Twinkification - Tumblr Posts

Diet Diaries

Hi all! Thank you so much for 500 followers! Here's a little style switch up to celebrate, got a lotta refs in this one and I quite leaned into the diary entries so I hope it's not too much! Hope y'all enjoy this stereotype reversal and as always, best! -Occam

Monday March 21st-

Andy:

I am beyond sick of Steve. Moving in together was a mistake, I don’t care how cheap the rent is, he is a narcissistic slob and I am eager to never see him again. Well no, I shouldn’t get ahead of myself. Our R.A. had this idea to try and walk in each other's shoes, which I don’t know? It might not be the worst thing? My big idea was switching diets actually- honestly I’m just hoping if he ate more like me he’ll stop stinking up the dorm. I can dream at least. Literally though he just can’t go to the gym as often if he eats like me. If I'm lucky at the very least his deodorant will last longer, I cannot take another day of his b.o. seeping through the walls, ugh! Anyway, wish me luck! I’m sure this will be a breeze for me, he usually just eats junk anyway, hope he enjoys my salads~

Steve:

Andy that little fucker. He was being such a little bitch to James and now I’ve gotta eat his rabbit food for a week or lose this bet or whatever. Steve don’t lose tho. Lil twink’s gotta eat whatever I make him too and you can bet your ass I’m gonna make him match my macros if I’ve gotta starve myself like he wants. Fuck! This shit is going to absolutely tank my routine! I’ve gotta make Andy give up. I’m gonna go so hard on him he’ll have to hit weights if he doesn't want to blow up like a pig. Maybe then he’ll stop bitching any time I don’t fucking shower every time I get back home. 

Tuesday March 22nd-

Andy:

My Lord! He is trying to kill me! I don’t know how anyone could consistently eat as much as he’s telling me to. I’m so bloated from all this food.. He looks so smug every time he tells me to keep eating, I’m sure he doesn’t eat like this. He’s just trying to break me but I’m not going to let him win this easy.

Ugh, I feel so bloated my pants are so tight on my waist. I didn’t think meat sweats were a thing but man I am needing to put on deodorant like twice a day now and I’m not even exercising. I will say that now that I’m eating so much, I don’t hate the idea of going to the gym. It’s been a while since I went but I should probably at least hit up the treadmill lest I get even more of a gut- maybe I’ll see if he wants to go tomorrow. This is all just an exercise to understand each other more after all, no need to make it a stupid competition like he wants eh~

Steve:

Fuck! I am so tired of Andy’s pussy-ass diet. I had absolutely no energy at the gym today, I told all my bros that I was just gonna take it easy but fuck! I really was working my ass off and I struggled to even meet a PR I set last week. It was supposed to be a push day and I didn’t even get a chest pump! Why the fuck am I still going. I’m abso-fucking-lutely not getting gains on his fuckin’ bitch-ass salads and oats.

Eatin’ like a fucking twink and the fucker has the nerve to ask to go to the gym with me tomorrow. I’ll make sure he regrets that >:) Gonna work him like a horse so he’ll throw in the towel! After feeling how sore actually working on yourself makes ya, he might actually learn something. I’ll turn in early so I can go all out and show him what a real man looks like.

Wednesday March 23rd-

Andrew:

Man! I totally get why Steven eats so much now~ I am absolutely raring to go and get this; He said I could go to the gym with him today! He even seemed like he wanted me to go with him! I feel like I have more energy than I’ve ever had before, I might even try some weights!! I don’t know but I’m so excited! It’s like I can feel my chest and biceps begging me to go and hit some iron haha! Or whatever those “bros” say~ I hope he’s got something good planned for lunch because I fuck Sorry! I just want to show him that I can do all this dude stuff too! I’m a man right? I guess all this protein is making me feel more like a man than usual idk. Either way though I’m ready to go! Hope we have some fun!

Steven:

That bitch’s fuckin’ fru fru salads are ruining my PR’s for sure! I bet he knew that when he begged me to take him to the gym today, knew it was the only time he could show off to me was when I’m so out of it. And he didn't! Just to be clear I could still wipe the floor with  him even if I’m not at my A-game. Ugh, I do gotta hand it to the little fucker though. I KNOW he hasn’t even really set foot in a gym before but man. Beginners luck my ass, as soon as I showed him a technique he lifted like he’s been doing it his whole life! It’s like I could see his pecs and tris swelling up with each lift. Not that I was staring at the bitch or anything but he’s just I just need this fuckin’ diet thing to end so I can get back to my grind, I guess I wouldn’t hate taking him to the gym more often, would be hot to make a bitch into a bro Fuck! What am I writing, I just need to lift again.

Thursday March 24th-

Andrew: 

Bro! Weird? Whatever, I am absolutely on fire! Steven’s diet is absolutely killer! I don’t know how it’s working so well but man I couldn’t care less, I felt like a pro in there! My coaches in school would always shit on me for not trying but man! I was barely trying yesterday but I could tell from the look on Steven’s face that I was acing it! I guess I’ll have to admit to him that he is definitely onto something with his macros but man, not until he gives up haha! Man, I need to chill haha, it’s not like I’m any stronger than I was Monday but man, looking at myself in the mirror it just seems like my clothes are just fitting better. Catching on my chest rather than my stomach y’know? I’ve never noticed that there is muscle on my arms before but man the way my sleeves are kinda hugging my biceps mm. I need to chill haha! Can’t use all my energy before hitting the gym again today!

OH! Also totally weird, I’ve had to shave twice this week! Once last night and then again this morning which is so weird! I’m not complaining though, it’s not like I wouldnt look hot with a beard right? Although my face is a little itchy already, my chest too? Whatever though haha! Time to head back to the grind lol!

Steven:

God!! Andy Andrew is being such an asshole! He’s clogging the sink shaving which I know he would so be on my ass if I had done that. Wait, he did get on my ass for shaving! But it hasn’t been a problem this week, it’s like I’m not even growing stubble for some reason? Probably from not working so hard at the gym, is that how that works? Whatever it’ll be over as soon as this stupid diet thing is. We’re halfway through now. Thank God! Because that fucking twink is starting to stink up the dorm which again!! He was such a little bitch all the time to me about that! It’s like he’s literally stopped using deodorant as soon as he started needing it! He’s never exerted himself in his life and now that his pits are sweating at all he’s suddenly allergic to hygiene, ugh! I saw last night too the fucker fell asleep with his head in his pit too so it’s not like he doesn’t know it. 

It was a little surprising actually, cause I would’ve sworn he was hairless like one of those freak cats but man his pit was as thick as my pubes! Thicker maybe, uh? Man I wish I could get that image out of my head, it’s like the tuft was pushing out further each time he inhaled, man that’s kinda hot? Fuck! I swear this twink-ass diet is making me think like him too. I need to sneak to the gym later, without him. I cannot have him getting ahead even while I’m still on his chickenshit diet.

Friday March 25th-

Steven:

Ah!! That Little bitch! He was already at the gym when I got there! Ugh! It makes me want to punch a wall, or fight him. Or something I dont know! It’s just, he was lifting my body weight on the bench when he saw me, it was so ho ugh! It doesn’t matter what it was, I can’t stop thinking of that smug look on his face- what I would give to wipe it off… That absolute prick knew what he was doing. Ugh, speaking of pricks! He may as well have not been wearing shorts at all by how much his cock was showing through them.

I knew my meal prepping was fucking tight but man, I can’t believe hot its made him. It just really fucking turns me on, or no its such a turn on for chicks. Yeah. Whatever. I need this bet to end already. Clearly he’s totally obsessed with my lifestyle so he should just admit it already! Also, hate to say it, but to Andrew’s credit his diet ain't too bad either. I’d never tell him this, and it is all a little emasculating but my skin has never looked this good. I’m not even doing skincare or anything but it’s like I’ve been on a routine for years, it’s crazy! It’s still ruining my upper gains but man, my ass looks so good it's crazy..

Oh also re: facial hair, I woke up this morning and could’ve sworn I used to have chest hair but now it looks like I’ve got just a little left around my nipples and leading up from my pubes? I might go ahead and shave those too, might as well be totally smooth like a chick right haha, I wonder what Andrew would think? I need to chill haha, maybe I’ll go see if he’s still at the gym~

Andrew:

Fuuuuck dude lol. I should’ve started hitting up the gym ages ago. Don’t know what I was even wasting time on before I started doing twice-a-days? Studying I guess but I can figure that shit stuff out hm. Fuck it is so much better to be strong than a dweeb. Every set it feels like I’m just busting out new PR’s! Gonna need to buy new clothes though cause I am absolutely tearing up my crop tops, my twinky little wardrobe just isn’t cutting it anymore. Maybe Steven’d be down for a clothes swap, I’ve seen him eying up my fits all week, god knows he’ll fit them better lol. Oh haha, and speaking of him eying things up >:) You should’ve seen his little face blush when he walked into the gym this morning! He looked so pissed at me lol, but I’m not gonna grab him to come along every time I need to get some sets in right? It was pretty embarrassing for him yesterday anyway, the way I showed him up lol. I’m not just gonna sit around and watch him not lift weights when I can figure this shit out myself, thought it was supposed to be his thing though lol.

