps.

The house they approached was a complete mess. Empty beer cans and garbage littered the once pristine lawn as ear deafening bass blared from the inside. Jennings had mentioned he actually new the owners. Jim and Sarah Hernandez. Both worked in the city offices, and both were reserved, quiet, polite people. Why in the hell they had chosen to throw an all night ranger that broke several city ordinances was beyond officer Raymond. 

The two reached the font door and gave a few aggressive raps on the door. Jennings looked through the windows and gawked. “Unbelievable. Raymond Check out the Living room..” Raymond glanced through the window and saw the mess unfolding inside. Around 30 young men. All at different stages of intoxication were yelling, laughing, and dancing inside.

From the small angle of what he could see, Raymond counted 3 holes punched into the walls, and 2 pairs of men groping each other in the corner. Raymond narrowed his eyes and knocked… or rather banged on the door again. He was used to seeing parties where younger girls would get sloppy with whatever college football drop out they could find, but he hadn’t encountered a party where… well where he’d seen this happen.

Finally was opened by a younger man. Cameron ~ the youngest son in the Hernandez family.

“Officers!” He said, sloshing a solo cup behind his back, “I know what this looks like but I promise things are winding down.”

Officer Raymond stepped forward, putting on his sterner face. 

“Cam, we need to talk to your parents. We’ve gotten 3 noise complaints on this block and we need to shut this party down.”

Cameron, seemingly unfazed by what he had just said smiled broadly at the two of them. He raised his hands.

“For sure guys, hey! I’ll go get my parents if you too just chill here for a moment!” He strode away, glancing over his shoulder as he went. 

Jennings called after him. “Hurry back or were going to have to start towing vehicles!” Hopefully an empty threat.

Raymond turned his gaze away from a younger man kept blowing kisses at him through the window.

“Why do you think there are so many guys at this party, and why are they all,” he motioned over to two young men going at it in a corner, “like that?”

Jennings shrugged. “I couldn’t tell ya. I know that Cameron is gay, but I also know that Jim and Sarah don’t really see eye to eye with him on that. I honestly have no idea why they would ever allow something like this in the first place. I talked to jim today after morning briefing and he said they didn’t have any plans tonight. Guess that changed.” Jennings shifted his gaze back into the house as Cameron came back down the stair case smiling.

“Well? Where are your parents at young man?” Officer Raymond said crossing his arms. Cameron Smiled, bouncing down the landing and held up his smart phone. 

“Sorry I had to grab this before I bring you in. I want to make sure you two fit in at the party.” Cameron held it like a TV remote and pointed it at the pair. Officer Raymond instinctively placed his hand oh his holster.

“What the hell are youuuu….” Raymond trailed off as a fuzzy feeling came over him and his body ceased to move. Every fiber of his being came to a halt as he stood frozen in place in front of Cameron. Out of the corner of his eye Raymond saw Jennings, standing motionless with a perplexed look on his face. What was this? Raymond struggled to move… anything at all. His hands remained motionless at his sides. The slight breeze shifted the two officers clothing and hair but they remained stone like. Was this a stroke?” 

Cameron smiled and took a step onto the font porch. He took a sip from his solo cup and threw it against the wall, splattering cheap alcohol everywhere and eliciting a cheer from a few party goers inside. 

“Sorry about pausing you guys, I just had to make sure that you both were in one place while I made My adjustments.” Cameron began circling the two of them out on the porch. Almost like a shark, eyeing them up like meat. 

"I think we'll start with you Mr. Jennings." Cameron stated, planting his feat and typing away on his phone. 

~What the hell is this kid talking about?~ Raymond thought, still completely unmovable. Cam glanced upward from what he was typing for a moment. Almost like he had heard what Raymond had thought.

"It's this app." He said simply with a smile. He tossed his curly hair back and kept typing.

"I got tired of people judging me for who I am. Did some searching. Turns out there are ways to change the world around me to make it more.... inclusive!" 

Raymond realed at how damn stupid this kid sounded, but felt a twinge of fear settle in his heart because no matter how ridiculous it seemed, he was after all frozen in place.

"Alright, that should finish up your adjustments Mr Jennings! I hope you like what I have in mind. Like I said, the party's winding down so it's a good thing you showed up to liven things up!" 

Cam pressed a button on his phone and turned to Raymond.

"You can watch If you want."

Suddenly Raymond's neck whipped around, almost to an uncomfortable angle so he was facing Jennings full on. 

Jennings eyes widened as his body uniform started moving by itself on his still frozen frame. His Kevlar vest unzipped itself and began melting away into thin air - exposing Jennings average body underneath. Raymond watched in shock as Jennings once average looking chest ballooned outwards, forming an overly exaggerated pec shelf. Almost as if a wave was running down his abdomen, his fat melted off of his stomach, revealing a newly formed tanned six pack. Jennings shoulders expanded outwards, at the same times veins started pressing out of his forearms as his arms swelled with muscle. 

He grunted as the changes continued running up his neck. As Jennings undershirt evaporated off of his body, Raymond watched in horror as Jennings shocked and confused face reformed. His once strong and stoic face softened, leaving him with a more playful boyish look. His Dark crew cut turned to a light blonde and restyled itself into soft fluffy curls. A daft grin plastered itself on his lips and previously piercing eyes turned dull And dark. To finish off the changes, Jennings combat pants started to fold in on themselves; changing texture and material until they had become a skimpy pair of red briefs that flaunted his manhood.

Where Officer Jennings once stood now was a scantly clad stranger that only slightly resembled the previous man. Cameron giggled and beamed with excitement.

“You look IN-Credible Mr Jennings! I think you’re going to be just what this party needs. How do you feel?” 

Raymond watched as Jennings unfroze. He half expected Jennings to scream, take down the kid, anything at all. But instead, the new Jennings ran his fingers through his styled hair and cupped a hand over his briefs.

“I feel great baby. You know I always love showing up for my favorite clients!” Jennings smirked at Cameron and gave a quick wink. “I’d love to show you how much I appreciate you calling…. Maybe with a private show?” He flexed his now massive chest. Cameron laughed and blushed a little.

“Hey, maybe later tonight lover boy. In the meantime If you could go inside and liven things up a bit that’d be great.”

Raymond watched, still completely frozen and utterly terrified as the man in place of Jennings nodded and strode inside. He gave Cameron a playful smack on the ass as he sauntered by, and was greeted by cheers and whistles from the men inside. Cameron smiled again and turned back to Raymond.

“Oh my gosh isn’t he perfect?? And honestly it didn’t take a lot of work! Just a few tweaks to his profile and he’s the perfect stripper!” Raymond felt a knot form in his stomach as Cameron began looking him up and down. His mind raced as he frantically tried to grasp his situation. More than anything, Raymond wished that his he could regain control of his hands which were a mere centimeters from his holstered weapon. As cameron circled around him, Raymond caught a glimpse of his phone screen. there was a picture of him displayed with various sliders and entry boxes.

“I don’t know if I ever got the chance to meet you,” said cameron as he rounded back in front of him. “ I know Mr. Jennings from my old scout camps but you and I have never met…” he glanced down at his phone, “…Mr. Raymond. If you wanna follow me inside we’ll get you all fixed up.” Cameron pressed a button on his phone, and like a passenger in his own body Officer Raymonds body relaxed and started following cameron into the house. As he walked past the threshold, He was able to take in the full breadth of the chaos’s inside. The interior of the home was absolutely thrashed - with broken furniture and cups littering the floor. Almost every available nook, corner, or seat was occupied by a pair or a group of men in love. Raymond caught a glimpse of what he recognized as the new Jennings grinding against some young man on top of the dining room table. Cameron turned called back to him as they exited he living room,

“Originally this party was a mixture of some of my friends from school, but I really wanted to see if this app could make my fantasies a reality, and well… here we are.” Cameron laughed as he brushed past a pair making out up against the wall of the hallway. “ I thought it might be nice if everyone experienced life the way I would like to. Oh! You asked earlier about my parents, well, here’s a picture of them before tonight.” he stopped in front of a doorway and pointed up at a framed picture that hung in the hall. Raymond recognized them both from work, just your average middle aged couple with conservative clothing and slightly graying hair. Cameron turned around and beamed at Raymond. “…and THis is them now!” He then pushed open the bedroom door, allowing Raymond to peak inside. 

Two men were making out against the far wall. One, well built, obviously pumped full of steroids, with a shaved head, covered in tattoos, and with a heaving chest. He pressed the other against the wall in a gentle embrace. The other was lankier, with a runners build, who returned the firsts kisses with an eager passion. Both wore next to nothing and were exploring each others bodies with wandering hands.

Officer Raymond was confused for only a moment, until it dawned on him what cameron had meant, that the two men in there used to be - 

“Don’t let us interrupt you two!” Cameron called in a sing song voice. “Glad you both found somewhere private to take care of each other.” The two broke their kiss for a moment. The tattooed man smirked at cameron, “Make sure to find us as soon as the party starts winding down big guy.” They resumed their embrace as cameron quietly closed the door. He looked at Raymond with a wide open grin. 

“Can you believe it!” He said excitedly. “Now I don’t have to deal with their outdated life views anymore!” He leaned close to the still immobile Raymond and whispered, “ My dad was the worst of all, So I made him the bottom. Isn’t that perfect?! Not that its a punishment or anything, I just thought he might enjoy the experience.” Cameron laughed to himself as Raymond screamed internally. On the other side of the door the bed began to squeak. Cameron sighed and pulled out his phone.

“Alight, now that we know each other well enough, lets get you ready for the party ey?”

Raymond fought with all of his willpower to break whatever force was holding him in place, to run away, or even open his mouth - but couldn’t muster a single twitch. He stood rigidly with a neutral expression on his face as Cameron typed away. 

“I’m thinking you and your partner could make a hell a duo out there.” Cameron said as he gave one final flourished tap on his phone. 

~This has to be a nightmare~ Raymond thought to himself. He had almost convinced himself of that, until a wam shiver ran up his spine. His Vest shimmered and began to melt off his body. Cameron smiled, watching the progress.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I thought we could really go big with you.”

Raymond trembled as his skin felt like it was bursting. Long atrophied muscle materialized back into existence. As his pants began to shrink and climb up his legs, Raymond’s legs swelled to massive proportions. His thighs pushed rubbed against one and other as his quads swelled. His manhood was shoved forward as his but plumped into a pair of perfect globes. He raged inwardly as his pats shifted and finally settled into a tropical colored speedo that showed off his impressive bulge. 

-There’s NO WAY I’m becoming this lunatics sex dream!!~ he painstaking thought as the changes continued up his body. Cameron ginned as Raymond’s chest and torso became defined! His pecs continued to swell until they hung off his body as a pair of muscle tits. Raymond stifled a gasp as he felt the shift race up his neck. Suddenly Raymond’s mind was on fire. Fragmented and torn. His thoughts swirled around like a whirl pool as his face contorted. As a thick fog enveloped him, He desperately tried to hold onto himself. He stared at cameron and tried to hold onto what he had witnessed tonight. He wasn’t going to be changed by this vile… perverted……. Hunk? Raymond shut his eyes tight as mind reformed. Cameron waited excitedly as he watched the final changes. Raymonds once thinning hair turned Jet black and slicked itself back. His shoulders swelled to the size of boulders, and a pair of permanent abbs materialized on his torso. His took on a deep tan and his lips became plump and pouty. Cameron beamed as Raymond opened his eyes.

“Wow, you look absolutely stunning. I think you’ll fit in just fine tonight… Raphael.” Raymond,- now Raphael eyed up the younger man in front of him and put on a cool smile. He didn’t remember why Cameron had brought him back to the master bedroom, but he hoped it was for what he thought; as pressure built in his poser speedo. He leaned back against the hallway. “Anything for my favorite client.”

