Stoner Tf - Tumblr Posts

"Ugh, bro, pleeeeease?"

Max looked at me with those dopey blue eyes of his, staring dully through me and appearing to lack any kind of intelligence or perception.

"I told you, I have a very important club interview," I replied. "This could determine if I can network into a good job after college!" stressing the importance of a job, something my stoner roommate never seemed to understand.

"Just one hit, man, come on! You gotta stop worrying about that stuff and just chill out!" he replied, stretching his muscular arms over his head of greasy (probably unwashed) brown hair and closing his eyes, as if musing about something important. "You gotta try this weed bro, I just, I-" he stuttered as he took another hit. "I don't fuckin' know man, I think you just need this."

Exasperated, I dropped my heavy bag on the floor and strode over to his side of the room, switching to mouth breathing to avoid inhaling too much foot funk from his "clean pile" of clothes, as Max called it. Even three air fresheners weren't enough to keep the pungent smells of weed and sweat at bay.

"What the hell, dude, when's the last time you even washed those?!"

"Oh, I dunno, a couple weeks ago, maybe?" Max replied, shrugging.

I could see some of the dried crust still clinging to the fabric. I couldn't help but be amazed at the sheer size of his stash. The pile was easily four feet across, and it was clear Max was still working to roll his way through the rest. I couldn't even imagine where he got it all.

"Look, just let me finish my meeting, then I'll smoke with you, okay?"

Max's eyes lit up.

"Yeah, for real?" he replied, excited. "You promise? Pinky swear?"

Max stuck his hand out, his pinky raised and his arm shaking slightly. He looked like an overgrown child. I was so tired, I didn't even hesitate. I wrapped my pinky around his, then turned to walk out of the room. As soon as I let go, I felt a sudden, powerful wave of euphoria wash over me. It was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. I couldn't even think straight, the sensation was so intense.

I collapsed against the doorway, unable to move. I could barely even think. The only thought that went through my mind was that I'd never felt this good in my life. Every inch of my skin tingled and buzzed, like a pleasant static that sent ripples of bliss through my muscles. I couldn't even control the way my body twitched and shivered.

"Duuuude," I heard Max say. "You feel that, man? I told you it's the good stuff."

I didn't know what was happening to me. My heart was racing and I couldn't breathe, and the feeling was getting more and more intense. "What..." I struggled to even sound out words. "I didn't even...take a hit..."

"Well, no, not technically," Max said, laughing. "But, uh, that's not what it was, actually. See, I sorta dosed your pinky."

I looked up at him, confused. My vision was blurry and I could barely see him, but he was grinning widely, and I could see the outline of his meaty, calloused hands rubbing the front of his jeans.

"See, it's like this, man. That wasn't weed. That was just, you know, a little something to get you to loosen up a bit. And, uh, well, there's this other thing, too. That shit I sprayed on your hand. It's not, uh, not exactly what you think."

The euphoria was fading, but it was still intense, and it was making my brain spin. "You sprayed my...hand?" I mumbled, barely able to understand what he was saying.

"Yeah, bro, I sorta had to, man. You kept getting me down with all your stress." He flexed his big biceps and gave one a kiss. "Now you're gonna be just like me!" He grinned wide, his perfect teeth glinting in the low light.

I couldn't respond. The sensations were still washing over me, but the euphoria was fading. As my brain began to work again, I suddenly realized that there was something wrong with me. There was a new, alien weight between my legs.

"Wha-what did you do?" I stammered, still dazed and confused. "What...what did you..."

I looked down, and froze. There was a huge, heavy bulge straining against the crotch of my jeans, stretching the thick material taut. It was huge. Like, absolutely massive. It was easily the size of my fist, maybe even bigger. It was so big and round, I could even see the outline of the individual balls.

"Duuuuude, bro, look at that fucking thing!" Max exclaimed, pointing and laughing. "It's totally fucking huge! Holy shit, man, it's the biggest cock I've ever seen in my life!"

I tried to speak, but I was still so confused, I couldn't get my mouth to form words.

"I didn't know they could get that big, man! Wow, bro, you're really packing a fucking cannon, you know that? Holy shit, it's so fucking hot." Max was practically drooling as he ogled the enormous bulge in my pants.

I could feel the heat radiating off of it, and I could tell it was pulsing and throbbing with each beat of my heart. The sensation was incredibly intense.

"It's...it's not possible..." I stammered, my voice cracking. "What...what did you spray?"

"Bro, I'm telling you, it's totally normal!" Max said, trying his best to sound reassuring. "My friend from home, he said, well, it's just that..." Max stammered again, his usually peaceful face betraying some shyness. "I've always thought you were cute, even without that package. You just needed to loosen up a little. And, I mean, I just wanted you to be, like, comfortable with me. It was just a little bit, man, and it was totally safe. Like, I swear, it's totally normal, dude." He grinned and shot me a wink. "Soon you're going to be just like me."

Max was still staring at the massive bulge, and I could see the outline of his huge dick stretching the crotch of his jeans.

"Dude, bro, I-" my hand shot to my mouth. I had never used those words in the same sentence before! "I...I didn't mean that!"

"Oh, yeah, dude," Max replied, not even noticing. "It's totally normal, bro. You're just a little high is all."

"High?!" I shouted, exasperated. "This isn't...I'm not...this isn't how people talk!"

Max just shrugged. "Bro, you've always been a nerd, and it's cool, man, I totally get it. But this is a big step forward. You're gonna love this. I swear."

I couldn't believe this was happening. I was still trying to process everything that was happening to me, when I heard Max's voice.

"Duuuuuude, check it out, bro," he said, gesturing to the bulge in his jeans. "We're, like, totally packing!"

"I can't..."

"Oh, shit, right. Dude, you gotta feel this."

Max quickly reached down and grabbed the bulge in my pants. As soon as he made contact, I felt a powerful surge of pleasure ripple through me. My body immediately responded to his touch, and I could feel my new cock throb and twitch. I groaned, unable to hold back the sounds.

"Dude, holy shit, bro, it's like, really sensitive or something," Max said, his eyes wide. "Like, really, really fucking sensitive, bro."

"No, it's...not..." I moaned, but I could tell it was a lie. It felt like Max's hand was squeezing my balls, and the pleasure was incredible.

"Fuck, bro, it's, like, really fucking sensitive, dude. Like, fucking, crazy fucking sensitive." Max was practically drooling, and his eyes were glazed over. He was clearly enjoying this a lot.

"Please, stop..."

"Fuck, bro, you're so fucking hard," Max groaned. He started to rub my bulge, and his other hand went to the front of his own jeans. "...and, you're so pretty too. I just don't want to lose you to all those meetings, bro. I want you to be with me."

"Wait, no, what are you doing?"

"I can't hold back anymore, dude, I gotta see your big dick," Max replied, unzipping my jeans and reaching in. He slowly pulled down, and my eyes widened as he revealed the huge, throbbing bulge in my underwear. It was so big, the fabric was stretched tight, and it was already soaked in pre-cum.

"Holy shit, dude, that thing is huge!" Max exclaimed, his voice cracking. He was staring at my huge bulge with a lustful expression, and his long tongue darted out to lick his lips. "It's, like, fucking, massive."

I looked down and was shocked by what I saw. It was easily twice as big as it had been just a few minutes ago. It was still growing, and it was stretching the fabric of my boxer-briefs to the limit. Max began to move closer, scrambling to take off his busted old t-shirt, meaty pecs and perfect washboard abs busting out as he did. He leaned forward, and his massive bicep brushed against my new rock-hard dick.

"Oh, shit, bro, fuck," Max moaned as he leaned in closer. At this point I could almost feel the waves of sweat and weed rolling off his huge body, and my cock was throbbing and leaking, straining against the tight fabric of my underwear.

"You're so hot, dude," Max said, reaching out to grab my huge bulge, wrapping his meaty hand around it. His hand was warm and rough, and his grip was strong, squeezing my bulge and causing a fresh burst of pleasure. "You're, like, fucking sexy as hell, man."

"What the hell, bro, no, that's not...that's not right!" I stammered, but Max's words sent a thrill through me. I could feel my cheeks burning, and I could feel the heat radiating from my skin. "That's not, I'm not a fag!"

"You sure about that, bro?" he asked, giving it a tug and sending a bolt of pleasure through my body. I felt the euphoria return. This time, it was a hundred times more intense.

"Fuuuuck," I groaned, leaning my head back. "Bro, it feels so fucking good."

"I know, right? And it's going to feel even better when you're a stoner like me, dude." Max replied, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Fuck, bro, I can't take it, I gotta get naked," Max moaned, frantically undoing his belt and shucking his pants. "I'm so fucking hard, bro, I can't wait to fuck you."

I looked down, and for the first time, got a good look at my new equipment. It was absolutely massive. It was huge and thick, easily the biggest cock I'd ever seen, and it was still growing. It was 10 inches long, and thicker than a beer can. My balls were huge, too, hanging heavy and swollen between my legs. I'd never felt anything like it.

The sensation continued to wash over me, slowly becoming heat as I began to sweat. It felt amazing. I couldn't control myself, I was already starting to moan and groan, and the euphoria was starting to mix with my arousal. My new cock was so sensitive, and the slightest touch made it throb and pulse.

"It's starting!" Max shouted, looking at my side of the room as my clean and organized things started to transform. My desk became cluttered with bongs and pipes, and posters of the periodic table were suddenly replaced by scantily clad men. My clothes started to change, too. My formerly neat shirts were suddenly full of holes and stained with various substances. My shoes were replaced with flip flops and Crocs.

"I can't take it, man, I'm too horny, I need to kiss you, right now," Max moaned, his voice shaking with desperation. "I've been waiting for this day, dude, and I can't hold back any longer."

Before I could protest, Max leaned in and kissed me, his big, thick tongue probing my mouth. The heat was overwhelming, and his kisses were passionate and hungry. His big, rough hands began to explore my body, rubbing and stroking and caressing every inch of me. He broke away from the kiss and buried his face in my neck, licking and nibbling and kissing. He was so close, I could feel the heat from his body, and I could smell the overpowering funk of stale sweat and reeking weed. It was so powerful I almost didn't notice my feet begin to ache and the pain in my lower back.

"What's...what's happening to me, bro?" I asked, my voice breaking. "I feel...I feel like...fuck, bro, it hurts!"

"You're changing, dude," Max replied, grinning. "It's the weed. You're finally becoming one with the bud."

"Fuck, bro, I can't hold back anymore," Max moaned. He reached down and began to stroke his giant cock, pre-cum pouring from the tip. It was easily 9 inches, and his massive balls were swollen and heavy with greasy, unwashed hair.

My feet continued to ache and burn as they stretched out, becoming bigger and broader. I could feel my bones shifting and rearranging, long tufts of sweaty hair sprouting out of my feet as they morphed into giant, hairy stumps. I couldn't believe it. The changes were getting more and more intense, and it was driving me wild. I felt like I was going to explode.

"I can't take it anymore," Max groaned, his voice a husky growl. " I have to make you mine."

Without hesitation, Max grabbed my shoulders and spun me around, pushing me face-first into my mattress. His hands were rough and strong, and he easily manhandled me.

"Holy fuck, dude, your ass, it's..." Max moaned, his voice filled with lust. "It's so fucking huge."

My ass was getting bigger and rounder, and it was stretching the seat of my boxer-briefs to the limits, and I felt a sharp, sudden pain as the fabric gave way and tore, leaving my huge, jiggly, fat, bubble butt exposed.

"I'm so horny, bro" Max moaned, his voice shaky and breathy, as my ass filled with greasy, oily stink, the air thick with the musk of unwashed flesh and reeking, unwashed funk.

"You're so hot, dude. It's so hot that you're getting stoned."

"What? Bro, that's not...wait!"

"Don't worry, dude, you'll get used to it. It's just the weed talking."

"No, wait, bro, you can't..." I moaned again as my legs began to push me taller, my thighs and calves widening and thickening. My feet swelled even more, filling to a size 13, and a sudden rush of heat swept over my body.

"Fuck, dude, you're so fucking hot, man," Max groaned, his voice thick with lust, rubbing my new, tick legs as dark, swirly hair began to sprout, quickly becoming matted with the sweat of hours upon hours of mindless smoking.

"Please, bro, stop," I moaned, as my body began to shake. "I can't take it, I'm gonna...I'm gonna cum."

"Dude, that's the whole point, bro," Max replied, his voice trembling. "Just relax, and let it happen. It's gonna feel so fucking good."

"It's too much," I moaned, my cock throbbing and pulsing. "It's too intense."

"I know, dude, it's just the weed, bro. It'll feel better after you get used to it. Trust me."

I could feel the hair begin to creep onto my stomach and chest, quickly spreading and covering me in a layer of greasy, foul-smelling, sweaty body hair.

"Dude, are you seriously not feeling this, too?" I asked, my voice cracking. "Bro, I can't take it, please, just stop, it's too much."

"Dude, chill, you're fine," Max replied, flipping me back over and rubbing his hand over my new abs and thickening pecs. "Just enjoy the ride."

"Wait, no, I'm not...fuuuuck!"

The sensation was so intense, it was driving me wild. I could barely even think. My pecs were growing larger and heavier, and my nipples were swelling and darkening, the areolae growing thicker and hairier.

"Fuuuuuck, dude, you're so fucking sexy," Max groaned, grabbing a fistful of hair and giving it a sharp tug, making me moan with pleasure.

My cock was throbbing and leaking pre-cum, and I could feel the heat coming from it. My balls were swollen and heavy, and they were aching for release.

"Fuck, dude, I can't take it," Max moaned, his voice filled with desperation, shoving his face into my pit as they began to grow and deepen, quickly filling with rank, musky body odor. As he licked, my arms grew longer and wider, my biceps and triceps growing thicker and bulkier. My forearms became thicker and more defined, and my hands and fingers were getting bigger and beefier.

"Bro, it's so fucking good." Max's voice was muffled by my armpit, and I could feel his tongue lapping up the stale sweat and musk.

My arms were now completely covered in thick, greasy, matted hair, and the same was happening to my back, the swirly pattern spreading like a wildfire. My shoulders were growing larger and rounder, and I could feel the muscles shifting and rearranging.

"Please, dude, don't...I can't..."

"I can't stop, bro, you're so hot," Max moaned, his face buried in my pit. I could smell our odors mixing together as our muscular bodies writhed against each other, slick with sweat and the stinking smell of weed.

I was so turned on.

"You're so hot, bro," Max moaned, his pre-cum leaking all over the place.

"No, bro, what?" I moaned, my voice trembling. "I'm not a faggot."

"That's just the weed, dude," Max replied, his voice low and husky. "You're gonna love it."

"Please, no," I moaned, but I knew he was right. I was so turned on, and the weed was driving me wild as my neck and jaw began to fill out and widen, my Adam's apple growing into a large, meaty knob.

I moaned as my voice deepened, the vibrations reverberating through me, causing me to shiver, my speech becoming permanently relaxed, just like my roommate's.

"Fuck," Max groaned, going in for a slobbery, wet kiss, our body heat generating enough stink to make me gag.

My body was now covered in matted, swirly body hair, and it was growing thicker and greasier, the same thing happening to my chest. I could feel my pecs bulging even more as my face was being smothered in kisses and licks, my nose cracking into a previously-broken shape and the skin becoming rough and scarred.

"Oh, fuck, dude, you're so fucking hot," Max moaned, burying his face in my thick neck, his voice muffled by the hair.

"No, please, bro," I moaned, my voice cracking. "I can't take it, it's too much."

"You can do it, bro, just hold on a little longer," Max replied, his voice shaky.

My tongue grew thicker and longer, and it started to loll out of my mouth, my face cracking into model-level handsomeness. I was so turned on, and I couldn't take it anymore. My balls were throbbing and pulsing, and my cock was throbbing and pulsing.

"I'm gonna cum," I moaned, my voice deep and slow.

"Do it, bro," Max moaned, his voice trembling. "Do it, cum all over me, bro."

I felt his fingers run across my short hair, sending a shiver down my spine. My body was wracked with pleasure as I felt ropes of rancid, stinking cum shoot from my cock, splattering his chest and stomach. I couldn't control myself, I was moaning and groaning, the intense orgasm rocking my body, my new, masculine frame shaking and quivering.

With each rope, my bright green eyes became dimmer and dimmer, coloring grayer and grayer as all of my worries and stress flowed out of me, and I fell into a state of bliss, my cock still twitching and throbbing as the last change began. My hair grew longer and thicker, until it was a long, shaggy, dirty mess, and a fresh wave of fresh musk rose off me.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck," I moaned, my voice deep and slow, my tongue lolling out of my mouth.

"Fuck, dude, you're so fucking sexy," Max moaned, his voice cracking. "I can't believe it, dude. You're, like, totally a stoner now, bro."

"Haha, yeah man...wait bro, haven't I always been?" I looked at myself in the dingy dorm mirror, and realized I looked like a dumb, stoned idiot. My voice was deeper, and my accent was different. My hair was messy and unwashed, and my skin was tanned. My pecs were massive and my abs were rock hard. My cock was huge and throbbing. My feet were hairy and stinky. I had a huge, round, bubble butt.

I laughed a deep, airy chuckle.

"That's right" Max said, staring into my dull eyes. He seemed like the hottest man I had ever laid eyes on until I realized.

"I love you, dude." Max giggled.

"Yeah man, I love you, too" I slurred, leaning in for a sloppy kiss, my tongue probing his mouth, the taste of weed and sweat overwhelming. He returned the favor, and soon, we were a mess of sloppy, stoner kisses, our thick, stubbly chins rubbing together, the sound of slurping and licking filling the room.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck," I groaned, the kiss ending, both of us breathing heavy and panting, a mixture of spit dripping from our chins. "That was, like, totally amazing, dude."

"Fuck, yeah, bro, it was fucking awesome," Max groaned, his voice trembling. "I've been waiting for this for, like, ever, bro. It's fucking crazy."

"Yeah, dude, totally," I replied, staring at his gorgeous, masculine features. His big, thick arms, his perfect washboard abs, his massive pecs, and his perfect, handsome face. He was fucking hot, and he was all mine.

"Ugh, bro, pleeeeease?"

Max looked at me with those dopey blue eyes of his, staring dully through me and appearing to lack any kind of intelligence or perception.

"I told you, I have a very important club interview," I replied. "This could determine if I can network into a good job after college!" stressing the importance of a job, something my stoner roommate never seemed to understand.

"Just one hit, man, come on! You gotta stop worrying about that stuff and just chill out!" he replied, stretching his muscular arms over his head of greasy (probably unwashed) brown hair and closing his eyes, as if musing about something important. "You gotta try this weed bro, I just, I-" he stuttered as he took another hit. "I don't fuckin' know man, I think you just need this."

Exasperated, I dropped my heavy bag on the floor and strode over to his side of the room, switching to mouth breathing to avoid inhaling too much foot funk from his "clean pile" of clothes, as Max called it. Even three air fresheners weren't enough to keep the pungent smells of weed and sweat at bay.

"What the hell, dude, when's the last time you even washed those?!"

"Oh, I dunno, a couple weeks ago, maybe?" Max replied, shrugging.

I could see some of the dried crust still clinging to the fabric. I couldn't help but be amazed at the sheer size of his stash. The pile was easily four feet across, and it was clear Max was still working to roll his way through the rest. I couldn't even imagine where he got it all.

"Look, just let me finish my meeting, then I'll smoke with you, okay?"

Max's eyes lit up.

"Yeah, for real?" he replied, excited. "You promise? Pinky swear?"

Max stuck his hand out, his pinky raised and his arm shaking slightly. He looked like an overgrown child. I was so tired, I didn't even hesitate. I wrapped my pinky around his, then turned to walk out of the room. As soon as I let go, I felt a sudden, powerful wave of euphoria wash over me. It was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. I couldn't even think straight, the sensation was so intense.

I collapsed against the doorway, unable to move. I could barely even think. The only thought that went through my mind was that I'd never felt this good in my life. Every inch of my skin tingled and buzzed, like a pleasant static that sent ripples of bliss through my muscles. I couldn't even control the way my body twitched and shivered.

"Duuuude," I heard Max say. "You feel that, man? I told you it's the good stuff."