Mm, saying that though, I def didn’t hate having a little audience from his treadmill. God, his blushing face as he stared directly at my work-out chub. Fuck, it really got me going. It really helped my sets too haha. Maybe I should hit him up lol, I can tell how bad he wants me >:)

Saturday March 26th-

Stevie:

Ugh! That douche is walking around the dorm completely shirtless! Do you know what it’s like to have an oaf flexing away across the room from you 24/7! He knows what he’s doing, and thank god my dick isn’t showing through my shorts like I thought it usually does because he might literally pounce on me then-

Ugh! I didn’t even mention this morning. I literally woke up to him jacking off his morning wood! Do you know what a bitch-fit he would have thrown if I did that! He would’ve filed a police report, probably the dweeb, or. I guess I could too?? But it was just so fucking hot. I tried to pretend I was asleep, but he totally caught me. He literally smirked and made eye contact as he finished too- thank god he didn’t see my boner as he asked if I wanted to clean up his mess. He’s such an ass! 

I still have a boner now actually, it’s his B.O. driving me actually crazy! It’s like I can’t think near him if he’s going to stink this bad god.. Oh, he’s doing pullups on the door frame fuck. He’s supposed to be hairless but I see sweat dripping from his pits god I can't. God with each pull up his chest looks even more powerful. His cock is bobbing up and down in his pants and I can not look away. Fuck it’s getting even bigger. I’m supposed to be the strong one right? It’s not, fuck. This isn’t right. He just so fucking, god that body, I need him-

And Drew:

Heh. I knew that fucking twink couldn’t resist me. Every little thing I do wraps him even tighter around my finger. Every flex and smirk turns him on even more I bet he can’t even think straight the way his little dick is losing it in his briefs- I took all his jocks since I’m sure he would need them anymore. Bet the little bitch didn’t even remember they were his.  

Might as well have been drooling when he saw me jacking my cock this morning lol, surprised he didn’t take me up on the offer to lick up the mess. I know he wanted to lol. He’ll get the chance soon enough though >:) God it’s a two-way street though. That fucking twink is so fuckable now, thank god he doesn’t need to shave anymore, don’t want his peachfuzz scratching my cock cause god that mouth is so fuckable now.. To say nothing of his fucking juicy ass, god! I’ve been working out in the room all morning waiting for him to give in and ask me to fuck him, idk if I can hold it in much longer. I might need to jack it again, my balls are bluer than I ever thought they could be, fuck. It’s like they're sore. Ugh I feel them getting heavier, heh, that little fucker cant resist though. God I feel precum starting to pool in my jock. If I put my pit within a foot of his face I give him five before he can’t help but shove his face in. I need to fuck him, but as if I’m going to let him see how desperate I am. Stevie that little fucker. He’ll be riding my cock any second now.

Sunday March 27th-

Stevie:

Fuck <3 !! He finally fucked me!! God, it was like nothing I’ve experienced before~ His cock was like a beer can and goddd the scratch of his beard as we were making out.. Hehe if I keep thinking about him I might just cum again right now! He can fully toss my body like a ragdoll and I’d thank him ugh! He’s just so hot, and to think he wants to fuck me!! Ah~ I’ll need to keep myself pretty so he won’t get tired of me hehe! Not that it’ll be a problem, I just need to keep on his diet, God who knew it would be this good! I don’t even remember whatever problems we had before all this and I can’t imagine anything better than getting fucked by him <3 Ah! He he~ He’s staring at my ass right now so I guess it’s time for another round! Can’t thank our R.A. enough for this idea, well he he I’ve got an idea for how to thank him, oh! Drew’s ripped off his jock! Wish me luck he he~

Drew:

My little bitch is so tight, fuck. I’m surprised he can even take my cock but god can he ride it. Gonna have a hard time taking a break from fucking him to even hit the gym. Need to make sure the twink keeps up the diet tho or we’ll have an issue. Be sure to make him come to the gym whenever I do, if not to tighten up then to watch me heh. Won’t hate fucking him in the locker room too. Mm, God his fucking tiny body makes me feel so powerful. And I fucking am. God my bis are the size of his thick thighs, fuck his ass. My cock is straining my jock just thinking about it. His tiny waist ugh, I need my sweaty body over him now. Not like he’ll mind, the horny fucker. Mmm hope he’s ready to take my cock, bet his mouth is already watering heh. Pop my pecs at him and he’ll struggle not to cum on the spot, he better keep it together until I let him though. Can’t be having my bitch blow his load that fast. Thank fuck he’s chilled out finally, though I guess my cock’ll work wonders on anyone >:) speaking of it’s about that time again. Hope he’s ready for some more action, hate to have to find another hole.

Neighbor from hell

My neighbor Chad, was a total Jock asshole, totally homophobic and he let me known it everyday I walked by, calling me a disgusting fag. One day I had enough a purchased a spell that i hoped would change him. I cast it as he was out working outside his garage. The spell zapped him then something shot off of him and hit me.

Not only had the spell turned him into a submissive bitch boy obsessed with his new shiny bodysuit, it stole all of his precious muscles. The new skinny neighbor stared at me with lust, I was unaware that some of his muscle had landed in me and transformed me as well.

He signaled for me to follow him inside his house which had been converted into a total sex dungeon and his kinky ass wanted my new jock body to use him like one of his toys. Needless to say Chad was no longer the neighbor from hell but the best little fuckboy and now that I was a Twunk he did whatever I wanted so I' fuck him at the end of the day. Needless to say not much got done, but we were the new hot couple on the internet.

Half a Gronk is Still a Gronk

(This idea was a request pitched to me. Hope you like it, dude! And remember folks, I’ll pretty much write any story if the idea turns me on, so shoot me those requests!)

               Everything looked weird to Gronk, like he was in a fun house—the chair he was sitting in felt huge, the floor too far away, his feet barely able to touch. The only thing he could wear was his shirt—it had been a tight polo shirt when he put it on, but now it fit him like a dress. The worst was other people—the cops at the station looked HUGE to him—until he looked down and remembered that he wasn’t 6’7” anymore. But he kept forgetting, and the size of things kept spooking him. He jumped like a startled bunny when one of the cops put a big hand on his shoulder.

               “Sorry, little feller,” the cop said, chuckling. “Didn’t mean to startle you. But I’ve good news, little guy.”

               Gronk grit his teeth at the cop’s condescending tone. He’d been at the station for about three hours and a brutal hangover had set in awhile ago. He’d about had it with this place. “Good news huh?” he said. He wasn’t used to his voice yet—even though he tried to deepen it, it still came out high-pitched, like he hadn’t gone through puberty yet.

               “We checked your fingerprints, kiddo, and it turns out, you really are Rob Gronkowski.”

               Kiddo?! “No shit!” he shouted—sounding more like an angry little girl than anything, but he didn’t let his pipsqueaky voice undermine his anger. He hopped out of the chair and stood to his full height—which was just over the burly cop’s waistline. He stared up furiously, though. “I’ve been telling you guys for hours to check my fingerprints if you don’t believe me. Maybe now we can find the bitch who did this to me!”

               The big cop’s nostrils flared and he put both hands on his hips as he bent over, growling through clenched teeth. “Listen you little shit: I dunno if you’ve looked in the damned mirror lately but you’re not a big football star anymore! So you better learn not to talk to full-grown men like that, before one of ‘em stomps you like the little bug you are!”

               Gronk felt his stomach drop away like he was on a rollercoaster. The size of the man looming over him filled him with a feeling he was unfamiliar with—intimidation. The big cop’s explosive anger overwhelmed him, and Gronk felt his knees going weak, his vision going grey, and a sudden warm wetness down the front of his shirt, and then poor little Gronk fainted dead away on the floor.

* * *

               If he got up close to the mirror, really got a look at his own face, he could tell it was still him. Sort of. His whole head was smaller, his features all softer. He looked like—not his brother, since all of his brothers were twice his size now, but maybe his son? He still had a hard time getting into bars, since his ID looked like his old self. But even if people had heard about what had happened to him (and a lot of people had, since it was all over ESPN a dozen times a day), after the first few bouncers had made a spectacle of him (one of them demanding a picture while he held Gronk at arm’s length with ease) he quit trying.

               In fact, he was tired of going out into public at all. It was too much when people wanted to get pictures with him—holding him up off the ground or asking him to flex his little arms next to them. Way worse than that was the number of people who would pat him on the head after talking to him, or the people who would mistake him for a kid.

