Muscle Tf - Blog Posts

Miami Heat

When I told my fam I was goin' to Miami for college, they all said I'd regret it. And yeah, I guess it took some gettin' used to at first.

I remember showin' up to move-in day in jeans, sweatin' my ass off, totally soakin' through my shirt, haha. But my roomie came in clutch. He's been in Florida for, like, his whole life, so he gave me some of his stuff to borrow: tank tops, shorts, slides, Miami gear.

I was walkin' around campus cooler than ever. But damn, bro, that heat is something else. I'd come back to the dorm and be too tired to think, hahaha. My roomie and me just chilled out a lot, talked sports, that kinda stuff. Even started hitting the gym together - his idea. And lemme tell you, the AC in there? Fuckin' heavenly, dude.

Now, between all the workouts and the heat, I'm always sweatin'. Honestly...I kinda like it. Like, I smell good. Sorta...musky? I dunno, but I just stopped wearin' deodorant altogether. 'Cause if I'm gonna get drenched anyway, why bother, y'know? And doesn't sweat, like, keep you cool or somethin'? Yeah, so it all works out...

I gotta few minutes before class, right? Think I'm gonna go send my roomie a progress pic:

Surfin' The Years Away

Wade reluctantly follows his boyfriend into a new thrift shop. After trying on some old surf shorts he is blasted into the past. With each passing moment and stray thought he's body and mind molded into the King of this mid-century beach.

What better time for a surfer TF than Winter huh? In season for any Aussie/Southern Hemisphere readers I might have haha! At any rate, Hope you enjoy this little time travel TF, got a cowboy TF coming next ;) Best ! -Occam

Wade and Dylan don’t know how they’ve somehow overlooked the vintage shop on Main Street until now. Wade’s more than happy to make a note of it and come back later, quite eager to get out of the cold. But when Dylan pulls on his sleeve and begs they check it out, “We’ll just be in and out babe-” the driver acquiesces with a grumble and turns into the small parking lot.

Before the engine’s off, Dylan hops out of the small car and sprints inside in search of some theoretical hidden gem. Wade sees his sigh in the icy air before he knew he released it. Longing for the end of the winter he trudges carefully along the icy sidewalk behind his happy-go-lucky boyfriend. 

The woman at the counter pages through some old magazine of vintage clothing while Dylan raids the racks. Wade eyes the cluttered store as he fights back a sneeze from the dusty shelves. Quite the eclectic shop, certainly not a store with a specific market in mind. What can only be leather fetish gear hangs on the walls next to some army surplus gear and in between are rack after rack of pastel skirts and oversized vintage suits.

He hears his boyfriend squeak in excitement as he pulls two things off their coat hangers. “Wade! Look~ Bell Bottoms!” He holds a pair of something more akin to boho pants up to his waist and poses, “Aren’t they just 60’s chic babe?” Queen that he is, Wade opens his mouth to question or debate when exactly they became vogue, but before he has a chance there’s a glimmer in Dylan’s eyes as he pulls out a piece for Wade to judge.

“And I found these for you babe!” Stretching the string waistband with a wink, Dylan produces a pair of surf shorts that are surely a few sizes too large for Wade, who remains ready to leave. Responding to a complaint not yet uttered Dylan raises a finger to silence him and continues, “C’mon just try ‘em on Wadey! You can tighten them all the way up, this way if you keep up on your gym plans they’ll be perfect for your beach bod!” 

Wade grumbles and reaches out to grab the shorts. Though he’s loath to admit it, he’s surprised at how right they feel now that they’re in his hands. Pursing his lips he doesn’t acknowledge the strange sensation. Wade shakes his head in shock as after a moment holding them, he’s filled with an urge to strip then and there to throw them on. Blushing at the strange thought he keeps silent and allows himself be dragged towards the two shabby dressing rooms in the back of the store.

Dylan, holding his bell bottoms and a vest Wade didn’t see him pick up, does a little pose before dipping into the changing room on the left. Ready to be done and slightly on edge from his intrusive thought, Wade enters the curtained space opposite. Like any other of the millions of dressing rooms throughout the country there’s a mirror, a small mounted bench, and spot to hang up your clothes. What is less expected is the bizarre silence that overtakes him as he steps past the curtain, as if he were in a recording booth.

Holding his shorts he forcefully assumes it’s just his ears popping and he’ll be right as rain any moment now. It’s anyone’s guess as to why the sound of Dylan’s humming as he changes into his little outfit is totally muted by two hanging sheets of fabric. As far as Wade is concerned his boyfriend has simply decided to go quiet, willfully ignoring how out of character that is for a man as uncomfortable with silence as Dylan is. Faced with this strange supernatural quiet Wade feels himself begin to understand the discomfort.

The man’s two feet away, Wade should hear the shuffling of clothing if nothing else. Hackles officially raised, Wade starts to investigate, though before his hands can reach the curtain he’s struck with a migraine and thought that’s not his own blaring in his head, It is of no concern, I should change into the surf shorts. Lip quivering the shorts are already in his hands as he turns back to the mirror.

His reflection flickers as his pants fall to the ground, goosebumps soaring up his legs from the shock of losing their cozy covering. Unwilling to acknowledge whatever horror must lie in the mirror he forces his eyes shut as his body moves of its own accord to pull the baggy shorts on. When he feels them cinched and tied on his thin waist he opens his eyes, holding fast to the idea that everything is fine, must be fine.

In the mirror he finds his reflection as it always is, tacky swim shorts notwithstanding. He looks exactly as he should. Wade sighs in relief before he notices that he’s not out of the impossible jungle yet. What is different is the room in which he finds himself, the curtain now striped, a harsh bulb hangs above him, the small bench replaced by a damaged wooden stool. 

Taking time to rationalize how he’s gotten these details mixed up, as is the only explanation, he sees a shimmer in the bottom of the mirror. Looking closely he sees a spark slowly panning up. When it reaches his feet he sees them slowly begin to darken, tanned by a sun they’ve rarely seen before they begin to bulge and lengthen. Seeing feet more akin to swim fins than what he knows he has he yelps and jumps away, getting tangled in the rough curtain before spilling into the vintage store’s hallway.

Dumbfounded, Wade scrambles to the floor and sees the vintage store is no more. In its place is what appears to be a cabana. Large windows show a bright beachside summer day, a far cry from the frigid world he knew it should be. Before he can pinch himself awake he flinches as some surfer bro gestures to his shorts and shouts, “Eyy Wade! Lookin’ killer brah!” 

Refusing to engage with the world he’s found himself in, Wade beelines to the tall, tanned, muscular man who addressed him by name and asks as his eyes start to tear up, “D- Dylan?” The surfer’s eyes focus in and his mouth closes into a look of shock before dropping into a slack jawed, “Whuh?” and settling on a smile as he laughs and ruffles Wade’s hair, “‘S Ray dude, you know that ahahah!” 

Ray? Wade rubs his eyes as he tries to remember if he knows a Ray, though really he doesn’t think he knows any surfers. Ray. With each searching thought comes a creeping sensation. The name feels right? It feels more at home, more familiar in his head, as if he’s thought of the man thousands of times. Ray. Yeah, he knows Ray, how could he not. Looking at the man standing opposite him, blushing at the tan pecs at his eye level he is struck with countless memories of watching him on the waves. Cheering on his, brah? No that can’t be-

“Should take your shirt off too Wade, show off for the ladies eh?” Ray flexes and Wade narrows his eyes, okay well that’s enough of this dude. He then slaps his forehead, what’s he thinking he just needs to call Dylan, obviously. He quickly runs back to the changed-changing room and arrives just in time to find his pants shifting into vintage shorts, quite like the pair he now wears. Swallowing his fear he reaches into the pocket for his phone, though the only thing he produces is a beaten up wallet and his car keys, now missing their fob.

Putting forth great effort to steady his breathing he checks the wallet to find a similarly damaged driver’s license unlike any he’s ever seen. Gone is the plasticine card he’s carried for years, replaced by some water stained, taped together laminated bit of paper with a signature sloppier than he’d ever use scrawled under his name. His eyes refuse to look at the date of birth as he opts to sprint back and confront Ray.