I didn't know what was happening to me. My heart was racing and I couldn't breathe, and the feeling was getting more and more intense. "What..." I struggled to even sound out words. "I didn't even...take a hit..."

"Well, no, not technically," Max said, laughing. "But, uh, that's not what it was, actually. See, I sorta dosed your pinky."

I looked up at him, confused. My vision was blurry and I could barely see him, but he was grinning widely, and I could see the outline of his meaty, calloused hands rubbing the front of his jeans.

"See, it's like this, man. That wasn't weed. That was just, you know, a little something to get you to loosen up a bit. And, uh, well, there's this other thing, too. That shit I sprayed on your hand. It's not, uh, not exactly what you think."

The euphoria was fading, but it was still intense, and it was making my brain spin. "You sprayed my...hand?" I mumbled, barely able to understand what he was saying.

"Yeah, bro, I sorta had to, man. You kept getting me down with all your stress." He flexed his big biceps and gave one a kiss. "Now you're gonna be just like me!" He grinned wide, his perfect teeth glinting in the low light.

I couldn't respond. The sensations were still washing over me, but the euphoria was fading. As my brain began to work again, I suddenly realized that there was something wrong with me. There was a new, alien weight between my legs.

"Wha-what did you do?" I stammered, still dazed and confused. "What...what did you..."

I looked down, and froze. There was a huge, heavy bulge straining against the crotch of my jeans, stretching the thick material taut. It was huge. Like, absolutely massive. It was easily the size of my fist, maybe even bigger. It was so big and round, I could even see the outline of the individual balls.

"Duuuuude, bro, look at that fucking thing!" Max exclaimed, pointing and laughing. "It's totally fucking huge! Holy shit, man, it's the biggest cock I've ever seen in my life!"

I tried to speak, but I was still so confused, I couldn't get my mouth to form words.

"I didn't know they could get that big, man! Wow, bro, you're really packing a fucking cannon, you know that? Holy shit, it's so fucking hot." Max was practically drooling as he ogled the enormous bulge in my pants.

I could feel the heat radiating off of it, and I could tell it was pulsing and throbbing with each beat of my heart. The sensation was incredibly intense.

"It's...it's not possible..." I stammered, my voice cracking. "What...what did you spray?"

"Bro, I'm telling you, it's totally normal!" Max said, trying his best to sound reassuring. "My friend from home, he said, well, it's just that..." Max stammered again, his usually peaceful face betraying some shyness. "I've always thought you were cute, even without that package. You just needed to loosen up a little. And, I mean, I just wanted you to be, like, comfortable with me. It was just a little bit, man, and it was totally safe. Like, I swear, it's totally normal, dude." He grinned and shot me a wink. "Soon you're going to be just like me."

Max was still staring at the massive bulge, and I could see the outline of his huge dick stretching the crotch of his jeans.

"Dude, bro, I-" my hand shot to my mouth. I had never used those words in the same sentence before! "I...I didn't mean that!"

"Oh, yeah, dude," Max replied, not even noticing. "It's totally normal, bro. You're just a little high is all."

"High?!" I shouted, exasperated. "This isn't...I'm not...this isn't how people talk!"

Max just shrugged. "Bro, you've always been a nerd, and it's cool, man, I totally get it. But this is a big step forward. You're gonna love this. I swear."

I couldn't believe this was happening. I was still trying to process everything that was happening to me, when I heard Max's voice.

"Duuuuuude, check it out, bro," he said, gesturing to the bulge in his jeans. "We're, like, totally packing!"

"I can't..."

"Oh, shit, right. Dude, you gotta feel this."

Max quickly reached down and grabbed the bulge in my pants. As soon as he made contact, I felt a powerful surge of pleasure ripple through me. My body immediately responded to his touch, and I could feel my new cock throb and twitch. I groaned, unable to hold back the sounds.

"Dude, holy shit, bro, it's like, really sensitive or something," Max said, his eyes wide. "Like, really, really fucking sensitive, bro."

"No, it's...not..." I moaned, but I could tell it was a lie. It felt like Max's hand was squeezing my balls, and the pleasure was incredible.

"Fuck, bro, it's, like, really fucking sensitive, dude. Like, fucking, crazy fucking sensitive." Max was practically drooling, and his eyes were glazed over. He was clearly enjoying this a lot.

"Please, stop..."

"Fuck, bro, you're so fucking hard," Max groaned. He started to rub my bulge, and his other hand went to the front of his own jeans. "...and, you're so pretty too. I just don't want to lose you to all those meetings, bro. I want you to be with me."

"Wait, no, what are you doing?"

"I can't hold back anymore, dude, I gotta see your big dick," Max replied, unzipping my jeans and reaching in. He slowly pulled down, and my eyes widened as he revealed the huge, throbbing bulge in my underwear. It was so big, the fabric was stretched tight, and it was already soaked in pre-cum.

"Holy shit, dude, that thing is huge!" Max exclaimed, his voice cracking. He was staring at my huge bulge with a lustful expression, and his long tongue darted out to lick his lips. "It's, like, fucking, massive."

I looked down and was shocked by what I saw. It was easily twice as big as it had been just a few minutes ago. It was still growing, and it was stretching the fabric of my boxer-briefs to the limit. Max began to move closer, scrambling to take off his busted old t-shirt, meaty pecs and perfect washboard abs busting out as he did. He leaned forward, and his massive bicep brushed against my new rock-hard dick.

"Oh, shit, bro, fuck," Max moaned as he leaned in closer. At this point I could almost feel the waves of sweat and weed rolling off his huge body, and my cock was throbbing and leaking, straining against the tight fabric of my underwear.

"You're so hot, dude," Max said, reaching out to grab my huge bulge, wrapping his meaty hand around it. His hand was warm and rough, and his grip was strong, squeezing my bulge and causing a fresh burst of pleasure. "You're, like, fucking sexy as hell, man."

"What the hell, bro, no, that's not...that's not right!" I stammered, but Max's words sent a thrill through me. I could feel my cheeks burning, and I could feel the heat radiating from my skin. "That's not, I'm not a fag!"

"You sure about that, bro?" he asked, giving it a tug and sending a bolt of pleasure through my body. I felt the euphoria return. This time, it was a hundred times more intense.

"Fuuuuck," I groaned, leaning my head back. "Bro, it feels so fucking good."

"I know, right? And it's going to feel even better when you're a stoner like me, dude." Max replied, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Fuck, bro, I can't take it, I gotta get naked," Max moaned, frantically undoing his belt and shucking his pants. "I'm so fucking hard, bro, I can't wait to fuck you."

I looked down, and for the first time, got a good look at my new equipment. It was absolutely massive. It was huge and thick, easily the biggest cock I'd ever seen, and it was still growing. It was 10 inches long, and thicker than a beer can. My balls were huge, too, hanging heavy and swollen between my legs. I'd never felt anything like it.

The sensation continued to wash over me, slowly becoming heat as I began to sweat. It felt amazing. I couldn't control myself, I was already starting to moan and groan, and the euphoria was starting to mix with my arousal. My new cock was so sensitive, and the slightest touch made it throb and pulse.

"It's starting!" Max shouted, looking at my side of the room as my clean and organized things started to transform. My desk became cluttered with bongs and pipes, and posters of the periodic table were suddenly replaced by scantily clad men. My clothes started to change, too. My formerly neat shirts were suddenly full of holes and stained with various substances. My shoes were replaced with flip flops and Crocs.

"I can't take it, man, I'm too horny, I need to kiss you, right now," Max moaned, his voice shaking with desperation. "I've been waiting for this day, dude, and I can't hold back any longer."

Before I could protest, Max leaned in and kissed me, his big, thick tongue probing my mouth. The heat was overwhelming, and his kisses were passionate and hungry. His big, rough hands began to explore my body, rubbing and stroking and caressing every inch of me. He broke away from the kiss and buried his face in my neck, licking and nibbling and kissing. He was so close, I could feel the heat from his body, and I could smell the overpowering funk of stale sweat and reeking weed. It was so powerful I almost didn't notice my feet begin to ache and the pain in my lower back.

"What's...what's happening to me, bro?" I asked, my voice breaking. "I feel...I feel like...fuck, bro, it hurts!"

"You're changing, dude," Max replied, grinning. "It's the weed. You're finally becoming one with the bud."

"Fuck, bro, I can't hold back anymore," Max moaned. He reached down and began to stroke his giant cock, pre-cum pouring from the tip. It was easily 9 inches, and his massive balls were swollen and heavy with greasy, unwashed hair.

My feet continued to ache and burn as they stretched out, becoming bigger and broader. I could feel my bones shifting and rearranging, long tufts of sweaty hair sprouting out of my feet as they morphed into giant, hairy stumps. I couldn't believe it. The changes were getting more and more intense, and it was driving me wild. I felt like I was going to explode.

"I can't take it anymore," Max groaned, his voice a husky growl. " I have to make you mine."

Without hesitation, Max grabbed my shoulders and spun me around, pushing me face-first into my mattress. His hands were rough and strong, and he easily manhandled me.

"Holy fuck, dude, your ass, it's..." Max moaned, his voice filled with lust. "It's so fucking huge."

My ass was getting bigger and rounder, and it was stretching the seat of my boxer-briefs to the limits, and I felt a sharp, sudden pain as the fabric gave way and tore, leaving my huge, jiggly, fat, bubble butt exposed.

"I'm so horny, bro" Max moaned, his voice shaky and breathy, as my ass filled with greasy, oily stink, the air thick with the musk of unwashed flesh and reeking, unwashed funk.

"You're so hot, dude. It's so hot that you're getting stoned."

"What? Bro, that's not...wait!"

"Don't worry, dude, you'll get used to it. It's just the weed talking."

"No, wait, bro, you can't..." I moaned again as my legs began to push me taller, my thighs and calves widening and thickening. My feet swelled even more, filling to a size 13, and a sudden rush of heat swept over my body.

"Fuck, dude, you're so fucking hot, man," Max groaned, his voice thick with lust, rubbing my new, tick legs as dark, swirly hair began to sprout, quickly becoming matted with the sweat of hours upon hours of mindless smoking.

"Please, bro, stop," I moaned, as my body began to shake. "I can't take it, I'm gonna...I'm gonna cum."

"Dude, that's the whole point, bro," Max replied, his voice trembling. "Just relax, and let it happen. It's gonna feel so fucking good."

"It's too much," I moaned, my cock throbbing and pulsing. "It's too intense."

"I know, dude, it's just the weed, bro. It'll feel better after you get used to it. Trust me."

I could feel the hair begin to creep onto my stomach and chest, quickly spreading and covering me in a layer of greasy, foul-smelling, sweaty body hair.

"Dude, are you seriously not feeling this, too?" I asked, my voice cracking. "Bro, I can't take it, please, just stop, it's too much."

"Dude, chill, you're fine," Max replied, flipping me back over and rubbing his hand over my new abs and thickening pecs. "Just enjoy the ride."

"Wait, no, I'm not...fuuuuck!"

The sensation was so intense, it was driving me wild. I could barely even think. My pecs were growing larger and heavier, and my nipples were swelling and darkening, the areolae growing thicker and hairier.

"Fuuuuuck, dude, you're so fucking sexy," Max groaned, grabbing a fistful of hair and giving it a sharp tug, making me moan with pleasure.

My cock was throbbing and leaking pre-cum, and I could feel the heat coming from it. My balls were swollen and heavy, and they were aching for release.

"Fuck, dude, I can't take it," Max moaned, his voice filled with desperation, shoving his face into my pit as they began to grow and deepen, quickly filling with rank, musky body odor. As he licked, my arms grew longer and wider, my biceps and triceps growing thicker and bulkier. My forearms became thicker and more defined, and my hands and fingers were getting bigger and beefier.

"Bro, it's so fucking good." Max's voice was muffled by my armpit, and I could feel his tongue lapping up the stale sweat and musk.

My arms were now completely covered in thick, greasy, matted hair, and the same was happening to my back, the swirly pattern spreading like a wildfire. My shoulders were growing larger and rounder, and I could feel the muscles shifting and rearranging.

"Please, dude, don't...I can't..."

"I can't stop, bro, you're so hot," Max moaned, his face buried in my pit. I could smell our odors mixing together as our muscular bodies writhed against each other, slick with sweat and the stinking smell of weed.

I was so turned on.

"You're so hot, bro," Max moaned, his pre-cum leaking all over the place.

"No, bro, what?" I moaned, my voice trembling. "I'm not a faggot."

"That's just the weed, dude," Max replied, his voice low and husky. "You're gonna love it."

"Please, no," I moaned, but I knew he was right. I was so turned on, and the weed was driving me wild as my neck and jaw began to fill out and widen, my Adam's apple growing into a large, meaty knob.

I moaned as my voice deepened, the vibrations reverberating through me, causing me to shiver, my speech becoming permanently relaxed, just like my roommate's.

"Fuck," Max groaned, going in for a slobbery, wet kiss, our body heat generating enough stink to make me gag.

My body was now covered in matted, swirly body hair, and it was growing thicker and greasier, the same thing happening to my chest. I could feel my pecs bulging even more as my face was being smothered in kisses and licks, my nose cracking into a previously-broken shape and the skin becoming rough and scarred.

"Oh, fuck, dude, you're so fucking hot," Max moaned, burying his face in my thick neck, his voice muffled by the hair.

"No, please, bro," I moaned, my voice cracking. "I can't take it, it's too much."

"You can do it, bro, just hold on a little longer," Max replied, his voice shaky.

My tongue grew thicker and longer, and it started to loll out of my mouth, my face cracking into model-level handsomeness. I was so turned on, and I couldn't take it anymore. My balls were throbbing and pulsing, and my cock was throbbing and pulsing.

"I'm gonna cum," I moaned, my voice deep and slow.

"Do it, bro," Max moaned, his voice trembling. "Do it, cum all over me, bro."

I felt his fingers run across my short hair, sending a shiver down my spine. My body was wracked with pleasure as I felt ropes of rancid, stinking cum shoot from my cock, splattering his chest and stomach. I couldn't control myself, I was moaning and groaning, the intense orgasm rocking my body, my new, masculine frame shaking and quivering.

With each rope, my bright green eyes became dimmer and dimmer, coloring grayer and grayer as all of my worries and stress flowed out of me, and I fell into a state of bliss, my cock still twitching and throbbing as the last change began. My hair grew longer and thicker, until it was a long, shaggy, dirty mess, and a fresh wave of fresh musk rose off me.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck," I moaned, my voice deep and slow, my tongue lolling out of my mouth.

"Fuck, dude, you're so fucking sexy," Max moaned, his voice cracking. "I can't believe it, dude. You're, like, totally a stoner now, bro."

"Haha, yeah man...wait bro, haven't I always been?" I looked at myself in the dingy dorm mirror, and realized I looked like a dumb, stoned idiot. My voice was deeper, and my accent was different. My hair was messy and unwashed, and my skin was tanned. My pecs were massive and my abs were rock hard. My cock was huge and throbbing. My feet were hairy and stinky. I had a huge, round, bubble butt.

I laughed a deep, airy chuckle.

"That's right" Max said, staring into my dull eyes. He seemed like the hottest man I had ever laid eyes on until I realized.

"I love you, dude." Max giggled.

"Yeah man, I love you, too" I slurred, leaning in for a sloppy kiss, my tongue probing his mouth, the taste of weed and sweat overwhelming. He returned the favor, and soon, we were a mess of sloppy, stoner kisses, our thick, stubbly chins rubbing together, the sound of slurping and licking filling the room.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck," I groaned, the kiss ending, both of us breathing heavy and panting, a mixture of spit dripping from our chins. "That was, like, totally amazing, dude."

"Fuck, yeah, bro, it was fucking awesome," Max groaned, his voice trembling. "I've been waiting for this for, like, ever, bro. It's fucking crazy."

"Yeah, dude, totally," I replied, staring at his gorgeous, masculine features. His big, thick arms, his perfect washboard abs, his massive pecs, and his perfect, handsome face. He was fucking hot, and he was all mine.

Ugh, I Hate Bongs.

Switching it up slightly! Here's a more subtle TF as a straight edge busybody finally tries to stick it to his stoner roommate. -Occam

Chris was not going to let his roommate smoke in their apartment anymore. He was tired of the couch smelling like smoke which is reason enough, but beyond that his roommate, Nate, had fully broken two broken two bongs getting ashy water all over the work Chris had left out in the den. Hearing a telltale gurgle coming from the living room could only mean Nate had now brought a third bong into their shared space. Chris felt almost bound to act.

As soon as he opens his bedroom door he feels a wave of thick smoke blow through him, clearly getting the skunky smell he hates so much all over his clothes and bedding. This was something Chris could not let stand. It’s bad enough that he’s doing this in the apartment at all now it’s now going to start seeping into the only place he had left. He sees Nate on the couch taking in a deep breath preparing to lay into him. But? What was he mad about anyway?

Standing there continuing to breathe in smoke from Nate’s session he remembers there was definitely something he needed to do. He was in his room, then he heard his roommate, and now he is in the living room? As he continues to aimlessly circle through these seemingly insignificant events he doesn’t even notice as he stops smelling the weed in the air, before seeing Nate take another massive bong hit on the couch. Seeing him out of his room Nate smiles, breathing another wave of smoke into the room.

“Yo dude! Are you coming to join?” Nate’s eyes are bleary and red as he offers the bong and lighter to his roommate.

That’s what it was, Chris remembers as he sees the bong. He was pissed that his roommate was using a bong! It was, annoying for some reason? I mean it looks a little dirty right? “Didn’t I say no bongs dude?”

“Oh yeah dude! That’s why I rolled you a joint?”

This throws Chris for a loop. What a kind thing to do but he can’t help but feel something amiss going on. The smile briefly fades from Nate as he grows concerned seeing Chris struggle. “Woah everything good dude?”

“Yeah, sorry? My head just feels like it’s pounding,” Chris rubs his face in discomfort feeling his face grow flush and his eyes begin to dry.

“This’ll straighten you right up dude, come on just try a hit.”

Chris, upon being directly asked, puts out a hand for the joint and immediately lights it up like he has done it a thousand times over. He takes a hit like an expert, breathing slowly and naturally as to not cough. Only after doing so and realizing he had no discomfort he starts a coughing fit. Of course, he has been breathing progressively more and more smoke since stepping out of his bedroom, so this fit is almost performative. Something he is doing only because it is something he should be doing, or he thinks he should be doing? He doesn’t usually smoke, right?

This thought quickly flashes out of his head as feels lightheaded, collapsing onto the couch right next to Nate. His body growing leaner as he almost liquefies into the cushions, “See Chris what did I say, one hit and you’re already cured.” His glazed eyes look over to his friend as he takes another hit. He sees his friend’s stubbled face and wonders if he should grow one of his own. Shaving is more effort than it’s worth anyway. He exhales as he too starts to add to the pervasive smoke filling the room.

He scratches at his face as a scraggly beard starts to push out. Pausing to feel as much as he can in his body before taking another hit. Pushing his back against the couch, rubbing his arm down his chest and stomach, Nate watching as his roommate finally lets loose. Chris takes a third hit as Nate sees his hair get greasier as his pubes push out beyond the bounds of his holey underwear.

Chris launches into another coughing fit as, unbeknownst to him, he finishes the joint and starts to burn the filter. Seeing this Nate reacts as quickly as he can, clumsily putting the bong down on the table reaching out to check on Chris, rubbing his roommates back in a way that seem decidedly intimate. “Y’okay dude? Your hits were way too big but ‘s chill ‘s chill. You didn’t want any more did you?”

Sluggishly working through the words Nate just asked him he finds he doesn’t need to search for his own answer. Why wouldn’t he want more? Everything just feels so much better as he stretches, feeling his tendons and muscles expand and contract, “Mmmmm yeah I could do a little more.” Before he remembers that with his joint now impossibly consumed in three hits the only weed ready to smoke is in the bong’s bowl, still vaguely unpleasant to him.

Nate then has a masterful idea. He would shotgun the weed to Chris! Why would he be averse to that? They’re friends right? Chris, numbed beyond reason, is more than happy to give it a try. He’s sure that he's drunk after Nate before right? Or? Have they kissed before? It’s hard to tell, the benders they go on its truly impossible to say.