               Then there were the people who would chase him down, screaming, “Patriots suck!” He’d never been seriously injured, but he’d been shoved off his feet and tossed around a bunch of times. He didn’t have it in him to report them to the police.

               He weighed himself daily to see if there had been any change, and checked his height against a mark on the wall, but each day it was the same: he was four foot nine and 87 pounds. Every day he wished for any other number on the scale, but it was always the same.

               He bought a weight set for his house (specially made for his size) and lifted every day, but his body just didn’t seem to want to add any muscle. He ate as much food as he could stomach (about three slices of pizza filled him to overflowing now), trying to put on size in some way, but there were no changes. The doctors said he was basically healthy, although his testosterone levels were incredibly low. Strangely, his body seemed to resist the testosterone injections they prescribed him. His levels would spike for about twelve hours, then drop back to nearly nothing.

               No matter what he tried, he couldn’t undo what that bitch had done to him.

* * *

               They’d fucked like bunnies on meth for four hours. Gronk had decided to take a Gatorade break while the girl—some dark-haired chick he’d picked up at the club whose name he couldn’t even remember—fished around her giant bag for something.

               “You’re on the pill, right?” Gronk said as he lounged in the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He couldn’t remember if he’d asked her before, but he’d dumped a half-dozen loads in her without a condom.

               “No,” she said with a grin. She walked back up to the bed wearing this huge fancy gold necklace with a huge onyx stone on the front. With her mouth she worked Gronk’s lazily flopped-over dick into a steel pipe again while he moaned, a grin on his face, his hands behind his head. Then, as she lowered herself onto it, she said, “I’m three months pregnant.”

               “Wait—what?”

               But something had happened—his whole body was tingling all over, and a weird shadow flowed out of the stone on her necklace, sliding over his body like warm oil. It felt like a carpet of tiny fingers tickling him as it flowed around him, like it was sizing him up, then it covered his whole body. Through all of this he couldn’t move a muscle, and through all of this, she fucked herself on his cock.

               The tingling grew, a massive crescendo that started in his loins and seemed to spread through him, out to his extremities. The sensation was so strong he almost forgot that he was paralyzed, coated with some mystical black substance, and then—

               —as he came, his whole body tensed, and he felt overwhelmed by a new sensation, like more was flowing from him than his load. He felt like he’d been turned inside out, emptied out like an old purse into whatever-her-name-was, and the black matter peeled away, flowing back into her necklace. Then he could move again.

               The amount of alcohol in his system, now in a much smaller body, hit him like a wrecking ball all of a sudden. His consciousness flickered like an old light, but he remembered what she’d said: “Thanks, Gronk,” she cackled. “I just took all of your strengths and gave them to my baby. He’s going to grow up to be every bit the champion you are—or, used to be!” Then he was out.

               He woke up hours later and headed right to the police station, where they immediately doubted his identity and he learned his new role in the world. They never did find her--no thanks to his sketchy description of her as, “Some chick with dark hair.” He wondered if he would recognize the kid twenty years later, dominating college ball with all of his stolen skills. Even if he did, what could he do about it?

* * *

               They let him come to all practices, all games. Even got him a brand new little jersey to wear.

               He tried to tough it out, show his dedication to the Patriots, but he couldn’t handle being around his old teammates. Guys he used to tower over now cast monstrous shadows over him. Being on the sidelines while those big beasts hit each other—it startled him almost every time. All that aggression coming from guys five times bigger than he was… he just couldn’t handle being around it anymore. During games the cameras spent way too much time on him, and people always waited around for an interview.

               Gronk couldn’t handle the attention anymore. He was an oddity now, a circus freak. A photo circulated of Gronk walking next to Brady, with the 6’1” quarterback bending over, his hand on Gronk’s little blonde head like he was Brady’s kid. Gronk called it quits then, releasing a statement that he would always love the team but he couldn’t be a part of it anymore.

               Gronk kept himself holed up in his house, feeling sorry for himself. Belicheck and some guys from the team kept in touch, but the calls came less and less frequently as time went on. A few weeks after the Patriots had won the Super Bowl, there was a knock on Gronk’s door. It was Edelman.

               “How you doing big guy?” Edelman said, pulling off his shades and patting Gronk on the head. “You look good—you getting bigger?”

               Gronk blushed (something he’d never done back when he was big) and turned away shyly. Gronk offered Edelman a beer and they made some small talk for a little while, until Edelman surprised him by asking, “Hey Gronk, you still got that hot tub?”

               Gronk anxiously tiptoed toward the bubbling hot tub in his bathing suit, anxious about showing so much of his bony little body in front of his old teammate. Edelman had always been a little guy to Gronk—now Gronk found himself at eye level with Edelman’s abs. They both eased themselves into the tub and Edelman let out a sigh.

               “You wanna grab me another beer, bud?” Edelman asked.

               Gronk surprised himself at how quickly he jumped out of the tub to obey—but that was nothing compared to the surprise when Edelman’s wet bathing suit flopped over his head.

               Gronk turned around to see Edelman, totally nude, his hard-on bobbing in the tub. “Sorry,” Edelman chuckled. “Seeing you running around all little just got me excited is all. You don’t expect me to coop up my rod in that suit, do ya?”

               Gronk couldn’t believe It, but Edelman’s tone had started something bubbling up within himself. He felt his tiny little nub shoot to its full inch, his little raisin balls tingling hard.

               “How bout you grab that beer and get back in the tub? Lose the shorts, too.” Gronk did as he was told. He couldn’t disobey if he wanted, he realized, and that scared and thrilled him.

               When he got back (having shed his bathing suit on the trip), he extended the beer to the wide receiver, but Edelman just reached out and lifted Gronk up with both hands. Edelman held up little Gronk, laughing. “Oh man! I can’t believe how light you are! Man, you’re like a little toy!” Gronk’s little dinky bounced as he was shaken around. “Let’s see how much fun you and me can have together, little guy,” Edelman said, slowly lowering little Gronk into the tub, “and then we’ll give Solder a call, see if we can’t make this a party.”

Post-Olympia (a story in the Omar Bell universe)