His feet pound hard on the few steps back to the cabana’s lobby, heavier than they had any right to. With each careening step they widen and lengthen racing to match the wretched paddles he saw in his reflection. Their soles roughening from what must be years of walking along dingy beachside sidewalks, perfect for sticking to a waxed board. “Okay dude, Ray, whatever your name is I’d like my phone back. I don’t think this stupid little prank is funny.”

Ray pauses mouth hanging open, its default state apparently, as he processes whatever it is that Wade must be whining about. He tilts his head and smirks a stupid smile at the clerk that Wade only just noticed, “Hear that Mabes? Wader over here thinks you had a phone in the changing room! Hah!” 

She rolls her eyes before turning to address the clearly apoplectic newcomer, “Wade I don’t know what your deal is today-” she pauses to look him up and down and groans, “God! How many times do I have to tell you guys, if you’re going to come in at least throw on shoes. No one wants to see your disgusting little feet.”

Ray performs indignance at this, throwing a heavy arm around Wade’s shoulder, though he shoots higher than he should as if he were expecting his bro to be taller than he is, “Now Mabe, babe. You won’t get me defindin’ the cleanliness of my brah here, but little! I’ll have you know he’s got the best board huggers this side of San Fran!” Wade narrows his eyes in confusion as whatever is going on is clearly beyond and beneath him. Though as Ray finishes speaking, the smaller man grunts as his feet cramp.

Looking down, Wade discovers that, alongside the world around him, he too has begun to change. His feet have clearly already grown, Dylan always poked fun at his small shoe size, but now they have grown beyond measure. Wade recoils in shock as they balloon once more, toes stretching further as his soles bulge wider.

They seem so large that he wonders where he’ll be able to even get shoes that big. Eyes flickering back and forth he figures he’ll just have to order them on Ama- uh? Wade’s eyes glaze over briefly as he loses his train of thought. His head pangs with pain as the idea of online shopping starts to fade. Surely they have catalogues for extra-large shoes or something, he’ll check with Ray later, yeah. Ray’ll know.

Speaking of, Ray and Mabel have continued arguing. Wade is unaware that as he was lost in his own mind, his new surfer bro has continued to defend him, and with each complimentary phrase Wade has begun to inch taller in height. Speaking of waves conquered and tubes bodied, Wade catches the tail end of one particularly exaggerated story as his mind begins to fill in the details. Back stretching and calves slowly bulking as he clearly recalls bailing from his board. He grunts again as he surges taller, thighs slowly bulking up as his new height exposes a pale midriff, attracting eyes from both of the spatting pair.

Finding he has their attention he clears his throat and begs, “Look, I don’t care about any of this-” Ray recoils in shock, “Can I borrow either of your cellphones so I can call my boyfriend?” Their eyes widen at the brazen use of boyfriend though the friends are well aware of Wade’s proclivities, what actually causes the strange stares is his asking for a cell phone. “Brah, did you hit your head or what? You know the cabana don’t have a phone.” 

Wade shakes his head, he doesn’t know that he doesn’t care, “Sure! Whatever!” he reaches out, “Can I borrow your cell phone.” Mabel and Ray eye each other once more before breaking out into laughter, “Shell phone? What are you on about dude?” Wade stares back with absolute shock and derision before his vision goes spotty and his head burns with a rolling headache. His hippocampus physically pulses as his mind and memories are rewritten.

A cell phone is foolish? A dream. A phone you could just up and carry anywhere? Science fiction. And yet he can almost picture a small black mirror in his hand. Embarrassed from their laughter and determined to not let this fact of reality be erased he continues to stare at his hand as if he’s trying to will one into existence. Unfortunately the only change that he notices is his skin bulging as his hand flexes larger, a few scars blanch from years on the beach as his hands struggle to keep up with his advancing height. One could almost hear his bones cracking as his fingers lengthen and grow calloused while his fingernails lose their polish, grow dirty, and shorten

He pounds the cabana counter and Mabel clicks her tongue, “Okay let’s cool it buddy, you wanna make a call Ray’ll take ya down the street.” She motions to the door with her head and Ray escorts him out, “Come back when you’ve worked out whatever this is on the waves huh Wade?” she pouts as she watches the pair go, taking care to stare at Ray’s defined back with a smile, then she snickers and whispers to herself as she gets back to her magazine, “been watching too much Star Trek I bet.”

Ray’s chipper as ever as he leads Wade out of the cabana, unknowingly more comfortable now that his arm rests closer to where it should after Wade sprouted a few inches. For his part, Wade finds himself distracted by the wild blue sea. Waves rise and crash into foam and he’d swear he could feel the bubbles, the surge on his skin. Like a dog staring at a treat he fights desperately with the urge to sprint across the sand to enjoy it right now.

In fact, his thicker feet begin their plodding to a surf wagon nearby with a couple boards stowed before he’s stopped by a question from Ray, “You wanna take your shirt off so you can get some sun brah? Lookin’ a little pasty there.” Wade shakes his head and tries to disregard his words, though as his mind continues to be assailed by a hunger to surf he gives up the ghost on the shirt battle and reveals his pale weak chest to the world, “s- sounds radical. I’l uhh, catch some rays. hah”

Ray starts to laugh at the pun but instead grimaces as the sight of Wade’s small pasty torso is incongruent with the reality that he knows to be true. Though with a mind accustomed to shrugging off strange ideas and problems too big to worry about he quickly throws his arm around Wade’s shoulders slowly growing wider. “Well let’s getcha to a pay phone so you can call your buddy!” 

Wade rolls his eyes and crosses his arms as the pair head down the boardwalk. He can scarcely focus on the increasingly rapid changes occurring to his body and mind as he’s still distracted by the sound of crashing waves. As the Summer Californian sun beats down on him, his skin starts to darken, closer to the shade Ray recognizes as Wade. Spreading forth in patches he tans to the customary surfer brown, ushering forth from surf shorts that aren’t quite filled and up past a core that is only now getting defined.

So too does his hair suddenly start to lighten. Lengthening into something sun bleached and salt stained. His usually clean-cut look begins to giveaway as the life he knows he should have is slowly eroded, just like the ebb and flow of the waves calling out for him. Pecs beginning to form darken and shine with sweat under the beating sun as he dreamily stares at the sea. Though despite it all, despite true real memories of life in the twenty-first century slowly fading like a mirage, he still remembers his time with Dylan clear as day. To this he holds fast as he stumbles forward from his heavier upper body.

As he continues to grow into this new form, molded by the alien world of the past around him, he begins to notice other surfers and beachgoers eyeing him with familiarity and nodding with respect. After his bicep bulges larger from returning a few shakas, he bumps his shirtless body into Ray to get his attention like he's done a million times. Finally tearing his eyes away from ogling scantily clad women, Ray tilts his head as Wade asks in a tone clearly affected by the thickening neck and shifting disposition, “Hey brah, er- Ray? Am I like, a big deal?”

Ray looks dumbly at Wade as his irises change to match the deep blue of his quarry before laughing, “Hah! Such a cut-up today brah! Course everyone knows you, you’re always ripping! If anyone needs any tips or tricks they come to you.” Wade clenches at his head as years of memories and knowledge rush into his mind. Equivalent to the sensation of bailing on his board into the choppy sea, he’s drowning in visions of showing off on the waves and taking care to help anyone who so desires to join him in enjoying the spray of a set. His chest puffs with pride and puffs larger with pecs as his jaw widens and now-blue eyes roll back. He’s the king of this beach. And just like that, as soon as the words, the idea, cross his mind he’s overwhelmed and pulled under. 

He awakens laid out on a bench somewhere down the way, he hears the Beach Boys playing through some static nearby and opens his eyes to see Ray’s face painted with concern, though as soon as he hears Wade speak up he returns to his usual happy-go-lucky expression. “Gnaaarly dude- feel like I just woke up for the first time~” The new surfer then coughs up some sea water which he finds as strange, he wasn’t surfing was he?