Chris watches as Nate takes a massive hit of the bong. Water gurgling for full seconds before he reconsiders, one last time feeling unease, he isn’t the to go on benders right? He’s so type a he wouldn’t even think about it. Continuing to question himself as he leans towards Nate, finishing his inhale as he too leans towards Chris. He opens his mouth letting the cloud of smoke leak out of his mouth, lazily gazing into Chris’ eyes expecting him to finish the job.

Seeing this Chris is unable to resist as he stumbles forward pressing his mouth to Nate’s.

Nate falls backwards, once more narrowly placing the bong on the table, as Chris crashes into him. The playful second hand smoking quickly dissolving into an aggressive grinding session as Chris hungrily slobbers over Nate’s neck. Maybe he is this type of person. Nate pulls Chris’ shirt off letting their torsos touch skin to skin as Chris begins dry humping his roommate. The two stoners continue in this regard as their cocks swiftly demand attention as sweatpants are pulled down and the two have at each other outright. Lean arms flailing in the air as they pull on each other's unwashed hair. Faces shove into hairy pits in lieu of smoking any more weed, besides of course the haze still filling the apartment. The pressure quickly mounts as Chris is inches from finishing all over his roommates’ hairy chest before he shifts and his left leg flings into the table knocking over bong number three. “Shit dude!” he cries as he does indeed finish missing Nate’s chest for his face. Coming down from their ecstasy the pair stumble off the couch narrowly avoiding glass shards as they try to clean up Chris’ mess.

“Maybe no more bongs yeah,” Chris giggles at something he can quite understand as he watches Nate struggle with a broom. His eyes shift from the unground weed on the table and his still unclad roommate as he starts to work himself up once more. Hungrily awaiting what comes next, he prepares for session two.

I dedicate this story to my good friend and writing buddy @idesofrevolution. Merry Christmas buddy and please PLEASE Enjoy. Happy holidays to everyone and Happy TF's.

A Green Christmas

`What!!`

Ryan screamed at the news.

You sighed.

´I have no choice, my family has to move, and I have to go as well, I don´t have any accommodation here.´

Ryan grumbled. `Bro... you can´t leave me man... you´re my best bud.´

You grimaced. Your friend had been acting weird lately. You used to be super close, and you honestly still are, but your interests had began to shift. You used to play games, watch cartoons and study together, but lately Ryan had become absent from you life. He had been ´busy´ with other things but his grades had been plummeting and he had picked up smoking. Ryan had no idea you knew this, but you had seen the pictures from your classmates. His wardrobe had changed too. Before he would wear shirts and khakis, now its oversized shirts and hoodies. He started wearing contacts as well, which, to be honest, was a great look for him, he looked very handsome without glasses. His lingo had switched as well. No more academic jargon. Just simple sentences, which almost always had at least one bro in them.

`Look Ryan, I really am sorry, but I just can´t make this work´

Your family was moving, and while you were a college student, who by all accounts should have received some form of scholarship due to your amazing grades, you never did. The truth however, was that you wanted to move. The alienating feeling you got from your former best friend broke something in you, and you had to put some distance between eachother. You could easily apply for the on-campus dormitories but you just couldn`t bear staying near the now almost stranger.

`Look you´d better go, I want to be home before Christmas and I still have a lot of packing to do.'

Ryan sighed and left. After closing the door behind him, You let out a grunt.

"Why does it have to be this way! What happend to him?"

Reluctantly you began packing. Your father would come and get you and your things on Christmas eve, so you had your work cut out for you. You were currently staying Ryan, but this had always been a temporary solution. Ryan's landlord didn't want two friends staying together only couples or families. Ryan had become quite open to you about his sexuality. He had told you he was bisexual and that he could always tell the landlord the two of you were dating, but you had declined. You had a hard enough time not getting picked on. If word would get out that you two were dating, you would not be able to survive. What Ryan didn't know is that you were in fact also bisexual. You really liked girls but men really were where you got your satisfaction. From porn that is, because you were still a virgin. You grew up in a strict Christian household, with a Father from the south. Your parents would never approve and they were the reason you didn't have to work, so coming out was never an option.

A loud knock shook you from your deep train of thought. You opened the door and Ryan was standing right there, smiling.

"Steven, can we talk bro?"

"Ryan, I told you. I need to pack for..."

"Please, just for a little while."

"...Fine..."

Ryan walked in and sat down on your bed.

"Look man... I've been thinking... I need to be honest with you about something."

You looked at your former best friend with confusion. He had been so dominant and confident these last few weeks, and all of a sudden he looked shy and insecure.

"I... I picked up smoking... and... not just cigarettes. Weed too"

You sighed.

"I know Ryan, I have seen you. Don't worry, it's whatever... Your body, your choice."

Ryan smiled.

"Yeah for reallll broo but, I wanted to ask you a favor."

"What is it?" You asked, slightly impatient.

"Come sit down first" Ryan had this shit eating grin on his face, his perfect white teeth on display. Wait that doesn't sound right. he had braces right?

Because you took so long, Ryan grabbed your arm and pulled you onto the bed, right next to him.

"What the hell man!" You exclaimed.

He quickly wraps an arm around your shoulders, his musky scent drilling into your nose, and holds something up to your face.

"I really, really want to smoke this with you man. Like dying wish and shit."

You look down and see a blunt in between his fingers.

"I don't smoke Ryan, you know this" You point out.

" Just one hit bro, that's all, I won't tell anyone, you don't have to smoke any more, just humor me with this man."

You took a deep breath and wanted to decline, but then something clicked.

"You know what. Sure."

Ryan's grin widened. 'Let's fucking go bro!!!" He quickly grabbed a lighter, and lit the blunt.

He took the first hit, blowing the smoke right into your face, the fumes invading your nose and throat, leaving you gasping for air.

"Sorry there bro, just wanted to give you a little taste."

"I'm only taking one hit bro... fuck" Your eyes widen not only did you just curse, something which you rarely do, you also just used bro in your sentence. Hoping he didn't notice you hold out your hand to take the blunt.

Ryan, who's grinning from ear to ear, hands you the blunt, and you quickly take a hit. You deeply inhale, feeling the smoke fill your lungs and the weed invade your brain. A single hit, and you can almost feel your brain stopping.

"W...whaaat the fuuuuuck" You mumble. Your jaw slacks a bit as the smoke escapes from your lips.

"You gonna take that hit or not bro?" Ryan asked with a sly grin on his face.

"Huh didn't I just?'' You asked confused.

"Bro are you already tripping? I just blew some smoke in your face man, thats all. Now come on bro, you promised."

You took a hit, taking a deep breath, feeling the smoke fill your lungs, and your whole body. Slowly blowing out you feel constricted. You look down to see your buttoned up shirt bulging. You tug on it a bit, and it flies open, revealing a chiseled abdomen and two meaty pecs.

"Brooo wat the fahk' You mumble. "My chest is so big... what the hell"

"Yeah bro I know right. I love that strain. Made me who I am today" Ryan smirks as he takes off his hoodie showing his massive arms and chest.

You look in awe as he stretches a bit, his smooth torso , and bulging muscles on display. He drops his sweats, showing off a massive bulge in his white briefs as he looks at you and smirks.

"Wanna take another hit bro?"

Before he even finished his sentence the blunt was back in your mouth, filling you up with even more smoke. You look down and begin to giggle as you bounce your growing pecs.

"Huhuhu broo they are so bigg... what the shit..." You say as a familiar musk begins radiating from your growing body.

Ryan smiles back.

"Yeah bro you're getting so fuckin huge. You're so hot"

You look at him with a flushed face.

"What... did you say?"

"You're hot. You look amazing."

"Thanks..." You can't help but blush, seeing as he himself is a fucking model.

"You're really hot yourself" You say with a beetred face

Ryan stops smiling and looks at you. He sits down and looks you in the eyes.

"I don't want you to go Stevey. I love you..."

Your eyes widen at the words, and before you know it, his lips get pressed against yours. Before you can react he pushes his tongue into your mouth, and a torrent of smoke follows suit. It's almost as if hes blowing you up, and it feels that way too, Your muscles getting bigger, your mind hazier, and your dick... well...

You manage to push away and look at him.

"Ry... I ... "

"yeah?"

"I think... no ... I know... I love you too man"

Ryan signature shit eating grin flies back onto his face.

"Fuck yeah bro!!"

A sheepish smile creeps onto your face as you grab the blunt from his fingers, taking a massive hit before grabbing his neck and blowing the smoke into his mouth.

"You're so sexy." You say as he blows the smoke back into your face.

"What about you then, such a fucking cute stud you are"

The two of you continue laughing, finishing the blunt before crawling into each others arms.

You text your dad that he doesn't have to come get you anymore, as you will be staying with your boyfriend, and promptly block him afterwards.

You nuzzled up to your boyfriends pit and took a deep breath. It smelled amazing and it bricked you up knowing you smell the same.

This will be a pretty special Christmas.

__________________________________________________________

Happy Holidays Everyone!!!! Feel free to send in some asks or order something at Rakurai Inc.!!!

Horizons

It was some fuck shit, man. Hiding behind a dumpster, pantin' through my balaclava... I can't believe that little shit ratted on me to the fuckin' cops. Picture this. I'm in that fucker's car, a beautiful Aston Martin, just about done hotwiring it. I was literally three fuckin' seconds away from getting the hell out of there, with a sick new ride. But no, that stupid fuckin' rat let me in the gate, watched me hop in the car, and then called the fuzz. Thought he'd be able to just pocket the two grand I paid him off with, but believe me. Karma is a bitch.

So by the time I had the car ready to go, I hear the fuckin' pigs squealin' at me. The whole nine yards, man. Guns drawn, "put your hands up," blah blah blah. Fuck that shit. I took the fuck off, hoppin' over the fence and just cutting through people's backyards. Man, they had a whole perimeter set up. Cops on every major street corner, watchin for my big bird lookin' ass decked out in black. On a side note, I looked hot as fuck by the way. Not gonna lie, the kicks were fresh as fuck. But either way, there was no way I was gonna get back to the docks without being seen. So I had to fall back onto plan B.

I snuck through alleys, hid behind trashcans and corners, but I knew my trashy ass apartment was just around the corner. Plus, if that little fucker told them who I was, they'd be looking for Thiago Zapata at his place, right? Only thing is, I wasn't gonna go to my place. I moved into the building like three months ago, so I got to know the neighbors pretty alright. The old lady across the hall, the streetracer to the left, and to the right were Chase & Aidan. Two little cocksuckers. Aidan was alright, built like a fuckin' blonde twig but always real happy and nice. He was cool, but his man was another story. Chase was one of those little trust fund bitches, thinkin' they own everything, thinkin' you should be thankful to just be around them... I made all my money snatchin' shit from fuckers just like him. Always lookin' me up and down, questioning my swag, complaining about the smoke, complaining about the music; bro, he literally came up and was like "Do you bathe? I can smell you from next door." Fuckin' bitch ass. I decided then and there, if a plan should ever go wrong, I now had a plan B.

So as I bolted across the street, hiding stiff as a board behind a tree, I finally made it to the shithole that was my building. No cops outside yet, but from the sirens I knew they were on the fuckin' way. I checked my phone, seein' the time was just before 10 PM. The universe was on my side that night man, I guess it was as fuckin' fed up with Chase as I was. I got upstairs and hid in the janitor's closet right between my door and theirs, and I waited. I knew he always came home late from whatever the fuck he did every Saturday night, and that Aidan would be sitting there waiting for him like a lil' puppy. I almost felt bad for the guy. Not knowing what it's like to stick your dick in some good fuckin' pussy, and then for the guy you give it up for to be such a piece of shit. I'm doing him a favor, bro.

I heard the footsteps comin' up the stairs, so I opened the door just a crack, in case it was the fuckin' pigs about to break into my place. But no, there he was in that whack ass outfit, lookin' like he lived at Abercrombie & Fitch, struttin' down the hall probably drunk as shit. I waited for him to get close to the closet, and just as he stumbled right in front of the door, I got him. Left hand around the mouth, right arm around the neck. He thought he could wriggle out of the whole thing, but man was it easy to drag the little fucker into my apartment and lock the door. He could barely stand up, sniveling like the little weasel he was, but when I took off my mask his face turned from fear to rage.

"I knew it. I knew this is the kind of street trash you are. Is that why the cops are circling the block every five seconds?" I didn't say shit. I just kicked off my J's, and tossed my bag onto the floor. "See, this is why we need border control, so thugs like you can get shipped back to Mexico. Fucking fence jumper." I stripped my hoodie, wouldn't need it for what I was about to do.

"Bruh, you know I'm from fuckin' Colombia. You know that. Racist little pendejo." That little shit scoffed at me. Rolled his eyes as he pulled out his phone. Man, I smacked that shit out his hands real fuckin' quick. "Be a good little cumdump and shut the fuck up. Turn around, bitch!" I spun him around and pushed his bitch ass against the wall, but before I could do what I needed to, that little fucker spat on my face.

"Hope you like Guantanamo, amigo." I was like, nah, fuck this shit. I'm not takin' that from a 5'9 rich, racist gringo. He was gonna be tight as fuck, but I've been in tighter squeezes. I got his pants by the belt loop, and yanked 'em down. He wriggled his ass in my face, as if he was gonna get lucky tonight. Heh, I guess he did. Just like I did back in New Orleans, I squatted down, put my hands together, and in I went with a wet squelch. "What the fuck?!"

I looked at his stretched hole, swallowing my arms up to my fuckin' elbows. I couldn't help but smile as I started to wriggle up into him. His bitchin' quickly turned into moanin', as my arms squeezed up in him, and my head started to sink into the hole. I slithered up inside him, my shoulders, my lats... it got easier as we got down to my waist, enough for my hands to feel inside of his shoulders. I pushed 'em down, my thick arms stretching his skin as I slipped his hands on like gloves. Feelin' the cold drywall beneath his fingers, the sweat pouring from his pores... they were mine now. So as much as I wanted this little fuck to suffer, I was feelin' generous that night. My arms were already in his, so it was easy to just hold the top of his curly haired head and thrust mine up his throat. I could hear his gurgles as he tried to moan in pleasure, but within a couple of seconds, I felt the top of my head pressin' against the roof of his mouth. One more little push, and it gave way. My head slipped into his in the blink of an eye.

I used his hands to tug on his face, makin' sure everything was sittin' where it needed to sit. Didn't wanna be lookin' like the bug guy from Men in Black, you know what I'm sayin'? Took a minute, had to shove my tongue into his, make sure my eyes lined up, get my ears inside his; feelin' my hoops rip through his skin, I opened my new mouth and breathed in. Man, I had to smile, lickin' his lips and lookin' down. Fuck I'm glad his arms stretched enough for mine, the lil' cocksucker needed a bit of meat on him. My pecs filled out his skinny lil' chest, my ink already seepin' up to the surface of his skin. But at that point he looked like a puppet, man. I'm up in the top half, but my ass and legs are stickin' out his hole.

I flexed my abs, feelin my fat ass squeezin' in, my cock and balls slurpin' in... Bro, his twiggy little butt got big real fuckin' quick when my cheeks inflated into his. My thighs and calves quickly slipped in, only leavin' my big ass feet stickin' out his ass. I smirked with his cocky lil face.

"Aww. I forgot to bathe, bro. My bad." Shit, his voice sounded good on me. Can't imagine he'd be into the feet he complained about stinkin' so fuckin' much squeezin' into his tight lil' body. Not that he was gonna be complainin' anymore, anyway. They were a bit sweaty, so all I had to do was jerk my knees up a bit and in they went. I pushed my legs down into his, watchin' with a big ass smile on my face as I saw my feet beneath his the skin of his tiny lil' legs slippin' down. My toes reached the base of his heel, and just like puttin' on a pair of sneaks, I shoved those big ass puppies up into his. His feet were all wriggly and warpy as they stretched out, but quickly those lil size 8's were my size 13's, ripe stink and all.

I stood up straight, watching as his lower body stretched upward, going from 5'9 to 6'3 as my quads and calves filled his to the fuckin' brim. Man, it was like puttin' on skinny jeans. I don't fuck with that shit, but here we are. The tightest pair of pants ever. I looked at his groin, all fucked up and not aligned. I smirked, my favorite part. I grabbed his cock, pulling it out as far as it would stretch, farther than it should stretch; just enough for me to push my cockhead to the base of his shaft. Bruh, when I tell you it's like slippin' your babymaker into a fleshlight, I fuckin' mean it. I got hard right then and there, bro. As my big meaty cock pushed into his, it got thicker as it went further, slurpin' into the little cocksleeve it was, until my musky 9 incher had completely filled his. Tuggin' a bit more on his dick skin to gimme my foreskin back. One final snap of the skin, and a bit of ball shufflin' and I was fuckin' in.

*KNOCK* *KNOCK* *KNOCK* "Police, open up!" I turned, smirkin'. Too late, porkers. I picked up my black hoodie, slippin' it on over his torso, pulled on some sweatpants and slipped my big puppies back into my J's. I walked over to the door, and swung it wide with a grin on my face. Two cops were outside, starin' me down with confusion. "Uh, good evening, sir. Is this Thiago Zapata's domicile?" I pretended to be all confused, cockin' my head a bit.

"Uh, yeah, man. I'm watchin' it while he's gone. He said he was gonna be in Cartagena for a couple of weeks or whatever. I'm the neighbor." The dumbasses just nodded, scribblin' in their dumb lil' notepads.

"And what's your name, sir? First and last, please." Not a moment too soon, I felt his memories start to slink into my head. I smirked.

"Chase Hightower. I live with my boyfriend in 2C, next door." They wasted like fifteen more minutes gettin' all up in my business, askin' all their questions... I just smiled and nodded, using Chase's memories to give them all the answers they were looking for. Finally they gave up trying to get in, sayin' they were gonna get a warrant or whatever. "That's totally fine, bro. I'll be next door whenever it comes through. Oh, and I just gotta say, Thiago's a good dude. Real nice guy, fine as fuck too. Gotta be some kind of mistake." I had to throw that in, this little shit would be tellin' them all sorts of fake shit about me, none of it good. But as they stomped off, I closed the door and threw my fist up in the air. "FUCK YEAH! NICE TRY MOTHERFUCKERS!" I collapsed onto my couch, takin' a breather before his most recent memories started to get clearer. Aidan was sitting next door, waiting for him to show up.

I had to keep up appearances, after all. So I just grabbed a couple of my things: clothes n' shit, all my kicks, my weed and papers, some cash, and a couple of condoms. Chase was a good lookin' kid before, but with me in there, I'm gonna have girls slobberin' all over this dick! Hah! I got it all in a couple of bags, picked up his phone I'd swatted to the ground, and headed over to Chase's apartment. I opened the door and the place was fuckin' immaculate man. Clean, fancy furniture, smellin' like Febreeze... Damn, we'll see how long this takes to fuck up.

"CHASE!" I turned, seeing Aidan with his arms crossed, tappin' his foot on the kitchen floor. He was fuckin' pissed. "Where in the fuck have you been? There's cops everywhere!" The cops may not have known Chase, but Aidan sure as fuck did. I had to really use his memories to play it off, but man, I'm always slippin' through the mask.

"Ahh, babe. It's my bad. Got stuck in traffic or... whatever. I'm so..." A memory surfaced then and there. The memory of why Chase was so late that night, of why he came home late every fuckin' Saturday night. It was fuzzy at first, but as it got clearer, I saw him fuckin' some dude raw across town. Every weekend, steppin' out on this poor kid, just to dump his load into some lil twink and come home to pretend nothin' was wrong. Fuck, this guy was shit. "I'm... sorry. Won't happen again, babe. I promise you that."

Right off the bat, I knew he saw something was wrong. I don't know if it was delayed reaction, or if he was just so fuckin' pissed he didn't see it at first... But he definitely saw it then. His boy wasn't over 6'0 before. His boy wasn't dressin' in black hoodies and Jordans. His boy wasn't stacked from hours every day at the gym. But now... he was.

"You look off. What have you been doing? Are you on steroids?" I kept searching through Chase's memories to find something to use to diffuse a very pissed off Aidan. Eventually, I found it. I smirked, leaning my arm against the wall and crossing my ankles.