[I wrote this story a long time ago. It takes place in the Omar Bell universe; if you're unfamiliar, just check out http://omarbelluniverse.blogspot.com. I first learned of it waaaay back from Chirenon's old site. The stories take place in a world where a scientist named Omar Bell released a chemical that transformed all white men into small, feminine "bois"--not only did they lose their physical stature and strength, but they also lost their mental resolve, becoming meek, flighty versions of themselves. The world becomes dominated by women and black men. I always liked to imagine what this would do to the bodybuilding world. Thus, this story was born. Check out @chirenon and @gendertransformation if any of this tickles your fancy; some of his stuff is fantastic, and his work is very well done.] Jay peeked cautiously through the curtains, careful not to let anyone get a glimpse of him. There was a big dais set up, probably for them to walk along. It was the Olympia expo, the gathering of professionals in the fitness industry before the legendary competition that night. A crowd of women, hard-bodied and tan, as well as two black men with the ripped proportions of physique competitors had gathered to the spectacle. Jay was used to walking around amongst that crowd, bathing in their adoration and respect, but now the attention seemed daunting. He pulled the belt on his robe tighter and backed away from the curtains anxiously. "You ready for this big Jay?" PJ said in his soft, high voice. He gave Jay a squeeze on his perky behind. Jay's whole body shuddered at the contact and he backed away from it. PJ winked and smiled. "Get ready, boi," he said, his yoga-pants clad rear-end swaying sensuously back and forth. "You're gonna be our show-stopper." That's what Jay was afraid of. This was the second Olympia since the Great Change, when Omar Bell's virus swept over the world and reduced white men to soft, feminine little bois. All men affected by the virus underwent a shocking change in status as their virility was stripped away over about a month. No one took the change harder than the bodybuilding community. While all white men had a lot to go through to get used to their new smaller bodies, bodybuilders, who'd marched around previously as pillars of masculine size and strength, lost so much more. Men who were used to weighing in at over 250 pounds--sometimes closer to 300--had a much harder time adjusting. Many tried to deny what was happening, frustrated by their waning strength and their loosening clothes. Jay remembered the day he finally accepted what had happened to him, sobbing into a now-gigantic XXXL tank top behind his couch as musculardevelopment.com reporters banged on his door, desperate to get a shot of Jay Cutler, the former four time Mr. Olympia, now smaller than his own wife. The first Olympia show after the virus came and went, all white competitors entirely absent while black athletes, the only real men still able to hold massive amounts of muscle, took over the sport. Jay's wife left him, his career had evaporated and sales for his supplement company plummeted. Then one day, after Jay had avoided his calls for weeks, PJ Braun showed up at his door. Jay was shocked to see him in person. The simpering little boi that introduced himself as PJ in no way resembled the massively muscled, good-looking man Jay remembered. He was now just over five-feet tall (still two whole inches taller than tiny Jay, a difference that seemed great to him) and just a smattering over 90 lbs. His formerly wide, bulging shoulders had compressed, his huge arms now slender and angular. Even more shocking to Jay, PJ had begun to wear the clothes that he'd seen bois wearing in the news: a tiny string tanktop that covered up his sensitive little nipples as well as stretch pants that accentuated his round rear end, the only part of him that wasn't slender. At one point he turned around and Jay saw the words "SLUTBOI" written in shiny gold across his plump backside. PJ was extending an offer to purchase what was left of Cutler Athletics--his own company, now called BlackstoneFit, had begun to offer fitness apparel for men, women, and now bois--but he had an even greater plan ahead of them, one that would involve Jay accepting an endorsement deal with his company. "We're going to change the face of the fitness world--again," PJ lilted in his high voice. Jay wasn't sure he believed what PJ was telling him, but it was the best offer he had going in a world of dwindling possibility, so Jay signed the papers. And now, staring out at the crowd at the Olympia expo, he was seriously starting to regret it. PJ strutted toward the curtain, taking one look back at Jay and the other athletes, and then walked out to the audience. Speaking into a (pink and glittery, Jay noted) microphone headset he projected his shrill voice confidently to the crowd. Knowing that the beginning of the presentation meant his time to go out there was rapidly approaching, and having heard PJ's spiel a hundred times, before, Jay retreated from the curtain, pacing around nervously, while the two other little boi "athletes" lined up to be presented to the crowd. "Many believe that bois have no place in the fitness industry, but today you'll see that the athletic spirit, so ferociously displayed by us when we were men, is still present today! By next year we will see boi competitions across the country--and soon enough, here at the Olympia as well!" Mike O'hearn was the first to walk out. Gone was the huge body that had earned him the nickname Titan, as well as the chiseled jaw he had been known for. Now a tan, lithe little boi, he still had his big curly romance-novel cover stud hair--only now the loose, curvy locks looked even more feminine atop his delicate facial features and long, flirty eyelashes. He strutted out toward the crowd wearing BlackstoneFit's proposed "competition suit" for bois, if the International Federation of Bodybuilding approved their proposal for a Boi category in the sport. Tiny strings looped over his narrow shoulders, holding a small rectangle of shiny purple of fabric against his pert little nipples. The bottom resembled a miniature version of the posing trunks they'd all competed in when they'd been men, but reduced in the rear to show more curvy buttocks, and pulled taut in the front to fit tightly against their tiny boy-nubs. Mike's little top had his name written in glittery letters across it. "It's important everyone recognizes who you are. We're selling your names out there, your reputations. We're not gonna pull this off with your little bodies." Still, it was so small on the tiny piece of fabric that the audience had to lean in just to make it out. Mike walked confidently out against the crowd, ignoring the whispers and giggles. One of the big men in the audience whistled. "Work it, little boi!" he said, and Mike blushed and turned around to present his perky little glutes. Jay shuddered; having heard scary stories about the way bois and men reacted to each other's pheromones, he'd tried his best to avoid having to see any real men since the change. Obviously it couldn't be totally avoided, but he'd never had to face a man the size of these big black behemoths in the crowd. He'd brought this up to PJ beforehand, only to have it casually dismissed. "Well, if they're turned on by you, mission accomplished," PJ had said. "And if you're turned on by them, work it. We've always been pros at working a crowd that's excited by us." Next up was Alexey Lesukov, whose baby-face had remained post-transformation, making him look barely twelve. "I assure you, folks, this boi is of legal age, even though that cute little face doesn't look a day past ten!" Alexey's freakish genetics, which had blessed him with a dense frame stuffed with bloated muscle as a man, still asserted themselves post-change. His bottom was, relative to his slight, thin body, a set of twin melons. His boi-trunks disappeared into its curvature. He walked with a sexy Ursula-esque sway, and as soon as he sauntered out along the dais, the crowd was abuzz with his fantastic behind. "Show 'em what you can do, Al!" PJ said. Alexey smiled a cute, toothy grin and then lithely lifted his right leg straight up in the air, gripping his dainty foot and holding the position. Then he gently lowered his leg back down to the ground and slid to the ground in a perfect split, his big caboose preventing him from sliding all the way down to the ground. The audience tittered. A few people clapped. Alexey rose and took his spot on the stage opposite Mike. Jay noticed PJ's wife, Celeste, casually walking the perimeter of the booth talking on her cell phone, completely uninterested in the show on the BlackstoneFit stage. As she passed PJ she casually patted him on the head without looking at him. He leaned into the contact, nuzzling her hand. In her heels she was easily ten inches taller than her little boi husband. From what Jay had heard, despite the fact that they remained married, PJ and Celeste now had an open sexual relationship. The whispered stories were that Celeste would invite over large black men whose dicks would find a way into both Celeste and PJ. Jay had been horrified to hear that when Celeste and PJ did have sex together, it was with PJ on the receiving end of the strap-on. Rumor had it that PJ's high-pitched squeals could be heard by all of their neighbors. Despite PJ's role as figurehead, Celeste seemed to be the one running the shots for BlackstoneFit, and it was Celeste who Jay was worried about crossing. If he violated his contract, he'd have to deal with her, and he'd seen the forceful way he'd ordered PJ around. Worse, Jay didn't believe he had it in himself anymore to stand up to her. He was going to have to walk out in front of that crowd. "And now," PJ introduced, and Jay loosened the belt on his robe, "the king himself, four time Mr. Olympia--Jay Cutler!" Jay walked out, remembering PJ's orders: "Sway that ass, walk like you own yourself, and look like you're loving it." Jay was wearing a little set of gold boi-trunks, as well as a tiny little top with his name written in white sequins. His hair was still his trademark blonde, still spiked high, and he was as tan as anyone remembered him, but the similarities ended there. His physique was still perfect, but by boi standards: slender shoulders, perfectly thin arms, toned legs and a wide, pear-shaped ass. PJ had smeared glitter along every inch of him, and he felt like the little guy on top of the Olympia statue as he marched in front of the crowd. For a tense moment, the crowd was silent, but then they began to Ooooh and Aaaah. People applauded. He felt a surge of adrenaline, a micron of confidence rising through him, and extended his waifish arms and curled them into what would, on a man or a fit woman, be known as a Double Biceps pose. His biceps barely existed anymore, but the presentation caused a surge in excitement in the crowd. Jay did a turn, presenting every inch of himself, satisfied by their appraisal. Without even looking, Jay sensed real men approaching--the air smelled different, somehow, and he felt a tingling down his spine and in his little nips and boy-nub. He felt a growing warmth and moistness in his ass, a side-effect of the change he wasn't used to--it all felt mildly intoxicating. He watched as Mike and Alexey showed the same signs of arousal, heard PJ's voice start to trail off lazily as well. Then Jay turned and saw them coming. For a moment he felt like he'd never seen any living thing as big as the three gigantic men walking toward him, but then he recognized them, tall and wide and stuffed with pure, bulging, veiny black muscle, and he realized that there was once a time when he was the same size as they were, when he competed alongside all of them and held his own: Phil Heath, Kai Greene and Ronnie Coleman all approached, the crowd parting around them, each of them seeming to generate gravity with their massive size. Jay tried to still his fluttering little heart. He felt his stance start to wobble as his eyes tried to take in what seemed like miles of hard black skin. "Gentlemen!" PJ said, cautiously approaching. "So glad to see some--" "Quiet," ordered Phil without even looking. PJ immediately fell silent--in fact, seemed physically unable to speak, now. "Shoo," Kai said, waving a hand in PJ's direction. The little boi backed away slowly, then tittered into the crowd, while the three huge bodybuilders approached the little bois arranged like trophies on the stage. "Look at this one," Phil said, stroking Mike's big curls with a thick paw. Mike shuddered in ecstasy, his eyes glazing with a far-away look. "What a pretty little boy," he said. "Show me that booty, boi!" Kai said, snapping a finger in Alexey's face. The little boi turned around and bent at the waist, presenting his voluptuous rear for inspection. Kai traced the boi's dramatic curves with his finger, sliding up the ample crack. Alexey let out a shrill yip. Kai tugged at one of Alexey's ears, then scooped the boi up with one hand, tossing him over his shoulder. Phil did the same with Mike, and the two gigantic men strode away, barely encumbered by their little prizes. Jay took in Ronnie's huge proportions as he approached. He was like a brick wall of human, so wide and tall. Jay had a feeling of vertigo as he struggled to take in all of the giant man. Ronnie leaned in and inhaled deeply, the path of his nose starting at Jay's face and slowly trailing down to the little gold boi-trunks covering his tiny little nub. "Mmmm," Ronnie groaned with a sound so rich it vibrated Jay's little nips. "Look at you, little thing," he said. He dug a finger under Jay's shiny top and gave it a twang. "You ain't nothin' but a peanut!" Ronnie turned around and nodded his head away from the stage. He crouched down a bit. It took Jay a minute to realize that Ronnie was prompting him to climb on his back! Very cautiously he looped his little arms around Ronnie's big neck, and then they were off, Jay bouncing against the thick coiled snakes of Ronnie's immensely muscled back, his arms barely able to clear Ronnie's wide traps and non-existent neck. With every powerful stride, Jay felt himself slide back and forth against the wall of muscle, his boynub stimulated to the point that he feared he couldn't hold on much longer, his ass so moist he worried people could see it. The crowd had dispersed at this point, BlackstoneFit's booth completely abandoned. As he watched it disappear behind him, he worried about what would become of him. As crowds parted at the sight of Ronnie Coleman with a little blonde boi on his back, Ronnie extended his big arms to them. "Hey folks, check out four time Mr. Olympia Jay Cutler!" he declared. Jay's cheeks burned with humiliation, but deeper he felt something smoldering, a sexual charge in the background that grew stronger the more Ronnie put him on display. The embarrassment ended when Ronnie approached his hotel room, unlocking the door with his card and then plopping Jay on the bed with one hand. The door swung closed loudly, and Ronnie pulled off his t-shirt with one hand. Jay couldn't help but moan at the display of musculature, still nearly as obscenely large and veiny as when Jay had taken the Olympia title away from him. Ronnie yanked down his pants and Jay's eyes bugged out when he saw the massive python underneath. "Strip," Ronnie ordered, and Jay shyly slid out of his revealing little outfit. Ronnie grabbed the shiny little tank and the teeny trunks and tossed them in the trash. "You won't be needing these anymore, little boi," he said. Despite his anxiety, Jay felt his desire spike dramatically as Ronnie's massive dick started to rise.