This small quibble with reality acts as one final life preserver to the life he once knew. Just odd enough for him to question his situation, his reality. For a moment he stares at his tanned, veiny hands and questions is this who he is? Trailing up arms patterned with sun-bleached blonde hair and briefly hung up on the quarter-sized nipples poking off a thick chest. He scratches his stomach, for some reason expecting to find a bit of a belly, his fingers instead bump against tight abs.

Unfortunately his last grasp at the future is haplessly wasted as he’s almost immediately distracted by Surfin’ U.S.A, “Ugh-” he chokes out in his now perpetually fried, laid-back voice, “Why’s this dad rock playing?” Ray laughs and helps the man up, “Maan Wade you’re on a trip today, first goin’ on and on about selling phones and some enter-net! You know your dad hates the Beach Boys! Ahahah” With this paltry grasp his past self is evermore washed to sea, Ray’s recollections sound just as strange to Wade as they did to him and Mabel. 

Even the explicit mentions of cell phones and the internet isn’t enough to prevent the rubber band from snapping as decades of lived experience with future technology is wiped from his mind. Memories of the modern world thoroughly displaced by life sprinting across the sands and mooring the foundations of surfing as a continental sport. Just as Ray has done countless times today alone, Wade smiles dumbly in brief reflection on his life lived.

 Going forward on rare occasions some fragment of his other self washes up to his mind like jetsam. Sometimes when he sees a record he can’t help but wonder if they’ll be smaller one day or he’ll reach for something in his pants out of habit when he has a question to ask, before shaking it off like a strange tic. His crew often labels him some kind of prophet as he seems almost too keenly aware of how global events will shake out.

“I swear brah, gettin’ me worried that your new guy’s slipped ya somethin’” Ray says with a wink. Wade flinches with a start, that’s right! He needs to call Dylan immediately! Putting change in a pay-phone like he’s done all his life he dials a number he knows by heart and holds his breath, begging the universe that Dylan will answer the other line as the ringing tone vibrates the receiver, and then his miracle is answered. 

Sounding as if he’s discovered cloud 9, somewhere across the town his love, Dylan, answers, “Heyyyyy, ‘s this Wadey?” The sound of his voice fills Wade’s thicker chest with comfort, “Dyl! God it’s so nice to hear you…” He stands there for a few seconds, only then does he notice how tight his swim shorts have become from his bulking thighs and building ass. Though of course, the most prominent issue at the moment is the rising dilemma in front. He blushes and bites his lip as he tries to speak with more discretion, “You uhhh, down to come over to ours later today?” 

He can almost hear the smile of the man on the other line, “Uhhh yeahh, yeah… Me ‘n my uhhh freaks are on a trip righnow. But yeaaah, think I could swing by baby” Wade can almost see the man on the other line, delighting in the feeling of his fingers twirling the phone wire in his hands, certainly too high to work out a time but Wade doesn’t mind. The promise of a future fuck and time together after is more then enough, “Righteous brah, well I’ll see you then Dyl.” His lover just giggles and the pair hang up at the same time, bonded tighter than ever despite their strange unknown journeys apart. Sighing in delight and ignoring the pulse in his pants, Wade turns to face his brah.

For the first time Wade throws his arm around Ray’s shoulder as the pair wander off towards his wagon. Ray gestures for him to try and mask his clearer than anything erection though the surfer just shrugs, “Oh sure dude, as if anyone ever misses your goose eggs you little horndog.” The pair guffaw and continue to tease eachother as they start back towards Mabel’s cabana.

 Glimmer in his eyes and too eager to not speed up, Wade hits his bro on the back and challenges him on a race to their boards. His new legs carry him faster than he’s ever managed before. Settled into his new life the feeling of his feet pounding into the hot sand fills him with contentment. There’s no place he’d rather be than soaring across the beach while his crew watches.

Man-Candle

Under the guise of a gag-gift Chad gives his bookish friend a candle based on his own b.o. Little does Stephen know, as soon as he lights the wick he sets off to join the jock in sweaty abandon.

Very musk forward Jock TF! Hope you enjoy this story of Stephen's scent-based (new)self-discovery, Best! -Occam

His ears ring with tinnitus as he opens the gift. It’s as if an explosion has gone off as he tries to process the pancake in his hands. Everything in him says to laugh, it’s clearly a gag gift, a Man-Candle? His mouth is dry and all the blood in his head rushes to its other epicenter as Stephen looks up, eyes wide, to the man who by all appearances has given him a candle of his own musk, Chad.

His cocky grin is a perfect likeness of the one on the candle’s label staring up from Stephen’s lap. Chad’s expression grows even smarmier as he winks and raises an arm to smell his pit. Stephen’s face burns red as he sees the clear patch of grey that must have been fermenting all morning, his cock bumps against the package.

Chad’s eyes shoot immediately to the sound and his smirk shifts and an eyebrow’s raised in curiosity, excited that his friend must quite like the gift. Stephen speaks up quickly, lest the two brain cells bouncing around the jock’s skull stumble across any ideas, “What the fuck?” The first volley, bounces off Chad’s steel confidence. The second “what the fuck,” causes an eye narrow as the idea that this may be a misstep finally occurs to him, the third repetition of Stephen’s new mantra apparent gets through through Chad’s thick skull.

The jock’s arm remains raised to scratch his back and Stephen’s cock is more than happy to see the grey patch return and his mind must remain focused on not staring directly at the few pit hairs sneaking above his sleeve. Chad clears his throat awkwardly, “I mean bro… Chicks are always talking about how they love, huh- y’know,” he gestures to the air around him, “my aura. Just thought, you know, uhhh- a dude like you might too?”

The jock braces as he sees Stephen’s eyes narrow as he clearly winds up to somehow lash out. Unfortunately for the twink he takes a deep breath to start and is hit with the full force of the man’s ‘aura,’ it catches him off guard and underneath the package his cock pushes again. Stephen grits his teeth and averts his eyes as he tries to hide his desire, “Chad! Those are people you’re sleeping with! I’m just- This is-” Stephen does everything in his power to quiet his lust as he finishes, “Why would I want this?” 

Chad tongues his cheek and juts his stubbled jaw. Scratching his meaty stomach in thought, Stephen can hear the hairs dragged underneath the jock’s tight shirt. Making up his mind Chad decides to speak on the elephant, or moreover the trunk, in the room. Nodding to the gift poorly hiding Stpehen’s erection, Chad shrugs “I mean bro, seems like you’re enjoying it just fine.” 

“Jesus Christ, fucking straight men!” As unfortunately turned on as Stephen is from the gift and the hunk he has long tried to not be attracted to, at the highlighting of his out of control cock he finds the will to defend his paltry dignity. Though instead of speaking up as his mind is not running on all cylinders, his hands instead reach for anything not breakable to hurl at the man still smirking.

Pillows fly at the man as he continues to try and explain his thoughts, “Yo bro! Watch it-” he grabs one to use as a shield against the continued volley, “I mean I can take it back if you want!” Stephen’s dreams of salvaging dignity perhaps fall to the wayside as this remark causes the hardest throw yet. Chad smirks behind the pillow and finally gets to the door, “Whatever dude! I’ll see ya later! Once you’ve cooled off a bit-” 

Chad stands behind the closed door with a shit-eating grin on his face, straight men huh. Awfully dismissive of the bi jock’s identity but whatever. He listens to Stephen huff and unbox the candle through the wall, unaware that the real gift is to come when he finally lights that bad boy up. Whenever the pair get drunk enough it always devolves into Stephen wishing he’d hit the gym more and Chad begging for his friend to join him. He’d love nothing more than a gym bro he can fuck, and soon enough, unless Stephen has the strength to nip his blue balls in the bud, both wishes are to be granted.

It does not take long for already riled-up Stephen to give in to his curious urges. As soon as the scent of Chad in the air dissipates and he hears the front door of his apartment close, the countdown begins. Stephen stares at the obnoxiously smug photo of Chad on the candle and narrows his eyes, “I mean surely it’s a bit? It can’t actually smell like him specifically? Seems hm, expensive to do.” 