"What, babe? You liking what you're seein'? You been askin' for me to play bad boy for months now, well tonight's your night, bro." His demeanor immediately shifted from rage to nervousness. "Yeah, just like Thiago next door, right? You love it when he gets home all sweaty and jacked, smellin' like a locker room. You like it when you hear him poundin' babes all night long on the other side of the wall. You wanted him to step on your face and make you lick his feet and suck his big smelly cock..." I groped my bulge through the sweats, watching as his eyes went down to my throbbin' package. The kid was sweet, man he had a thing for me. Little did he know he had the real deal in front of him.

"I... Why now? You said he was dirty and disgusting and you'd never be like him..." I grinned, pushin' off the wall to strut over to him. He leaned against the counter as I put my arms on either side of him, pushing my new body right up against his. I could feel his lil' cock throbbin' against mine. It was... I don't know, man, it was cute the way he was blushin' lookin' at me.

"Yeah, maybe I like dirty and nasty, now. 'Cuz I know you like dirty and nasty..." I put my hand on his bulge, squeezing rough. He moaned, lettin' out a soft whimper. "Yeah, babe. How's bout you let Thiago take care of you tonight, babe. Go to the bedroom and strip for me." He sat there for a second, I guess he was thinkin' or whatever, but it didn't take long for a smile to show up and for him to run into the bedroom. I couldn't help but laugh, bro. It was so cute. There's somethin' so feminine about the guy, kinda reminds me of my ex. I guess guys could be femme too, maybe I could get with that. Fuck, why not. I was like, I'm gonna be in here for a long time, might as well get some tail in while I'm here.

I walked into the bathroom, pullin' off my sweatshirt and lookin' into the mirror for the first time. The chest ink is all done, his skin forever gonna be branded with my tatts. I pull out his phone, typing in my bro's number with the crew. I snap a pic of my sweaty, sexy new gringo bod, and send it to him.

"Layin' low for a minute, O. Pigs got me all fucked up. Still down for jobs, tho." I smirked, pressin' send, and walkin' out into the dark bedroom. Aidan was bare-ass naked, his legs up in the air and a surprisingly juicy lil' ass beggin for this dick. His hole puckered as he whimpered for it. Man, somethin' snapped in me that night, bro. It just looked so fuckin' nice... such a perfect, tight lil cum dump... and he was literally beggin' for it. I growled as I pushed my sweats to the ground, my briefs fallin' with them. Struttin' over to him, my J's squeakin' on the wood floors, I'm just ready to stick that drippin' musky rod inside him before he chirps up.

"Wait..." I look down at him, leaning over the top of him with a wolfish grin. "Can we... can we do the thing..." I knew exactly what he was talkin' about. Chase was such a fuckin' prude he'd never do it for the kid, but with me in the driver's seat, this thirsty lil guy was gonna get a whole new side of his man. I grinned as I pulled off one of my Jordans, holding it just below my face to take a quick sniff. Man, I'd been runnin' in these all night, liftin' in these every day, it stank of my ripe ass feet, and he'd been dreamin' of that funk ever since I moved in.

I slammed the sneaker down over his nose, spitting on my pre-slicked cock before thrusting my length into his puckering hole. I fucked that kid hard, just like I'd fucked Lizzie, Aisha, Carmen, & Mina. He moaned and sniffed over and over again as I slipped in and out of his hole. Aidan was a thirsty lil twink, he wanted a hard masculine guy to fuck him like a toy, and Chase just wasn't up for the fuckin' job. But man, feelin' my slimy dick ramming into his tight ass was like fuckin' the tightest pussy I've ever had. He was better than the last two weeks of girls combined. His hand took over holding the sneaker on his face, lettin' me grab ahold of his lil' dick and pump. I guess my sweaty hands were doin' it for him, as his moans got louder. He started thrustin' into my palms as I fucked him silly.

"Yeah, babe. You been wantin' Thiago's smelly dick all up inside you haven't you?" *Slap* *Slap* *Slap* "Ahh fuck yeah, babe. Let me take care of you, babe." *Slap* *Slap* *Slap* I felt my balls start to quake, feelin' my knees get all wobbly... It was comin' "Fuck yeah, you want this load inside you, baby?" He whimpered nose deep in my sneaker, I could hear him groaning a quiet 'mmmmhmmmm'. That's all I ever need to hear, baby. I only ever need a yes.

"AaaaaaaaAGH!" I felt my balls jolt, and my load went bursting into him. Once, Twice, Three times, Four times, Five times... just wave after wave of my splooge just rushin' into that twink ass. Fuck! I hadn't cum like that before. Ever! Dribblin' off at 7 shots of my batter deep into him, and he shot his own lil load onto my hand. I kept strokin, grinning from ear to ear hearin' his whiny ass gettin' all 'ahhhhhhh' and 'oooooooooooo'... Hah! Damn, the kid was a natural. I pulled my snake out of him, my load drippin' out of his gaping hole.

I fell onto the bed next to him, panting and sighing. I turned my head, laughin' seein my sneaker still sittin' upside down on his face. Pulling it off, I got to see his smiling face, glistening with sweat. For my first time with a dude, Aidan gave a lot of girls a run for their money. He turned to me, chuckling under his panting breath. Wantin' to give him a bit of a show, I brought the Jordan to my nose, takin' a quick whiff and sighing in satisfaction. Ripe n' funky, but if it does it for ya, you can get as much as you want. Dropping it on the floor, I could tell he was still shocked.

"What happened to you?" He smiled and laughed, and I felt myself grinning from his happy little laughs.

"I'm a new man for you, babe. I can stick around if you want?" I winked at him, and he smiled; nodding and cuddlin' up against my sweaty muscles. I hadn't done what they call 'aftercare' before, but I learned a lot that night. Aidan likes to be all snuggled up, sweet and complimentary, talkin' about his day and what he was thinking and feeling... It was different, and honestly kinda nice. Maybe this wouldn't be as much of a fuckin' drag as I thought it would be. I turned to the nightstand, seein' my phone light up and vibrate. Omarion.

I picked it up as he started to nod off, seein' that my bro had texted back. Opening the text, it was just a location and a time. I knew what that meant. Tomorrow night, meetin' up at the docks. I nodded and put the phone onto the charger, and started gettin' to puttin' my stuff into my new closet.

---

I woke up the next morning, the smell of cum still hangin' in the air. I stretched and sighed, winkin' at myself in the mirror before hoppin up to my feet. I went into the living room, seein' the balcony door open. I smiled, seein' a memory of Aidan drinkin' his coffee out there on the couch. So, I went and got him a glass of his cold brew, and walked out there, seein' him quietly reading a book. I looked at him and immediately saw he was decked out in my threads: my tank, my jeans, my chucks, my chains... and honestly it looked good on him.

"What you doin' out here without your coffee?" He looked up from his book, and smiled.

"You never bring me my coffee! Thanks, Chase!" I grinned hearing that name, handing him his cold brew and plopping down on the seat across from him. He sipped it, tossing it back like a bachelorette downing tequila shots. He smacked his lips and hummed, but looked up at me with a weird look. "Last night was hot as fuck."

"Yeah, baby. It was hot. You got real into it, bro." He raised his eyebrow a bit, putting his drink down on the balcony ledge.

"What happened to you? You never answered me last night. What's changed?" He waved his hand up and down, pointin' at my chest, my arms, my abs, my feet, my height... "You did not look like this yesterday morning." I sat there for a second, thinkin' about what the fuck I was gonna say. I couldn't tell him, of course. But I needed a better answer than 'oh, I'm using your boyfriend's body as a disguise to hide from the cops.'

"I can tell you if you really wanna know, babe. Or, I could just show you. But, gimme a day or so." He looked at me for what seemed like a long ass time, but in the end, he smiled and nodded.

"Tomorrow morning, Chase. One day to explain." Bullet dodged. For now, at least. I now had a day to figure out what to do. The guy was like, a genuinely good dude. I'm not gonna fuck the kid over, or slip out of his boyfriend to show him he got his wish havin' the Colombian Neighbor fuck him. "Anyway, it's Sunday. And I got you for the whole day." He grinned, rubbing his hand on my thigh.

For the next ten hours, it was like hanging out with one of my bros. Playin' video games, cookin' food, I even got the little guy to take a rip from the bong. He was hackin' up a lung, and I laughed my ass off, but fuck is Aidan a good dude to kick back with. I was really starting to dig him; the vibes were on point, he's funny as fuck, interested in cool things... The more time I spent with him, the more I really liked the guy. If anything, it made me that much more fuckin' pissed that a racist little fuck like Chase was steppin' out on him behind his back. This is the kind of dude you have at home, and you're puttin' your dick in someone else? Like, far be it for me to have much to say about serial fuckin', but Aidan didn't deserve that. At all.

I decided then and there, as long as I was pilotin' Chase, he was gonna be the man that Aidan had always wanted, and the man he deserved. It wasn't even gonna be that hard, man. Just bein' myself, the vibes were electric. Maybe I'm not as straight as I thought. Laughin', puttin' my arm around him as he played Legend of Zelda or whatever, I don't know it just felt right. So by the time the sun went down, it felt like it had only been twenty minutes. I looked up at the clock on the oven, seein' it sayin' that it was almost 9 PM.

"Hey, babe. I'm gonna run to the store, you want me to get you anything?" He barely looked up from the game, just turnin' his head a little bit.

"Ice cream. Pistachio. Love you." I laughed, ruffling his blonde locks before hoppin' up, and slippin' my J's back on. I made sure his eyes were plastered on the screen before slipping heat into my pants, and headed toward the door.

"Be right back, bro." He just waved behind him, not so much as glancin' at me. I snickered, and felt the butterflies in my stomach flutterin' around. Fuck, I was gettin' in deep. I opened the door, and made my way out into the hall. The police had tape all around my old apartment, doin' all their searches and fingerprintin'. Fuckin' fools. I turned and walked down the steps, grinning from ear to ear.

---

The docks were empty at that time of night, no one's around past 8. So walking straight up to warehouse 7 was a breeze. I reached in through the broken glass on the door, turning the knob from the inside and walkin' in. The blue lights were barely lighting anything, but in the far side of the empty room, I saw my boy smokin' his blunt. Still decked out in his diamonds and gold.

"Bruh, I gotta tell you. I ain't been a gay before, but this shit ain't too bad!" He looked up at me, nearly bursting into laughter at the gringo struttin' up in my clothes.

"Fuck, bro! Now I know that ain't Thiago up in that white boy." I smirked, bowing like the drama queen Chase used to be before slappin' Omarion on the shoulder.

"The one and only, bro. Pretty wild, right?" He laughed, passing me the blunt. I took a quick hit, lettin' out the rings I'm known for in our crew. That seemed to set his questions at ease.

"Motherfucker that is you! I'm out here dodgin' feds and pigs right and left, and you're over there squeezin' into fags." That word hit differently now, I felt my smile fade the moment it left his lips.

"Yeah, man. Snatched this little racist homewrecker in the hall. His boyfriends pretty tight, though."

"Him or his hole?" Omarion started to laugh, and I couldn't stop myself from shoving him against the wall. I'd caught him off guard, puttin' my arm against his neck.

"Don't be talkin' about him like that. Aidan's alright. Got it?" Omarion snickered, and then burst out laughing.

"Bruh, you in deep with this. Aight, aight! I ain't got nothin' against the gays, man. You know that." I let him off the wall, steppin back before taking another hit off the blunt. "So..." He awkwardly muttered. "Got a little hidey-hole for me?"

I turned to him, lettin' out a cloud of smoke in his face. No way I was gonna put up Aidan as his personal safe house. But thinking about it for just a second, a smirk crawled across my face. Perhaps that little shit Chase had been fuckin' on the side may come in handy after all.

To the mysterious anon that requested a story- I hope you enjoy

Moving to a new town is always hard. Put aside the expenses, the stress, and the uncertainty, and it’s still a horrible experience. Or, at least, that was what you were thinking as you carted box after box into your new place. To some extent, you were a little bit excited. New job, new house, new life. You can start over, and that means really crafting who you are from the ground up. Much like a New Year’s resolution, you promised yourself you’d hit the gym, update your closet, work on your attitude, and finally go out every once in a while.

It was no secret that you were a little on the thin side, and athletically challenged. So, as you hauled each piece of furniture from the UHaul into your modest New Orleans shotgun house, you got progressively more and more exhausted. Right when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, a clap of lightning thundered from beyond the palm trees. Like the turn of a faucet, rain poured from the rather suddenly cloudy skies. Damn tropical rain.

It was as you were carrying the heaviest box, filled with books from your library, you slipped on a pebble. Both you and the box came tumbling down, landing in one of the notoriously questionable puddles that New Orleans was littered with. In fact, puddle is an understatement. This was like a pothole-turned-pool. As you picked yourself out of the filthy pothole, you heard a door open. 

“Yo, you okay out there?” You turn to your neighbor, the other half of your shotgun house, standing on his porch. My god, was he beautiful. He was an Arabian Prince, built like a stallion and sexy as hell. What surprised you, however, was his lack of clothing. In fact, he donned only a pair of skin-clinging Armani underwear, an eggplant-sized bulge protruding from behind the thin fabric.

“Yeah, my books are ruined, but I’m fine.” You can’t tear your eyes away from his. Even from a few yards away, his dark brown eyes exuded an exotic lust that swept your every inhibition away. He motioned for you to come inside, and walked back into his house. Like an elephant running from a mouse, you booked it to his door, brown water dripping from your soaked clothes. 

His side of the house was rather barren, but very cluttered with clothes, beer cans, and dumbbells strewn about the floor. A ratty old leather couch sat against the wall, facing an impressive flat screen tv, flanked on either side with gaming systems galore. A puff of smoke came from behind an open door, leading into the bedroom. You gingerly walked into the bedroom, and saw your studly Arab neighbor lounging on his bed, smoking a hookah. The room was stuffy, with the heavy and thick smell of dirty socks & underwear, mixed with the smell of the mint and basil shisha tobacco.

“The name’s Karim. Sit down, dude, take a load off.” You obliged, sitting on the edge of the unkempt bed, quietly introducing yourself. “Aww, shit, man. You’re making the sheets wet. Here, just toss those threads over there.” His laid back, nonchalant demeanor betrayed the suggestive rhetoric. Yet, as you slowly and uncomfortably stripped your sopping wet clothes, you felt his piercing gaze watching you like a hawk from behind the clouds of smoke. As you stood there in your cheap white underwear; hookah in mouth, he cocked his head to the right, motioning for you to toss the still dripping underwear. 

In any other circumstance, you’d get the hell out of there, yet, as you stared into those big, brown eyes, you couldn’t help but obey. The underwear came off, was thrown to the wall, and you stood there in the bare in front of him. Completely unperturbed, he leaned to the edge of the bed, rummaging underneath. He tossed you random items of his clothing, clearly not washed for an undisclosed amount of time. 

“Get warm, dude. And take a hit. Let’s get to know eachother.” You eagerly looked down at the clothes he tossed you. The socks had his footprint beautifully outlined in brown sweat stains. The underwear had clear cumstains, with a pungent, strong musk pouring from it. A black tee shirt with pit stains, still warm from use; and a pair of well worn, trashed black Nikes. Perhaps unbeknownst to him, your jock fetish had you giddy as a kid to slip on his filthy gear. With each article, you savoured the idea of his exotic essence seeping into you from the mere touch of his worn cotton. The clothes fitting surprisingly well considering your size difference, you plopped down on the bed next to him, trying to conceal the raging boner pressing against his crusty underwear.

You quickly pull up a pair of old, grey sweats. He hands you the pipe, and you take an instinctive deep breath. Expecting a slow, burning pain, you were surprised to experience the feeling of weightless bliss.

“Yeah, just let that smoke in, dude. Feels good, doesn’t it?” You nod, taking a second breath from the hookah pipe. With each inhalation, the world becomes fuzzier, and sounds echo in the cavernous space in your head. “Yeah, feels good to be all warm in comfortable clothes. Feels good to be relaxed.” Almost as if on cue, the clothes adorning your increasingly limp body begin to heat up, reminiscent of a sauna. “Yeah, it feels good to relax after a long workout, right Amir? I mean, after a hard, sweaty, lifting sesh it’s amazing to smoke the cool, minty hookah.” You knod, looking down at your strong, built muscles bulging out from underneath your clothes. “Damn, Amir. Did you get even tanner? Shit. You fuckin’ Moroccans are so damn good lookin.” You grab your chiseled jawline, flashing a cocky smoulder hotter than the Sahara. Your glistening caramel skin is something you’re super proud of, he’s right to be jealous.

“Fuck, is that another tattoo, Amir?” Karim grabs your gym shirt, lifting it slightly, exposing your chiseled abs and a big Arabic tattoo across your groin. You slap his hand, and playfully push him. He’s your best friend after all, your bromance is filled with groping, spanking, and after-gym musk sniffing. “Dude, as much as I love your stank, we gotta hit the bar in like, an hour. Shower up.” You cuss him out in suave Arabic, and walk across the trashed apartment. As you enter the bathroom, you look into the mirror, admiring your sexy, hard earned body. You were the sexiest Hookah Lounge owner in New Orleans, and you knew it. Amir al-Youssef, your resolution has finally come to fruition.

... dumb stoned gooner can't stop edging his horny cock dumb stoned gooner can't stop edging his horny cock dumb stoned gooner can't stop edging his horny cock dumb stoned gooner can't stop edging his horny cock dumb stoned gooner can't stop edging his horny cock...

Sounds like you’ve gotten pretty firmly transformed reading my stories. You’ve probably been zoned out for hours, reading my blog with your cock in your hand, your bloodshot eyes glazing over as you bate and drool and read…

Huh? I can detect just a hint of a curse. Pot smoke. Since when did I have a lit joint in my hand?

Fuuuuuck, that feels good, bro. My body feels all warm and fuzzy and horny, huhuhu. Now time to get to work…take another hit, yeah.

Where’d my shirt go? Damn, all this chest hair feels nice to run my fingers through. Watch me pop my pecs. I’ll give you a blissed-out stoner grin, bro. This is what life’s all about. Hold on, lemme finish this joint.

Phew, it’s hot in here. I’m toootally dripping in sweat, nice n musky stoner lmao. I’d give you a taste, but I’m soooo horny. I gotta jerk off first. I’ll just be a minute, I’m gonna read a few stories and I’ll cum asap.

Ohhh, this feels so good. What’s better than this? Jerking my cheesy stoner cock and sniffing my rank, hairy pits while reading tf stories. I’m just a dumb stoned gooner with a horny cock. Dumb stoned gooner with a horny cock.

Dumb stoned gooner can’t stop edging his horny cock dumb stoned gooner can’t stop edging his horny cock…

Go on, take a hit off that joint in your hand ;)

I dedicate this story to my good friend and writing buddy @idesofrevolution. Merry Christmas buddy and please PLEASE Enjoy. Happy holidays to everyone and Happy TF's.

A Green Christmas

`What!!`

Ryan screamed at the news.

You sighed.

´I have no choice, my family has to move, and I have to go as well, I don´t have any accommodation here.´

Ryan grumbled. `Bro... you can´t leave me man... you´re my best bud.´

You grimaced. Your friend had been acting weird lately. You used to be super close, and you honestly still are, but your interests had began to shift. You used to play games, watch cartoons and study together, but lately Ryan had become absent from you life. He had been ´busy´ with other things but his grades had been plummeting and he had picked up smoking. Ryan had no idea you knew this, but you had seen the pictures from your classmates. His wardrobe had changed too. Before he would wear shirts and khakis, now its oversized shirts and hoodies. He started wearing contacts as well, which, to be honest, was a great look for him, he looked very handsome without glasses. His lingo had switched as well. No more academic jargon. Just simple sentences, which almost always had at least one bro in them.

`Look Ryan, I really am sorry, but I just can´t make this work´

Your family was moving, and while you were a college student, who by all accounts should have received some form of scholarship due to your amazing grades, you never did. The truth however, was that you wanted to move. The alienating feeling you got from your former best friend broke something in you, and you had to put some distance between eachother. You could easily apply for the on-campus dormitories but you just couldn`t bear staying near the now almost stranger.