Cameron grinned, as Raphael step forward and put his hands on Cameron’s hips. This chronivac app was going to be even more fun at school after fall break.

The man couldn't get soft until he fucked me. He actually couldn't fuck anybody else other then me. It all started when Kevin over here was spouting some bigotry online and happened to mention KOK and had some choice words about our members.

Now mind you I get that Frat life isn't for everyone. I also know we're not the only frat on campus he was targeting but to use bigotry as a vehicle for criticism, now that's just plain bullshit. So I did what any sane, bored, gay, normal frat president would. I sent him a gif of myself

What?! My ass is hot, undeniably so and I wanted to show it off and get some payback on Kevin at the same time. Readers as you know at this point, every little thing I do, I do with intent. Intent is a very powerful tool especially if the universe listens to you, so my intent to show him my hot ass, an ass everyone wants to fuck started to do work.

Kevin had opened my message out of curiosity and the want to insult me further. But seeing my bubble butt in all it's naked glory dazed him where he stood and burned its way through his eyes and into his brain where it would never leave. He had to shake his head to send his paragraph response and how little he thought of the cocksuckers on this campus!

To keep it short I just smiled and replied a simple "Kiss my ass".

It has been a week since then, and instead of monitoring every little change, or even checking my dms- as each day he blasted them a little bit more I sat my ass back and relaxed. The little spell I put out there had a fun little connection to keep me preoccupied while I waited for our fresh convert to be ready.

A simple spell that connected his mind and new obsession with his cock, and his cock to the sensations of my ass and nice, warm hole. A few of our pledges had told me that in classes he seemed easily distracted, or that he was white knuckling the tables in the food court and I couldn't help but laugh. Just some light flexing from my ass and I apparently was causing some serious mental disarray.

So when my vice president Thad told me he was here I wasn't shocked, I told him to send him up as I bent over the bed, my ass facing the door framed in one of KOK'S jockstraps labeled POWER BOTTOM. The jockstraps are a magnificent gift to give to someone to ensure your boytoy fits any and EVERY position you want, minor side effects included ;)!

Kevin barged through the room, not knocking or turning the door knob, cock bulging first through the door. He was furious, his face fuming as his pants came unbutton, his underwear barely containing his monster as a wet spot formed at the tip. "Whatever you did to me FAG...un..undo it to me NOW!" I looked over my shoulder, biting my lip as I wiggled my ass at him. Cheeks jiggling slightly as the jockstraps magic pulsed and made them bigger, rounder, more fuckable. "Undo what?" I ask, giggling dumbly, it felt like my brain was mush. God it was getting unbearable, My hole was so needy, I forgot that one of the side effects was insatiable hunger and stupidity while wearing it. I flexed my cheeks at him, winking my hole as I watched him groan. He thrusted his hips in the air causing a phantom ripple in my cheeks making me moan. "Whatever..whatever it is that makes me wan.. want to..to...just fucking un do it" he says his breath getting hotter as he takes a step forward. His head was cocked now, confused at why my cheeks rippled back.

I ignore the question, I needed him now, I backed my ass up "want to what? come on, you can say it DADDY !" I moan out as he takes a final step behind me.. "Not..not a fag, just.. just cant fuck..fuck my girl till..til I" His hands firmly plants Themselves on my ass, carressing and groping them. getting greedier and greedier. His cock getting harder till it rips through the fabric. "PLEASE SAY IT" I moan, causing him to lift up his hand and swat my right cheek before the words came barreling out of his mouth, a permanent cocky face replacing the confusion. "Till I fuck your slutty, perfect ass!" With a thrust it was over for Kevin, the bigoted, ladies man. His cock sheathing itself, all nine magically enhanced inches, into my self lubing hole. He became Kevin, a himbo who would be nothing but sweet, kind and dumb outside in the real world, and desperately horny to fuck my ass every chance the doors to our newly shared bedroom would close. who knows some day I may even give him this jockstrap I wore, or the DOMTOP one tucked away, more powerful then I cared to admit. To see what all those muscles could really do

"what do you mean you think you like this new hairless look I've got going on bro?" The jock asked me gesturing to the thick expanse of hair covering his shirtless chest, like it was the most ridiculous thing he had heard today. I mean he had every right, he WAS a hairy mountain of a man but as the question left my lips I saw the forestbof hairs retreat from his chest, arms, legs, and jaw. Leaving him as smooth as the day he was born.

Chet over here had the misfortune of being rude to me at the gym, I apparently was on his favorite leg press and he'd made an ass out of himself. So I was going to use it. He sat down between his sets resting and I had decided to do the same next to him.

"I just mean it goes so well with that new hairstyle you got yesterday at the salon" dog piling on the changes, his face cocked in confusion. "Bro. I don't know you, and I don't go to no faggy salons!" He says brushing his hair back, before he rolls his eyes at you. "I get myself waxed for comps and that's it!" His voice sounding so done with me. But his brows were furrowing, things felt dizzy confusing as his posture shifted a little.

I just smirk, "ofcourse you go to faggy salons you silly airhead, they always give you those facials you love that make the skin around your gorgeous dick sucking lips, so nice and pristine!" I could see him ball his fists, my god who would dare fucking talk Chet Wilder, College Quarter back this way. I would.

I could see my choice of words already taking effect, the airhead comment was making his faces' anger soften, his lips began to plump until they were nice and supple always in a permanent pout. He couldn't stop himself from letting out a giggle. "What..what are you doing...doing to me" Chet rapidly said, he felt warm and fuzzy, all his thoughts flooding out of his brain, drifting aimlessly until I decided where to put them.

"you don't have to think about that, you never have to think about anything other than stuffing that giant bubble butt of yours with as many cocks as your slutty hole can dream of" I say, god I was really laying it onto him thick. I shifted his own thoughts and identity into mass and shifted all of that energy down his body and onto his tight muscled ass. He started to squirm in his chair, his pants already tight began to rip and tear as his new beach ball ass lifted him out of the seat. His face became what I could only describe as empty, his eyes rolling back in pleasure as he bit his lips. I was destroying a masculine man, I was remaking him into a bubble butted slut himbo who needed cock like an addict needed their fix.

I felt the raw magic settle and heard him moan, more like whine in a high pitched voice... "Fuck..fuck yes somebody fill my holes" he yelled throwing his head back biting his lips eyes closed.

For @teku73neku69. I’m still typing on my broken iPhone, so excuse the potential typos that will pop up.

Harry had been working out for the past two hours, desperately trying to lose his stubborn paunch. The past few years of 9 to 5 cubicle life had taken a toll on his self esteem, so thanks to a wayward Pinterest post, he bought a membership at the local neighborhood gym. After his first day of a rather pathetic attempt at the rowing machine and treadmill, he thought a nice relaxing stint in the sauna would help relax his aching legs.

Opening the thick cedar wood door to the sauna, the humid air burst forth through the opening. He walked over the creaking wooden floor, and plopped down onto the dry, warm bench. The oppressive heat combined with the subtle pain in his neck encouraged him to relax and melt into a slouch, ignoring the other patron lounging in the corner.

Like a panther stalking it’s prey, the man sitting hunched over in the corner stared at Harry. He silently analyzed him, all the while smirking with restrained excitement.

“First time?” Harry jumped, startled by the unseen man sharing the sweltering sauna. He gingerly nodded, praying to God he could escape any socialization with this… gorgeous man. The man was glistening with crystalline beads of sweat across his sumkissed skin. Every crevice between his hard muscles was brilliantly outlined with the glow of steamy sweat and light forests of hair. His rugged beard surrounded his cocky smirk, bringing direct attention to his supple lips and sweet saccharine eyes. Harry was caught off guard, tripping over whatever words he could muster.

The jock knew of his magnetic presence all too well. Many a man have been caught in his irresistible web. He’d done this schtick thousands of times over his lifetime, it’d never failed him thus. Cockiness was a given.

“Never seen ya before. The name’s Matty.” Harry shifted uncomfortably as Matty jumped down from the bench above him, plopping down right next to him. He stretched his arms out and spread his legs with a big sigh. “Nothing like a good sauna after a long ass lift session.” What appeared to Harry as dimwitted jockspeak and typical broish behavior hid a more calculated agenda, as the exposure of Matty’s pits began a process that couldn’t be reversed.

It started as a little twitch in his nostril. A tickle almost. Within moments he knew exactly what it was: the sour, salty scent of pitsweat. Harry looked slightly to his right, straight into Matty’s sticky pits. The way the dim light hit the beadlets of sweat on his curly pithairs seemed to transfix his gaze. Perspiration dripped in streams like rivers down his sides. Matty babbled ob, knowing full well whatever words he said were droned out by his mesmerizing musk.

Harry kept inching toward Matty, becoming increasingly more desperate for a closer whiff. Just a little bit of his sweat on his tongue and he’d be satisfied… These foreign, uncharacteristic thoughts both frightened and aroused Harry, and as they grew within him they became stronger and more pervasive.

Having lost track of time, Matty hadn’t realized that his rank pheromones had worked all too well, even quicker than usual. Harry had been intently staring at Matty’s body, losing any semblance of self-control. Sporting his trademark cocky grin, he grabbed the back of Harry’s head and buried it into his pits.

“Yeah, I knew you liked it. You love that sweaty stink. You love these rock hard muscles.” Harry felt the sticky sweat transfer from Matty to his face, his scent marking his territory. The pungent sour smell was intoxicating, and highly addictive. “Lap it up, man. Take it all in. I got plenty.” Harry let his tongue slip out of his mouth, and taste the salty sweat. No five star chef could serve anything as delectable. “Yeah, let my essence in. Let it mould you. Let it shape you.”

With every lap of his tongue, Matty’s musk did its work on Harry. His flabby body lost its marshmallowy padding, little by little. His mind became hazy and empty, his persona becoming completely erased from reality. His weight dropped rapidly: 250… 220… 195… with each pound lost, a brain cell followed suit. By the time Matty pulled him out, Harry was a completely blank slate. A scrawny mindless drone.

Matty rubbed his hands together, beaming with electric glee at his canvas. He swung around grabbing Harry’s head once again , and laid down onto the bench. This round, Harry met Matty’s dank, damp crotch face first. The smell here was different- buttery, sweet, maybe even a bit bitter. One thing was certain: it was just as strong as his pits. Matty eagerly pulled his shorts down, exposing his thick, long, uncut cock. Without even forcing him to do so, Harry instinctively thrust the slick, sweaty cock deep down his throat. Matty groweled in ecstasy, grabbing Harry’s hair and skull fuckibg his empty head.

“Yeah you love cock, don’t ya? Can’t deny it, I do too. I love my thick, dirty, cheesy cock just as much as you!” The sound of Matty’s pendulous balls smacking Harry’s chin as he thrust in and out echoed in the tiny humid room. Each slurp, Harry had a face full of Matty’s bush stink, unparalleled in its veracity. From within him bellowed a rumbling- a sloshing, bubbling, slimy sound which emanated from his balls. “Aww fuck man, you wanna be like me don’t ya bro? You wanna be a fuckibg king! You wanna fuck like a king, smell like a king, look like a king.” He howled as he blew his thick, creamy load into Harry.

What started as a rather large load became much much more, as Matty shot gallon after gallon of cum inside Harry like a firehose. He grinned from ear to ear as he saw Harry begin to grow, as his muscles inflated with the strange cum. Guzzling it down, Harry began to feel again. He felt the cum flow into his feet, inflating them like water balloons to a strong size 13. It seeped into his calves, his quads and hams… feeling the liquids fill him and harden into strong, powerful muscle. Gurgling and gagging noises began to escape his mouth.