He bites his lip as he shakily goes to remove the lid, driven by a mind less than conscious and more than hungry. Mouth on the precipice of watering, as soon as the seal is cracked the scent washes over him like a tidal wave. Somehow more powerful, more alluring than the real thing. Rich and grimy, and indisputably the essence of Chad distilled into waxen form.

His eyes are glazed over and his mouth is now pooling with drool. It's anyone’s guess as to how the candle gets lit, but so it does. Stephen falls back onto the couch as his hands struggle to free his cock quick enough from pants that force it down at an awkward angle. It finally bounces free, flinging more pre than he’s ever produced upward. Droplets land just shy of his own face as his mouth falls wantonly open and his hands begin their gleeful work.

The creation of Eau De Chad was not light work, the boiling down of man into a single candle is quite the ask. Perhaps even more so than the transformative magic that it is to instill in Stephen. Within the candle are notes from every musky epicenter of Chad’s being, more than powerful enough to distract Stephen as he begins his journey into a musky jock’s shoes himself.

Foremost of the mind-numbing notes that the lost man is bathing himself in is perhaps the one he’s smelled the least. As strong as in his jock after a workout, sweaty pubes and dripping pre. The medley of scents from Chad’s crotch is so powerful that even without clearly even knowing the source it’s on the tip of Stephen’s tongue, much like he would dream to have on his tongue in reality.

Each breath pulling him deeper than the last, Stephen continues to paw at his cock now free to the open, musky air. With each kneading thrust his hands struggle to encompass his dick as it begins to change. Years of pushing down primal desires for his friend, the Adonis, evaporate into the air as he pictures himself working Chad’s cock. Breathing and licking the heady swear straight from the source.

He imagines working the larger man’s spit-covered cock and with each new image in his mind his own beast begins to reform. Dripping more pre than he’s produced in his life up to this point, his hips thrust into wanting hands as his dick thickens and spears high into the air. Lengthening to press against his sternum, veins bulge and criss-cross across its length as its head regrows a foreskin he never had the chance to enjoy.

When his smaller hands, unable to truly satisfy or encompass his new rod, shift down to try and cup balls bulging larger and pumping him full of masculinity, he hears them scratch against the new jungle of growing pubes. Though the jock tries to keep his chest relatively hairless, under the belt hair growth is wild enough to more than make up for it, and as Stephen begins changing into his new musky lover, he seems to be of the same persuasion.

The candle wick flickers as a new scent begins to rise in prominence. This one Stephen recognizes all too well, though usually poorly masked under cheap deodorant, the scent of Chad’s pits could never be truly hidden. His mouth waters as the scent washes through him and his whole body contorts in pleasure. When his own pits begin to itch he gasps and for the first time opens his eyes to find an impossibly large cock hanging over his thin thighs. His mouth quivers into a smile as the line between dream and reality shifts muddy.

For now though, for the pit fiend there is only one thing to do. He raises his arm and gasps as he sees his few pit hairs lengthening, while in between each one a few darker curls make themselves at home. Stephen forces his head into the sweaty spot and hungrily sniffs. Nose tickled by the growing jungle he moans as he encounters his own changing scent, currently overcoming his own, usually superfluous, deodorant it is but a pale imitation of Chad’s. Though it races to be something equivalent, no, greater. 

He continues taking deep breaths, switching between the candle burning strong and his own pit as his musk continues to heighten and shift. With each needy sniff it becomes clear that his odor is not the only part of him shifting. Previously undeveloped arms cramp as muscle begins to pile on. Veins pulse down their center as biceps that have scarcely known strain burn as muscle fibers break and reform to create an impressive peak.

Stephven’s face suddenly contracts into a smirk that he never quite understood before now as his arms force themselves into a pose. Flexing and exposing his newly hairy pits in what he now knows as a front lat spread, he almost laughs as his heady powerful musk begins to overpower the scent burning off the candle. 

Having not actually left the apartment, Chad puts an ear to the door as Stephven’s laughter and moans rise in volume and deepen in tone. He creaks open the door and is almost physically hit with the wave of musk as it pours out like a fog from Steven’s bedroom. His own brand mixing with the steam of sweat seeping from his new bros pits is almost more than he can handle. With every step his mind strains to not just give into his own hunger to pounce on his half-formed bro sitting in the chair. 

Hearing Steven’s socks fray and tear as a subtle note of foot funk rises to the top of the candle. Seeing his new partner’s legs fill his young-professional pants to their limit, bulging thighs pushing at and swiftly bursting the strained seams. Chad bites his lip almost to the point of drawing blood as he feels his own thighs cramp. He doesn’t know if he’s somehow growing as his new gym bro continues to edge larger or if he’s simply overwhelmed, if his own mind is too clouded from the hunger and musk.

Chad shambles towards Steven, mouth falling open as he sees the shimmering sweaty traps that have torn his shirt open. His eyes can’t look away from the newly heavy pecs that hang over his defined abs, he fights the urge to lean down and lap at the muscle as Steven delights in bouncing them. Sending cascading shadows across his sweaty core, and gaining more mass with every dancing flex.

 Instead, Chad leans in close to Steven’s delirium painted face. “Looks like ya liked my gift after all, huh Steve?” His breath mists across Steve’s face. Its heavy humidity barely overcomes the sweaty atmosphere but the sharp mint and undercurrent of musty breath underneath call to his nose like smelling salts. 

His jaw cracks and widens as the changes that have overtaken him finally begin their work on the final frontier. Unable to control himself Chad licks the man’s face as it prickles with stubble. Steve’s nose breaks then reforms, his brows thicken and cast a shadow over his eyes as they lose both their color and clarity. Deepening to brown as their default state becomes glazed and thoughtless.

Feeling Chad’s sticky tongue drag on his cheek, it’s like he was struck by lightning. Every new bulging muscle in Steve’s body flexes at once and he stands to his new height, able to make direct eye contact with the man staring at him, just inches away.

Steve tackles him onto the bed, knocking over the candle and sending wax flying through the air. The pair are sparingly coated in the Chad scented candle as they begin heavily exploring Steve’s new form. As their mouths that have always been left wanting find new delight, whatever shreds of the old Stephen that are left begin to vacate.

The anxieties and priorities of a small meek man who never let his id loose disappear as he positions himself over Chad. He bites his bro’s lip and thrusts downward as he pins the massive man’s hands above his head. Masked by the pleasure of true release, he doesn’t care as his old self washes away. Memories evaporate like the sweat pouring off his form. He delights in maneuvering across Chad’s form and enjoying his musk from the source.

His tongue dances across sweaty pecs that match his own as his collection of classics on a bookshelf disappear to be replaced by free weights. Steve’s nose finally shoves its way into Chad’s pits as his extensive collection of hygiene and beauty products down the hall clatter to the floor and disappear as they’re replaced by a single bar of clinical deodorant only used for special occasions. Sleeves fall off his wardrobe of cardigans and button ups as sweat stains yellow every garment. The tops throw themselves from hangers while musty shorts and jockstraps heap into a pile on the floor.

Sweat drips from his brow as with each thrust into Chad his mind gives up the ghost. Each impossible wave of pleasure erodes his old self, each drop of sweat an idea gone, each rivulet of pre dripping down his veiny cock a sign of his intelligence drained to increase the muscle mass of his new form. After all besides pleasure nothing matters to him nearly as much as his fucking hot bod.

He feels his balls pulse as every remaining aspect of Stephen’s self shoots down and is quickly converted. His eyes roll back as he cums the few specks of self remaining in a massive load onto Chad’s sweaty abs. After a few moments of total mindlessness from the jubilee of release, Steve awakens to find himself atop his bro and simply laughs, “Huhuh woah dude that’s a fuckin’ fat load huh?” He scratches at his hairy chest and grimaces as he imagines how that’s going to hide his gains.

Seeing the thoughts on his face as the two are evermore on the same wavelength Chad pauses rubbing Steve’s cum onto his abs and offers, “Lookin’ a little rough there bro, wanna go top up and then hit the gym?” Steve smirks as his bro basically reads his mind, “Yoooo totally let’s hit it!” He punches down into his bro as he stands, smirking as he watches Chad’s cock bounce before sprinting into the restroom and prepping to get pumped.