Deflated Athletes

I would kill for a pic (3D art or drawing) of a football player (some big brick-shithouse lineman) or a super-heavyweight bodybuilder (a massive Dallas McCarver type) with their size suddenly deflated from their big body--suddenly their pads/jerseys are huge on their skinny frame, or in the case of bodybuilders, they’re desperately holding up their now-gigantic poser to cover up their shame. Before/after would of course be the coolest, but I dig the idea that the size of the equipment/posing trunks suggests how big they used to be in a one-shot. If anyone could whip that up, I’d be really grateful (and would gladly write a story to your specs). Alternatively, if anyone could point me in the direction of someone who could help me out, that would be great too.

Terry shuddered when the manila envelope showed up in his mailbox--nowadays, since his career was over, no news was good news. He’d become happy in his new life, keeping to himself, trying to forget how things used to be.

In the envelope was a stack of photos of what he used to look like--big, massive, powerful. The man in the photos looked unfamiliar. Had he ever been such a gigantic man? Now, he had to use a ladder to get dishes out of the cabinet. He needed help getting his groceries to his car.

 Underneath the envelope was a package--he knew he shouldn’t open it, but he had to know what was in it. He sobbed when he unrolled a pair of his old boxers: holding the waistband above his nipples, they hung down past his knees. He knew who was sending him these things--the same guy who did this to him--but how had he gotten a pair of his old boxers, still ripe with the sent of his big sweaty body? And how had he been able to elude the police for so long?

 He remembered the night it had happened--ESPN had sent a crew to his gym to interview him about the upcoming World’s Strongest Man competition. Terry was in the best shape of his life, stronger than he’d ever been, poised to shatter world records. He was the last one to leave the gym that night, so confident (what would a man his size and ability have to be afraid of?) that he never suspected he’d have anything to worry about.

 He’d barely noticed the little guy standing next to his car--thought it was a child at first: black trenchcoat, bowl cut, thick glasses, whip-thin, gently shaking. “You okay?” Terry called.

 “No, I’m not okay,” the little guy said.

 “Look, buddy, I need to get home and get my 8 hours or else--”

 “Or else what? You won’t be the strongest guy around? You know how stupid that is? What a stupid goal? Physical strength is useless in today’s world. Intellect rules, you fucking caveman.”

 Even the namecalling didn’t raise Terry’s ire--he could’ve one-handed this little man through a wall. Basically, the guy was nothing to him. It may have been that attitude, he thought for years later, that invited what happened to him.

 Terry had had enough, though, so he just stepped toward the car, edging the little guy out of the way with his big body. Without even meaning to, he knocked the little guy to the ground.

“Oh, you think you can just bully people who are smaller than you?” the man shrieked. “Let me show you how physical strength matches up with my brainpower!”

 Terry flinched as the man whipped out the ray-gun--he’d expected to get shot by a bullet (and for years would wish it had been). When the man clicked the trigger, nothing happened at first--then Terry’s whole body collapsed like a balloon. His shorts fell to the ground. His shirt hung around him like a tent--in an instant, he’d gotten so small and skinny that he could fit through his neckhole. He stumbled around in way-too-big sneakers, tripping over the bottom of his shirt and tumbling to the ground.

 As he stared up at the night sky, the little man--now his size, maybe even bigger--loomed over him. “Look at you now. Not so big and strong now, are you?”

 Terry, still in shock, quivered in his oversized tee and stared up at the man, wondering what was next--but then the man took off, leaving him there, a fraction of the man he’d once been, wondering what to do next.

 Doctors couldn’t explain what had happened--fingerprints identified him, but he’d lost over two-hundred pounds in an instant. Not only that, but his potential to gain muscle had been entirely sapped on a genetic level. His early statements to the press were that he wouldn’t let this keep him down, that he’d come back, but his body seemed to resist physical exercise. No matter how he tried, no matter how much he ate or trained or shot steroids into his ass, he never gained a pound. Soon he was nothing but a novelty, laughed at on ESPN and mocked in public.

 Turns out the guy who’d done this to him wasn’t alone in resenting him for his size. Now that he was tiny and weak, fans who’d heard about what had happened to him were all too eager to shove him around, lord over his reduced stature. The worst was, after each of these terrifying experiences, looking back on the men and realizing they would’ve been scrawny nobodies next to his old body.

 Still, his assailant continued to assault him with reminders of what he used to be, how much size he had lost, what a massive man he had been--and what an insignificant bug he’d become. One day he came home to a life-size cutout of his old, gigantic body. He barely came up to the crotch on it. “Your strength is nothing compared to my brainpower,” said the card attached.

Terry Hollands

Jesse had the guys at the underground club thirsting for his body as he danced from atop the dais, his blue jumpsuit unzipped and stripped to his waist. These kind of gigs paid his bills--Jessi would stride into some bear bar, offer to dance, get paid by the club and walk away with his rent in tips, and if he was lucky, some built-like-a-mac-truck fella to go home with.

Tonight it was a little invite-only place called the Bear Trap. There wasn’t much to see in this crowd--for a bear bar, there was a surprising number of cubs and twinks, no real muscle in the house. That was fine--Jesse was muscle enough for everybody.

 While he was dancing, a little lost in the music (and the feeling that came along with pumping his powerful body while man reach in, desperate to get a feel) he barely heard over the music someone calling for him. He turned around to see a young, smooth blond boy motioning for him to lean down to him. Jesse smirked at the little twink and bent at the waist, giving him a kiss on the cheek. He’d expected some bills--kid like that, getting a kiss from a bull like him was worth at least a twenty. But instead, faster than Jesse could react, he slapped a chain around his neck and locked the padlock on the end.

 “Did this little twenty-year old just lock me?” Jesse thought with a smirk, admiring the way the big padlock looked sitting on his thick hairy pecs. “I think I might be a little too much man for you!” he said. “Thanks for the gift, though.” He had bolt-cutters in his truck, he could take care of it later. A wide smile spread across the blond twink’s face. He snapped his fingers--somehow, over the music, Jesse heard it like a thunderclap. Something about that snap grabbed hold of his senses--he was focused on nothing else but the twink’s fingers.

 The twink motioned toward the door and Jesse hopped off the dais obediently. The crowd grabbed at him, tried to pull him back, but Jesse roughly shoved them aside. He barely thought about what he was doing until he got outside.

“Who… who are you?” he said, still keeping up with the twink’s long strides.

 “Your new owner,” the twink said. His voice was shrill and high--kid seemed like he should be singing soprano in an a capella group, not ordering around a big musclebull.

 “Look, kid, I don’t know what went on in there, but I--”

 The twink snapped. Jesse stopped mid-sentence.

 “No talking. Only barking. Good pups bark. Got it?”

 Jesse tried to form words--they were perfect in his head--but when they got to his mouth, all that came out were barks.