“Don’t you give up on me bro!!” Matty shouted, as he kicked off his trashed white trainers and damp socks, pulled down Harry’s shorts, and began to pump his growing cock with his rank, filthy feet. Of all of Matty’s pheromones, none were as powerful as his foot funk. The cheesy, buttery, acidic smell was his secret weapon: enough to bring even the strongest man to his knees. Matty could feel his cum begin to inflate Harry’s cock, as the rod slithered and squirmed its way to a stark ten inches with a foreskin slipping over the head. “Yeahhhhh. There we go.”

Harry’s pecks ballooned out, and abs audibly popped out from his midsection one by one. His hands grew meaty and calloused, biceps bulging and veiny, shoulders burst like mountains, and pits grew dank and emanated a familiar stench. Harry wrapped his body around Matty, suckling his cock like a calf to an utter, bow actively sucking the cum into him. By the time the cum had filled his head, he was no longer Harry. He finally released from Matty’s engorged cock, and roared as he shot the excess cum from his new cock, coating Matty in a mix of his own cum and that of his new buddy. Matty looked at his work, pleasantly surprised by the outcome.

“Oooh. An Asian invasion eh? That’s new. I think it’s a good look on you.” The new hunk smirked and chuckled.

“Hahah, fuck yeah man. Name’s Kwan.” Kwan swiped up Matty’s ratty socks and wiped off his thick cock, his sweaty abs, and even took a proud whiff. Matty watched proudly as Kwan slipped the socks and trashed trainers on. After all, sharing is caring amongst bros! The two spent the next three hours fuckibg and making out, coating the entire sauna in a thick layer of their seed. As they sauntered out, they smirked knowing that two men completely filled with cum had to share… and multiply.

If y’all liked this, please check out my Patreon to keep this blog (and me) alive!!

So I'm a chubby gay White guy, any chance you could turn me into a muscular gay East Asian guy that's a jock that still likes stuff like anime? Or biracial, as long as the more dominant heritage is something like Chinese, Japanese, Korean or Taiwanese.

I'd prefer a build anywhere between a like swimmer/tennis players build, a baseball players build, or a football/rugby players build, I'm not really that picky as long as I have decent abs.

How can a package smell like that?

That's the first thing you think when you pull it from outside. Jesus it's like an armpit in your place just that quickly.

You ordered a bath bomb from that weird website, just out of curiosity and half expecting it to be some kind of scam. You were watching Chainsaw Man when you got a knock on your door. It's one of those soft packages that Amazon sometimes uses but with YourNewBody stamped on it. And at the bottom, rolling around, is the bath bomb.

You open it and get a gamey wallop of pure musk to your face. Images flash through your skull: used jockstraps and cups, sweaty hairy armpits just inches from your face, locker rooms.

You've never even had those thoughts before so why do they feel so....familiar. Like memories almost.

Oh.

You're hard. Your cock pitching a serious tent in your boxers. The muscles flex involuntarily and you groan.

You take the bath bomb out of the package. It's see through and kind of murky from the fluid inside? You've never seen one like this. Hell you've never smelled one like this. You bring it to your nose, take a big whiff.....

And nearly cream your boxers right then and there. Another image: this time of you bent over in a dugout while your teammate - wait teammate - fucks you from behind, your smells - smells? - mixing together despite the open air space. Stranger still, you can't even imagine your body in this memory - fantasy, not a memory, a fantasy - which adds to the artificial feeling of it. You want to see what it'll smell like when you drop it in water.

So you go to your bathtub and fill it. Not even fully comprehending you walking to the tub and plugging in the stopper, and turning on the water. There's a distinctly quieter voice telling you that something is very, very wrong. It's drowned out by this increasing fuzziness, like TV static is filling your head. You should be thinking about your D&D session tomorrow. You should be thinking about trying to get some sleep.

But you're not thinking about that, are you?

Your swollen cockhead seems to become your actual brain. You're fondling the bath bomb like a pair of balls in your hand. What kind of balls? For a split second it's a baseball. Then it's the swinging, sagging, fat, sweaty, hairy, musky balls of one of your teammates, pent up and swollen after a long, hard game. He's fucking your throat while his balls slap your chin. "Good boy." His voice is deep and rough.

That fantasy memory is particularly powerful and compelling.

"UHHHHH."

You open your eyes, both of them bugging out. Both at the loud, whimpering moan you just unleashed and at the involuntary word switch. The static in your head clears just long enough for you to accidentally drop the bath bomb in your bathtub, and it starts dissolving the moment it contacts the water.

The murky liquid spills out and turns your bathwater into pure jock sweat.

The smell it unleashes is intoxicating. Your bathroom is becoming a steamy sauna. The mirror fogs. Your glasses fog and you take them off. Dampness appears on the walls, smelling just like your sweaty bathwater.

You stagger and collapse on the toilet, squirming as you roll your underwater down and kick them off. Tossing them in a pile on the corner. You take your socks off and toss them on top of your boxers. You grip onto the sink as your cock becomes steel. You've never been this hard in your life.

I need to - I need to cum! Holy shit I need to CUM!

You flex your cock - voluntarily this time - and that's all it takes to start cumming. Your orgasm is mind numbingly intense. All you can do is curl your toes and clench your fists, throw your head back and squeeze your eyes shut as you shoot a fountain of cum, it splattering loudly on the tile floor.

After about a minute, it's over.

You open your eyes.

Your cock shouldn't still be hard.

You should be in your - in your - in your...

You should probably be a little scared at the fact that you cannot think of the term refractory period. In fact, it feels like 90% of higher thinking is just shut off for right now. The other 10% is frantically trying to claw back to the surface of this dense, but pleasant fog that's settled in your head. The 90% of you that's in command gets off the toilet and steps towards the alluring smell of your bathwater. You stare at the musky steam rising off it. Your dazed face looking back at you in the water.

You put one foot in. Then the other. You start hyperventilating like you're getting into a cold pool, but the water is so warm. So cozy and inviting. You hold onto the bathtub as you sink into the water. First your ass, then your legs, then your balls and twitching cock.

Then the rest of your body falls as you lose your balance, feet scrambling on the slippery floor as the water envelops your cock. The sensation is so intense you just spasm and let yourself fall. As the entirety of your body falls into the water, droplets landing into your open, panting mouth and on your flushed face, your body sinks a little into the water. You're more compact now. 5'5". Pocket sized really. That shedded mass lands squarely in your balls and they become swollen with your lost height. They touch the bottom of the tub as your legs kick and writhe, splashing water onto the floor. They grow into the huge baseballs you like squeezing when there's downtime, just to feel balls in your hands.

Bigger balls mean more hormones.

The flush of them causes your cock to stretch. And while it's stretching, your pubes grow into the perfect, tangled mess of a landing pad for the syrupy pre-cum that's leaking into the water. You surpass your average length of 4 and a half inches with ease and cruise steadily into 5 and a half. You're moaning with wanton abandon now. That 10% that was concerned about such silly things such as "modesty" has evaporated to like 5% now, and it's a losing battle, because you're leaking with no end in sight as your cock crests to 6 and a half inches. You pump an even larger amount of pre as your beard falls out and lands in the water. With each gush of thicker pre, your body hair just melts away and floats like flotsam in the water. Your armpit hair is still as thick - if not thicker. Your cock finally stops growing at 7 and a half, pulsing, throbbing, inches.

You try your damnedest to steady your breathing. Your cock sticks up proudly in the water, the swollen, purple-ish head nearly breaching the surface. You use all of your might to look down and see that bigger cock. The thicker pubes. Your legs are spread wide to make room for your balls. You place your hands on your lower stomach, your fingers caught in your pubes. It's trembling, quaking. As you look down, huffing and puffing, your chubby stomach suddenly collapses.

The fat doesn't disappear, no, it just makes its presence known behind your nipples which pop out like a distressed belly button. The skin stretches and the nubs pop out and into the water. You're practically screaming with pleasure as the fat in your stomach melts away and slides to your pecs, your abs popping out one by one into a tight six pack, cum gutters sprouting in your thicker waist and pointing to that unbelievably hard cock of yours.

Your pecs inflate with fat and muscle, like big floaties strapped to your chest. You can feel the weight of them as they blow up with muscle and fat, all of the underdeveloped muscles breaking and tearing, strengthening and becoming so much stronger, so much more powerful. You're squirming like a caught rattlesnake right now, water just going everywhere. The crease between your pecs is mouthwatering. Your pink nipples are so suckable. Your abs finally finish growing and settling in. Your pecs heave one final time and crest over them, your underboob just as sensitive as the massive flesh sacs above themselves. You're flooded with memories of your teammates tugging and playing with your tits. Some of them sucking on the fat nipples. Coach massaging oil onto them after a good workout.

Your cock is leaking a steady stream of actual cum but it's not a true orgasm, just a mini one because your body cannot handle this constant edging. Something has to give, right? There's less water in the tub since your body is absorbing the sweaty, thick water.

Your traps fan out and help your shoulders thicken with powerful muscle. You can feel how strong and powerful that neck of yours is. The growth flows downwards into your biceps, arms blowing up so quickly they start rubbing against your pecs, making up come harder and yelp. Your forearms thicken up and your hands - your small little hands - blow up into meaty paws. You take your arms out of the water - god they're so heavy - and expose your rank pit to the air.

None of your teammates are around so your own pit will have to do. Your other hand worships and rubs your abs.

You lick and kiss your fat, bulging bicep. Your feet stretch bigger, wider, longer. The less than 1% of the old you left marvels at your size 7 feet bloating into massive size 14 stompers, your toes and soles crawling up the tub and breaching the water's surface.

You're fucking an invisible ass. With every thrust of your stronger, wider hips, your own ass starts growing. You've experienced a massive amount of weight loss and fat redistribution, and conservation of mass requires that shaved off mass to go somewhere. It can't go to your pecs, so it fills up your ass and stretches your hole like it's made of rubber. Your ass is going to be the talk of the town. You won't be able to hide it. Visible through your pants, chewing up boxers and briefs, absolutely stretching out any jockstrap you wear. Jiggling and so enticing, literally striking men dumb and horny. And once they get a taste of that puckering hole - or even better, fuck it - they'll be just as blank and dumb as you are.

There's nothing left of the old you. All of those old worries and thoughts flood into your ass, converted into pure, strong muscle, making that fat ass perky and sit higher on your lower body.

Your thighs expand with muscle and fat, inflating and rubbing together, squeezing your balls and making you squeal. Your calves brush up against the tub, flexing and becoming massive. Your legs have the ability to carry that dumpy of yours and then some. You can carry your teammates for miles. You can straddle and ride a dick into the sunset. Your hole is built for milking every last drop out of your teammates' - and Coach's? - balls. They're pure bulk, those legs, and strong enough to crush a watermelon.

You scream as your face collapses and rearranges. Bone structure becomes more defined as your jaw hardens and your cheekbones become softly pronounced. Your nose pops bigger into the crook of your elbow and your sense of smell actually improves. You take in all your musk, and all the musk of the bathwater all at once. You can even smell the cum boiling in your balls, so you know you're closer than ever.

Your brain shrinks even further. You're only really able to piece together basic sentences and even then, it's gonna take a while for you to construct it and speak it. And when you're horny? Forget about it. You're only thinking about your teammates and pleasing Coach. The next game. You don't really play all that much, but you're a good distraction for the opposing team. No matter how good of a pitcher, they'll make easy mistakes because they'll be too busy staring at your bountiful ass squeezed into your uniform. And if you remember to wear a shirt, your nipples poking against the fabric and those swaying tits when you don't remember to wear a shirt. The latter option happens more often.

You grab your cock with both hands - yes it's a two-hander now - and you start fucking your fist. As you fuck your fist, your body goes through the last change. Your white skin begins darkening, well beyond a normal tan. You're changing race. You open your eyes, for just a second, as you watch your face rearrange one final time and you become Korean. You shut your eyes again as the tan spreads to your tits, beefs them up further, the color spreading to your pink nipples and making them dark and even more sensitive. It spreads down to your abs and arms. Wherever it touches, that area of your body beefs up.