The gym starts to clear out as the pair arrive, judging by the musk already following in their wake no one dares risk having to smell what it’s like once they actually start going. Stopping in the locker room the pair stop publicly groping and sniffing each other long enough to take a pre-workout photo, tongues out as ever. When they see some poor soul who didn’t escape the gym quick enough covering his nose they eye each other up.

“Yo dude, looks like lil’ bro over there’s gotta problem with your stink.” Steve performatively sniffs his pit and shakes his head, “Nahnah bro. It’s definitely yours, check it.” They continue to talk up eachothers musk while the young man can’t help but sit there, stunned into silence. With each new statement the pair swagger closer until their sweat may as well be dripping on the man.

Gasping as he regains awareness just as the pair are almost standing over him, the sharp intake fills his lungs with their musk as a smile creeps over his face. “Looks like lil bro’s likin’ it after all Chad.” Throwing a sweaty arm over his bro, the man who can scarcely recall that his bro hasn’t always been like this laughs, “Huhuh, well obviously bro, no shot anyone’ll be able to resist us soon.” The pair help the hazy man up and begin ushering him through the ropes, eager to have another musky jock in their image and excited to see how far their little group will grow.

I can't remember what made me follow you, but I am really glad I did ! I especially love your musk related story, BO is such a turn on for me, I'm into stinky men and you describe them so well...

Thanks, bro. I love imagining guys getting sweaty and stinky, dripping musky sweat and leaving smelly sweatprints on everything they touch. Sucking on their cheesy cocks and musky toes…

Dude, when was the last time you showered? The last time it rained? It’s been weeks! And every day, you spend hours sweating in the gym and hiking in the summer heat. No wonder I can smell you the moment you come in the door, considering how much you sweat just sitting down.

Not that it’s a bad thing. Show off those hairy armpits for me, bro. Mmm, smells so tangy and good. Give yourself a good sniff. You can just feel the musky stench dissolving what remains of your brain. Take off those sweat-stained socks and let me lick those big bro feet.

Bro.

BRO!

Bro…

Huhuhu, bruh, you, like, totally came in your boxer briefs, just from sniffing your musky bod! We should, huhu, go and find some lame nerds you can dumb down and musk up with your greasy unwashed musclebod. Like the bros reading this! See that, bros? You can smell my bro’s musky feet right through the computer screen, huhuhu. Let the stench get you all musky and dumb, just like us. Then we can all get even sweatier together, bros!

If this got you horny, consider putting some spare change in my Ko-fi cup so I can write even more hot stories.

“Oh My God! You too??? Jesus what happen in this house?” said Edward, shocked to see his fraternity friends also turned into a hunk. He run to the outside of the bathroom and the whole alley filled with hot college boys taking selfie and lusting over their own muscle, some of them kissing and worshipping each other. Edward start to feel nauseous, his body drenched in sweat. He groaned as his brain filled with new memories and then several bros start to notice “Huhuh, look at him. Maybe he need some help to make the process quicker,” said Charlie the geography prodigy, now Carlos a talented football winger, pulling off Edward’s pants and start sucking his throbbing dick Outside of the house, Greg Willis and Frankie Duchamp high-fiving with each other as they perfectly finish their Coach order “With this, we’ll have enough member for all sports club in this college, and I can get some extra boys that I need to make a team” said Frankie, the captain of the football team.

We're not that kind of guy.

All I asked was what you were planning on doing tonight?

You say you're too busy for that kind of thing? You have classes? Looks to me like you both are too relaxed to be the kind of people who have anywhere important to be.

But you say you're too average for a guy like me? I disagree. You both seem to have some muscle on you, don't sell yourselves short.

But you're too insecure? That's just a state of mind, but I see two guys who live for attention. Yeah, see you're getting it—you gotta show off those muscles.

But you're just not into guys? I don't believe that for a second. Frankly, you're too dumb to care about that. I'm here, and I want you. Seems like your the kind of guy who's seeking a good time from whoever is available.

That's good. It turns out you are the kind of guy I'm looking for.

Hey Support!

My roommate just used your product, and turned himself in to a sweaty, smelly mess of a bodybuilder that’s always bloated. His stench is stinking up the whole place! Is there anyway you can help me? I’m at my last straw!

Don't worry, I am the support, I am here to help. Lie down on your bed and breathe deeply! Fuck, your roommate's fart was a good one! Keep breathing in and out. Concentrate on your belly. And now let everything go. And fart out your anger at your roommate from your belly.

The next morning it will be much better. At least you won't notice the stench in your room anymore. Your roommate is already at the gym. It's not your thing. But you could go for a run. There should be socks and running shorts somewhere in the dirty laundry pile. They belonged to your roommate before his muscles exploded. Now they're perfect for your lean body. You don't need a shirt for running. And no showers after the run either. It's a warm day today anyway, so you'll be sweaty again at some point.

Normally you don't sit next to your roommate in the lectures anymore. Nobody wanted to sit next to him anymore. But today you see him and you just have to sit next to him. You greet each other with fist and chest bump. He tells you that you look good. You tell him he stinks like a football team after practice. He lets you smell his wet armpit. You get a boner. In your running shorts. Anyway, everyone should see your magnificent cock.

The next morning you let your roommate talk you into going to the gym. On the way there you make competitive farts in the car. Fuck, against the protein farts of your roommate you have no chance. So you desperately need a protein shake. Yes, your farts are getting better. But like muscles, there's still a long way to go before you catch up to your roommate.

After the training you check the result in the mirror. The mullet is coming along nicely. Like your beard and the hair in your armpits. Your roommate farts. You send an echo. Real gym bros understand each other without words.

My living arrangement at college is unbearable. I’m a dean’s list honors student, and my roommate is a dumbass stoner skater. Needless to say, we don’t get along at all, and the school isn’t allowing us to transfer. We found out about Rakurai Inc and decided to flip a coin: either he has to become a preppy academic like me, or I have to become a dumbass slacker like him. We’ll accept whatever outcome the company decides is best.

Tempting fate are we?

You were super excited. You had won the bet with your roommate and he would finally start to get his act together once the package would arrive.

You arrived home earlier than him and noticed the package by your front door. You giddily opened it up and saw it was... a candle? You smirked. A candle is way to bitchy for a stoner dropout like him. You decided to light it so the room would be all ready once hed got back.

You decided to do some homework while you were waiting.

As the time went by however you noticed you had a hard time concentrating on the material. Your thoughts kept drifting to your roommate. At first you thought it was because of your excitement for the transformation but then you noticed what you were thinking of. His long thick legs. His strong arms. His scent. You felt yourself get harder, and harder, and harder. You looked down to see a massive tent in your sweats. Wait... sweats? You were wearing khakis just before? You felt yourself rise up from your chair as your thighs suddenly began to fill out your sweats. At the same time your legs began to lengthen, your torso stretched, revealing your midriff, and turning your t shirt into a crop top. T-shirt?? You were wearing a shirt right?

Suddenly the front door opened and your roommate walked in. One glance and he immediately understood what was happening and smiled.

"Glad I told them I won, instead of you, you're looking so much better babe."

Babe? You weren’t his boyfriend though, and you werent gaaaaaaaayyyyy...

Your mind slurred. He had walked over to you and began to stroke your massive bulge. Each stroke send bolts of energy through your mind, breaking down the knowledge that you had been curating over the past years.

In its place came workout routines, different ways to use weed and multiple sex positions.

You turned your head to your boyfriend only to be met with his cheesy, musky rod against your new plump lips.

"They said it would work faster if you had some stimuli, so get to it baby"

You eagerly began to suck, feeling your torso broaden with each bob of your head. It didn't take long for him to shoot down your throat, and your arms exploded with muscle.

A musk began to permeate throughout the room and you felt yourself leaking in your tight sweats.

Your roommate might have lost the game but he sure has won the war.

Don't forget that Rakurai Inc. Is not liable for any unforseen events. Be sure to carefully consider that any changes are permanent.