`Look you´d better go, I want to be home before Christmas and I still have a lot of packing to do.'

Ryan sighed and left. After closing the door behind him, You let out a grunt.

"Why does it have to be this way! What happend to him?"

Reluctantly you began packing. Your father would come and get you and your things on Christmas eve, so you had your work cut out for you. You were currently staying Ryan, but this had always been a temporary solution. Ryan's landlord didn't want two friends staying together only couples or families. Ryan had become quite open to you about his sexuality. He had told you he was bisexual and that he could always tell the landlord the two of you were dating, but you had declined. You had a hard enough time not getting picked on. If word would get out that you two were dating, you would not be able to survive. What Ryan didn't know is that you were in fact also bisexual. You really liked girls but men really were where you got your satisfaction. From porn that is, because you were still a virgin. You grew up in a strict Christian household, with a Father from the south. Your parents would never approve and they were the reason you didn't have to work, so coming out was never an option.

A loud knock shook you from your deep train of thought. You opened the door and Ryan was standing right there, smiling.

"Steven, can we talk bro?"

"Ryan, I told you. I need to pack for..."

"Please, just for a little while."

"...Fine..."

Ryan walked in and sat down on your bed.

"Look man... I've been thinking... I need to be honest with you about something."

You looked at your former best friend with confusion. He had been so dominant and confident these last few weeks, and all of a sudden he looked shy and insecure.

"I... I picked up smoking... and... not just cigarettes. Weed too"

You sighed.

"I know Ryan, I have seen you. Don't worry, it's whatever... Your body, your choice."

Ryan smiled.

"Yeah for reallll broo but, I wanted to ask you a favor."

"What is it?" You asked, slightly impatient.

"Come sit down first" Ryan had this shit eating grin on his face, his perfect white teeth on display. Wait that doesn't sound right. he had braces right?

Because you took so long, Ryan grabbed your arm and pulled you onto the bed, right next to him.

"What the hell man!" You exclaimed.

He quickly wraps an arm around your shoulders, his musky scent drilling into your nose, and holds something up to your face.

"I really, really want to smoke this with you man. Like dying wish and shit."

You look down and see a blunt in between his fingers.

"I don't smoke Ryan, you know this" You point out.

" Just one hit bro, that's all, I won't tell anyone, you don't have to smoke any more, just humor me with this man."

You took a deep breath and wanted to decline, but then something clicked.

"You know what. Sure."

Ryan's grin widened. 'Let's fucking go bro!!!" He quickly grabbed a lighter, and lit the blunt.

He took the first hit, blowing the smoke right into your face, the fumes invading your nose and throat, leaving you gasping for air.

"Sorry there bro, just wanted to give you a little taste."

"I'm only taking one hit bro... fuck" Your eyes widen not only did you just curse, something which you rarely do, you also just used bro in your sentence. Hoping he didn't notice you hold out your hand to take the blunt.

Ryan, who's grinning from ear to ear, hands you the blunt, and you quickly take a hit. You deeply inhale, feeling the smoke fill your lungs and the weed invade your brain. A single hit, and you can almost feel your brain stopping.

"W...whaaat the fuuuuuck" You mumble. Your jaw slacks a bit as the smoke escapes from your lips.

"You gonna take that hit or not bro?" Ryan asked with a sly grin on his face.

"Huh didn't I just?'' You asked confused.

"Bro are you already tripping? I just blew some smoke in your face man, thats all. Now come on bro, you promised."

You took a hit, taking a deep breath, feeling the smoke fill your lungs, and your whole body. Slowly blowing out you feel constricted. You look down to see your buttoned up shirt bulging. You tug on it a bit, and it flies open, revealing a chiseled abdomen and two meaty pecs.

"Brooo wat the fahk' You mumble. "My chest is so big... what the hell"

"Yeah bro I know right. I love that strain. Made me who I am today" Ryan smirks as he takes off his hoodie showing his massive arms and chest.

You look in awe as he stretches a bit, his smooth torso , and bulging muscles on display. He drops his sweats, showing off a massive bulge in his white briefs as he looks at you and smirks.

"Wanna take another hit bro?"

Before he even finished his sentence the blunt was back in your mouth, filling you up with even more smoke. You look down and begin to giggle as you bounce your growing pecs.

"Huhuhu broo they are so bigg... what the shit..." You say as a familiar musk begins radiating from your growing body.

Ryan smiles back.

"Yeah bro you're getting so fuckin huge. You're so hot"

You look at him with a flushed face.

"What... did you say?"

"You're hot. You look amazing."

"Thanks..." You can't help but blush, seeing as he himself is a fucking model.

"You're really hot yourself" You say with a beetred face

Ryan stops smiling and looks at you. He sits down and looks you in the eyes.

"I don't want you to go Stevey. I love you..."

Your eyes widen at the words, and before you know it, his lips get pressed against yours. Before you can react he pushes his tongue into your mouth, and a torrent of smoke follows suit. It's almost as if hes blowing you up, and it feels that way too, Your muscles getting bigger, your mind hazier, and your dick... well...

You manage to push away and look at him.

"Ry... I ... "

"yeah?"

"I think... no ... I know... I love you too man"

Ryan signature shit eating grin flies back onto his face.

"Fuck yeah bro!!"

A sheepish smile creeps onto your face as you grab the blunt from his fingers, taking a massive hit before grabbing his neck and blowing the smoke into his mouth.

"You're so sexy." You say as he blows the smoke back into your face.

"What about you then, such a fucking cute stud you are"

The two of you continue laughing, finishing the blunt before crawling into each others arms.

You text your dad that he doesn't have to come get you anymore, as you will be staying with your boyfriend, and promptly block him afterwards.

You nuzzled up to your boyfriends pit and took a deep breath. It smelled amazing and it bricked you up knowing you smell the same.

This will be a pretty special Christmas.

__________________________________________________________

Happy Holidays Everyone!!!! Feel free to send in some asks or order something at Rakurai Inc.!!!

Zayn sat in his room that smelled of weed that was an absolute mess, so in other words a stoners normal dwelling. He didn’t ask for much in life and his enjoyments were of the most primal pleasures and that was having a good time, getting high and obviously his dick played a huge part as well. He loaded his pipe to hit yet another bowl while blasting another rapper that his sister Sage didn’t know or understand the appeal for at all.

She was the prim propper type who didn’t do anything remotely bad and to be described in few words a goody two shoes. The two had finals this week in school and as always she spent hours trying to cram for studying while her brother just screwed off. Normally their parents would have told him to turn the music down but they were out of town for their anniversary for the weekend so Zayn thought he could do whatever he wanted.

Sage sat at her desk and aggressively tapped her pen on the notebook rereading the same equation for the 3rd time now because she could hardly think with the music that was literally rattling the house. She finally had enough and stormed into his room as he let out a big puff of pot smoke into the air and started coughing.

Seguir leyendo

Hey Billy! I’ll help fill the role of the stoner at your house 

Fuck dude, you say as your former uptight lifestyle quickly fades, you reek of weed now as you light up another joint, offering it up to the other guys in the manor, some join but none partake in it as much as you. You room covered in various shades of cannabis leaves painted on the wall.

You always felt relaxed with a joint in your hand, in fact so relaxed you spent time when not smoking weed being the manors favorite fuck toy, your sexy ass passed around at times just like the weed you loved.

If not being used you were posting to your socials boosting the new strains we were offering at our new magical pot store of which you were in charge of. You loved your new life and the freedom you had being one of us in the manor.

Weeding Out

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- Hey, I said I was sorry. You know I’m just pretending. - It still hurts. - No one hit you today. - That’s not what I meant. - Don’t be like that. You know why I have to do it. - Yea… No… Why do you have to do it? You’re just scared they’ll treat you like shit. - I’d… Fuck, I need to go to practice. We can talk later. Your place? - Yeah, I guess.

As soon as Ethan was out of earshot, Theo hit his school locker hard and thought “Fuck” really loudly. He too was late for practice, but not the kind where young males like Ethan run and compete and cooperate and sweat together on the field outside the school buildings. His practice was in the music room with the woodwind section of the school orchestra playing bassoon, or fagott as Ethan’s teammates heckled him with.

It had all been so promising at the start. One evening when he was playing with Fred and they were talking shit on discord he had mentioned that he was at least bisexual. And if Fred knew, he had to be the one to tell Emma, so he did that first chance he could get, but that was it. He didn’t want any coming out announcement or anything. No one ever came out straight, so why would he need any ceremony to declare his orientation. Besides, he wasn’t sure what he was. Somehow this started the low-intensity rumor mill going, saying that he was gay. Perhaps it wasn’t any of them starting the rumor somehow, but just a case of synchronicity. Doesn’t really matter as nothing much came of it, except for some of the dudes in the football team started to bother him. Things like stopping him and asking him to punch one of them in their abs, and then of course returning the favor by punching Theo back. Nothing that ever truly physically hurt him, nothing that made him want to expose himself by talking to any of the teachers, but things that would cause trouble and delays nonetheless.

After about a month one of the jocks, Ethan, who he shared Chemistry and Physics with asked him if it was true about him being gay. Theo started with a defensive “I don’t know”, and as they talked all the way from school to halfway home, where their ways parted, it was clear they were at least both attracted to each other. To Theo this was a double win. Not only was Ethan hot, and had always been an OK guy as far as he knew, but the thought of a Nerd and a Jock couple was hot to him. Not that he really saw himself as a nerd. He considered himself pretty normal. But then he guessed Ethan probably saw himself as pretty normal, and probably saw Theo as a nerd.

They started meeting up at each other’s houses, getting to know each other. They had spent hours in his room listening to classical music, and hours in Ethan’s house watching ESPN. While Ethan was upfront about enjoying hiking, it took a month until he confessed to enjoying bird watching, and that was the real reason for the hikes. To Theo it just made him even cuter. They had been making out on more than one occasion but never taken the step to actually have sex. Theo felt that Ethan really wanted to go there. He on the other hand didn’t want to do that until Ethan fessed up to liking him publicly. Outside of their respective rooms he wouldn’t even touch Theo.

But then there was the bullying. It didn’t stop just because he kissed their running back regularly. He even joined in sometimes, throwing his bag up a tree on one occasion. Though he did tell the guys to be gentle at one time. “Who would make my homework otherwise?”

Damn him! Theo wished he still had a locker to hit, but he was almost at the music room. He had bought the special weed the day after Ethan had said that, and then promptly decided to never think about it again. It would be wrong to use it. But they couldn’t go on like this.

Music practice went lousy. He played the right notes, in the right order, at the right time, but his phrasing was way off. Playing more forcefully than written, often veering into staccato, his mind on the small box in his socks drawer. It was on his mind all the way home, and it was on his mind when Ethan pressed the doorbell.

They had been seeing each other long enough that Ethan could tell something was up. Theo looked tense, nervous even. Was this about the shit he was on about earlier? No, he was upset then, so he would be still upset now if he hadn’t dropped that. This was something else going on. The reason became clear once he’d dropped his gear, and they reached Theo’s room. He could see the spliff and the lighter on the desk. He himself had tried weed once before, at summer camp. Jace had brought some with him that he’d gotten from his elder brother. They were quite a few that shared it, so no one got very much, but he’d felt something. He was sure of it.

- Hey, I didn’t expect this from you. Where did you get it? - You’ve tried it before, right? - Yeah, at camp.

Theo looked uncertain. Ethan suddenly knew he’s role. Theo needed someone to guide him to his first blunt. He took charge and told Theo to lie down. The bed being too small for both of them, unless they did what Theo had been wanting them to do, they moved the pillows to the floor. Once Theo was lying down Ethan lit the blunt as he’d seen Jace do, and drew the first taste. He dared drawing the smoke deeper into his lungs than he had dared at camp. He lied down next to Theo, handed over the joint, and instructed him what to do. Time turned irrelevant, and walking back home he couldn’t quite remember anything that happened after that. Had Theo’s parents come home from work before he left? He couldn’t recall.

It was still in the middle of the night when Ethan woke up, freezing, clammy, and as nauseated as he’d ever been. He jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom, just in time to empty his stomach into the toilet bowl. He had sweat beads on his forehead, all his muscles ached, and he could feel that weird feeling in the jaw, where the muscles relax to prepare for another vomit. He had barely thought the thought when another convulsion expelled more stomach contents. He rinsed his mouth, drank a few mugs of tap water, and made it all the way back to the bed when he felt he needed to go back to the bathroom for more.

That’s where his mother found him sleeping a few hours later, head in the bowl. Once led back to his bed, a sick day was a quick decision, though he insisted she could still go to work. He knew how to heat soup, not that he was hungry. He was asleep again before she was out of the room.

He checked his phone clock as he woke up. It was only barely lunch, but the fever had passed and he felt much better. In fact, he felt completely restored, better than ever, except for a craving he didn’t recognize. He jumped out of bed, lost his balance, but managed to catch the corner of the desk with his hands before he crashed into it. He put on some loose-fitting clothes. He thought he knew what the craving was, and headed out.

Theo made another attempt to step out of bed. If this was how bad it got for him, he could only imagine what Ethan had been going through. It was hard to stay focused, but he could tell it was working. He could feel himself being different somehow. As he held up his arm he could see changes when looking for them, but it took effort. Was it because the changes were so subtle or was it that his mind had changed so much that his new self didn’t acknowledge the changes? He just hoped Ethan was affected according to plan, but saw no reason why he wouldn’t. If anything he had been a more enthusiastic smoker than him, and so far everything had happened as promised. This last part of the plan was a bit of guesswork though. There would be an insatiable urge to fall into the stereotype, but he thought he knew Ethan good enough to work out what he would do.

As Theo got dressed he could feel how his body was different. It didn’t look that different once he got clothes on, but before that there was a marked difference. His muscles were more defined, tighter in a way, and if he lifted his T-shirt there was a faint outline of a six-pack, something he had never had before. He didn’t really care one way or the other though. As he passed through the kitchen there was a note on the countertop with instructions for how to heat lasagna. He wasn’t hungry although the kitchen clock showed it was almost lunchtime, but he could feel another pull. There was a low hum of wanting to smoke another blunt. There really only was one place for someone like him to get it.

Ignoring the lasagna he instead went out the door, grabbed his bike, and started to ride towards the concrete plant up north. There’s a weird feeling to be in a place at the wrong time. Just riding alongside the deserted houses in the middle of the day, when he was supposed to be in school somehow felt wrong. Then it felt right. He recognized this as some of the last reverberations of the magic from yesterday. He didn’t know if it was actually magic, but somehow magic felt safer or cleaner than admitting having drugged Ethan and himself.

Some twenty minutes later he could hear the clacking and rolling sound coming from the park. The concrete plant had donated the skate park as a PR stunt they hoped would drive their sales of swimming pools. Making one smooth, curved concrete installation is basically the same as the other. Theo didn’t really have a plan B in case he wouldn’t find Ethan here, perhaps another side effect, but plan A turned out a success. There, next to the half-pipe section, Ethan was getting instructions from some older skater on how to make a drop.

Theo froze in shock at what he saw. Ethan wore the same clothes as yesterday, but everything else was different. His otherwise tight cropped hair was now inches of shaggy mess framing his much leaner looking face. He had definitely lost a lot of muscles, as the T-shirt that yesterday had shown off his chest and shoulders now hanged baggy as the rest of his clothes. While Theo had gained some muscles and lost some fat, Ethan had brutally been forced down to a similar build. Theo felt sick again, but in a worse way than this morning. It had been theoretical then, and a bit exciting, but looking at Ethan now he couldn’t fathom them being friends, let alone together if he told the truth. That this was all his fault.

Ethan noticed Theo watching him from afar and lit up with a big smile. “Hey, watch this!” he shouted and did a shaky drop down the ramp, and continued to skate in a curve towards Theo. Much too fast and with too much force he slammed into Theo with a hug and a forceful kiss, while the skateboard continued further a bit until it hit a concrete step.

- Sorry, did I hurt you? What are you doing here? - What are you doing here yourself? - I had this crazy need for weed and though I should check out here. Matt there said he only deals to skaters, so I told him to show me. - You shouldn’t… You don’t know what you are dealing with. - And you do? You just had your first blunt. - You’ve only had two. That’s not what I’m talking about. I am the

Theo didn’t get the chance to say more as Ethan again kissed him on the mouth. Theo felt lost. On one hand he desperately wanted to come clean, to tell Ethan that all of this, their bodies, their reckless behavior, was because of the weed from yesterday. On the other hand he had never been hornier in his life. He wanted nothing more than for Ethan to continue what he was doing. He let his tongue quickly slip into Ethan’s mouth.  Ethan was quick to respond the same way, and soon it was more of an oral version of thumb wars than actual kissing. Or perhaps the best kissing ever.

- No, Ethan you must hear me out. This is important. - This is important too. - Are you aware of any changes in your body since yesterday. - Duh! Just look at this arm. I’m fucking track and field material now. - You sound pretty chill about it. - Isn’t that how your magic weed is supposed to work? - My… you knew? - Just a guess, now that I see you changed too. I was that big of an ass, was I? - I didn’t mean… - Relax, I’m not mad. I think this can be kind of cool. Is it permanent? - Should last about a month, and then slowly turn back over a month or two. Kinda. - I have one demand. - Demand? - We are having sex today.

This time it was Theo who kissed Ethan.

Hey, I'm hoping the genie could help me! I'm a 24 year old grad student and am feeling the burnout. As of right now, I'm 5'6, and have a twinkish build.

My absolute dream would be to be able to just do the things I do to relax, being outside, smoking some weed, and hopefully making money from being horny as hell. Having that stereotypical lanky, hairy stoner body and the irresistible urge to just hang out and "be free."

"I wish I could be free.”

“Amen, dude,” says the genie, slouching up in sweats and a beanie. “Here, try one of mine.” He pulls a blunt out of the pocket of his stained sweatpants, and the two of you light up.

The moment you take the first puff, all your worries seem to float away. What’s grad school? You chuckle, a slow, dumb sound. There’s a tickling sensation in your body, and through the haze in our mind you notice yourself shooting up in height. Your clothes slough off your lanky body, leaving dark, unfamiliar tattoos on your arms and legs. The sight of your body gets you horny. So horny you can barely think about anything except your lengthening uncut stoner cock.

You find yourself sitting across from your bedroom mirror. Wait, is this skunk-smelling little flat your apartment? Doesn’t matter, you decide, not like you can think that hard anyway. Your Asian stoner bod looks so sexy in that mirror. You can’t help but watch as your sexy reflection lifts up his long, socked foot and gives it a long sniff.

Whew! You didn’t realise that was you doing the sniffing! Better save your big stoner load, though. One of your regulars is coming by later, and he leaves a good tip if you milk two loads out of that big cheesy cock of yours. Not that it’s a problem; you’re basically always horny from how stoned you are.

Another wish fulfilled.

Got a wish you need twisted? Send an ask! Remember to say “I wish” so the genie hears exactly what you’re wishing for.

I am always working lately it seems. Running from one job to another. I’m so envious of those men who seem to just be able to let themselves go. To not do what’s expected of them. Think you can help me relax a bit and get rid of some of my responsibility?

You wanna let loose? Sure bro!! First off, have a drink! It's on me.

Now, I've got some bad news. You're never going to set yourself free when you have a corporate structure to answer for, yknow? So I've taken the liberty and had you fired.

Aww, don't look at me like that. Here, have another drink

The second thing is your brain. You're too, well, how do I put it... motivated. You keep on thinking about things like "goals" and "consequences". Loser shit, not enough instant gratification. So, don't worry bro, I just turned all of that off. You want a beer? just drink one, no more fears about hangovers and "obligations" tomorrow. That pizza looks good, right? Eat another slice. Eat 5 more slices. Who gives a shit if you've already had enough food for 2 men today.

Wait, what's that? You feel weird? Like your body? Well yeah, duh, actions have consequences.

Oh right, I forgot I blasted that part of your brain. I guess you'll just have to live with whatever happens

Yeah yeah, I know, shit sucks. But I guess all those calories started to add up. I said I'll help you loosen up, not your waistband.

The hair? I don't know what your talking about bro. Have you ever seen a fucker like you who wasn't hairy? Didn't think so. This is all natural. This is all right.