Bigger biceps, bigger shoulders, stronger abs.

Thicker pubes.

Stronger thighs and bigger calves.

Then it hits your cock.

And you explode.

Your cock darkens and your balls become even bigger. You gain that half inch and become a full, mighty, 8 inches hard. Your cum is so thick. Musky. You hug yourself as you cum hands free, hips bucking, balls swinging. You don't see the water absorb your cum, keeping it clear but even smellier.

You finally stop cumming.

Open your eyes just a bit, prettier eyelashes fluttering.

You are hot shit.

You slowly rise out of the water. Muscles exhausted. Cumming is its own workout. You step out of the tub and onto the tiles with your bigger feet. Your cock softens yes but it's gonna exist at a permanent, dripping semi 99% of the time. The 1% reserved for sleeping really.

"Oh, I should probably let the water out huhuh."

You reach into the water. Moaning as the smell hits you in the face. You let it drain, along with your cum and lost body hair.

You see your boxers and socks on the floor but even from here they look too small. You don't think anything of it - mostly because you can't really think anymore. You must've bought the wrong size by accident. You're not totally helpless - hey you've made it this far in life with that dull brain of yours, you've got your own apartment and everything - but sometimes you let easy things slip by you.

You stumble out of the bathroom. Holding onto the walls for support. You're not used to this weight. This sensitivity. The way everything feels so heavy. You let slip a dumb laugh as you creep into your bedroom.

Your laptop's on the bed. The screen open. It's buzzing with notifications. You don't recognize the names. You try your hardest to force a connection in your cotton candy brain but nothing comes up.

"What's a D&D?"

Your meaty chest rises and falls. You close out the text messaging app. People are asking for some guy whose name you don't even know, asking if you're ready for tomorrow's session. Probably the wrong number. The only thing you've got going on tomorrow is practice. Which lets be honest - the only thing getting "practiced" is that insatiable hole of yours, and your throat.

You search around but can't find anything to put in your twitching asshole. You shrug and stick two fingers in your ass and start fingering yourself. Your just used cock rising to attention, as you look at your computer screen.

Holy shit you forgot you were watching Chainsaw Man! You fill with glee. You love this show! Any anime really because it's pretty easy for you to follow and you don't get bored.

Now, if only you could just remember what episode you were on .....

Hey bro, I know me and the boys never talk to y'all at KOK, but this is an issue that affects all of Greek life. Did you hear the administration saying frats aren't diverse enough? It's not our fault all the best rushes are white. Now they're threatening us if we don't become more inclusive! How's KOK planning to fight this?

Hey BRO, thanks for reaching out. I did hear about the administrations mandate, infact I actually SUGGESTED it. I'm not gonna fight this, hell fucking no, the only way Greek life truly thrives is if everyone can get a slice of the pie...or well cake in this very specific interests.

What am I saying, what do I mean? Don't tell me you don't already feel your ass heating up. Don't tell me you can't feel that warmth lift you INCHES off of your seat, your thighs getting bigger to support the weight of your new gigantic bubble butt. You and the BROS never skip leg day after all. And I think with your skin darkening and that less than welcoming mindset disappearing your gonna be welcoming ALL types of BROS over. You don't gain any height or new muscles not really, I think the only things I'll help change is give you a better more nature hairstyle with some fresh waves, and make sure you have a face no one can say no to

Enjoy the new ass and perspective. I didn't change much else, because I want you aware enough of who you used to be, so you'll never become it again.

If you had asked Dante whether he would ever bottom, 1, he would probably punch you. And 2, he would insist that topping gays was just something 100% straight men like him did. And he’d say it with…well, with a ‘straight’ face. It was a display of superiority and power, an act to show people their place. He wouldn’t be seen dead bent over, presenting his rear. The mere idea disgusted him, a fact he made very clear when loudly talking to his recently made friend, Cris, inside the local inclusive night club.

An unlikely friendship that only came about from bumping into each other while Dante was taking selfies in the college bathrooms. Something of a regular past time, as Cris quickly learned. Even in a public place, Dante didn’t miss the opportunity to admire his own body, smirking as several gay guys around him turned to get a glimpse. Maybe that was the only real reason he agreed to come along. Then again, he was capable of being kindhearted, in his own special way.

“You see those pathetic ‘guys’ earlier? Practically begging to be shown what a real man can do.” Dante commented, chugging down the rest of his beer. Blatantly ignoring the warning hanging on the wall which stated ‘discrimination will not be tolerated’. Yes. Kind. In his *own* special way. “You get me?”

“Uh huh...” Cris sheepishly replied, trying to hold back a wince. Looking down with disappointment, his eyes tearing up slightly. Now definitely wasn’t a good time to reveal that he was actually trans. Maybe when the sun was about to implode, yes, that seemed like a more appropriate occasion.

Dante was a somewhat typical douchebag jock in most respects, keen to display his dominance and superior body to anyone with a hole to fill. A fuckstick with a guy - rather inconveniently, attached. Dante pushed out his perfectly sculpted chest and flexed his rippling muscles while he made his openly deriding remarks as a group passed him by. Deliberately yelling over the obnoxious club song that was blaring overhead. Cris merely laughed nervously, ashamed to admit his infatuation with Dante’s body - adjusting his trousers as his dick unconsciously rose to attention at Dante’s confident voice.

“Christ, your drink looks kinda fruity. You should try some of mine.” He lifts a glass and holds it out.

“Maybe later, do you want to go dance? I kinda dig this Charli…song.” Cris’ voice peters out at the expression shot in their direction. “Maybe not, huh.”

Unfortunately for Dante, the patrons and staff weren’t too keen on his ‘colourful’ choice of words, especially when starting to talk about ‘butt sluts’, as he put it. A bit of glitter blown in his direction was all that was needed to kickstart a change in perspective. Cris watched with wide eyes as he witnessed his toxic crush’s language and demeanour gradually adjust in front of him.

Dante attempted to brush away the glitter that somwhow got all over him. “The fu—fudge is this gay shi—shizzle!” Instead he only managed to spread it everywhere, speeding up the adjustments. Dante took another sip of beer and scrunched his nose up at the taste, pushing the drink aside. His stiff and once proud stature grew limp, hips swaying to the rhythm of the club music. The plethora of swears and insults softened into a series of enthusiastic lisps and giggles. His deep voice changing pitch one word at a time. “This soOOoong s—slaps, like, a totes banger!” Dante shouts out, to his friends amusement.

“But I thought you hated this—“

“Uhhhh, as if!” Dante’s whiney intonation quickly interjects, somewhat unbefitting of the muscled body it came from, his defined pecs still pushing out against the thin fabric of his tank top.

A warm insatiable itch caused Dante to absently remove his top and shorts, revealing a jockstrap cupping his bubbly rear - which quickly doubled in mass as it comically splayed out beneath him. A result of the rainbow glitter sticking to his sweaty body. The rest of him remained built like a tank, wide shoulders and thick thighs. A meaty chest glistening under the flickering lights of the club. He was so hot, but not just in appearance. The drunken stupor had fully gripped his easily manipulated mind. Everything around him suddenly seemed soo funny.

“Gawd, my butt’s, like, pretty big. Weird. Heehee.” Dante points out, turning slightly to show Cris, causing his cheeks to wobble. “Do girls even want big butts on guys?”

“Well…I…” Cris stammers, blushing bright red at the image of his ultra masculine friend shaking his butt while effeminately biting his lip.

“Like suuuper big and…” Internally Dante was unaware of his out of character behaviour, unquestioning as his brutish dominance was purged, replaced by adorably bratty submissiveness. He was the same old Dante deep down, just…happier. And sluttier. His body unconsciously began to gyrate to the heavy bass throbbing in his head. All he noticed was the growing need centred around his tight hole. His fingers cautiously touched the jiggly mound of flesh weighing him down from behind. Dante’s eyes filled with lust as he stared at his friend Cris, noting the sight of him and all the other hot men around him. A pleasurable sigh escapes his pursed lips.

“Big and…empty.”

A couple minutes of character growth later, members of staff arrived to offer Dante ‘vip status’ at the club. A program they had setup to deal with any ‘troublemakers’. Dante didn’t mind however, and agreed instantly. Cris followed as he got directed out the back door towards his new station, taking his position as a public relief hole. Leaning against the wall as the cool night air brushed against his bare skin. All the while he was incapable of keeping his hands off his rear, feeling it up without a second thought as onlookers watched. Dante simply nodded along dimly while the club’s manager explained that he was about to be fucked and used repeatedly to atone for his remarks. That once he has filled his quota, he and his twerkable bubble butt would become the club’s next permanent dancer.

Dante smiles and says “mmkay” while pushing his hands against the wall and widening his legs - staring blankly ahead. “Like this?” There was a little sign above his head that simply read ‘hole’ with an arrow pointing down. Just in case it wasn’t clear.

Cris made sure he was first in line to try out the new resident ‘butt slut’. He positions himself behind Dante, and struggles to hold back a laugh at the sight of the once bigoted jock willingly preparing to get dicked. He definitely liked him a lot more like this - the same muscled physique, but without the crude superiority complex. Their friendship was sure to hit new heights.

“Ready? Let me show you what a ‘real man’ can do.” Cris says with a newfound sense of confidence. Playfully, he spins Dante’s baseball cap around and places his hands across the himbo’s rear, parting his huge round cheeks to show off the cherry he was about to pop - before the rest of the club would inevitably leave him gaping.

“Mm.” Is all Dante can muster before Cris’s cock forcefully stretches him open and leaves him moaning like the natural cock hungry bottom he now was. “Don’t—don’t stawwwp babe!”

Little Brother

With @next-pharaoh

“Eh, dirty Arab,” Markus muttered to himself, squeezing into the aisle seat next to the younger brown man beside him. He could only hope his suit would not get filthy while next to the fellow. Markus was on his way to a meeting across the country, hoping to be promoted to an associate at his law practice.

“I’m sorry, what did you say, zalameh?” Markus’s new acquaintance asked innocently. Markus grimaced at the hair that seemingly covered every exposed part of the young man’s body, and the musk that naturally wafted off of it.

“Nothing, nevermind.” Markus did not want to get into an argument. He was not worried about the other passenger’s size–Markus's hobby of weightlifting would definitely make it an even match–but he was on a plane. They were going to sit together for at least three hours.

“Picking a fight with me is rather bold,” the man beside him warned. “Just because we are in public does not mean your big brother Khalil won’t put you into place. I’ve had no problem doing that in the mosque, remember?.”

The second half of the comment caught Markus off guard. “I’m sorry…what?”

“Do not play dumb, zalameh,” Khalil smirked. “Although I guess skipping that post-secondary education may have slowed you down.”

“N-no, I’m smart…and I’m not Muslim.” Markus struggled to regain his footing, which was surprising for the lawyer of almost ten years. But then, something else began to alarm him. “Wait, what’s happening to my suit?!”

Right before the pair’s eyes, Markus’s suit had begun to dwindle away, pulling back towards his core. The jacket disappeared completely, while the starched button-up softened into a basic graphic tee. Markus’s pleading eyes searched for help but no one seemed to notice his pant legs curling up, becoming sweat shorts that reached halfway across the thigh. Finally, as his premium loafers morphed into beaten sneakers, Markus switched to the offensive.

“You’re doing this aren’t you, you camel-”

“Shh, brother,” Khalil placed a brown finger to Markus’s lips, shushing him. “You don’t want to make a scene, do you?”

Recovering fast, Markus ripped Khalil’s hand away, but then he noticed a new problem. “My-my arms! Why are they…”

“They’ve always been brown,” Khalil stated as they both followed the wave of melanin that flushed over Markus’s arms. “They’re as hairy as mine, but if you joined me in the gym more often than they’d be as buff and strong as mine too.”