My roommate is so uptight bro. He seems so stressed about his classes. He never has time to hang out with me. I wish there was a way to help him have fun again.

You wasnt sure what to expect. The directions told you to leave the bag under his pillow and everything worked out. After a few days nothing really changed. He seemed to hang out a bit more, but exams had just ended so it didn't seem weird. The third day is when shit seemed weird. An earthy smell hang around him, and he seemed not really himself. You asked him about it but he didn't seem to realise it himself.

The next day you opened the door to your appartment to find it filled with smoke.

"Ethan!!" You scream, you run around the house trying to find your roommate.

Suddenly a rush of air sucks away all the smoke out to the patio. Frowning you quickly move towards the back, your jaw dropping at what you see.

"Ey Michael, what's up. " Ethan is lounging on the couch outside, at least, you think its Ethan. The face was similar but that's about it. His arms were huge, the toned torso, thick legs and the tattoos.

"Ethan is that you?" You ask

"Ye man in the flesh" he winks at you as he gropes his unmissable bulge.

You stare as a grin begins to form on his face. He motions you over, but you hesitate.

"Sit"

His voice carries weight, enough force to move your legs against your will. You sit down next to him and he wraps his arm around your shoulder, his musk entering your nostrils, quickly turning your brain into a loopy mess.

Ethan smiles as he holds up a blunt he seemingly got out of nowhere and lights it. The burning herbs send you deeper into trance and you take it between your fingers. Your vision blurs, only Ethans handsome face and the blunt sharp. You take a deep drag and your whole body tenses. A hot rush runs all over and you begin to sweat. You groan a soft pressure pressing down on your groin.

You quickly begin to pack on muscle. Your clothes burst open, leaving you in your underwear, which, much to Ethans delight, quickly begins to tighten around your growing bulge.

You continue smoking the blunt as you increase in height, size and smell. After a while you look back at Ethan and grab his neck and pull his face to yours and make out with him.

You can't remember much, thinking definitely isn't one of your strong suits now, but you can always have a fun relaxing session with your roommate.

Protein Rich

You couldn't believe your eyes. Your stoner roomate Hugh had been telling you about this new expirimental pre workout he had been taking. He had started working out cause noone wanted to date him. He told you " I look super dorky and I'm not smart, so might as well do something about the thing I can change." The results were.... there... a bit more filled out shirts, his ass had a slight jiggle.

But then, one day, he called you to the living room. As you walked in you noticed his pants around his ankles and immediately turned around. "Yo what the hell man... put your pants on."

"Uhhh... oh yeah ... I will but look, I noticed some small text on the bottom of the jar, and... well look."

You turned back around, seeing him shuffle towards you, his pants still on the floor. He handed you the jar and pointed at where you should read.

"Advised to use with High concentrations of protein." You read out loud. You looked up at your roomie and frowed. "Okay, so what youre gonna eat alot of steak now?"

Hugh grinned and turned to the counter and grabbed a cup of milk he has poured. "Nah I'm just gonna mix it with this."

You rolled your eyes. "Hugh, milk contains calcium, not protein. Its good for your bones, not your muscles."

"Oh... but this isn't milk... well not from a cow at least." He said with a wink, before dumping two scoops of formula in it and stiring it.

"What do you mean?" You asked confused as he started to chug the whole glass in a single go.

Your eye widened as his shirt slowly started to strain against his chest. As the mixture was sliding down his throat, his body was starting to grow in every direction. His once oversized shirt was almost plastered on his massive torso.

The countertop was hiding most of it, but you noticed him slowly getting taller, his shirt riding up his midriff as he raised his arm to finish the drink. You slowly walked around the kitchen to see that his formerly skinny legs were now giant trunks of muscle, with a massive bubble butt to boot.

Hugh slammed the glass back on the counter and let out a massive belch. A cloud of protein powder and... oh was that...

"Cum, I used my own cum. Hassa lotta protein ya know." Hugh smirked and raised his massive arms and flexed. A whaft of sweat and weed spread through the room. As it hit your nostrils you started to feel a bit dizzy, your high functioning braincells coming to a screeching halt. You slowly began to make your way to Hugh and ran a hand down his sculptured chest.

He looked at you with a smile and pulled you up against him. "Ahhh this is what they meant about attraction. I get why they call it Bi-Pro now.' You barely heard him. Your hands had started to feel up his massive physique, squeezing every muscle they could find.

"Hey bro... you wanna look like this too? You wanna feel and smell amazing like me?" You slowly nodded and he grinned. He reached over to the counter and grabbed a spoonfull of formula and pressed it against your lips. "Open up bro, this is all for you"

You opened your mouth and let him pour the dry powder into it. He poured two more in before he closed your mouth and you immediately swallowed. It went down surprisingly easy.

Hugh then picked you up and threw you over his shoulder. "I'm gonna give you the time of your life bro." He carried you into his bedroom, and threw you down on the mattras. He pulled of his tight shirt, and you could finally appreciate his full stature. His massive pecs were dripping with sweat, and casting a shadow on his slim waist due to them pushing out so far. His sculpted abs and hard V-Line were gistening in the sun that came through his window.

Your eyes traveled down to his groin and you saw the largest dick you have ever seen. Now granted your heterosexuality didn't really make it so you had seen many, but his was one of remarkable size. He smiled softly and leaned down to take off your sweatpants to reveal your strained underwear, damp in precum. "Goddamn... it really works. You know, I have always wanted to hit it off with you, but you were so straight, I wouldn't dare ask."

He leaned down even more and put his lips around your dripping bulge. You let out a stifled moan as you felt his mouth nibble on your hard package. Before you could do anything else, he turned you over and turned your tighty whities into a make-shift jockstrap by tearing open the back, revealing your bare ass. He chuckled and groped his rock hard python. It was glistening with pre, which hes scooped up and lathered on his thick index finger. He then started to probe your hole with his lubed up finger, and gently began to enter. You couldn't help but moan and squirm. His singular finger was almost enough to send you over the edge, and the thought of his massive dick entering you, added on to that, creating a vicious cycle of edging you couldn't seem to get out of.

After your hole was sufficiently loosend, Hugh climbed ontop of the bed and pressed his thick member up against your hole. "Im gonna go in now baby, let me know if it hurts."

You nodded, biting down on a pillow. He then promptly plunged his whole length into your ass, making you scream in overwhelming pleasure. His rod hit all the right spots inside of you, and he hadn't even started thrusting yet. As he started doing just that, your whole body started to squirm. You had never bottomed before, but somehow you knew exactly how to make your boyfriend cum. Wait... boyfriend... what...? You wanted to disagree with your weird new thought and memories, but your brain still hadn't restarted, so you just giddily accepted this turn of events and continued riding Hugh's dick.

His rough hands ran across your slim back, sending shivers down your spine, which made your hole flex. You could hear Hugh whisper behind you: "Fuck... im gonna..." and you quickly started to move your ass on the rhythm of his thrusts, speeding up the process even more. Hugh groaned: "Fuck... wait baby ... shit I'm.... I'm gonna cum". As those were exactly the words you were hoping for, you continued milking his dick as you felt his dick twitch inside your hole, which send you over the edge. A few ropes of cum shot on the sheets, and you let out a long moan as your balls were emptied.

"Fuck me... that was so good Hugh" you looked over your shoulder to see Hugh with his eyes shut, biting his lip. "I... I can't...HOLD IT!!!". And with that Hugh's massive balls emptied their huge load into your hole. Rope after rope, thrust after thrust hit your insides, the warm liquid rushing into your stomach.

Hugh just kept shooting, and from the feeling you got you knew he wasn't shooting blanks, but... you didn't feel full. He had been shooting for at least a minute, every release at least on par with the previous one, sometimes even stronger. But your stomach felt as if it had just began getting filled.