Well, nearly.

There's one last problem bro, even lazy dudes get their shit together; even pigs like you can stop eating, can get a job again, maybe even start working out. In my mind it just aint permanent enough.

So, I think I'm gonna give you something else. Something that can sap up any little sliver of focus you manage to squeeze out. Something that's going to eat up every minute of your life from now on.

Oop, there is goes. Do you feel that? Your mind is going somewhere else and it won't be coming back anytime soon

Tell me when you work it out ;)

From now on, you'll be spending every waking moment thinking about your cock, playing with it non-stop. You wanna fuck anything and everything you see, don't you?

Good luck getting your job back now bro ;)

"Ugh, bro, pleeeeease?"

Max looked at me with those dopey blue eyes of his, staring dully through me and appearing to lack any kind of intelligence or perception.

"I told you, I have a very important club interview," I replied. "This could determine if I can network into a good job after college!" stressing the importance of a job, something my stoner roommate never seemed to understand.

"Just one hit, man, come on! You gotta stop worrying about that stuff and just chill out!" he replied, stretching his muscular arms over his head of greasy (probably unwashed) brown hair and closing his eyes, as if musing about something important. "You gotta try this weed bro, I just, I-" he stuttered as he took another hit. "I don't fuckin' know man, I think you just need this."

Exasperated, I dropped my heavy bag on the floor and strode over to his side of the room, switching to mouth breathing to avoid inhaling too much foot funk from his "clean pile" of clothes, as Max called it. Even three air fresheners weren't enough to keep the pungent smells of weed and sweat at bay.

"What the hell, dude, when's the last time you even washed those?!"

"Oh, I dunno, a couple weeks ago, maybe?" Max replied, shrugging.

I could see some of the dried crust still clinging to the fabric. I couldn't help but be amazed at the sheer size of his stash. The pile was easily four feet across, and it was clear Max was still working to roll his way through the rest. I couldn't even imagine where he got it all.

"Look, just let me finish my meeting, then I'll smoke with you, okay?"

Max's eyes lit up.

"Yeah, for real?" he replied, excited. "You promise? Pinky swear?"

Max stuck his hand out, his pinky raised and his arm shaking slightly. He looked like an overgrown child. I was so tired, I didn't even hesitate. I wrapped my pinky around his, then turned to walk out of the room. As soon as I let go, I felt a sudden, powerful wave of euphoria wash over me. It was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. I couldn't even think straight, the sensation was so intense.

I collapsed against the doorway, unable to move. I could barely even think. The only thought that went through my mind was that I'd never felt this good in my life. Every inch of my skin tingled and buzzed, like a pleasant static that sent ripples of bliss through my muscles. I couldn't even control the way my body twitched and shivered.

"Duuuude," I heard Max say. "You feel that, man? I told you it's the good stuff."

I didn't know what was happening to me. My heart was racing and I couldn't breathe, and the feeling was getting more and more intense. "What..." I struggled to even sound out words. "I didn't even...take a hit..."

"Well, no, not technically," Max said, laughing. "But, uh, that's not what it was, actually. See, I sorta dosed your pinky."

I looked up at him, confused. My vision was blurry and I could barely see him, but he was grinning widely, and I could see the outline of his meaty, calloused hands rubbing the front of his jeans.

"See, it's like this, man. That wasn't weed. That was just, you know, a little something to get you to loosen up a bit. And, uh, well, there's this other thing, too. That shit I sprayed on your hand. It's not, uh, not exactly what you think."

The euphoria was fading, but it was still intense, and it was making my brain spin. "You sprayed my...hand?" I mumbled, barely able to understand what he was saying.

"Yeah, bro, I sorta had to, man. You kept getting me down with all your stress." He flexed his big biceps and gave one a kiss. "Now you're gonna be just like me!" He grinned wide, his perfect teeth glinting in the low light.

I couldn't respond. The sensations were still washing over me, but the euphoria was fading. As my brain began to work again, I suddenly realized that there was something wrong with me. There was a new, alien weight between my legs.

"Wha-what did you do?" I stammered, still dazed and confused. "What...what did you..."

I looked down, and froze. There was a huge, heavy bulge straining against the crotch of my jeans, stretching the thick material taut. It was huge. Like, absolutely massive. It was easily the size of my fist, maybe even bigger. It was so big and round, I could even see the outline of the individual balls.

"Duuuuude, bro, look at that fucking thing!" Max exclaimed, pointing and laughing. "It's totally fucking huge! Holy shit, man, it's the biggest cock I've ever seen in my life!"

I tried to speak, but I was still so confused, I couldn't get my mouth to form words.

"I didn't know they could get that big, man! Wow, bro, you're really packing a fucking cannon, you know that? Holy shit, it's so fucking hot." Max was practically drooling as he ogled the enormous bulge in my pants.

I could feel the heat radiating off of it, and I could tell it was pulsing and throbbing with each beat of my heart. The sensation was incredibly intense.

"It's...it's not possible..." I stammered, my voice cracking. "What...what did you spray?"

"Bro, I'm telling you, it's totally normal!" Max said, trying his best to sound reassuring. "My friend from home, he said, well, it's just that..." Max stammered again, his usually peaceful face betraying some shyness. "I've always thought you were cute, even without that package. You just needed to loosen up a little. And, I mean, I just wanted you to be, like, comfortable with me. It was just a little bit, man, and it was totally safe. Like, I swear, it's totally normal, dude." He grinned and shot me a wink. "Soon you're going to be just like me."

Max was still staring at the massive bulge, and I could see the outline of his huge dick stretching the crotch of his jeans.

"Dude, bro, I-" my hand shot to my mouth. I had never used those words in the same sentence before! "I...I didn't mean that!"

"Oh, yeah, dude," Max replied, not even noticing. "It's totally normal, bro. You're just a little high is all."

"High?!" I shouted, exasperated. "This isn't...I'm not...this isn't how people talk!"

Max just shrugged. "Bro, you've always been a nerd, and it's cool, man, I totally get it. But this is a big step forward. You're gonna love this. I swear."

I couldn't believe this was happening. I was still trying to process everything that was happening to me, when I heard Max's voice.

"Duuuuuude, check it out, bro," he said, gesturing to the bulge in his jeans. "We're, like, totally packing!"

"I can't..."

"Oh, shit, right. Dude, you gotta feel this."

Max quickly reached down and grabbed the bulge in my pants. As soon as he made contact, I felt a powerful surge of pleasure ripple through me. My body immediately responded to his touch, and I could feel my new cock throb and twitch. I groaned, unable to hold back the sounds.

"Dude, holy shit, bro, it's like, really sensitive or something," Max said, his eyes wide. "Like, really, really fucking sensitive, bro."

"No, it's...not..." I moaned, but I could tell it was a lie. It felt like Max's hand was squeezing my balls, and the pleasure was incredible.

"Fuck, bro, it's, like, really fucking sensitive, dude. Like, fucking, crazy fucking sensitive." Max was practically drooling, and his eyes were glazed over. He was clearly enjoying this a lot.

"Please, stop..."

"Fuck, bro, you're so fucking hard," Max groaned. He started to rub my bulge, and his other hand went to the front of his own jeans. "...and, you're so pretty too. I just don't want to lose you to all those meetings, bro. I want you to be with me."

"Wait, no, what are you doing?"

"I can't hold back anymore, dude, I gotta see your big dick," Max replied, unzipping my jeans and reaching in. He slowly pulled down, and my eyes widened as he revealed the huge, throbbing bulge in my underwear. It was so big, the fabric was stretched tight, and it was already soaked in pre-cum.

"Holy shit, dude, that thing is huge!" Max exclaimed, his voice cracking. He was staring at my huge bulge with a lustful expression, and his long tongue darted out to lick his lips. "It's, like, fucking, massive."

I looked down and was shocked by what I saw. It was easily twice as big as it had been just a few minutes ago. It was still growing, and it was stretching the fabric of my boxer-briefs to the limit. Max began to move closer, scrambling to take off his busted old t-shirt, meaty pecs and perfect washboard abs busting out as he did. He leaned forward, and his massive bicep brushed against my new rock-hard dick.

"Oh, shit, bro, fuck," Max moaned as he leaned in closer. At this point I could almost feel the waves of sweat and weed rolling off his huge body, and my cock was throbbing and leaking, straining against the tight fabric of my underwear.

"You're so hot, dude," Max said, reaching out to grab my huge bulge, wrapping his meaty hand around it. His hand was warm and rough, and his grip was strong, squeezing my bulge and causing a fresh burst of pleasure. "You're, like, fucking sexy as hell, man."

"What the hell, bro, no, that's not...that's not right!" I stammered, but Max's words sent a thrill through me. I could feel my cheeks burning, and I could feel the heat radiating from my skin. "That's not, I'm not a fag!"

"You sure about that, bro?" he asked, giving it a tug and sending a bolt of pleasure through my body. I felt the euphoria return. This time, it was a hundred times more intense.

"Fuuuuck," I groaned, leaning my head back. "Bro, it feels so fucking good."

"I know, right? And it's going to feel even better when you're a stoner like me, dude." Max replied, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Fuck, bro, I can't take it, I gotta get naked," Max moaned, frantically undoing his belt and shucking his pants. "I'm so fucking hard, bro, I can't wait to fuck you."

I looked down, and for the first time, got a good look at my new equipment. It was absolutely massive. It was huge and thick, easily the biggest cock I'd ever seen, and it was still growing. It was 10 inches long, and thicker than a beer can. My balls were huge, too, hanging heavy and swollen between my legs. I'd never felt anything like it.

The sensation continued to wash over me, slowly becoming heat as I began to sweat. It felt amazing. I couldn't control myself, I was already starting to moan and groan, and the euphoria was starting to mix with my arousal. My new cock was so sensitive, and the slightest touch made it throb and pulse.

"It's starting!" Max shouted, looking at my side of the room as my clean and organized things started to transform. My desk became cluttered with bongs and pipes, and posters of the periodic table were suddenly replaced by scantily clad men. My clothes started to change, too. My formerly neat shirts were suddenly full of holes and stained with various substances. My shoes were replaced with flip flops and Crocs.

"I can't take it, man, I'm too horny, I need to kiss you, right now," Max moaned, his voice shaking with desperation. "I've been waiting for this day, dude, and I can't hold back any longer."

Before I could protest, Max leaned in and kissed me, his big, thick tongue probing my mouth. The heat was overwhelming, and his kisses were passionate and hungry. His big, rough hands began to explore my body, rubbing and stroking and caressing every inch of me. He broke away from the kiss and buried his face in my neck, licking and nibbling and kissing. He was so close, I could feel the heat from his body, and I could smell the overpowering funk of stale sweat and reeking weed. It was so powerful I almost didn't notice my feet begin to ache and the pain in my lower back.

"What's...what's happening to me, bro?" I asked, my voice breaking. "I feel...I feel like...fuck, bro, it hurts!"

"You're changing, dude," Max replied, grinning. "It's the weed. You're finally becoming one with the bud."

"Fuck, bro, I can't hold back anymore," Max moaned. He reached down and began to stroke his giant cock, pre-cum pouring from the tip. It was easily 9 inches, and his massive balls were swollen and heavy with greasy, unwashed hair.

My feet continued to ache and burn as they stretched out, becoming bigger and broader. I could feel my bones shifting and rearranging, long tufts of sweaty hair sprouting out of my feet as they morphed into giant, hairy stumps. I couldn't believe it. The changes were getting more and more intense, and it was driving me wild. I felt like I was going to explode.

"I can't take it anymore," Max groaned, his voice a husky growl. " I have to make you mine."

Without hesitation, Max grabbed my shoulders and spun me around, pushing me face-first into my mattress. His hands were rough and strong, and he easily manhandled me.

"Holy fuck, dude, your ass, it's..." Max moaned, his voice filled with lust. "It's so fucking huge."

My ass was getting bigger and rounder, and it was stretching the seat of my boxer-briefs to the limits, and I felt a sharp, sudden pain as the fabric gave way and tore, leaving my huge, jiggly, fat, bubble butt exposed.

"I'm so horny, bro" Max moaned, his voice shaky and breathy, as my ass filled with greasy, oily stink, the air thick with the musk of unwashed flesh and reeking, unwashed funk.

"You're so hot, dude. It's so hot that you're getting stoned."

"What? Bro, that's not...wait!"

"Don't worry, dude, you'll get used to it. It's just the weed talking."

"No, wait, bro, you can't..." I moaned again as my legs began to push me taller, my thighs and calves widening and thickening. My feet swelled even more, filling to a size 13, and a sudden rush of heat swept over my body.

"Fuck, dude, you're so fucking hot, man," Max groaned, his voice thick with lust, rubbing my new, tick legs as dark, swirly hair began to sprout, quickly becoming matted with the sweat of hours upon hours of mindless smoking.

"Please, bro, stop," I moaned, as my body began to shake. "I can't take it, I'm gonna...I'm gonna cum."

"Dude, that's the whole point, bro," Max replied, his voice trembling. "Just relax, and let it happen. It's gonna feel so fucking good."

"It's too much," I moaned, my cock throbbing and pulsing. "It's too intense."

"I know, dude, it's just the weed, bro. It'll feel better after you get used to it. Trust me."

I could feel the hair begin to creep onto my stomach and chest, quickly spreading and covering me in a layer of greasy, foul-smelling, sweaty body hair.

"Dude, are you seriously not feeling this, too?" I asked, my voice cracking. "Bro, I can't take it, please, just stop, it's too much."

"Dude, chill, you're fine," Max replied, flipping me back over and rubbing his hand over my new abs and thickening pecs. "Just enjoy the ride."

"Wait, no, I'm not...fuuuuck!"

The sensation was so intense, it was driving me wild. I could barely even think. My pecs were growing larger and heavier, and my nipples were swelling and darkening, the areolae growing thicker and hairier.

"Fuuuuuck, dude, you're so fucking sexy," Max groaned, grabbing a fistful of hair and giving it a sharp tug, making me moan with pleasure.

My cock was throbbing and leaking pre-cum, and I could feel the heat coming from it. My balls were swollen and heavy, and they were aching for release.

"Fuck, dude, I can't take it," Max moaned, his voice filled with desperation, shoving his face into my pit as they began to grow and deepen, quickly filling with rank, musky body odor. As he licked, my arms grew longer and wider, my biceps and triceps growing thicker and bulkier. My forearms became thicker and more defined, and my hands and fingers were getting bigger and beefier.

"Bro, it's so fucking good." Max's voice was muffled by my armpit, and I could feel his tongue lapping up the stale sweat and musk.

My arms were now completely covered in thick, greasy, matted hair, and the same was happening to my back, the swirly pattern spreading like a wildfire. My shoulders were growing larger and rounder, and I could feel the muscles shifting and rearranging.

"Please, dude, don't...I can't..."

"I can't stop, bro, you're so hot," Max moaned, his face buried in my pit. I could smell our odors mixing together as our muscular bodies writhed against each other, slick with sweat and the stinking smell of weed.

I was so turned on.

"You're so hot, bro," Max moaned, his pre-cum leaking all over the place.

"No, bro, what?" I moaned, my voice trembling. "I'm not a faggot."

"That's just the weed, dude," Max replied, his voice low and husky. "You're gonna love it."

"Please, no," I moaned, but I knew he was right. I was so turned on, and the weed was driving me wild as my neck and jaw began to fill out and widen, my Adam's apple growing into a large, meaty knob.

I moaned as my voice deepened, the vibrations reverberating through me, causing me to shiver, my speech becoming permanently relaxed, just like my roommate's.

"Fuck," Max groaned, going in for a slobbery, wet kiss, our body heat generating enough stink to make me gag.

My body was now covered in matted, swirly body hair, and it was growing thicker and greasier, the same thing happening to my chest. I could feel my pecs bulging even more as my face was being smothered in kisses and licks, my nose cracking into a previously-broken shape and the skin becoming rough and scarred.

"Oh, fuck, dude, you're so fucking hot," Max moaned, burying his face in my thick neck, his voice muffled by the hair.

"No, please, bro," I moaned, my voice cracking. "I can't take it, it's too much."

"You can do it, bro, just hold on a little longer," Max replied, his voice shaky.

My tongue grew thicker and longer, and it started to loll out of my mouth, my face cracking into model-level handsomeness. I was so turned on, and I couldn't take it anymore. My balls were throbbing and pulsing, and my cock was throbbing and pulsing.

"I'm gonna cum," I moaned, my voice deep and slow.

"Do it, bro," Max moaned, his voice trembling. "Do it, cum all over me, bro."

I felt his fingers run across my short hair, sending a shiver down my spine. My body was wracked with pleasure as I felt ropes of rancid, stinking cum shoot from my cock, splattering his chest and stomach. I couldn't control myself, I was moaning and groaning, the intense orgasm rocking my body, my new, masculine frame shaking and quivering.

With each rope, my bright green eyes became dimmer and dimmer, coloring grayer and grayer as all of my worries and stress flowed out of me, and I fell into a state of bliss, my cock still twitching and throbbing as the last change began. My hair grew longer and thicker, until it was a long, shaggy, dirty mess, and a fresh wave of fresh musk rose off me.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck," I moaned, my voice deep and slow, my tongue lolling out of my mouth.

"Fuck, dude, you're so fucking sexy," Max moaned, his voice cracking. "I can't believe it, dude. You're, like, totally a stoner now, bro."

"Haha, yeah man...wait bro, haven't I always been?" I looked at myself in the dingy dorm mirror, and realized I looked like a dumb, stoned idiot. My voice was deeper, and my accent was different. My hair was messy and unwashed, and my skin was tanned. My pecs were massive and my abs were rock hard. My cock was huge and throbbing. My feet were hairy and stinky. I had a huge, round, bubble butt.

I laughed a deep, airy chuckle.

"That's right" Max said, staring into my dull eyes. He seemed like the hottest man I had ever laid eyes on until I realized.

"I love you, dude." Max giggled.

"Yeah man, I love you, too" I slurred, leaning in for a sloppy kiss, my tongue probing his mouth, the taste of weed and sweat overwhelming. He returned the favor, and soon, we were a mess of sloppy, stoner kisses, our thick, stubbly chins rubbing together, the sound of slurping and licking filling the room.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck," I groaned, the kiss ending, both of us breathing heavy and panting, a mixture of spit dripping from our chins. "That was, like, totally amazing, dude."

"Fuck, yeah, bro, it was fucking awesome," Max groaned, his voice trembling. "I've been waiting for this for, like, ever, bro. It's fucking crazy."

"Yeah, dude, totally," I replied, staring at his gorgeous, masculine features. His big, thick arms, his perfect washboard abs, his massive pecs, and his perfect, handsome face. He was fucking hot, and he was all mine.

Taking a Trip

Arne was more than excited to visit Vancouver for the first time. Everyone said that he could have easily seen beautiful mountains on a trip to Switzerland, but Arne wanted something a little bit extra inspiring on a continent he had never seen before. His life at home had become a little monotonous at his corporate job, and the dating pool was as unpromising as ever for a shy, reclusive man in his mid-20s.

With his frugal nature, Arne balked at the hotel prices in the city, and quickly found himself looking at short-term rental sites. The prices were, if possible, even worse. Finally, he followed a link to a retro-looking gay room-sharing website and saw an ad that read: “Shared room, accessible, perfect for tourists.” The price was well within Arne’s range, and it was within walking distance of transit. He booked it without a second thought.

It was only as the taxi drove away after dropping Arne and his suitcase on the curb that he had second thoughts. He followed the instructions the owner, Julian, had sent him and went around the small house to the back, where there was an external door to the basement. All around the door were skateboards, leaning on the concrete foundation, each with a unique design painted on its underside. As he knocked, Arne felt a tremor up his spine, like an anticipation of danger.

Before he could react in any way, he heard heavy feet and voices behind the door. With a clunk of the latch, the door swung open to reveal a young man with dark, curly hair and a thin moustache with no shirt on his tanned, muscular body. “What’s up, bro? You must be Arne,” he said in a deep, slow voice, holding out a big hand that engulfed Arne’s, even though they were the same size. “I’m Julian, your host.”