Markus’s arms shrunk under Khalil’s comments, now more toned than muscular. “Wha-” 

“And that runner’s build too,” Khalil commented. “Sure you have abs and that thick treasure trail, but it makes you more boyish than man.”

“No, stop it!” Markus exclaimed. And yet no attention was given to him from the other passengers as his frame thinned out into a figure appropriate for a runner.

“At least you have that fat, bushy, Arab cock our family name takes pride in!” Khalil suddenly grabbed Markus’s crotch, both of them noticing the heftier weight. Markus did not understand how, but he could feel his white sperm rapidly evaporating within Khalil's grip.

“B-but I’m not Arab…and I’m a lawyer…and I’m-”

“You're my little brother,” Khalil finished, grabbing Markus’s face. “Praise Allah I have patience for your misunderstandings.”

Markus was going to comment, but instead was distracted by a foreign feeling on his chin, “Since when do I have a goatee…?”

“Since you could grow one, zalameh. You’ve wanted to be like me ever since you were little.”

Markus groaned. “I don’t...ow, my head...”

“By Allah you practically are like me at this point,” Khalil chuckled. “One could even confuse us for twins.”

“No…that can’t be…true.” Struggling, Markus got up. To his surprise, Khalil did not stop him–nor did anyone else for that matter–as he stumbled towards the bathroom. He had to see if it was true. Markus had to know if…

“Subhanallah!”

With the mirror in front of him, Markus was able to witness what Khalil had meant. Reflected back was a young Arab man, no older than 25. Attractive in a boyish way, but still held that Arab hair and funk that many brown men were proud of. Markus’s eyes began to water, but before he could cry his phone received a notification.

“Marwan, what’s taking you so long! We are about to take off!!"

Marwan shook his head, what was he just thinking about? It probably did not matter anyway. Luckily his older brother Khalil was looking out for him once again. Admiring his own brown, masculine beauty and quickly thanking Allah for it, Marwan left the bathroom to return to his brother. Khalil was beaming from ahead, eagerly awaiting him.

These two used to be the valedictorian and salutatorian of the school. Look at them now, two slutty twunks that are gladly used and abused by the entirety of the athletic department. They still have buckets of knowledge, but each tidbit of information in their brains has been replaced by sexual positions and techniques. Nothing makes them happier than being stuffed full of a jock’s cock and their alpha seed, left leaking out of their holes. They were never hated at all but now they’re beloved for their expert abilities when it comes to pleasing the important men of the school.

Making a TOP cum his brains out is sometimes a much harder task than anyone realizes. Getting a TOP to cum till he becomes a BOTTOM, even HARDER but so worth it for me. Here at KOK it's no surprise we have a surplus of every position but sometimes on campus I'll see a man I just NEED and Brandt here was one of those men.

Overly confident, muscular, a bit dumb and absolutely sure he was 100% a TOP. So when I jolted him with my magic causing him to lose bits and pieces of himself everytime he came. His memory to get foggy, a little bit hornier, a little bit less relief from his cock, he just didn't know why. That is until I showed up one night, his mind and body begging for release, I got down on my knees Infront of him, I could tell by how he was biting his lips he was excited to feel my mouth on his cock. But when I spun him around and dove into an all you can eat buffet of his bakery, well his moans told me he most likely had forgotten all about that dick of his.

Hey! I love your stories. I’m a twinky ginger and wish for a change. I’ve always thought it would be hot to basically be a living sex doll (big bubble butt, huge pecs, big lips, etc). Could you help me out with achieving that look?

Well lucky you we've just introduced a new line of energy drinks!

This beautiful, pink lemonade concocted with just the perfect dose of caffeine and hot musky man sweat from yours truly is called BoyToy and should be the perfect thing to get you revved up.

How's it taste?

I can see your cock hardening under those khakis. Love khaki shorts! They're really good at showcasing a nice boner like yours. Even better - wow you're really chugging that thing! Good to know the signature Hot Coffee flavor hasn't been lost - is that I can see just how much pre-cum you're leaking. Don't be embarrassed! This is a totally normal reaction! I can see your blush starting to fade though as you take bigger gulps, sucking in some of the ice cubes as well as no doubt your throat's already expanding - you're gonna be a bonafide throat GOAT by the end of this - because, well...

Our energy drinks go right to your brain. And I mean your brain is pretty much being dissolved right now and all your thinking is dropping into your balls. Those big, fattening balls. Their outline is like two slowly inflating basketballs full of cum straining the zipper of your shorts, filling out all that space pushing the zipper down even. You must've had a lot of intelligence up there because your balls are blowing up huge and swollen. You're moaning and groaning so loudly now I have to wonder if you've got a vibrator up your puckering hole now. You're so horny all you can really think about, as those last few brain cells get converted to cum, is how you're gonna get off. Getting fucked or fucking something. You swallow the last ice cube and shake and moan as your cock grows even harder, you can feel the veins expand just to make room for the sheer amount of blood flow dropping into your cock.

You grip onto the counter and start thrusting, breaking open the front of your pants, splitting the zipper and flopping your huge cock on the counter. It's 7 inches now and still growing!

Your mouth hangs open in pure lust as you're sliding your fattening cock all over the countertop, one hand on your shaft and the other hand playing with a nipple. I don't mind, but I don't think you've got enough brain capacity to feel shame or embarrassed right now as you grind your cock on the smooth countertop. It's a nice view honestly. Seeing your head flare, becoming all red and sensitive, bloating into this huge mushroom cap on that expanding shaft. You're gonna have a kielbasa down there, your ginger pubes darkening more into a brunette color. It's stretching forward, gushing precum like a broken water main. Your pubes becoming just this cloud of pure, sweaty musk as your balls pump insane levels of testosterone through your body, nipples hardening against your shirt. Fuck your cock must be like 10 inches now. That's a fuckstick right there.

Let me help.

Drag my finger along that slick, sensitive head, so wet with the sheer amount of pre that you're oozing all over the counter. Damn I need two hands to get a good grip on this thing, so slick with pre and sweat, so unwieldy. Beer can thick, the word schlong is the only way to describe this monster. You're bellowing with pleasure, stripping out of your button down that's soaked with scent, thick with your still strengthening scent. You play with your widening nipples as you feel the first tingles of pure horny heat settle behind them, really lights them up like two jumper cables to the 9-volt of your cock.

The muscles in your chest surge forward. Pure muscle and fat being created out of whatever excess cum you've got in your balls, because your body, at this point, just needs to get rid of it. The pleasure blows out whatever brain cells haven't been destroyed yet, as you go from tugging and flicking your nipples, to massaging the still growing mounds on your chest that stretch your shoulders wider. Flat Twink chest no more! Your pecs are growing so voluptuous, the muscles inflating and stretching the skin so nicely, rubbing against your flat biceps as your nipples are like pegs on the end of them. Wide, stretched and sensitive areolas. The crease under your tits over your now expanding stomach feels so horribly sensitive, so fucking good you start cumming. That load your body has been holding back, churning in your balls, shoots all over my hand and counter. Damn you're getting it all in my chest hair. You're moaning like a horny bull, voice cracking and lowering as you bounce your pecs through one final surge of growth, one final splattering load as they finish growing.

As your abs stack themselves into your stomach, waist popping wider to make them fill out, you stretch taller. Your shorts pull tight against your thighs and ass as you stretch into the 6 feet territory, your six-pack piling into your stomach and making you writhe and arch forward into my hand, cock still hard and ready to blow again. Your balls are still so full, so stretched and heavy. Your abs finish growing and then they soften a little, some fat pouring into them and puffing out your stomach a little. Still a solid wall of muscle, but so soft, squeezable like your pecs. That torso of yours is like a big stress ball, and by the way you're playing with your pecs with your now expanding hands, making your cock jump and pulse even harder in my hand, everything must be feeling so good. Bolts of pleasure going through your empty head as you lift your arms, throwing them behind your head.

Your pits sprout thick, tangled, dark hair. Wet and musky, the smell of you makes me hard. You moan through filling lips as you thrust your ass back, as if you're trying to catch a dick between them. When you do that, a huge wave of fat and muscle hits both of your ass cheeks, the bloating globes filling like water balloons and clapping, your sensitive hole quivering at the sensation. Your moans turn to horny whimpers as you continue sniffing your pit, your ass ripping through your soaked briefs, pressing tight against your shorts and fighting for space. I work my fingers under your huge balls while still jerking you off, and I feel your thighs expand, splitting the seams along your shorts as they grow big and strong enough to take the load off your lower back as your ass continues growing. It splits through the back of your strained shorts with ease, a delicious sliver of your cavernous ass crack visible through the tear. You slam your meaty paws on the counter as you fully assume a bottom position, ass fully stuck out in the air and helping both cheeks spread through the massive tear in your pants. Your hips creak as they spread outwards and break open your shorts, the button flying behind the counter and landing somewhere behind me. The shake of your ass makes you go cross eyed as several shots of cum fire into my hand. Your shorts slide to the ground as you look at me, whimpering, taking your hands off the counter and spreading and playing with your fatty cheeks as a final surge of growth makes them fill your palms all the way.

Your hole is self-lubricating now. Isn't that neat? The slick substance feeling almost like your pre as your thighs continue growing, pushing your balls out more and making you spread your legs to let them hang. Both thighs being huge meaty slabs of muscle and fat, the surge of growth landing in your calves and making them diamond cutters, hard and defined like you've played baseball all your life. You're almost fully on the counter now, thrusting your cock in and out of my fists. Fat fills some of the space in your thighs and the strength of them is undeniable.

I let go of your cock and you yelp in disappointment as you were so close to cumming again. But I can see the way you're sticking multiple fingers in your ass, desperate to get at that itch, that emptiness that's taking hold back there. I walk from behind the counter as your feet begin growing in your sneakers, stretching the laces with your toes colliding with the front of them, the huge stompers wasting no time tearing through your socks. Those size 8s bloat into size 10s in no time, the thick soles ripping through your shoes as I position myself behind your huge ass. It's so wide, the cheeks so voluptuous. I knead them like dough as slutty moans leave your mouth, as you arch your back into my hands, thrusting your ass as overwhelming pleasure completely overrides your body. Tease your hole with the giant head of my cock as a dark beard takes over your face, the ginger hair on your head darkening as well as your back muscles grow and expand, sliding underneath the skin and making a few drops of cum leave your cock.

Your feet burst out of what's left of your shoes and stretch wider into musky, hairy size 13s. Thick toes and muscular soles, dense with veins and strong muscle. Your entire body trembles as I ease the head of my cock inside, the moan that leaves your mouth is like a tornado siren of sex. Inch by inch, I enter you and stretch your hole, wrapping my arm around your body and grabbing onto those huge muscle tits. Grab that thick throat and pull you up so I can kiss you on those fat lips. The entirety of my cock bottoms out inside of you and you literally see stars.

I fuck you as your biceps expand. Your big hands grip onto the counter as a surge of power flows through your bulging biceps, thickening and widening your forearms and wrists, spreading your fingers and hands bigger and longer on the counter. Huge boulders of biceps, the muscles rolling underneath your skin as you spread an ass cheek with your hand. You feel incredible. Your hole flexing and tightening as I fuck you, hitting your prostate and making you leak everywhere. On the floor, spilling all over the counter.

Flex for me, baby.

Feel those biceps. Feel them grow and push against the skin, stretching and making space in your arms. Feel me squeeze and shake and play with your thick pecs, run my hand along those abs and dive into that thick bush of pubes, my fingers on the base of that fat cock. Your face goes numb as it collapses, the bones and skin and fat rearranging to give you a handsome, dumb, horny face. Big nose, better to smell musk and horniness off of passing men. Dumb, sweet, horny eyes. Thick head of dark hair. God you're beautiful.

Even better your ass milks my cock into oblivion. Fuck.