Then, you felt a rumbling in your cum filled stomach. You looked down and saw your slightly pudgy stomach suck in. The soft rolls turned into rows of hard cobble, while your eyes widened shortly, before your mind completely accepted this change as well. You turned around on Hughs dick so you could more comfortably look at your changing body, and look your baby in the eyes as it happend. The rumbling traveled to your legs, which quickly went from small twigs to thick skullcrushers. Your feet grew a few sizes to match, and immediately started to eminate a similar stench as the one keeping you in a horny trance. As the rumbling traveled back upwards it passed your still penetrated ass, which quickly doubled in size. Hugh groaned again ass your new massive bubblebutt squished his hard rod even more. The rumbling continued upward, your waist slimming down some more, as your pecs began to drop. They started to hang, while filling up nicely with muslce. You couldn't help but run a hand across your massive tits, which were super sensitive to the touch. You gave them a soft squeeze and a loud moan escaped your lips. Your shoulders started to bulge outwards, fixing your bad posture and giving you a slightly intimidating stature. Your arms grew to proportion, which you admired by flexing your guns at Hugh. Your formerly smooth pits quickly grew saturated with a generous patch of hair, out of which came a familiar stench.

Your neck widened, and your traps started to slightly rise. Your face contorted as the rumbling made its way to your head. Your features began to bubble and shift. The acne practically fell from your face, while your big nose and braced teeth started to shift. Your nose shrunk, but broadened sligtly. Meanwhile your braces started to break off your teeth, revealing a perfect white grin. You parted your now plump lips and a massive thick tongue slithered out. Hugh grinned as he leaned forward, dick still in your ass, and started to make out with you, your tongue quickly asserting dominance in his mouth. Your dark brown eyes shifted to a cold grey. Your brows fixed themselves, thickening somewhat and grooming themselves to perfection. Your hair ruffled itself, a short but slightly messy style, a stark opposite of the usually slicked back style you had. A slight tingle in your arm made you part lips with Hugh , just in time to see your new tattoo take shape. As a final touch your milky white skin got blessed with a sunkissed tan, which fit your new more outgoing personality.

As you two layed there, revealing in the afterglow of another successful fuck session, Hugh climbed off of you, and smirked. "I fucking love you Theo... "

You chuckled. "I know ,mi amor, now hurry , you don't wanna be late for class"

Hugh grinned as he grabbed his tight T-shirt from the floor, the sweat pants that you had just worn , and some flipflops that were next to the bed. He quickly put them all on and grabbed a joint from his desk, which he promptly lit and blew a cloud of musk in your face.

"Alright T, I'll see you after class, don't smoke everything we got"

You stifled a laugh. "Wasn't it you who smoked all of our last supply'

You could see Hughs face turn red in the dim light of the room.

"Shaddup.." You let out a bellowing laugh, and you took the joint from between his fingers.

"Vamos, Hugh you're stalling, you're gonna be late"

Hugh smiles and blows you a kiss, before grabbing his back and making his way to the door. "Love you!"

"Te amo!"

You smiled as you took a long drag of the joint, your brain never turning on again in your dimly lit stoner sex den.

_________________________________________

Hugh rubbed his small pouch as he walked to class. He loved a quick fuck session with his boyfriend Theodore, especially before class. It gave him just enough focus to get through, even when buzzed on weed.

As he walked into the lecture hall, his phone buzzed. He saw a snap chat notification from Theo. As soon as he opened it all blood rushed to his dick. There he was. His boyfriends perfectly sculpted, columbian body, perfectly seated for a teasy thirsttrap.

"Fuckk..." Hugh covered his massive bulge as he quickly went to the back, ready for an in class jerk session.

Mexican Flavor

“God, what is that smell?” Paul muttered as he closed the door to his apartment. He’d known his roommate Henry was having some guests over, but he could have never expected to casually stroll into this gas chamber. The whole place reeked of a Mexican restaurant’s bathroom, the kind of restaurant that could leave someone on the toilet for hours. And to make matters worse, it almost seemed like there was a noticeable haze to the room too. Paul didn’t know what could’ve caused the apartment to hold a visible spore cloud. He’d have to find Henry to get to the bottom of this.

Tossing his work loafers and unknotting his tie, Paul hurriedly made his way over to his roommate’s room. He just wanted to get undressed and take a nap after a long day at the firm, still having a party to attend later that night. Henry had mentioned he was going to have some people over from his Dungeons and Dragons club. It wasn’t their usual day of the week, but there was a new guy who wanted to join. Some foreign-exchange student from Mexico or something, who according to Henry did not physically fit in with the rest of the group. Not the racial detail, but the fact that apparently the Mexican student was some jock who completely dwarfed all the nerds. Paul chuckled when Henry had told him that, imagining his roommate’s dramatization.

“Henry?” Paul knocked as he approached the bedroom. Paul didn’t hear a response, but he noticed that the odorous cloud did seem to be seeping out from underneath the door. Sighing, he called out Henry’s name again. When a reply didn’t come back again, Paul lifted the hem of his shirt over his nose and carefully walked in. Henry’s room looked the same as before; same Star Trek posters, same lame figurines from some video game, same tidy room overall. Well, except for the large man who was strewn across Henry’s bed. 

Lying on his stomach was a muscled Latino that Paul assumed had been the source of this stench. He was happily zonked out, snoring loudly. Paul cautiously moved closer, confused as to who this stranger was in Henry’s room. He was much bigger than the white nerd had ever been. This man was at least half a foot taller with every body part noticeably greater. Plumper thighs, heavier pouch, wider feet. The man was covered in workout gear that by the look of it had very recently been used. But when Paul began investigating the Latino’s handsome, caramel face, he was shocked to notice that the man was wearing glasses. Henry’s glasses.

BBRRRPPPTTT!

Inhaling generously, Paul blinked as he reevaluated the situation. Of course Enrique was wearing his glasses; he practically couldn’t see without them. The glasses were ironic really, being the only thing about his Mexican roommate that could be considered “nerdy”. Enrique’s life was built around fitness, besides eating good food and getting laid. When the foreign jock wasn’t working out, he’d be at home slobbing it up or in his bedroom with some stranger. So Paul wasn’t surprised when he came home to the apartment smelling like a Mexican restaurant’s bathroom. Enrique had said he was going for a workout after all with his güeyes, some other Mexican bro-types. 

But after all these years, Paul couldn’t remember Enrique’s funk being this bad, let alone his gas. Enrique had always had pretty bad body odor, something he blamed on his “proper Latino diet” and his frequent visits to the gym. Enrique even tried to convince Paul that there was evidence by how his body smelled, being that there was a little “Mexican flavor” to it. Paul never bought it, but now that he was in a concentrated room full of Enrique’s fart fumes he couldn’t deny there was an element that made the back of his throat and eyes tickle. He didn’t want to, but Paul had to wake Enrique to solve this (literally) visible smelly problem. Begrudgingly, he leaned forward across the larger man’s sleeping body to wake his roommate up.

PPHHRROOOOTTTT!

A pungent cloud of gas escaped Enrique’s wet buttocks, causing the unfortunately-placed Paul to stagger back and away from the bed. His head had been right over the danger-zone. He’d been so close in fact that Paul watched the flatulence push through the tight fabric of Enrique’s running shorts before blasting him in the face. The mass almost had a spore-like quality to it, the condensed fart gliding through Paul’s nostrils and right into his brain. Now on the floor, Paul’s head felt hazy from the direct blow. Still in his work trousers and button-up, he was barely able to hear the sound of a small toot escape his own bottom.

BBRRMMPPP!

“I gotta…I gotta get out of here…” Paul murmured, the awful stench causing him to lose focus. He was in survival mode now, the smell finally getting into his system and tainting him, corrupting him. Unable to stand without falling again, Paul carefully crawled his way across the room. Each step was not only one towards freedom but one away from his pungent roommate. Each step however was also getting more difficult to take. Paul heard a sudden creak in floorboards. He hoped it was his roommate, waking up to save him from this oddly disgusting fate. Instead, it was the door to the bedroom, shutting on its own like a metaphor from some horror movie; closing the coffin lid.

SSSHHHBBBBRRT!