Arne opened his mouth to reply, but he lost his train of thought as an eye-watering stench poured off Julian’s bare, hairy muscles. He almost seemed to steam in the cold air. The smell was a mix of stale sweat, cooking spices, musky body odour, and, over all of it, the stench of weed.

After a moment, as Arne struggled to control the cough that threatened to burst out of him, Julian seemed to realise he was bare from the hips up. “Oh, sorry, bro,” he said, lazily backing away into the basement apartment. “I was, uh, busy.” He chuckled and moved away, grabbing a stained green shirt from an equally stained couch.

Reluctantly, Arne followed Julian through the doorway, and immediately realised that it was not only Julian who stank. The smell permeated the whole space, making Arne lightheaded. He wished that he had thought to bring air freshener in his luggage.

The basement suite was small, with low ceilings. Behind the couch was a counter to delineate the tiled kitchen, while in front of the couch was a low, beat-up table with a bong and other smoking paraphernalia scattered across it. To the side, a couple of doors led to what Arne hoped were the bedrooms and bathroom.

One door banged open, and another guy stumbled out into the living room. With a beanie over his dishevelled hair and his shirt on inside out, it was clear that he had dressed hurriedly. He looked over Arne with bloodshot eyes, his movements clumsy as he pulled on a thin jacket. “Hey man,” he grunted. As the man waved, another scent washed over Arne. This time, the skunk-smell was tempered with dried cum and a tangy, earthy flavour that hit the back of his throat.

“We lost track of time. Omar was just leaving.” At Julian’s gesture, Omar brushed past Arne and out the door. Arne turned to see him grab one of the skateboards leaning against the concrete stairs before the door shut behind him.

Arne was still shaking his head in an attempt to clear out Omar’s stench when Julian grabbed his bag. “In here, dude.”

Julian led Arne back through the door Omar had burst through into a room with two twin beds, exactly as small as Arne had feared. “Obvi, I won’t have guys over while you’re here, bro,” Julian said, handing Arne a spare key. “But if you like, we can always push the beds together for extra sleeping space.” He raised a lascivious eyebrow at Arne.

Blushing furiously, Arne made several aborted gestures. “Uh, no, no, no thank you,” he muttered, his accent thickening.

“Your loss, bro.” Julian raised both his arms to show his hairy armpits, posing as his musk assaulted Arne’s nostrils. “Just tell me if you change your mind, right? If you need me, I’ll prob-ly either be here smoking and painting, or over at the skate park, smoking and skating.”

Chuckling dumbly, Julian left the room. Moments later, while he sat on his bed and trying to work up the courage to leave, Arne’s nose was tickled by a waft of thick, numbing pot smoke.

It was just a few days, Arne reasoned. He’d be out all day anyway. He probably wouldn’t even see Julian that much, even if they did sleep in the same room. Plus, with a quick check of his bank balance, Arne knew that any alternative sleeping arrangements would be utterly impossible.

Arne forced himself to stay out late that night, exploring Davie Street, but his jet-lagged brain forced him back to the basement suite by midnight. Disheartened at the sight of a light on in the tiny ground-level window, he unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Julian was painting a skateboard in the living room, a half-smoked blunt in one hand. Not even the acrid smell of the paints and lacquer could overpower the stench of weed and musk in the tiny space. “Evenin’, bro,” Julian slurred as Arne blinked his eyes and tried to adjust to the thick, musky atmosphere. “Hey, come sit with me.”

“I have to go to sleep,” Arne protested, even as he walked to the spare seat on the couch and lowered himself into it. He remembered that he had resolved earlier not to touch the couch, since it was covered in who knew what kind of stains, but it was already done.

“No worries, this’ll help you sleep, bro,” Julian said, waving away Arne’s excuse with his blunt and then taking a deep pull off of it. He blew a stream of smoke into Arne’s face.

Arne spluttered. “Wh-what the hell!” He’d smoked a few times, but he was hardly a stoner. He could already feel a contact high working its way through his system, loosening his muscles and overwhelming him with sleepiness. For some reason, it also left his body feeling strangely tight.

“What design should I put on this board?” As he spoke, Julian leaned back on the couch and laid his arm across the back. Through the haze in his mind, Arne realised Julian was shirtless again, with musky sweat dripping down his sides from the bushes in his armpits.

Julian was still talking, something about dragons and complementary colours, and Arne just nodded along, too fixated on Julian’s body to care. He had never liked smelly guys, but something about Julian had Arne’s cock flooding his boxers with precum.

As Julian took another hit off his blunt, Arne realised that he could smell the salty tang of his precum in the air. Looking down, he could see a slick, spreading stain on his jeans. How long had he been sitting here? He thought that he should be embarrassed, but working up shame seemed like so much effort. He was so relaxed, sitting here on the couch, breathing in Julian’s sexy musk and clouds of pot smoke.

The rest of the night was a blur. Arne was so tired. He vaguely remembered Julian’s face looming over his, dripping sweat into Arne’s mouth. At some point, Arne thought he must have taken his shirt off because he got so warm and sweaty sitting on the couch. Finally, they had moved to the bedroom, where Julian had kept talking while Arne tried to calm his dripping cock enough to fall asleep.

Arne woke up slowly the next morning, cocooned in the scent of musk and weed. He started to roll over, but realised suddenly that there was a pair of sweaty arms around his chest. One of Julian’s fingers brushed across Arne’s bare nipple, and he moaned uncontrollably as a spark of pleasure shot to his slick, precum-smelling crotch.

His face burning with embarrassment, Arne carefully extricated himself from Julian’s bed and stumbled to the bathroom. He wondered why his body felt strange and top-heavy until he switched on the light. In the mirror, he saw a pair of massive pecs on top of his slender torso, the big nipples erect and pink.

Despite his horror, Arne still found himself feeling oddly horny. Looking further down, he saw an unfamiliar, half-hard cock between his bare legs—he had slept naked!—still leaking thick, clear precum that gathered in big drops before falling to the floor.

There was something seriously wrong with this apartment, and with Julian. Arne struggled to think, but the scent of his precum was quickly filling the little bathroom, making his head foggy. He had to…He had to…He had to touch his fat man tits.

Arne watched in the mirror as he popped his sweaty pecs, and then grabbed them with one hand. Not only were they real, they bounced hypnotically as he kneaded at the muscle. A finger brushed over his pert nipple, and Arne moaned again. His voice sounded strange. A little bit too deep, and slower than he was used to.

Would he feel even better if he pinched his nipple? As Arne went to grab his opposite nip, he struggled to remember what he had been thinking about. It had been something way more important than his bouncing pecs…

The thoughts dissolved as Arne started to tug on his sensitive nipple. He moaned loudly, his legs buckling as jolts of pleasure engulfed his body. The trickle of precum from his cock grew into a continuous stream as he knelt on the bathroom floor, mindlessly tugging on his pecs.

Arne barely noticed the bathroom door open until a pair of strong arms grabbed him under his shoulders and started to haul him to his feet. “No cumming yet, bro,” said Julian’s relaxed drawl next to his ear. “You’re not nearly done yet.”

By the time Julian handed Arne a plate of poptarts, Arne’s horniness had mostly faded back to a low hum, which spiked at the scent of Julian’s unwashed armpits. Arne wondered if he should feel embarrassed to be sat, naked, on Julian’s couch, his insistent cock still slowly leaking tangy precum onto the seat.

“Yesterday was a lot for you, huh bro?” Julian said through a mouthful of poptart. “I bet you just wanna stay here and hang out with me all day.”

Arne frowned. He was supposed to go to the suspension bridge today…No, that sounded like a lot of work. He’d much rather hang out with Julian. He had no idea why he’d thought Julian was gross or uncool. His smell was utterly intoxicating.

“What were you planning to do today?” Arne asked, after he’d eaten a few bites.

Julian shrugged, shedding runnels of sweat from his pits. “I was gonna go to the skate park and hang with some bros, but you need me more, bro.”

“What do you mean?” Arne was independent! He didn’t need Julian around! But it did feel nice to have someone hot and manly like Julian looking out for him, he realised.

“You can’t be left alone right now, bro.” Julian had finished his breakfast, and started to set up the bong on the coffee table. “So we’re gonna hang out, I’m gonna smoke, and then you’re gonna help me with some boards.”

Before long, Arne was floating comfortably, a little stoned from how much smoke billowed out of Julian’s sexy mouth. Julian got to work painting a skateboard, but after a few minutes he turned to look at Arne, a strange smile on his face.

“Come over and help me, bro.”

When Arne slid down to the floor next to Julian, his host raised one tanned, muscular arm. “I’m so sweaty, bro,” Julian said. Arne agreed, watching a rivulet of sweat emerge from the dark hair in Julian’s armpit, adding to the heady musk in the room. “If you could just, like, lick it up for me, I’ll be able to focus so much better.”

Arne frowned. That didn’t seem like it would help at all. But before he could protest, he felt a strong hand on the back of his head, and Julian was pushing him into his musky armpit.

The smell overpowered any of his protests. Julian’s musk was baked into his skin, and taking it straight from the source was far more intense than smelling him at range. The smell of sweat filled Arne’s mind, and he started to lick and suck at Julian’s armpit hair without realising it. The rank taste filled his mouth and trickled down his throat, and Arne felt his leaky cock start to flow again. He couldn’t imagine anything hotter than this. As Julian kept painting, he moaned whenever Arne’s tongue pushed against an especially sensitive spot.

As he laved his tongue over Julian’s tight belly button a while later—time didn’t really matter—Arne started to feel itchy all over his body. As he ran a hand over his arms, he felt the resistance of thick hair. All over his body, Arne felt long hair growing. Before long, his precum didn’t even fall onto the skin of his hairy thighs, it just got lost in the hair.

With his new fur, Arne found himself sweating at least as much as Julian in the heat of the little room. When Julian took a break from painting to grab some lunch, Arne noticed a new smell filling the air. He was emitting his own flavour of musk now, like Julian’s, but with a bit more of a richness to it from the precum dripping between his legs. He couldn’t help but give his armpits a sniff, licking up what he could reach of his own taste.

Julian returned and grinned at Arne. “Damn, bro, you’re almost ready.”

“What?” Arne looked up at Julian. It felt like he was seeing through a thick haze. It was so hard to think. He had to get outside and get some fresh air. But where were his clothes?

Julian held out a brownie for Arne. “Here, bro, this’ll help that brain of yours along. It’s my special blend.” He winked a dark eye, and Arne obediently took a bite of the brownie from Julian’s hand.

While Julian got back to his painting, Arne felt himself feeling slowly, but insistently, hornier. From licking up the sweat at the top of Julian’s back, he moved lower and lower, until he was licking at the very top of Julian’s musky asscrack. His cock felt iron-hard and huge against his thigh, a continuous stream of precum trickling into his sweaty leg hair.

Julian groaned. “Oh, bro, if you’re gonna get in there, let’s do it for real.” Putting the freshly finished board aside, Julian rose to his feet and pulled Arne up as well.

Arne felt so tall. The floor was so far away. All he could see was his hairy belly and thick, drippy cock as he followed Julian through the door to the bedroom. Then, all he could see was Julian, lying on his back with his legs hooked over Arne’s hairy shoulders. At last, Arne was back in a place that made sense, looking into Julian’s asscrack, licking up the musky sweat on his firm cheeks.

As his tongue dove into Julian’s hole, Arne remembered the first time they had skateboarded together. With his natural musk, it was hard for Arne to make friends with other skaters, but Julian had skated right up to him and invited him back to his place.

As he lined his cock up with Julian and rubbed his copious precum over the shaft, Arne remembered growing up in Vancouver. Dealing weed had been fun before legalisation, but now his job at the dispensary was pretty easy. Arne spent most of his time perfecting his skating tricks or smoking up with Julian or their other musky skater friends.

As he thrust against Julian’s prostate and felt the smaller man begin to tighten around him and cum, Arne remembered how much he loved his buddies. He was the big guy of the group, with his big, hairy muscles and fat, leaky cock. He wasn’t much of a thinker, but he’d do anything for Julian and his bros.

With that thought, Arne felt his balls tighten against him as he unloaded a huge, creamy load in Julian’s ass. As he shuddered, collapsing on top of his bro, there was a knock at the door.

“Fuuuuuck, that’s my next guest,” Julian groaned, whining a little as Arne pulled out. In addition to selling custom skateboards, Julian made extra cash by renting part of his room to gay tourists. Arne loved Julian’s musky, pot-smelling basement, so he thought that sharing the space a bit more was a great idea.

Julian pulled a pair of relatively clean sweatpants up his legs and wiped the worst of his cum off his chest with one of the shirts on the floor. “Just grab some clothes, bro,” he said over his shoulder as he shut the door behind himself.

As he pulled on his XL sweatpants and grabbed his hoodie, Arne listened to Julian introducing himself to this new guy. “What’s up, bro? You must be Yadu. I’m Julian, your host.” The spiel sounded strangely familiar. Careful to leave the hoodie unzipped so he wouldn’t stimulate his oversensitive nipples, and careless of Julian's cum slowly drying in his chest hair, Arne crammed a beanie over his hair and stepped into the living room.

A shrimpy African guy was looking in horror at the room, a small suitcase hanging from his weedy arm. Arne waved at him, and the guy looked like he was about to gag as a wave of Arne’s thick, precummy musk washed over him.

“Sorry, bro, we lost track of time.” Julian was pulling on a shirt in the kitchen. “Arne was just leaving.”

Nodding to Julian, Arne brushed past Yadu and headed out the door, grabbing his skateboard from where it was leaning against the wall. He had to go meet up with Omar at the skate park anyway.

This story is a belated holiday gift for @rakurairagnarok! Here's to a very sexy, transformative new year, my friend ;)

Cat

This is my take on a TF request by octuscle. Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

I guess it's kind of like what magicians feel like. Sure, you can train all you like in your bedroom, and you can do it in front of your mates, but when you do it for real, for a real audience you get the same jitters before the trick and a certain rush after it. No one noticed how I did the misdirection, how I lifted the phone and stashed it in my pocket in a smooth motion that started well before and ended well after those two events, making it seem completely unrelated and hiding the true intent. I was well out of their sight long before they realized they'd been pickpocketed.

I should have just held the power button to shut it down, make it untraceable until the nerds can open it up, make it lose its mind, and become resellable. Not as a luxury phone as it once was perhaps, but good enough for someone short on cash who was willing to not think too hard about where they got their goods. I should have, but it was like a reflex to press the unlock button once I fished up the phone from my pocket, safe some blocks away. "Chronivac Anti-theft Technology" flashed on the screen and a timer counted down from 10. "Enter pin to deactivate." I frantically pressed and held the power button in various combinations with no effect. Would the phone report its position? I could just leave. Would it make a noise? Wouldn’t matter here, and again, I could just leave.

It did make a short, high-pitched screeching sound and it kind of twisted in my hand. Not like the vibrator went off. More like a static shock, but not quite that either. The sound when it landed on the ground surprised me. A dull rattle and not the normal crisp sound of an iPhone maybe shattering on the stones. Even more surprising was the yellow rubber case with the black Caterpillar CAT logo on the ground. Confused I picked it up and turned it over to find a feature phone in the case, with physical keyboard and all, and on the screen words were scrolling by faster than I could read. I managed some words like "dumber", "stronger", and "stoner". As I stared at the words "manual laborer" I had a nagging feeling I should know what it meant, and that perhaps it wasn't the scrolling speed by the reading speed that was the problem.

The screen said "Wipe complete. All data secured." and turned black.

I tried to remember why I was standing in an empty back alley, but couldn't come up with a good reason. I adjusted my wifebeater inside my dungarees. Dungarees are great because you can play with your balls whenever, but the top isn't really held in place, so it can show you go commando if you aren't careful. I might as well smoke a joint while I figure out where I should be.

The Journey of Dr. Santana Fabrega

There's nothing quite like your bro slobberin' over your sweaty feet while tokin' on a hookah. Let me just tell you- everybody's happy. I'm stoked to be stoned and minty fresh, and he's happy to taste my ripe size 12's. Who isn't the happiest? The folks. Sure, I dropped out of college, sure I started focusing one hundred percent on my art, sure I have a parade of guys out of my little basement lair... but I never got why they had to be such fuckin' buzzkills.

Ever since they joined that church when I was at uni, my parents have been sucked into the Evangelical cult. Not the whole lifting your hands up to Jesus & speaking in tongues sort of church, by the way. Man, they're out there with picket signs at sex clinics, bannin' books at the high school, all that crazy fuckin' Christian Nation bullshit. They're my parents, so I love 'em and whatever. But fuck, those psychos really fucked 'em up. So now, their crusade is "curing" me of my gayness. Didn't really matter that I'm pan, they don't really know the difference. They don't really care about the difference, though. Not straight, not right.

So when they caught me the other day with Sam cleanin' my dick in the basement, it was World War 3. Man, a Nuclear Bomb would have less energy than my mom's hysterical shrieking. It's Florida, so it's nothing the neighbors haven't heard before. But, shit. I thought my eardrums were gonna pop. They stomped off upstairs, bein' all 'we are going to talk about this later, Santiago.' So, I let Sammy finish up, I pulled on some shorts and I went upstairs to face the fire while he snuck out the basement window. Fuck, I wished I were him.

The 'family meeting' went about as well as you'd expect. Threats of burning in hell for all eternity, demands that I find the Lord, etc. Apparently he doesn't like a lot of things about me: my weed, my tattoos, my sexuality, my piercings, my hair for some reason? I don't know man, I just tuned out after a while. What I did catch, though, they were sending me to substance abuse counseling. Couldn't help but laugh, and that sent dad through the fuckin' roof.

"Doctor Fabrega is going to teach you some manners, young man. Make you a Godly man, like you should be." Yada yada yada. He should have known better than to give me the doc's name. After the ass reaming, I made my way back downstairs to the computer. It took five minutes of research to find this Doctor Fabrega. Turns out he's a Christian Therapist, but that wasn't what was most interesting. Down in his specializations, buried beneath substance abuse & cognitive behavioral therapy was a word that caught my eye: licensed Hypnotherapist.

I knew exactly what kind of bullshit they were tryin' to pull on me. But when I was enrolled at U Miami, my major was Psychology. Not only that, but I still happened to have access to the university library. Oops.

I texted Sammy, knowing I was gonna be up all night doing research, and that my dick would need some appropriate attention under the desk. I was gonna show this motherfucker just how sick it really is to be like me.

---

The waiting room was bullshit. Cold white walls, bright wood floors... It looked straight out of an IKEA ad. I'd already been there for like 20 minutes past my appointment time, giving me just enough time to scroll through the last chapter on my phone. I hear the receptionist call out my name, and I head toward the office. Just as bullshit as the waiting room. It's like the guy wants to live in a psych ward- no color anywhere. At least get a blacklight or something.

"Santiago Rivera. Welcome, I'm Dr. Fabrega." The guy was hot as fuck, not gonna lie. Looked like he was straight out of Sao Paulo- even with the fancy suit you can't hide muscle like that. "Please, sit. It's so good to meet you." His voice was so weird. Speaking every word with like, perfect diction. You know those AI voices that talk that way? That's what it was like, as if he were trying so hard to hide an accent underneath.

"Just call me Santi, doc." I plopped down on the leather chair, might have put my feet up on his coffee table (don't recall), and he just looked at me like he was looking in a microscope. No idea what the deal was. He walked over to the couch and sat down with my file and started to drone on.

"Alright, Santi, it says here that your parents are pretty concerned about your behavior lately. You're 23 years old and a college dropout, you take illicit drugs, you have no job, and you're having unnatural thoughts. That's quite the list, bud." He was so fuckin smug, that sort of punchable glibness that only comes from a particular kind of self righteousness. Like Jesus himself came down and kissed them.

"So, first off. I did drop out of college, because I couldn't afford it. Second, I sure the fuck do smoke green because it's a) fun, and b) prescribed to me by my real doctor. Third, I do have a job. I do graphic design and graffiti art and I pay my own bills with it. And last off, yup: I fucked him." He sat there, somehow shocked that I told him how it was right off the bat. I'm not playing his little game, and that made him angry.

"I see. So you have no remorse for any of this? I believe your parents are very right to be concerned about where your life is headed."