I grab onto you as my cum pours into your ass. A huge orgasm just rips through you as your old life, the old you, comes out in thick, dense cum. It splatters on the floor behind the counter, and I lock you into a kiss as my cum fills you out more. More muscle and fat in your pecs, surging them larger in my hand. Bigger ass squeezing my cock and pushing against my thighs. Speaking of thighs, damn those things could save lives, so thick and juicy. Easy to grab onto when you're fucking someone. You've got a strong, powerful body built for sex. Everything about you designed to give you and your sexual partner maximum pleasure. Most of your brain power is gonna be dedicated to sucking and fucking, with whatever else being used for basic survival skills.

Here, let me pull out so you can take a look at yourself.

You dumbly chuckle as you stumble, your heavy pecs and fat ass throwing off your balance. But I'm not going anywhere, I'm not gonna let you fall. My hand is on your lower back, so close to those bubbly cheeks, your cock sinking into a semi but still hard and drippy. You're not as horny but you could definitely go another round.

Or two.

Or three.

See, look at you! Let's get you in some briefs that fit. That's gonna be the real focal point of your powerful musk and pheromones. As well as those pits and that leaky ass. One whiff from either of them when you're horny will have any guy within six feet of you trying to get a whiff, to suck you off or for you to suck them off, to blow your back out and vice versa.

You're hard just looking at yourself.

Horny again?

That's alright, we don't open for another hour or so officially.

So you can make yourself comfortable in the booth right there. Or on the table. Or on the counter.

Ah fuck it, we've got time and plenty of stamina. Why don't we try all three?

1:1

"You're my 1:30?"

Leo nearly jumps out of skin and looks up at the CEO in front of him.

"Y-Yes."

Leo fumbles as he stands up, awkwardly shoving his sweaty palm for the man to shake. The man, Costas Mandelieu, is not only hot as fuck, but also the CEO of some hugely popular coffee company that has a bunch of locations around the country. Leo remembered there being a location on campus before he graduated, and then noticing a rather large influx of hot gay men walking around campus. The place became this kind of second gay bar.

And he never stepped foot inside.

He was confident he would've been laughed right out the door. Everyone there was thickly built meatheads or otherwise muscular jocks. And Leo? Leo was a chubby little nerd who kept his head down so no one would notice him. Granted, the guys walking in and out of the coffee shop looked big and intimidating but they were genuinely some of the nicest (and dumbest) people Leo had ever spoken to.

But still, one too many cruel rejections later has taught Leo not to judge books by their covers.

"Pleasure to meet you."

Costas' voice is rich, deep, coming right out of his thick chest. Leo tries to ignore the flush of horny bashfulness that overtakes him. This is professional. The job interview that could set him up for life.

Costas' smile, warm and inviting, sends a flurry of butterflies in Leo's stomach as he follows Costas to his office. Inside, it's all warm wood and the smell of a rich, cedarwood air freshener hits his nose. It's the most beautiful space Leo has ever been in, and he gawks at everything openly as Costas shuts the door behind him.

Imposter syndrome sets in like a knife. Surely there's other candidates out here? Why him? And....is his hand on Leo's lower back? This close Leo can smell him - his expensive cologne, the heady smell of masculine sweat underneath - as Costas gently guides the befuddled man some leather chairs by his desk. He motions for Leo to sit and he does, confused and feeling a not entirely unwelcome horniness settle in his body. Costas makes a glass of tea. Leo closes his legs as he watches Costas sit and rearrange himself, his massive bulge obvious through his slacks.

"Now this position is a very intimate lifetime position with me, so I don't want you to get caught off guard if I ask some personal questions."

Leo nods and looks around. The job description was so coy with details he wouldn't be surprised (or upset) if Costas was asking him to be a personal sex toy.

"Ready?"

Costas smiles again and Leo's insides melt.

Focus.

"Yes."

Costas clears his throat. He takes a sip from his tea and sets it down again. The tea smells....weird. A funky odor normally associated with the gym seems to waft from the cup. It's not gross....but it does increase the haze of horniness that's really taking root in Leo's head.

Focus.

"So how old are you Leo?"

"23."

"23?" Costas whistles as if this is some impressive age. "I remember when I was your age I had a hair trigger at the best of times."

It all happens so fast.

One second he's listening to Costas, then the next he's gasping for air, clutching onto the chair's armrest and trying to stifle his moans as his cock shoots to full attention and makes a very, very obvious imprint on his jeans. Even worse: his cock starts firing like a hose, a huge wet spot spreading across his crotch.

"Oh my god! Oh my god! I'm so sorry. I don't -."

He lifts his crotch in the air as he cums, as if he's angling for one of the ropes of cum he's firing to splatter on the floor. The entirety of his dick and balls is lit up with warmth like a Christmas tree of pleasure. Costas holds up his hands and makes placating, calming a startled horse gestures.

"It's alright. No really it's okay. You didn't masturbate today, did you?"

No. No he didn't.

That's why he's so pent up.

When he finally stops cumming, he settles down and tries to cover the huge wet spot on his jeans. God he can smell it from here. And it's so much. He's never produced that much cum before, right? He sits down and when he readjusts himself, his eyes widen when he notices that his balls feel much bigger than they should, their weight is obvious and pressing down on the chair.

"How often do you usually masturbate?"

"Onc - uh - four times a day usually. Wait that's not true."

"I understand. I've got a pair of knockers down there as well."

With that, Leo's balls swell further. His cock once again springing to attention as his nuts droop and sag under their weight. Half of his bulge now seems to be made of his churning, swelling balls. He feels like he's being edged, cock dancing just on the edge of a lightning rod orgasm before pulling back. He's grinding his flabby ass against the seat, trying to relieve the sudden sexual pressure. He's white-knuckling the chair and gritting his teeth as beads of sweat drip down his forehead. He brings his knees together tight.

"What the fuck is - huff huff - happening?"

"An interview."

"No, something's ... Oh...."

Leo's cock begins raining pre. He can feel it travel up his cock and ooze out of the swollen mushroom head at the top. It doesn't help either that Costas is touching his own cock, the massive fuckstick spreading against his thigh.

"It's 10 inches." Costas smiles as Leo rocks back and forth in the chair. "And, sheesh, yours is, what, eight?"

Leo throws his head back, mouth falling open, as a chorus of sexual moans and sounds fall out of his mouth. His locked legs fly open into a huge V. He feels like he's actually being fucked, or an expert is giving him the best handjob of his life. His cock pulses and pounds with blood as it stretches forward, cum leaking to no end out of his cockhead, those 6 inches growing with each pulse of blood that forces his prized organ larger and larger. It swells against his thigh, thickening with proportional girth as well, slipping out of his underwear as the sensitive head flops against his hairy thigh. Leo whimpers as his cock pushes forward. It's taking all of his willpower not to touch it, stroke it like Costas is stroking his cock through his pants. He finally manages to look down at his now big cock, straining the fabric of his jeans, feeling so stifled with those massive balls, the zipper of his jeans pulling down to try and accommodate his newly massive genitals. His cock oozes more pre, as if his balls are taking advantage of the extra space to pump and produce more sexual fluids out of his cock. His brain feels like it's landed squarely in his balls. Whatever thoughts of escaping whatever Costas is doing to him are immediately interrupted by a new burning need to cum, by the dense thundercloud of hormones tearing through his body.

Costas has taken off his jacket and he's just in his expensive button down. He reaches into his shirt and gropes one of his huge pecs. Leo is so hard, so sweaty, so turned on by this. Mouth hanging open as he tries to focus on anything. But his brain is going haywire.

"Hung bottoms are my weakness."

Leo pitches forward, moaning like he's being fucked as his asshole twitches and throbs. He hangs onto the armrests to prevent from falling as his cock throbs harder, his bigger dick making him moan even more lewdly. It's pure pornography coming out of his mouth as his voice shoots up an octave, cracking a little as his gut gurgles and shifts. Everyone in this fucking office building can probably hear him.

But he.....doesn't care?

He feels the fat in his stomach sliding down into his tightening ass, the underused muscles strengthening and flexing against the onslaught of fatty mass that lands solidly in his ass, pushing it outwards and making it firm but still bouncy, and jiggly. He grits his teeth, hissing with pleasure as his ass rips through his underwear, and screams in pleasure as the sensitive, jiggling globes press against his jeans, putting immense pressure on them as the seams start breaking apart to let his massive ass take up the space it needs. He loses several inches in height, the lost mass resettling in his still inflating ass, the sensation mind-numbingly good.

The bones in his hands pop and rearrange, the palms inflating a little but not a lot, his fingers sucking away excess fat and moving it to his ass. His newly sensitive hole feels like it's burning. Burning with emptiness. He gyrates his massive ass - god they're like beach balls!! - against the leather, desperate for some relief in his increasingly horny, frazzled mind. It's the ass of his dreams. Except it's now hanging off his lower back at a severe angle, and he can feel the weight of it over his trembling thighs, as heat pours into them.

His thighs become fleshy pillars to support his fat ass. He squeezes his eyes shut as he feels the muscles grow and tone, solidifying as whatever excess fat his body can suck away in his flattening stomach falls into them, growing them big enough to split the seams of his jeans. He squeezes his thighs, like he's trying to prevent them from growing bigger, splitting apart his jeans as the muscles flex and continue growing. His calves harden and become solid diamonds pressing against his jeans. He rubs the smooth - wait, smooth!? - flesh of his thighs and shakes his legs, the rolling muscles making his eyes cross with pleasure as they close around the space of his overheated balls.

"M - Mr. Mandelieu."

Costas' Mr. Mandelieu's cock is in his hand, all 10 slick glorious inches.

Leo's feet shrink and collapse. The size 12s rearranging onto soft size 9s, his shoes slipping off and collapsing on the floor. His socks hanging off his diminished feet. He flexes his still shrinking toes and bucks, literally thrusts into the air like a bull, as his cock starts spurting cum again, this time breaking the zipper of his jeans and flopping out, firing all over the expensive carpet and his shirt, the cum raining down on his denser, muskier pubes. With each volley of cum, he feels more of himself slipping away. His head feels emptier, his thoughts taking longer to manifest and come together. He feels a little afraid as Mr. Mandelieu says, "You don't ever skip chest day, do you?"

Leo's nipples press so hard against his shirt his hands fly off the chair and grab them, twist and pull as the fat in his chest recedes into his ass and thighs, growing them bigger and causing more fabric to buckle and break under the pressure. A great slither of his crack sits against the leather making him moan and groan, pull his nipples harder as muscle swells behind them.

"Ahhh AH!"

His back arches as small, hard pecs begin mounting on his chest, right above his flat stomach. The muscles are tightening and expanding around his skin. He yanks and pulls on his nipples like he's trying to force milk out of his growing chest. But really he's just pulling his pecs forward, coaxing pure muscle into his hands as the pink buds in his hands bloat into sensitive salamis. His chest broadens and forces his shoulders wider to make room for his burgeoning chest, muscles flexing without his control as they surge forward, big tight slabs of jock muscle that split the buttons of his shirt with their size. It takes him more than a moment to realize the little strands of his chest hair he once grew are no longer there. When he looks into his waistband, he sees that the only hair on his body is the dense bush of pubes crowning his cock. And the smell....it's so...strong. His musk and man stink has never really been that intense. Now it smells like he's just been sweating all day in a jockstrap. The flesh behind his nipples surge one final time with muscle and his pecs firmly mount themselves on his upper torso, making him unleash a low, whiny groan.

Mr. Mandelieu's pants are down now. Cock and huge balls fully in view. The gamey wallop of his scent hits Leo in the nose and makes him moan louder, as he cums again. But this time, the orgasm doesn't even scratch the surface of his horny mind. It feels good, yes, but god there's a better orgasm hiding underneath that.

"Mr. - pant pant - Mandelieu."

"Yes?"