 “You’re driving,” the twink ordered, and Jesse headed toward his truck, actually walking to the passenger side and opening the door to let the twink in. He wondered where they were going--when he tried to ask, all that came out were barks and whimpers--but the twink snapped his fingers again. “We’re going to your hotel room. You’ll be moving me into your permanent residence soon--it’s now my permanent residence, by the way.” Jesse couldn’t argue--could barely voice his dissension through dog-sounds even if he tried, and was too nervous to attempt it anyway.

The hotel was a cheap place, the kind where your room door opened up to the parking lot, so they headed in without having to pass a front desk. Part of Jesse was thankful--he would’ve hated to be seen in this compromised position--but part of him wished there was someone he could try to ask for help from. “Get on the bed,” the twink ordered once the door was closed. “All fours,” he said, and Jesse obeyed. The twink climbed up on the bed and inspected him like he was property, slapping his ass, squeezing his pecs and his thick lats, sniffing and tasting his pits.

 “Take my dick like a champion, got it?” the twink ordered, and Jesse arched his back without thinking--he’d never bottomed in his life, there was no way he’d do it now! But once the twink mounted him it was all he could think about--his rational mind still fought, but another instinct took over, a desire to please his master, to satisfy him with his body as his property. The twink fucked him hard and mercilessly--and as much as he didn’t want to, Jesse loved it.

 After dumping a load into Jesse’s virgin ass, the twink shoved the big musclebear onto his side. “You just got fucked like the bitch you are. It’s time you looked the part.” He reached out and placed a hand on Jesse’s tattoos. “I’ll take those, thank you.” The tattoos suddenly swirled around Jesse’s flesh, traveling along the skin onto the twink, where they settled into brand new patterns.

 “This hair doesn’t suit you either. Little bitch like you better be smooth.” A prickling traveled along Jesse’s skin as his hair visibly receded, leaving behind bare, soft flesh--not even pubes were left behind. He patted the baby-soft skin of the bare face in horror. His muscles had been covered with hair since he was 14--he shivered in the cold air, his body looking somewhat childlike despite its muscle. Meanwhile thick blond hair sprouted over the twink’s body, as well as a thick beard and moustache on the twink’s face. Their size differences aside, the twink now looked like the older man, while something about Jesse seemed adolescent.

 “What use is all that brawn and strength on a little bitch like you?” the twink asked, and Jesse stared as his body deflated, muscles he’d had for years waned and smoothing out until he was as thin as the twink--or at least, as thin as the twink was. In seconds, the twink’s body swole with powerful masculine muscles, he groaned as his voice deepened and flexed and inspected his new body, seeming satisfied with the results.

“Bitch like you looks up to a master like me,” the twink said, and Jesse felt his body compress while the twink--no, his master’s limbs expanded. Jesse started to cower, looking up at the huge, hairy tattooed blonde man crossing his arms in front of him.

 “What use is a big dick like that on a little bitch like you?” Master said, and Jesse watched as the big tool swinging between his legs dwindled to a little nub. The master’s cock slowly snaked down from his groin--and Jesse became entranced by it.

“Now all you need is a firm little ass to fuck, little pup, and you’re all ready.” Jesse felt his ass slowly rise into two soft pillows that wobbled sensuously as he moved.

 Jesse shivered as he took his new Master in--masculinity came off him in waves. It was intoxicating. Jesse just wanted to swallow gulps of the Master’s scent, bury his nose in Master’s pits, nuzzle his face between Master’s two big pecs…

 “Now you’re my pup, period. My bitch. I’ll breed you when I want to but other than that, you stay locked and plugged.”

 Suddenly he couldn’t remember his name--he was Pup, or Bitch… Pup-Bitch. Master wasted no time getting his little cock locked up tight and plugging his pup-hole with a tail. Then he pulled a rubber pup-hole over his face. Pup-Bitch felt complete. In the deepest part of his mind, something screamed that this wasn’t right--but then it faded away, and Pup-Bitch wagged his tail.

Master went through the things in the hotel room that were now his--digging cash from the wallet left behind, grabbing the keys to the truck, pulling on the jumpsuit which was a little snug on his big body. Then he snapped his fingers--Pup-Bitch hopped to attention--and headed to the truck. Pup-Bitch rode shotgun, hanging his head out the window the whole way.

Terry Hollands Week--CALL FOR ARTISTS

Anybody remember when I wrote stories about a transformed Richie Incognito every day for a week awhile ago? I’ve chosen a new victim. This big slab of meat, Terry Hollands, is going to be the new subject of a series of transformation stories, in all of which he’s going to end up on the short end of the deal (very literally in some cases). Because I lack any sort of visual artistic skill, I’d love it if anyone could offer any sort of pic (no matter the medium, no matter the transformation) for me to write a story about.

I’m open to just about any scenario in which Terry is changed in a way that puts him lower on the food chain--shrinking, twinkification, muscle drain/theft, inanimate, animal transformation, muscle inflation/immobilization, trait swap, age regression/progression, blueberry transformation... Am I leaving anything out? If any of you talented deviant-minded folks could whip something up, that would be AMAZING. In the meantime I’m going to try to cobble out 7 or more stories where this big fella ends up losing his strongman status. Please please please shoot me a line if you’re interested in collaborating in any way (and if any writers have any ideas to pitch at me, speak up!).

JR was in the locker room with his teammates, celebrating their win, when he got the text:

“Great game fella. It was nice to watch you play again. Care to meet up with an old buddy?”

The number wasn’t saved in his contacts (he’d deleted it when he thought he was finally rid of him) but he knew the number by heart: Thad. He also knew there was no way to say no. An address showed up seconds later, a sports bar nearby, and JR knew he had to go, and soon.

Thad came outside at JR’s texted request; an NFL player walking in an hour after a big win would attract too much attention. Luckily Thad was merciful and met him outside. He strode confidently up to the passenger side and hopped into the car. Not a tall man, Thad had to build some momentum to hoist himself up into the lifted truck. JR clenched when he found the man’s gaze on him.

“Great to see you again buddy!” Thad said giving him a slap on the shoulder followed by a squeeze that lingered. Thad looked him up and down. “Jesus, even sitting down you look big. Way bigger than in college. The NFL sure is doing wonders for you!”

“Yes sir,” JR responded, ashamed that he’d snapped back to subservience to Thad without thinking. He couldn’t even look the smaller man in the face.

“Did you miss me?” Thad asked. JR nodded slowly like a scolded child. “Be honest.”

“No…” JR said quietly.

“I’ve got a hotel room. We’re headed there. Let’s go. I’ll tell you the directions on the way.”

JR shook his head. “I have a wife, kids… a life. This isn’t college anymore.”

“Wasn’t asking, big man.” Thad’s tone made JR shiver. “Call them. Tell them you’re meeting up with an old buddy.”

Hands shaking, JR lifted his phone and dialed his wife. Of course she protested, but when Thad told JR, he just hung up. Once he’d gotten through this, he’d tell her some lie, take her on a vacation. He was far more afraid of Thad than of his wife.

Back in college Thad was a shrimpy weirdo who sat next to JR in a philosophy class. JR could tell right away the little guy had eyes for him--women and men had been swooning for his big football player body and confident swagger since he hit early puberty at age 14 and was bigger than most men--so he knew he could get what he wanted. Thad took notes for JR, let him cheat during tests, did all of his work. Then one day Thad approached JR with self-confidence he’d never had before. He told JR to come to his dorm room to pick up his midterm essay rather than just bringing it to class. And when JR got there, Thad revealed the mystical little tricks he’d learned from an old Tibetan book he’d found at the library.

Now, JR just did as he told, driving to the skeevy little motel on the edge of town. Luckily the door to Thad’s room opened right to the parking lot so JR Sweezy wouldn’t be seen dragged through a lobby by a feminine little queer.

Once inside the door, JR quickly locked it and pulled the shades. Thad just snapped his fingers and pointed to a spot in the middle of the room. JR took his spot, sweat pouring from his brow.

“You know all this mass is just too damned much…” Thad said feeling JR up, grabbing his ass, poking his belly, grabbing his massive arms. “And this hair,” he said running a hand up JR’s shirt, running his fingers through the coat of fur up there. “Ew. Plus, what’s a guy like you gonna do with a cock this size?” Thad’s other hand fished JR’s sizeable dick out of his pants and swatted it back and forth. JR flinched.

“You know what type of guys I like,” Thad said, crossing his bony arms over his insignificant chest. Then he winked and it happened.

Suddenly JR felt like he was sinking although he hadn’t moved an inch. The room around him seemed to rise as his gaze fell to below Thad’s chest. Thad was 5’5”; JR tried not to do the math for his own new height.