"Fascinating, considering I'm moving out at the end of the month and they won't need to deal with my life. So. You married?" He was thrown off by that, just as I'd hoped. Right out of the blue. Knocks them off kilter for a second. An easy question to answer, so they usually do.

"Uh, well, no I'm not married. Is that your concern in all this?" Man, I couldn't help but laugh. He's trying to be sarcastic?

"Where did ya go to school for... whatever this is." This made him close my file, he even put it on the table and crossed his arms.

"I went to Liberty University, top of my class in their Doctor of Psychology program. You, it seems didn't make it that far, so you might not know what 'this' is." Oooh, he's big mad. I thought, let's push it. I did what most of my guys love, but would piss him off, I kicked off the Vans. Made sure I wore my skating shoes that day, the super ripe ones with the same damp socks. When they came off, those puppies let their presence be known.

"Sounds boring. Boring then, boring now. I got accepted into the Art Institute in Savannah, so I'll be headed that way soon. Be legit soon, then you wouldn't have anything to say. How's your sex life?" He thought he was so tough, not flinching at the musk, nor my question. But I knew both hit him right where I wanted. The question to make him mad, the stink to get him hot.

"Santiago, I think we should continue with our session. You can put your shoes back on and we can try some exercises to help you think a bit more clearly." I crossed my ankles, wriggling my toes a bit.

"I think they need some air. Are you gonna try and hypnotize me now? Or is that the last ditch effort when everything else fails?" He leaned back in his seat, the grimace growing stronger. "That stuff is not that hard to master. A couple days really and you got it down."

"Is that so?" He ground his teeth as he spat out his words. "It seems you know all there is to know, then." Time to hit it home.

"You know what, let's put money on it, doc. Hundred bucks says I can put you under." I got him, his eyebrow shifted just enough for me to see.

"This isn't a casino, Santiago. I don't bet money on client's health." I couldn't help but smirk. He left an opening I couldn't pass up.

"Aight, no money then. If I put you under, I get the bragging rights. If I don't, I'll play your stupid games. Win-win for you, nothing to lose but your dignity." Hook, line and sinker; he leaned in, grabbing the remote on the table next to him. He tapped a button, and the shades started to come down.

"Well then, Mr. Rivera. I wish you luck."

The room got dark. Really fuckin' dark. Fabrega hit another button on the remote, and a cool blue washed over the room. Gotta say, tight LED system. I kicked my shoes off the table, and scooted my chair forward. Showtime.

"Alright, Santana, I want you to just take deep breaths." He squirmed at my use of his first name, one last dig before I brain fucked him. He took his deep breaths one at a time, slowly getting deeper and deeper. "As I count down from one to ten, each number will bring you closer and closer to relaxation. Picture a long tunnel, at the end, a bright white light. With every number, you take a step forward to the light, do you understand?"

He nodded, it was an induction I'd made up this morning. I started from 10, telling him his first step he could feel the tingling relaxation in the tips of his fingers, slowly crawling up his hands and forearms. 9. Another step, the tingling creeps up his big muscly arms and shoulders. 8. One more step, the tingling is pushing up his neck and throat, reaching his tongue and teeth. 7. The tingling bursts into his head, a paradoxical rush of relaxation, a fog of dissonance washes over his brain as thoughts collide and crash about. 6. The tingling washes down his spine, flowing through his nerves into every part of his body. His body feels electric, a painless jolt running throughout him. I watched as he tensed up, his big muscles contracting and bunching him up. It was working.

We get to 5, starting at the crown of his head, the volts decrease, turning lugubrious and liquified like molasses sloshing about in his head. 4. The light is so close he can feel the heat, but his body is cooled as the syrupy fluid flows down over him like a waterfall, pooling in his big feet as it fills every crevice. 3. It feels as if he's trudging through mud toward the light, his legs feeling wobbly and gelatinous. 2. So close, his whole body feels like a massless blob, inching toward the final drop into the cavernous light. 1. He crawls toward the ledge, plummeting down into the endless void of bright white light. There, he will sit as I have a little bit of fun.

"Alright, Santana. Can you hear me in there?" Fabrega nods, expressionless. Fuck, that was maybe a 80/20 chance I was gonna fuck this shit up so bad. But I guess God really is on my side here. "Whenever I ask a question, you will answer truthfully. Whatever I say you will incorporate into your life. Now, Santana, what do you do when you're not at work?" His lips moved slowly and replied in monotone.

"I go to the gym, I go to the golf course, I hire my date, and I go home." Ooooh shit. He's giving my friends on the corners a decent living, good for him. Hardly a Godly thing to do. Either way, it was a perfect place to start.

"You love going to the gym, don't you, Santana?" He nodded. "You love gettin' all sweaty don't you?" His head began to shake, his expression furrowing a bit in disgust. "No, Santana. You love getting all sweaty. The feeling of those cool droplets on your hot muscles during a hard workout? Doesn't it feel good?" He pauses, before reluctantly nodding. Ahh I love gettin my fingers in his brain, never ceases to please. "You love that funk that comes off your sweat, Santana. You love sniffin your pits, your big feet, your balls... That musk means you're workin' hard. Keeping in shape. Staying virile. Isn't that right?" He nodded, squirming in the chair. I watched his body try to reject the instructions, try to rebel, but just one repetition had his back to stillness.

"You don't even like golf, do you?" He nodded, I didn't even need to manipulate him. "You much prefer hitting the beach, don't you? Seein' all the guys and gals starin' at your glorious bod... You love it, don't you?" He nodded, the side of his lip curling ever so slightly. "You love bringing out the speedo, letting the goods hang low, letting the buns bulge... you know they all wanna see it anyway..." He nodded again, it was like taking candy from a baby. The guy had the mental fortitude of a frog.

"You like fucking, too. You can have any girl or guy on the street with a single wink." He nodded, and I couldn't help but watch as his groin started to bulge. "Yeah, boy. You love taking that horse cock and plowing it into some ass... plowing it into some pussy... fucking their pretty little mouths..." Drool started to drip from the corner of his lip, and a little wet spot quickly appeared on his pants. "You're a freak, aren't you, Santana? You like fuckin' in the car, in the sauna, at the gym, under the desk... gushing gallons into them while you shove your sneaker on their face." He was moaning, slowly grinding against the open air. Can't lie, I was gropin' myself a bit just watching him.

"Now, Santana. I'm going to bring you back to your office, but when I do, you are going to be super laid back and chill with Santi during your sessions. If he says the word 'sniff' you will return to this space, return to an open mind, just as we have done here today. Do you understand?" He nodded one final time before I began his emergence. Counting back from one to ten, I watched as he slowly came back to the real world, and with one snap, he blinked his eyes and wiped his brow.

"Well, doc. I got the bragging rights." Fabrega pinched the bridge of his nose, as if he had a headache. Time to see if it had all paid off.

"Uhh... yeah... Santi. You got me there..." Perfect. He pulled his hand away from his nose, clicking the shades back up to their little hole. It didn't take long until he saw the wet patch on his bulbous package. He chuckled under his breath. "You'll have to excuse the mess, Santi... I have hyperspermia, so sometimes it all just flows out." Hot- and totally unprofessional. Just how I like 'em. I leaned back in my chair, smirkin' the whole way.

"Damn, doc. Firehose down there. Gonna have to show me sometime." He smirked and waved me off.

"I don't fraternize with clients, Santi. Oh, look at the time. I'm late for my 5:30. Alright, I'll see you next week." He stood up, extending his hand, his whole demeanor entirely changed. I slipped my Vans back on, spitting on my hand before gripping his. He shuddered a bit, sure. But we were gonna get real close, real quick.

---

The next few days flew by. My folks were so excited to see that I was looking forward to seeing Dr. Fabrega, and I loved knowing what they didn't. I was excited to see if Dr. Fabrega was gonna be Santana. So when I finally got back in for my appointment, I didn't need to wait long at all. Only five minutes and the door swung open, the receptionist completely flustered. The anticipation was killing me. She sat down behind her computer with tunnel vision and I walked into the office.

At first, I thought it was empty. He wasn't sitting at his desk, on the couch... but as I heard huffing from the balcony, I knew where to find him. I walked up to the sliding glass door, and turned outside to see one hell of a sight.

It was Santana. Nothing on but his whitie-tighties and his damp socks doing pushups on the bench. Fuck, those muscles were glistening in the light, his underwear with damp patches on his ass and bulge. His clothes sat in a pile near his head: jeans, a Miami Heat jersey, some sick dunks I wanted to steal... far from the stuffy suit he had on just the week before. He finally noticed me, and smiled.

"Santi! Hey! Just finishing up my lunch workout. Thought I'd get a session in today on the balcony. Damn, the fresh air is good for exercise!" I smirked. It was night and day. So far, gone was the bible thumping hypocrite, and here was what was underneath. If anything I was doing him a service.

"Shit, Santana! You're looking prime today. You gonna funk out our session today, or?" I punched him in the shoulder, and he giggled like a kid.

"It's eau naturale, my friend. Natural water. That's what it smells like." He slipped on his jeans and his big fuckin' sneakers, tossing the jersey over his head while we walked in. He trailed some deliciously ripe musk, and I couldn't help but savor a bit of it. We plopped down on our seats, and just started shootin' shit. I bitched about the parents, he bitched about his receptionist, I told him about Sammy suckin' my dick clean, and he told me about the threesome with a gym bro and his girlfriend. He was coming along beautifully. Though, I thought to myself, how's about a round two?

"Dude, by the way, those kicks are fuckin' tight." I pointed to the dunks, which he smugly kicked up onto the coffee table, showing them off.

"Thanks, man. They're the lifting shoes. My work boots, heh." I reached out, grabbing ahold of his foot, and yanked it off. He chuckled like a fuckin' idiot while I looked at 'em. Size 13, nice and big- and the smell wafting out of there... Fuck, man.

"Damn, dude you never wash your socks? These stink!" I playfully tossed the shoe at him, and just as he started to brush off the comment, I said my magic word. "Sniff it." Like a flipped lightswitch, his expression turned numb, slowly bringing the shoe to his nose and inhaling his own musk. I clapped my hands, rubbing them together: let's do a little more programming.

"Santana, You're a pretty chill guy, you know that?" He nodded. "You smoke, don't you? You know, the good shit?" Deep in his mind, he had to know it was me talking at this point, so I was talking to him like a bro. Establishes trust, ya know? He shook his head no. "Ahh, come on man. You love kickin' back and toking on that reefer after a long workout." Santana chuckled a bit, before nodding, still nose deep in his sneaker. "Yeah, you love smokin' out your bros, your babes... when you're not shootin' tequila!" He full out laughed on that one, nodding along. The sneaker slowly dropped from his hand, and he laid back in his chair.

"How old are you, Santana?"

"28." Shit, he was only a few years older than me. I mean, he looked young. But hell, you wouldn't have known it from the way he acted.

"Where are you from?" "Rio de Janeiro." Interesting. I clocked the accent. I was pretty proud of myself.

"Why do you try so hard to hide it? The way you talk, the way you dress, the way you act... You act like you're from Ohio." Another chuckle, I should have had a Netflix special. "You're gonna embrace that Brazilian pride, bro. Don't hide it for some mayo drinking buzzkills!" He furrowed his brow, nodding intently. This one was for his own fuckin' good. Be proud of that shit! "You should get some ink to really embrace it. Nothin' sexier than a tatted up stud, am I right?" He nodded again, his bulge once more springing to life. I smirked, simply wanting to know a little something somethin'.

"Do you think Santi is hot?" He sat there for a second, before slowly smiling and nodding. I didn't even need to program that one. Aww, big old himbo. "You're not afraid to let him know, are ya? I mean if you tell his crazy fuckin' parents that he's cured... He wouldn't be your patient anymore... Right?" His bulge twitched again, and he smirked devilishly as he nodded. "You like it when he's all up in your brain, don't you? You like it when he gets his dick deep in there and mind fucks you into a chill, laid back stud. Don't ya?" The dampness grew and his breath got heavy. He nodded, drooling down the sides of his cheeks. "Yeah, you wanna let him in completely, don't ya? Make you like him?" Moans grew, and his thrusting in the air quickened pace. "You wanna be best bros with him, don't ya? Bros with benefits... hangin' out, smokin' weed, hittin' the clubs, swappin' spit... swappin' cum... swappin' subs..." He started fuckin' howl. He was beggin' to splurge. "When I tell you, you will cum. And when you do, everything we talked about will be your truth. Now... Cum."

His eyes opened, still moaning loudly. He gripped onto his jeans, pulling down the waistband and underwear, that big old uncut donkey dick flopping out before shooting his load all over himself. Volley after volley. He wasn't kidding about the hyperspermia: maybe four double shots of his spunk sprayed like a geyser into the air. The 8th Natural Wonder of the World. He laid back and chuckled, throwing his arms behind his head.

"Fuck, brother!" The thickest accent flowed of those lips, deliciously thick. "After today, that'll be down your throat, cara." He pointed at me, hopping to his feet and shoving his python back into his pants. "So, I'll write your discharge papers, it'll get the pais off your back. Act the part until you're out, and just go live." Fuck yeah, we high fived, and I ruffled that sweaty mullet of his. "Hey, come over tonight. I got some friends comin' over... if you and Sammy wanna join." He winked and slapped my back. Damn, I did good.

"I'll be there, man! You save me a round so I can show you how to clean this dick." I groped my bulge, smirking as his bit his lip and winked. I've created a monster.

---

"Ei, sexy! Come get a toke before it's gone!" Such a demanding little bitch, I love him. I slipped his filled condom off my cock, the kinky fucker insisted, and I happily complied. If I'm being real, this psycho has taught me things! I flushed it down the toilet, and swung the bathroom door open to see him lounging on his bed, toking away at the blunt I packed.

"Hey you fuckin' hog, don't you smoke it all!" He chuckled dumbly, reaching over to hand me the blunt, taking the opportunity to snatch my wrist and pull me forward into a kiss. Fuck those lips were so good, pressed against mine or around my cock. "Isn't Carrie coming over soon? You gonna be able to get off so quick?" I pushed away, taking my puff.

"Ahh, plenty to go around, eh?" He groped that musky bulge that I had a feeling Sammy would be huffing later. "Ey, bring me my pants. We can go get a shot before she gets here." Heh, the last month or so crashing with him has been fuckin' sick. The folks think I'm rooming with some guy from the church, when really I'm gooning with my therapist every night in his bed. Savannah is letting me take online courses, I'll have my B.A. in a couple of years, and I'm already getting some gallery hits. Santana is gonna be my armcandy for the opening, and I told him to forget his deodorant. Fuck he’s perfect. But a thought had crept in my head the other day. One last program, one final idea planted in his head... Though, at this point, there was no need to put him under. I'd just ask him.

"Hey, so I gotta go to Georgia to finish up some paperwork at the school. It got me thinking... I'm followin' my dream. What about you?" I tossed him his pants and passed the blunt, taking a deep whiff of those ripe dunks before throwing them his way too.

"I could go back to the practice, though I think the bible thumpers would lose their minds, heh."

"Well... What we did for eachother... What if you did it for others?" I slowly got down to my knees, a smirk crawling across my face. "What if you could help those poor... misguided young men change their lives?" I crawled toward him, spreading his legs wide as I tossed his legs over my shoulders. "Wouldn't that be so... so... fun?" I slowly pulled down his musky briefs, releasing his monstrous cock again, the musky hooded beast slapping me on my cheek. "Then, we could have so... many... new.. friends..." I pulled down his slimy hood and wrapped my lips around his tip. I should have known better. His hand grabbed the back of my head, slamming it down onto his spear, my nose buried in his bush as he thrust back and forth into my mouth.

"Unff... Yeah, brother... Oh yeah... That sounds like a good... unhhhhh... good idea." Grunting, slapping, moaning, slurping... it all rang out in his room, until he gushed another thick load down my throat. "You wanna join me?" And in that moment, I smiled. It was the best idea he'd had yet.

I went through art school for 6 years and didn't try weed once! Can I get a college stoner preset please to make up for that lost experience.

Art academy? Six years? Without smoking pot? Man, that's more than impressive! I mean, I studied economics… It was difficult to get by without weed…

In art history you discuss Bunuel's Andalusian Dog. Pretty heavy fare. Shit, Dali and Bunuel must have been smoking a lot when they made it. And a fellow student says that you can only endure the movie if you're totally stoned. He asks you if you have anything there. Without giving it much thought, you reach into the inside pocket of your jacket and hand him a small packet of Black Afghan. He discreetly hands you a few bills. And then you turn back to the cinematic realization of the collage principle. Only after a few minutes do you realize what you've just done.

You know in which corner of the campus the stoners meet. Everyone knows. Everyone tolerates it. You've never been there before. But somehow you're drawn there now. And while there are supplies for your customers in your inside pocket, you have a few finished joints in the battered tin in the outside pocket of your old army parker. Shit, weren't you wearing a plain black short coat? Where did that fucked up old olive green thing come from?

You light a joint. You don't care where the parker comes from. You don't give a shit. You couldn't care less with the best will in the world. That feels good. And above all, it gave you a whole range of really good ideas. You are damn creative in the studio today. You are developing a somewhat strange style that is rather unusual for you. But your professor praises you for freeing yourself from your usual technocratic uptightness. A good description of how you feel now.

At some point, when you can take no more and look at the result of today's creative process with satisfaction, you run your fingers through your hair, smeared with paint. Long hair… And you have a beard! Well, you've grown it over the last few years. How many years have you been studying? For ages! You're a fixture on campus… You're here for artistic self-improvement. You're here to provide students and faculty with all kinds of mind-expanding substances. And as long as your parents' money lasts, you'll stay here.

Yes, your flat share is a bit filthy. But you're like the creative center of the art school campus. A bit like the salons of the bohemians in 19th century Paris. Combined with a coffee shop in contemporary Amsterdam. You think that's a cool combination. Enjoy it!

Hey Billy! I’ll help fill the role of the stoner at your house 

Fuck dude, you say as your former uptight lifestyle quickly fades, you reek of weed now as you light up another joint, offering it up to the other guys in the manor, some join but none partake in it as much as you. You room covered in various shades of cannabis leaves painted on the wall.

You always felt relaxed with a joint in your hand, in fact so relaxed you spent time when not smoking weed being the manors favorite fuck toy, your sexy ass passed around at times just like the weed you loved.

If not being used you were posting to your socials boosting the new strains we were offering at our new magical pot store of which you were in charge of. You loved your new life and the freedom you had being one of us in the manor.

Hey! Can I just be a dumb horny stoner? I'm so focused on school all the time, the rest is up to you looks-wise I just know I want to spend my time smoking, jerking, and not thinking.

I know from personal experience how awful it is to be a teacher's pet. Always bring home good grades. A straight A student. Active in the school orchestra. Member of the chess club. And star of the soccer team. Just the perfect lad with the perfect build and the perfect manners.

In math class you start to be unfocused. Fuck, what is that…? You are nervous… You can't sit still… You have withdrawal symptoms! You need a cigarette. Now. So badly. Instead of your nerdy briefcase, there's an old army backpack next to your desk. With a cannabis patch. And weed inside. Your hair starts to grow on the back of your neck. When school finally breaks, you have a veritable mullet. You hide with your backpack in the corner of the playground. And first you build yourself a joint. Jesus, that feels good! Next lesson is Spanish. You are not sitting in the first row, but in the last row. Man, are you stoned. You just keep saying, "¡Oh, me encantaría ser un pez gordo! ¿Puedo ser un pez gordo?" And then you laugh silly. And you repeat your sentence. Until your teacher throws you out. Hehehe, it's summer, the sun is shining, let's go to the swimming pool! School sucks anyway!

On the lawn you smoke the next joint. Joe from the swim team joins you. He asks if you can sell him something. Sure! But the first puff is free. But only if you can blow him afterwards. The boner in his Speedo looks forbidden. And he has the key to the lifeguard's office. And fuck, having sex on weed is just the greatest!

Fuck, you dreamed you would go to school and shit. You were expelled from school two years ago. Since then, one temp job after the next. But lifeguard is the coolest. At least during the summer. But shit, man! You're so stoned again, you can only hope that no one has to rescue you from the pool later…