He's tweaking one of his own nipples now, heaving his hairy pecs out of his shirt. Leo tries his best to resettle, sitting on his cushion-like ass and spasming the unfamiliar pleasure racing through him.

"Please...."

"Do you want to stop?"

Do I?

"I just want to cum."

"Then cum."

That better orgasm lances through him like a sword. He arches his back into the bridge position and just lets cum rain all over his smooth, tight chest, his smaller torso. This time, he begins to feel...scratchy in his clothes. Like they're really not fitting him right. He takes off his torn jeans and his broken shirt. Stripping out of them as his orgasm begins to subside, his still dripping cock sending droplets of cum all over the carpet. He's vaguely aware of the seductive way he's stripping out of his clothes, like a stripper almost. Thrusting out his chest, cock, and ass. Throwing his clothes away and just lying there in his ruined briefs, which finally tear off as his hips creak wider and stronger, allowing a final flood of fatty muscle to land in his ass and send another cum rocket out of his cock.

"You're turning out nicely."

"Thank you Mr. - Sir."

Sir?

He places his hands on his stomach, writhing in the chair, completely naked, the leather sending sparks of jittery pleasure up his body because of how sensitive his sweaty skin is. The flatness is weird. Hot, but weird. He runs his smaller hands over it, afraid to go higher and accidentally touch one of his thumbtack hard, and sized, nipples.

"Sir, what's - what's happening to me?"

"Well I'll tell you. But first I have to compliment that core of yours."

The wind is knocked out of him in a breathy moan, as his stomach tightens. The tightening is accompanied by a rush of blood to his kind of softening cock, as cum gutters - genuine cum gutters - carve into his waist. He throws his head back against the headrest in pure bliss as abs forge their way through his taut and sensitive skin. He barely understands what Mr. Sir is saying. But from what he can gather from his increasingly addled mind is that that previous horny wish of being a personal sex toy might actually be happening.

Leo groans and shifts in his seat as his abs and core continue strengthening, his core strong enough along with his thighs, hips, and ass, to ride and milk a dick to within an inch of its life. His cock is just oozing, each pulse forcing out more cum like he's squeezing a dish rag full of cum.

"My usual, they're busy running the gym and all the other Coffee shops. I'm just looking for someone more consistent."

Leo's abs settle into place. They're beautiful. All lined up in a neat row. He runs his fingers up and down the tight, cobblestone skin.

"You smell so good sir."

"Thank you."

His laugh makes Leo whimper and moan.

"Why don't you come over here and give me a kiss with those big fat lips of yours."

And he does. He gets up and nearly falls backwards due to the weight hanging on his lower body. Sir meets him halfway and pulls him in, hand tantalizingly close to his round, voluptuous ass.

Leo's lips plump up and expand. Kissable, perky, lips to wrap around a cock and never let go. The kiss with Sir makes Leo nearly cum right then and there, made even more unbearable by Sir's big, massive hands rubbing and caressing, and spanking those bountiful cheeks. He has to stand on his tiptoes to meet Sir's beautiful lips.

Then he breaks it. Leo just whimpers.

"Flex for me."

His soft, flabby biceps expand and grow. It's an orgasm via his biceps, the fat redistributing throughout his body. Lower and into his pecs, filling them out more. Even lower and into his ass that pushes against Sir's hand as his pit hair grows bushier and stronger. He collapsed into Sir's body as his arms continue to grow lithe and muscular, strong but not overly large biceps. He kisses Sir's neck, grinding against his thigh, their fat cocks brushing against each other as Sir's grumbling moans resonate and bounce around in Leo's emptying skull. The world around him seems to warp and shimmer.

"Why don't you take a look at yourself?"

Suddenly, they're not in the office but a pool. Sir is in a Speedo with his fat cock visible right through it, the bulge making Leo's hole twinge.

A big sprawling house looms in the distance. Leo looks around, his dumbing mind confused but not at all frightened. When he sees himself in the reflection of the pool house's glass, he's floored.

Sir's Daddy's hand stays firmly on Leo's ass. Everything feels blindingly good. Except the emptiness that's been in his ass the entire time his body has been morphed and bent to Sir's will.

He's guided to one of the many couches and sits Leo on his lap, the sensation of Daddy's swollen cock between his massive ass, teasing that sensitive hole rocks Leo to his core.

"Do you want to be my himbo?"

Leo feverishly nods. To keep feeling everything this good. He doesn't feel worried, or afraid, or concerned. His old life drips and drops out of his cock. He knows that as soon as Daddy's cock enters him, that old life will be like a long dream.

A lifetime position.

Daddy lifts him up and is about to position him above his massive cock.

"Wait!"

He pauses.

"We can still stop if you don't want this."

Leo sheepishly looks around the gorgeous property. All his. His to use. His to fuck in. Do whatever.

"Can you make me a little beefier?"

Daddy nods.

Then he plunges all of his cock into Leo's ass. His brain ignites with pleasure, a huge campfire of sex just lit up. The Big One - the No Going Back orgasm - rocks his frame and he paints Daddy's big, broad chest with his cum as he bounces on Daddy's cock like a pogo stick. Working Daddy's cock deeper inside of him, stretching his hole and pounding his prostate, literally making him howl with sexual gratification. He sifts through his dulling mind and realizes that, okay, he can do basic math. He can still take care of himself. But whenever he tries reaching into that well of higher thought and concern, he simply draws a blank. Daddy wraps his arms around Leo as he cums, thick ropey cum landing deep in Leo's body.

This cum is then distributed around Leo's tight body as he groans and shakes, cum firing out of his cock again. His pecs become fuller, softer, fat filling in the space around his muscles, stretching and dragging his nipples and chest across Daddy's body, intensifying his orgasm. His ass and thighs grow jigglier but no less strong, squeezing Daddy's cock and making him groan. His abs bloat slightly and push against Daddy's stomach. He hugs Daddy tightly as he's overwhelmed with love and deep affection for him.

The horny fog finally lifts.

When Costas pulls out with a slick pop! , Leo sees his finalized form as he slumps into the empty space on the couch, exhausted and content.

"How do you feel big guy?"

Leo rests his head on Costas' chest, wraps his thicker, beefier arms around his body and begins drifting off to sleep with a faint smile on his face. Costas laughs and kisses Leo on the top of his head, pulling him in tight.

Truthfully, Leo's the happiest he's ever been.

I’ve always thought dumb straight stinky Asian gym bro fuckboys are the hottest dudes and wish I could fit in, anything you could do to help? 👀

You sit slouched at your computer, idly scrolling through Tumblr, the glow of the screen casting a pallid light on your bored expression. The repetitive motion of your mouse wheel is almost hypnotic, your mind drifting as your eyes glaze over the endless stream of posts. The scent that begins to intrude upon your awareness is faint at first—a subtle, unpleasant note that soon grows more pronounced.

The odor wafts towards you, a pungent blend of musty socks, damp gym towels, and the heavy, almost tangy aroma of sweat-soaked clothes. It lingers in the air, persistent and invasive, with an unsettling familiarity that makes your nose twitch in disgust.

You shift uncomfortably in your chair, your own body heat mingling with the stench as you start to notice a growing discomfort. The smell from your underarms begins to intensify, an unmistakable sign of exertion gone stale. It’s as if a thousand workouts have left their mark, coalescing into a single, rank essence. The odor is sharp and acrid, a mix of sour perspiration and the earthy musk of skin that has been too long encased in sweat-soaked fabric.

Suddenly, a sharp pang courses through your body, a tingling sensation that starts from your core and spreads outward. It’s as if each muscle is awakening, pulsing with renewed energy and life. Sweat starts to bead on your skin, trickling down in a steady stream, each droplet glistening momentarily before merging with its predecessors.

You watch as your muscles begin to swell, the contours of your physique becoming more defined with each passing second. Your once-pale skin takes on a warm, golden hue, as if absorbing the very essence of the sun’s rays. Your biceps bulge, their definition stark and pronounced, while your triceps form pronounced ridges that ripple with every twitch. Your chest rises and expands, each pectoral muscle growing in prominence, casting shadows with their newfound depth.

Your abs, once barely discernible, now form a chiseled six-pack, each muscle etched with a precision that makes them look like a masterpiece of human anatomy. Your legs swell with new strength; quads become tree trunks, hamstrings curve with a pronounced bulge, and your calves jut out with an exaggerated, almost otherworldly definition.

Your body seems to pulse and twitch with a life of its own, growing more muscular and defined in an almost grotesque exaggeration. Your face, while still familiar, now carries an intense look of concentration, as if you are perpetually poised for the next physical challenge. Your jawline sharpens, your cheekbones become more pronounced, and your eyes, though hidden behind stylish shades, carry a vacant yet confident glare.

The sensation of sweat dripping and muscles expanding is both exhilarating and oddly uncomfortable. The smell of gym sweat and your own body odor becomes an intrinsic part of this transformation, blending with the overpowering scent of heavy cologne that seems to cling to you like a second skin. The room now feels charged with the energy of your evolving physique, a testament to an exaggerated ideal of strength and definition. You let out a loud, obnoxious laugh, feeling the sound reverberate throughout your room. The laughter echoes off the walls, making the room seem smaller and more confined. Posters of hot babes take the place of your lame as fuck posters for shit like Spider-Man. Your room, once tidy and organized, now lies in disarray. Old beer cans and clothes with used cum stains workout shirts litter the floor, a testament to your own laziness and lack of self-control.

You let out a thunderous fart, PFFFFTTTP the sound reverberating with a grossly satisfying resonance as your nostrils flare to soak up the smell. The air is heavy with the pungent smell, mixing with the already stale odor of old beer and lingering sweat. As the fart dissipates, it seems to contribute to the general sense of disorder, making the room feel even more grimy and neglected. You’re aware of the gross transformation, but it feels oddly fitting—like a physical manifestation of your current state of mind.

With a sudden shift, you feel a peculiar dumbness settling over you, a sense of reduced awareness and simple pleasures taking over. Your thoughts become more basic and straightforward, focused on the physical and superficial. You find yourself staring at the posters with a renewed, almost animalistic interest. You stare at one of the posters seeing the image of a dumb blonde chick, some movie star you can't quite remember. Her face is a perfect oval, her hair a golden blonde that cascades down her back like a river of sun-kissed silk. Her boobs practically jump out at you. Her eyes are a bright blue, sparkling with a dumb, vacant intelligence that only serves to make her more attractive. You feel your dick harden as you gaze upon her, your mind clouded by the fogginess of a drunken stupor.

Memories flash through your mind of your days as a “dumbass Asian bro”—the frat parties, the catcalling, and the mindless games played with your bros. You remember the thrill of hollering at women, the camaraderie of playing ridiculous games, and the sense of belonging it brought. Those moments, once sources of pride and amusement, now seem oddly fitting within the context of your present state. They represent a simpler, more carefree time, one that aligns with the unthinking pleasure you’re now experiencing.

You pull out your phone and glance at the screen, a text from your Asian bro lighting up your face. You quickly scroll through the messages, a smile spreading across your face as you read about all the hot chicks who are totally wasted at the bar down the street. Your dick begins to harden, your thoughts racing with visions of all the pussy you'll get tonight.

You hope there will be a dumb blonde chick for you to fuck. You want her to be wasted and stumbling, her body hot and sweaty from dancing. You want her to be weak and submissive, her body trembling beneath yours as you take her. You imagine her face, her bright blue eyes and her golden blonde hair. Your dick is hard now, throbbing with desire.

You let out a dumb laugh, feeling the sound rumble through your chest. You glance in the mirror, your big biceps flexing as you let out the another fart. Your muscles are rippling, your chest broad and powerful. You look like a beast, a wild animal ready to take on all the pussy you'll find tonight.