As he shrunk, JR felt his body getting more compact. His gut reduced, replaced by abs. Veins snaked up his arms as his skin tightened. Worst of all his big dick shrank away to a little nub and his ass firmed up--and deep within his ass, JR felt a sudden hypersensitivity, an itch, growing in intensity, he was desperate to scratch.

Meanwhile JR’s clothes shifted like warm wax. His pants melted away while his boxer briefs pulled up into a speedo with a drawstring and net panels over his hips. His shirt receded, the shoulders hardening, until it assumed its new form: a minimalist set of football pads with the words “American Football” on the front--probably as a joke. Thad reached out a hand and ran it over JR’s new muscletwink body, tracing along his abs. With every touch, JR’s mind went wild--he could barely think, and if one finger could do that much…

With little effort Thad hoisted little JR up and tossed him on the bed. “That’s how I like my men. Ripped and easy to throw around.” Instinctively JR flipped over and his ass rose into the air. Thad put his face over it, inhaled deeply, and traced JR’s crack with an invasive tongue.

“You smell good, JR… taste even better…”

Hours later, Thad shoved little JR off. He’d done something, made it so JR couldn’t cum. Every time Thad had pounded JR’s little ass, he’d gotten even more lost in a haze of horniness and sensation he hadn’t felt in years--since college. While Thad headed to the bathroom to piss, JR lay on the bed, wriggling uncomfortably. His body was desperate to get fucked again.

“Don’t worry little man,” Thad called from the bathroom over the sound of his peeing. “I’m gonna call for a pizza and see if the delivery boy won’t fuck you. Then we’re gonna parade you around to every other room in this place and see if anybody else wants a turn on that ass.”

When Thad came back to the bed he licked a finger and probed JR’s ass for fun, making the little man squirm. “Man, did I miss this… It could be days before I get tired of playing with you at this size, if ever!”

BrandedX2: “Big Guys Taken Down a Notch”

New content every Monday, Wednesday and Saturday.

James absolutely hated when I shot him a text and told him to cancel all of his plans but he'd learned by now that there was nothing he could do once I decided to stop by. When I walked in the room, he straightened up to his full height, flexed his massive torso and fixed a stern gaze on me. As I looked up at him, took in his mass and savored his heavy post-gym musk, I couldn't help but laugh. We both knew he wouldn't be the big beefy bear for long. He grunted, a deep sound he wouldn't be able to make in a few moments.

As soon as he caught a whiff of my mystical cologne his composure dissolved. Soon after, his muscles began to do the same, pound by pound evaporating from his form as his height condensed, his tattoos slid away, his beard and body-hair retracted. The boxer briefs he wore slid to the floor as his thick thighs slimmed. I caught a quick glimpse of his big meaty cock before it too drained away. One place mostly spared of the drain was his ass; part of the spell was that his new form would retain a relatively sizable, cushiony ass which looked almost ludicrous on his new form--that of a slight, smooth adult man with a big juicy booty.

I was barely what one could call average, but I felt like a titan next to James' petite new body. With one hand I shoved him backwards onto the bed with ease, eliciting a high-pitched gasp from him but no resistance.

After that display of force (and the resulting hurt and nervous look on my newly little guy's face) I crawled onto the bed, hovered over him for a moment before kissing him deeply, scooping his little head up in one palm to pull him into it. He dissolved into my embrace--not literally, of course, although if I used another of my formulas I could absolutely achieve that--and his legs spread apart almost instinctively.

Once my magical cologne and I were out of range, he'd grow back to his old form, get his tattoos and fur and brawn back, but the idea that I could take them away at any time would linger with him until the next time I decided to stop in. Since the formula also made him unbelievably horny and exponentially more sensitive, he'd be overwhelmed by pleasure for hours as well. Trading his big bear body for a submissive form and more pleasure than his little brain could handle would be something he would always feel torn about--until, of course, I got my hands back on him. Then there was no doubt about how much I owned him, and how much he loved it.

BrandedX2: “Big Guys Taken Down a Notch”

New content every Monday, Wednesday and Saturday.

Love Muscle

Happy Valentine’s Day. Here’s my contribution to the dateless.

As little Cupie flitted and fluttered around the world, seeing all of the joyful humans and their roses and chocolates and champagne toasts, celebrating the joyful paradise of a life with love, he sensed a great emptiness. While most warm bodies blasted out warm, he sensed a place of cold metal and hard, unfeeling bodies, gritted teeth, pain and sacrifice and passion without affection. It was love’s most special day; Cupie had to do something! So he descended upon Global Gym, zipped on his magical little wings through the packed parking lot, and took a deep breath of fresh air before he entered the stagnant musk of this sweat-filled dungeon.Inside were many man, big as buffalo and hard as steel, some more perfectly carved than statues. 

As Cupie inspected the marvelously shaped men, he found each of them desperately fighting a hole in their hearts, trying so hard to hide a need for tender touch behind armor of massive flesh.At least, that’s what it looked like to Cupie. And he couldn’t allow this at all. He would fix that right away.

Gathered in a small huddle around a big metal rack were four apelike men, hairy and thick and barely able to move from their enormous swollen muscles. “Powerlifters,” they called themselves, but how powerful can you be without the power of love?

Their leader, a stout barrel-shaped man with a long beard, wore a perma-scowl as he moved many times his own bodyweight in metal, lifting it from the ground and putting it back down. The other brutes in his entourage clapped their chalky hands on his back before each lift, helped him pull his belt tight, barked at him, “You’ve got this bro!”“Deadlifting” they called it. Well, it was time to come alive, Cupie thought, and as the powerful man waddled toward the overloaded bar, Cupie pulled a special arrow from his quiver and fired.

The beastly man clapped his massive hands together, producing a cloud of chalk that surrounded him as the invisible, magical arrow struck him. As the chalk cleared, the man found himself now half his size, swimming in oversized clothes. His still-buckled weight belt clattered to the ground and he stumbled around awkwardly. He struggled to escape his now-tentlike shirt, stepping out of ludicrously oversized shoes and staring up at his three companions, now each three times his size. More overwhelming than the garguantuan men staring at him was the dull throbbing from his ass--an ass that had stayed basically the same size while the rest of him shriveled, now bulbous and unwieldy behind an otherwise petite man--that seemed to beg for his attention. That’s when Cupie let loose three more arrows for his friends.

The one who’d tightened his belt reached out with a meaty paw and yanked the big shirt away, revealing the little man in his newfound glory: a slender, hairless man with a huge inviting rear end. Each of the man felt a stirring in their loins looking at the little man, especially his bulbous backside, and each of them started to perspire. The little guy, suddenly more flexible than he’d ever been, folded at the waist, presented his prized asset to his buddies and grabbed his dainty little ankles. The former powerhouse thrilled as the buddy who’d cheered on his left reached out a thick, chalk-caked digit and gently tweaked the crack of the newly-tiny man’s voluptuous behind, eliciting a squeal that invited all three men to move in closer, their pulses quickened, their loins stirring like never before.

In another room, a powerful man stood nearly nude before a mirror, crunching up his lumpy arms and legs and making the muscles big and hard. Nearby an older gentlemen, with just as much unnecessary muscle as the younger man but gristled with age, sat on a bench, calling out strange directions. 

“Nice, Tony, now front double bi. Great. Show me that abdominal-thigh.” Cupie eyed this strange scene and sensed a latent affection between the men. The rippling Tony, his skin stained dark brown for some reason, seemed to be desperate for the approval of the older gentleman--so much that he’d put on what looked like tiny panties and squeeze his body up in public just to win it--while the older gentleman looked at Tony with a sense of pride, like he was his own creation.

Cupie could work with this.

One very powerful arrow shot into the wide slabs of beef hanging off Tony’s Chest. He didn’t sense anything at first, but then the older man said, “All right, show me that lat spread.” Tony put his fists on his hips and spread his back wide--and it just kept spreading. Tony’s wide back, his bumpy arms and veiny legs all spread out like dough, more muscle pouring onto his frame than he’d ever conceived of before. As his chest and shoulders swelled up around his head, he looked around nervously, his legs splayed out impossibly far to accomodate their thickness while remaining upright.

The older man was shocked for a moment until another of Cupie’s arrows struck him. He proudly rose from the stool and did a lap around the muscular monstrosity he’d created, surveying it with pride, and buried his fingers into the deep ridges between each blimped out muscle, causing Tony to squeal with overwhelming ecstasy. He was now a practically immobile pile of muscle, only able to barely wiggle his toes and fingers while his big dick (swollen like the rest of him, and stretching his overstuffed little underwear to the limit) burped and sputtered cum.