You imagine the dumb blonde chick, her body pressed against yours as you fuck her. You imagine her face, her eyes closed and her lips parted in pleasure. You imagine the way her body will move, her hips swaying and her hands grasping at your skin. Your dick is hard now, throbbing with desire. You can't wait to get down to the bar and start taking on all the hot chicks.

Dedicated Roleplay

By: chaoticdjinn

Enzo's head gave a little throb, prompting him to wince visibly for the umpteenth time that night. He didn't understand why he was suddenly feeling so out of sorts. He had been fine an hour ago when he was prepping for DnD. "Sorry guys, guess I'm just sort of out of it tonight. What was your last move?" "I said I wanted to see if I could persuade the guard into letting me talk to the Half-Elf they just brought in." Replied Sam, looking at Enzo with an odd smile. “Right, right. Sure give me a roll.” “Eighteen” Replied Sam, giving a little whoop of excitement at his high roll. Enzo rolled his die behind the screen and froze. Looking between the 12 he rolled on the die and the sheet that housed the NPC’s stats he couldn’t make sense of what the total was supposed to be. What was worse, he couldn’t even remember what he was supposed to use to check against a persuasion check. “Uh, he believes you, I guess.” Mumbled Enzo, his head feeling heavier with each passing second. “What do you mean you guess? You’re the DM, does he or doesn’t he?” Asked Sam, the smile on his face growing curiously wider. “I mean, yeah he does.” Affirmed Enzo, rubbing his temple lightly. As the scene continued on Enzo found himself faltering at every interaction. He suddenly couldn’t remember any of the work that he prepped just an hour or so ago, nor did he have a clear memory of what the overarching plot of the campaign was. With a grunt and a groan, Enzo pushed himself away from the table and stood up, feeling a sudden anxious energy surge through his body. “Holy crap guys I think it worked.” Said Sam, looking between Enzo and the rest of the group. “Well yeah, I’m not the group’s Wizard for nothing.” Replied Adam, tapping his handmade spellbook. Enzo’s eyes widened as the anxious feeling inside of him exploded into a surge of energy that coursed through his entire body. He felt the seams of his tight jeans and small, snug shirt rip and tear while his body expanded outward.  A flat chest became a thick and powerful shelf of muscle. His nonexistent biceps swelled to the size of softballs, then bowling balls, his veins pressing up tightly against his skin. His ripped clothing swirled and undulated, taking on a new shape entirely. An ultra low cut muscle shirt, loose gym shorts, a backwards cap and running shoes. His head clouded and he watched fact after fact pour away from his understanding and into the void of nothingness. Where he once understood all the rules to DnD he now understood how to build a proper weightlifting routine. Where there used to be a clear picture of all of the seasons of Dr Who now was a clear as day picture of every single episode of Jersey Shore. His mind shifted, struggling to find a way to rationalize why he was actually hanging out with the skinny nerds around him. They had helped him with some of his classes back in his first year of college and they had turned out to be kind of cool guys. They helped him with his studies, he helped them at the gym. He got them to watch football with him every couple of Sundays and he played as the barb in their DnD party. He didn’t understand most of the rules, but it was fun to imagine a world where he could get through most of his problems by punching things.

“So come on man, declare your action.” Said Sam, bringing Enzo’s mind back to the present. “Uh, I punch the guy then. Isn’t that what I said? It’s kind of hard to think right now.” Replied Enzo, sitting back down and rubbing the front of his gym shorts. “What did you come over without getting off again?” Asked Sam. “You know you can’t have a boner and play DnD at the same time. We go through this like, every week.” “Well, maybe I just like having you take care of it for me.” Replied Enzo with a dumb grin. “Ok guys, five-minute break while I take care of Enzo here. Stretch, get drinks whatever.” Enzo watched the rest of his friends get up from around the table and head towards the kitchen, leaving him and Sam with a sense of relative privacy. It didn’t really bother Enzo one way or the other, with all of them watching straight up or pretending not to look from the kitchen. He had a hot body and he knew it, so showing it off was no problem.  He stood back up and hooked his thumbs around his shorts, dropping them around his knees and revealing his rock hard muscle butt. “Dude, you didn’t even wear any underwear.” Said Sam with a shake of his head as he fished his 6-inch cock out of his underwear. “It just gets in the way.” Began Enzo, spreading his cheeks. “And it’s kinda like role-playing, like Adam and his book. I don’t think a barb would wear underwear.” “Yeah, you’re probably right about that man, they’re usually pretty simple like that. Big, dumb, not much on their minds.” Replied Sam, pushing his dick between his friend’s cheeks. “Heh, yeah, that’s why I play ‘em. Way easier to play when you just make your character after yourself.” Grunted Enzo, taking the dick like a champ. While Enzo felt his body rocked back and forth by his friend’s thrusts he couldn’t help but feel as though he had forgotten something important. The idea bubbled up to the front of his mind before popping and vanishing into the ether before he could grasp it.  Shrugging he dismissed the feeling. It probably wasn’t important, and if it was he was sure one of his friends would remind him. They always took such good care of him when they gamed.

Fuck. Thank god you’re here. I can’t stop. Been jacking off since I woke up. 8 fucking hours ago. And now… now I sound like this… all dumb, saying ‘bro’ all the sudden… and… I look like this… muscles dude… I get bigger more and more each time I fuckin cum.

How’d it start? Like no idea. Woke up horny as hell. Came so fast I thought it was over, but that was nothin. I just got horny again and again… and it like gets harder… mmm… harder to resist each time. Plus, like, I’m bigger everywhere dude. Each time I cum. Bigger. Thicker… mmmm… cock.

Oh shit I can’t resist dude. Like feels too damn good. Like can barely think straight. Just wanna get my hands on my shaft… feel it grow… huhu… and get this body bigger… thicker… mmm fuck yeah… turnin into such a dumb stud….

So ya gonna help me or what? No use tryin to stop anymore… now that you’re here.

Welcome to the Crew

“Sir, sir!” Sebastian jumped as a man threw an arm over his shoulders, “Say hi to our viewers!” The man held out his phone, capturing Sebastian’s shocked face, “Tell us your name, sir! And what brings you out here on this fine afternoon?”

“Uh, I uh...” Sebastian replied, “Hey sorry, I don’t...”

“Just your name and what brings you out here.” The man encouraged.

“Uh Sebastian.” He said, “And, I was on a jog before my next class...”

“Give it up for Sebastian!” The man cheered, the grin never leaving his face, “I’m here with Gridiron Brew! And we have some questions for youuuu!” He continued.

Sebastian internally groaned. Of course. Some stupid influencer being asked to do live interviews for views on social media. In fact, his feed was constantly filled with new ads for Gridiron Brew. If it wasn’t so annoying, Sebastian would be impressed by their intense marketing campaign.

“I don’t think I have time.” Sebastian said politely, “I’m already kinda behind and I need to...”

“Nonsense!” The man chuckled, “Our viewers are dying to know.” His tone became serious,  “Sebastian, are you part of the Gridiron brew crew?”

“Uh, not really.” Sebastian replied awkwardly, “Not really into drinking. Gotta stay fit.”

“And fit you certainly are! Give it up for Sebastian’s abs!” He cheered, running a hand across the young man’s tight abdominals. Sebastian shuddered at the touch, “But on hot days like today, why don’t you quench your thirst with a cold one.” It was like a beer can materialized out of thin air, and the man forced it into Sebastian’s hand, “A first reaction! A live reaction! We certainly hit the jackpot!” The man continued.

Sebastian looked down at the can in his hand. It was brown- the color of a football. Some guy in old football gear was on the front. But instead of holding a football, there was a can of Gridiron brew in his hands. Sebastian looked up at the man, a little unnerved by the grin on his face, and then back down at the can.

“Go on Sebastian! Chug, chug, chug!” The man laughed, “Come on! Give him some support from back home!” He called out to his audience.

Sebastian looked down at the can and against his better judgement, cracked it open. The smell wasn’t anything special. Just like all the other cheap beers he’d come across. Easier to get this over with. And under the watchful and encouraging eye of this man, he took a sip.

“And there we have it!” The man cheered, “So Sebastian, we’re dying to know. What do you think?”

“Well it’s uh...” Really not that impressive was what he wanted to say. But instead he felt his stomach rumble, “It’s uh.... BURRRPPPPPPPPPP.” Sebastian covered his mouth.

“And there we have it folks!” The man laughed.

But Sebastian wasn’t laughing. No... His stomach felt like it was on fire. His abdomen cramping violently. The young man gripped his abs and winced at how tender they felt. Sweat was starting to coat his body and he felt woozy.

“Wh-what’s going on?” Sebastian groaned. But the man was ignoring him now. Instead spitting out some random facts and history about the brew.

But Sebastian was in agony. He was sweating profusely, falling to his knees as his abdomen lurched. He let out another belch, and yelped. Something wasn’t right. The usual firm tightness of his abdominal muscles was softening. The young man cried out as he watched his abs disappear under a thin layer of fat. Followed by another. And another. His hands gripped his new abdominal fat- a beer gut that would put any frat boy to shame. Tears welled up in his eyes as he realized he could grab two large handfuls of his new unwanted gut. But it wasn’t just his abdomen. His lean pecs jutted out with both fat and muscle, sagging slightly as they sat above his new beer gut.

“Gridiron brew is for that ex-jock in you!” The man celebrated, seemingly unbothered by the struggle of the young man behind him.

Sebastian yelped again as his arms and legs followed the way of his abs and pecs. Clearly muscular, but lacking definition due to the rapidly accumulating adipose tissue. In the midst of his agony, Sebastian looked up desperately at the man, hoping for some relief.

“Pl-pleeeeasseeee broooooo.” He begged, his voice cracking and becoming deeper.

He yelped as he felt a warmth fill his balls and spread throughout the rest of his body. This surge of testosterone stimulated hair follicles- both old and new- to help carpet the young man in a blanket of musky body hair. Sebastian watched in horror as his pubes poked out from his running shorts, before a dense treasure trail rapidly climbed his pudgy beer gut. As it did, hairs along his stomach grew out. And when it reached his chest- the hairs exploded across it. He ran a hand across his hairy chest, a mixture of disgust and longing for his clean-shaven form, as well as a strange unwanted pride for his newfound manliness.

“You may not be able to relive the glory days,” The man continued as he spoke to his audience, “But with Gridiron Brew, you wouldn’t even want to!”

Sebastian moaned as his face filled with some extra fat, before his chin and cheeks were covered up by a dark beard. When the dark follicles reached his wavy blond locks, they quickly transitioned to take on the same dark hue as his body hair and beard. And moreover, his hair shortened as he aged. Years of his life removed in just an instant until he was in his late 20s. Sebastian sat stunned as the pain and discomfort started to subside. He looked up at the man, who had finally turned and looked down at him.

“Seb here used to be a linebacker in college!” The man announced, “But now he gets his rush from the cool, refreshing taste of Gridiron Brew!”

But Sebastian was still in college, right? He never played football. Well, maybe he had a few lessons, right? Well not a few- his dad was really into it. They watched games growing up, throwing the ol’ pigskin in the backyard. Years went by practicing with his bros and making varsity. Fucking got into college on a scholarship. But that was forever ago, right? He was... he was... Seb smirked and hoisted himself up, grabbing another can of Gridiron Brew from the man. A smirk formed on his face and he slapped his beer gut, which jiggled for the world to see.

“Fuck yeah, bros!” Seb celebrated, chugging the can of beer, “This shit will get you where you need to be.” He grinned, “I’ll be at the stadium tomorrow celebrating, I expect to see my Gridiron brew crew there!” The man grinned and watched as Seb walked off, unaware of the life stolen from him. Doomed to live his life as a forever-frat bro, reliving his glory days on the sidelines, while drinking his new favorite brew.

“Well there we have it folks!” The man grinned, turning back to his phone, “Get yours in stores while supplies last! And welcome to the Gridiron brew crew!”