“Don’t worry about the mess, Tony,” the coach said, tickling the overample flesh of his freakish creation. “I’ll take care of it later. Let’s just appreciate all the muscle I’ve built on you. Later on, when they had privacy, he’d take a dildo the size of a baseball bat and get into the really sensitive parts of his muscle-beast, but for now he’d just appreciate the unbelievable mass he’d created with some deep-tissue style massage across dense muscle that was now as sensitive as a cock-head. Tony could only squeal and whimper, delighting in his own helplessness and the attentive caress of his coach.

In the musky, humid locker room, Cupie found  a giant man--six and a half feet tall, at least, wide as a door, stripping out of sweat-soaked clothes before a shower. Next to him, a man the same age but less than half his size tried not to notice the hairy brawn unveiling itself in the same room. Cupie sensed in the smaller man a deep desire to nuzzle into the powerful arms of the big guy. In the big man he sensed coldness, scar-tissue from years of smashing into other powerful men wrapped in hard equipment on big fields to the adoration of screaming fans. 

So much pain in his past, Cupie lamented. This, he could fix.

Cupie fired one of his favorite arrows--it traveled into the big ogre and then a moment later emerged from him and plunged into the body of the smaller man. Suddenly the big hulk’s body started to compress. While he remained exactly proportionate, he grew smaller and smaller while the little guy’s frame started to grow up and out, widening and thickening as it went. The not-so-little-anymore guy watched with amazement as his eye level rose, the room starting to shrink down around him. He grew muscles he never thought he’d have, patting around himself to test all the new lumps and their pleasing density.

The new giant got nervous when his head bumped the ceiling but then the changes seemed to stop. He crouched down, wondering if he was too big to get out of the locker room now, until he noticed the hulk-no-more next to him, still the same shape as before but now the size of a teddy bear.

Having watched everything grow as he diminished as a human being, the newly teddified man felt himself overwhelmed with fear; how could he survive in a world that was so big after having looked down on it for so many years? Then he felt an impossible huge tongue lick the length of his body, so forcefully he fell over, and stared up in awe at the brand new giant before him. The giant man extended a beefy arm and although he knew that he’d been robbed of his size, that it had been donated to this newly gargantuan man, the new giant’s touch filled him with warmth and safety and teddy-bear-sized hulk nestled into it, wishing he never had to be anywhere without it.

Cupie nodded his head at the change, satisfied at his work, and checked his quiver: it was full of arrows, and this place was full of people in need of love. He had work to do.

***NEW PATREON STORY***

[This pic has nothing to do with the story except a vague superhero allusion, but it’s hot as fuck, right?]

“Can Captain Dynamo Save the Day?”

A new *PATRONS-ONLY* story at my Patreon! Swing by, toss some money in the jar and have a read! If you like helpless superheroes, muscle inflation or twinkification, then this story may be just for you! Here’s a taste:

Doctor Nefario nodded, eyes going wide. “Oh, goodness, what will I ever do?” He clicked a small device in his hands and two techno-horror drones hovered out from behind the throne, approaching Captain Dynamo with laser-blasters lit. Nefario dodged as the drones fired a wide beam of energy that engulfed Captain Dynamo. The hero flinched but found the assault no more than the initial attack he sustained when he entered the complex; his suit went up in flames, ending up a mess of scorched ashes on the floor and leaving Dynamo’s flawless muscular body completely nude but otherwise unharmed. The hero blushed and put one thick hand down to cover his modesty; it wasn’t enough, and his superhuman cock and heavy balls hung past, gently swaying from his groin.

www.patreon.com/brandedx2

A slut, a whore, a babygirl, a cute patootie, I want to step on him, I need to throw him on the ceiling and see if he sticks.

Wait everything i have is tight tshirts or tops he'll look even more twink

You know you have reached fame when your male main character is being mischaracterized as a twink.

This is him, btw

Spellbook Shenanigans

Hey there everyone! Just wanted to take a moment to reveal that I've just released my first ever novella on Ko-Fi to coincide with Halloween.

In this over 10k-word story, an average man and his jock roommate mess around with an ancient spellbook that transforms their lives in ways they didn't expect. If you're a fan of twinkification, age progression, weight gain, and sexuality changes, I think you'll be a big fan of this story!

For those interested in purchasing, please feel free to click the link below and it will take you to my Ko-Fi shop (where I'll be posting a plenty of other stories in the future).

Ko-fi

Spellbook Shenanigans - Soul Controller's Ko-fi Shop

An over 10k-word transformation tale in which two college friends mess around with a spellbook and undergo dire consequences... Themes: Ag

Thank you to anyone who reads this post and purchases Spellbook Shenanigans, I genuinely appreciate it and all of the support you give. Things are really rough right now as I'm trying to find a new job, so any purchases I can get for this will be extremely appreciated!

Patreon Summary (August - October '23)

Hey there everyone, here's a summary of the stuff I've released on Patreon over the last few months. Apologies for the delay in posting them, my life has been super hectic because of mental health reasons on top of looking for a new job and doing grad school applications! 

If any of the following stories intrigue you, please feel free to click on the title so you can sign up for the appropriate tier to read it! I’d love to have you join my Patreon and my Discord community, where you can view exclusive photo captions every month.

To Protect and Swap

Upon learning that his boss is retiring, hunky officer James Peterson is willing to do whatever is necessary to be promoted to police chief. Unfortunately for him, a private meeting with the retiring chief backfires as the chief realizes this desperation and makes an example out of his overzealous employee... Tags: Body Swap, Age Progression, Humiliation, Revenge, Weight Gain

Resident Evil: Persona

After getting his hands on an early version of the newest Resident Evil game, Henry is eager to play the game immediately. He soon regrets this plan though as he finds himself sucked into the game and forced to portray one of the hunky main characters. Tags: Fan Fiction, Muscle Growth, Possession

Working His Body(Suit) [Complete Five-Part Series]

In this over 11,000 word series, Martin is shocked when he gets a job at his local S-C Fitness and finds that his costume is a fully functional bodysuit of a professional bodysuit. As he starts his first day on the job, the man learns about his new physique while also getting the hang of his new job as a front desk clerk and trainer. When the mental changes of the bodysuit start to turn him into a cocky himbo though, the man's greatest fantasies come to life as he seduces his hunky co-worker. Tags: Bodysuit, Mental Changes, Muscle Growth, Smut

Vault Story: A Change of Pace

Evan, a transformation writer, begins to develop a sudden thirst for a twinky TikTok track star. Unable to resist his own desires, he finds himself willing to try anything so he could experience the twink's body for himself... Tags: Possession, Twinkification

Vault Story: Intercepted!

This 6.8k word story is a revamp / alternate take of a Tumblr story that I wrote back in 2021 involving hunky football players Mitch Trubisky and Josh Allen. To read the original story, click here for part one and here for part two. Unlike that story, this variation has a twisted final ending that punishes Mitch for his devious attempt at stealing Josh's body and career. Tags: Body Swap, Unintended Consequences, Age Progression, Athlete

Vault Story: Jurassic World: Owen's Solo Mission

Set in between the events of Fallen Kingdom and Dominion, Owen Grady is trying to find a way to keep himself and his new family of Claire and Maisie safe. When a mysterious note appears on his doorstep offering assistance in helping protect them, Owen secretly heads out to meet with the sender. Upon arriving to the address though, Owen is shocked when he finds himself face-to-face with a thought-to-be dead Benjamin Lockwood. Even worse, the elderly Benjamin is eager to dish out some revenge on Owen for taking his granddaughter away from him! Tags: Fan Fiction, Body Swap, Age Progression

The Do-Over

Upon waking up on his birthday, 29-year-old Arthur Saunders discovers a bizarre gift on his doorstep promising to give him a do-over in his life. Assuming that this was a gag gift left by one of his friends, the man opts to press the button and have his life is randomized. As a result, the nerdy and average teacher suddenly finds himself with the hunkiest body and simplest life imaginable... Tags: Muscle Growth, Reality Change, Shapeshift

Mac Jones' Revenge

To commemorate the start of this year's NFL season, here's a sequel story that follows the events of Under Mac Jones' Control. After momentarily falling victim to quarterback Mac Jones' hypnosis powers, defensive lineman Nick Bosa has found himself stuck as the man's newest best friend. Upon being tasked with picking up hunky football star TJ Watt and bringing him to Mac's mansion, Nick learns that the quarterback has another evil plan brewing to get revenge on all of the football players who had ever ridiculed him... Tags: Hypnosis, Twinkificiation, Muscle Theft, Straight To Gay

Putting The Fear In McPherson

After a terrible new season, Cincinnati Bengals kicker Evan McPherson finds himself on the verge of being fired. But with a pregnant wife waiting for him at home, the man is willing to do anything he can to stay on the team. Luckily, there's someone on the coaching staff who has the perfect way to make sure he stays useful to the team... Note: Midjourney has been used to make photos that will hopefully help visualize Evan's transformation. Tags: Muscle Growth, Weight Gain, Reality Shift