Enrique’s plump cheeks let out another putrid gust of air. Paul rolled on the floor, his body weakening as he became powerless to the gas. His breathing slowed, accepting the stale air into his body. Paul’s eyes slowly shut after, his consciousness escaping. The foul fumes entered his system willingly as he surrendered. Having a lot of ground to cover, the odor coated both Paul’s interior and exterior. The last thing Paul heard was another fart from his own back end, although this time its ring was a little more similar to that of his Mexican roommate’s.

BBRMMPPHH!

Similar to his roommate’s situation, Paul’s body laid on the carpeted ground lifeless. His lungs were no longer functioning to take in oxygen and release carbon dioxide. Instead, their focus has been reoriented into processing more methane and hydrogen sulfide. The rotten components eagerly flooded Paul’s system, creating an almost hibernation-like state to ease into the metamorphosis stage. While the flatulence Paul inhaled from Enrique polluted his body, he released his own gas that disposed of his previous being.

FFRRRAAABBBTT!

The spores slowly multiplied and released from Enrique’s body into Paul’s. As particular areas became more concentrated, the malodorous work became more apparent. Being hit first and the hardest, Paul’s face was the quickest to change. His nose and jaw broadened dramatically, growing wider as his skull realigned itself into something squarer. His cleft pushed back and thickened, allowing for his lips to plump up with a little extra pout. Paul’s eyebrows became bushier while his hair took on a new texture, darkening into a lovely dark brown to match the altered shades of his brow line and barely-there stubble. Finally, his skin tanned into a honey-like color that begged to be tasted.

SSSHHBBRT!

More of Paul’s lifeless figure was coated. The small amount of fat that he had earned in his first years of desk work at the firm melted away, leaving behind supple muscular tissue. The erosion led to biceps, triceps, and quadriceps. Abs upon abs, pec beside pec. His calves were excavated underneath the years of unuse, now dug up to renew their purpose. Veins that had previously been hidden were now apparent, showing the renewed strength in Paul’s body. Once any part of Paul’s body was contaminated, updated, or corrected, the caramel color came sweeping in like a fresh coat of paint. 

The spores continued their work across Paul’s frame. His feet shrunk from their average US Size 10 to a more appropriate MX Size 26. His buttocks plumped up underneath his weight, now vibrating every time a new blast of gas was released. Paul’s pouch swelled larger too, each of his balls the size of ripened, flavorful tomatillos. His cock also grew meatier, girthier, swelling proudly into a thick chorizo sausage. Paul’s clothes also adapted, his office attire disappearing entirely except for his loose boxer shorts. Those shrunk in and stretched across his lower half, encasing the bronzed skin underneath a tight spandex material.

FFRRRBBTTT!

The fumes were now undeniably a fog, crowding all of Enrique’s room after being confined to such a small space. The last of Paul’s body was tainted in a matter of moments. His body hair either completely disappeared or transformed into something darker, coillier, and a heck of a lot smellier. His Adam’s apple shifted slightly upwards while his vocal chords replaced some vowel sounds with others. Even the tiniest details weren’t spared. Anything that could be made more Mexican was.

All this time, the spores from the toxic gasses had been infiltrating Paul’s body too. Memories of family in America, culture in America, life in America were all slowly altered. The red, white and blue became the prickly pear, rattlesnake, and golden eagle. Burgers and fries were erased by enmoladas and posole. Paul’s mom dropping him off at law school became Pablo’s mamá dropping him off at the airport. Paul’s life goals were centered around becoming an incredible lawyer, but Pablo’s life goals were centered around having a good time.

BBRRMMPPP!

-and spreading his Mexican flavor of course. Everyone had to get a whiff of him. He loved his manly, Latino scent. And he knew everyone else would as well. 

Wrapping up their job, the spores gathered the last bits of the previous being and ushered them towards the backdoor. Anything that screamed “American,” “white,” or “Paul” was clustered and pushed out the two new bouncy globes the man would call his mejor activo. With one final thrust, a concluding fart escaped his system, permanently discharging anything left of his former self.

FFBBBRRRMMPPHH!

Pablo’s eyes fluttered open slowly. He groaned, his head feeling cloudy from the hedor that lingered in the air. He loved it. Pablo adored his manly smell and wanted to indulge in it. Fortunately for him, it didn’t seem like su trasero was planning on stopping anytime soon.

“¡Amigo!” Enrique’s voice loomed from up above. Pablo pushed himself up, noticing his very atractivo roommate in the doorway. “You could’ve slept in mi cama,” he continued smoothly.

“I couldn’t make it,” Pablo replied with a cute accented English. “I fell to my knees when I saw your bella Durmiente.”

Enrique smirked and rolled his eyes. He sat on the floor to join his roommate/lover, but Pablo was already up. The two had unintentionally swapped spots. 

“¿Mi bebé varón?” Enrique purred, giving a playful smack to Pablo’s beach balls.  “Where are you going?”

“I’ve got that party tonight, remember? For that law firm.”

“Ah yes,” Enrique replied. “Lover by day, el compañero by night.”

Pablo smirked. “Don’t be too sad. I’ll be back soon.” He then turned in the open doorway, leaving a proper parting gift.

FFFFRRT!

Man Of Your Dreams

Wallflower Dylan is gifted a new psychedelic from his friend. Used to watching frat bros from afar he finds the pill seems to affect far more than his mind.

Intended this to be plot light but so it goes! Probably going to take this week off to avail myself to other authors entering my Viral Transformation Challenge! The next story will likely be my own take on the theme so look forward to that next week alongside those from a litany of other stellar TF writers! Until then! -Occam

Dylan was fairly straight-laced, going into his senior year of university he hadn’t strayed much at all from class besides tagging along with his friend from high school to some of the more boisterous frat parties. Said friend Tony was quite more of a wild child, often invited himself because he was the source of some of the more illicit substances to be found at these parties. He’d invite Dylan whenever he’d need a more sober pair of eyes, namely if he was planning on rolling or otherwise getting high on his own supply. Despite his mild manner, Dylan always hopped on the chance, going to ragers was supposed to be part of the whole college deal right? And besides, he didn’t mind the chance to ogle brazen men he would under normal circumstances be fearful of making eye contact with.

Knowing of his friend’s meek disposition, and repressed hunger for the most vulgar of men, when Tony hears of a crazy new psychedelic on the market he has a feeling Dylan might finally let his hair loose. Reviews say the stuff makes reality feel like a waking dream. Anything seems possible and to your body it might as well be. Steamier sources swear that dreaming about sex on the stuff is even better than the real thing. Tony, never concerned about side effects of his material, gets straight to hitting up the usual channels to see what he can get and is able to scrounge up a single pill of the stuff. He wonders if he should try it out himself first before deciding he owes his friend at least first dibs.

Dylan is floored at how quickly he agreed to taking the pill. After initially being standoffish at Tony’s suggestion that he use it to fuck frat bros in his mind, once his friend started explaining what he’s heard Dylan couldn’t pass up the opportunity to really live out his fantasy. He’s not going to outgrow being a wallflower, nor is at all confident that any of the performatively masculine men would fuck him. Staring at the pill the only thing holding him back is Tony’s vapid instructions. ‘Just have a blast dude, fuck your way through those bros hah!’ Dylan’s asking about the side effects falls on deaf ears as Tony just crassly humps the air to try to convince his friend to go out on a limb. Despite his qualms and fears, and the lack of confidence inspired by Tony’s actions, Dylan feels sure that his friend wouldn’t give him something actually potentially dangerous.

Holding tight to that misplaced confidence, as soon as Tony departs Dylan pours himself a glass of water and chokes the pill down. The small tablet leaves a metallic taste in his mouth, quickly hidden by the copious amount of saliva and bile starting to rise in the back of his throat as he immediately feels the urge to vomit. Man of will despite appearances, he keeps it down and just as soon scowls as he thinks about the lack of preparation offered by his friend and prepares to tear into Tony as soon as the trip is over. Standing up he feels the room spinning around and murmurs in shock, “su- surely it’s shouldn- work this… fas-” He stumbles over to his bed and falls face down as he feels his body growing sweaty.

Before his well-practiced anxiety response can rise his mind is flooded with every pleasant hormone it’s able to produce. Every muscle in his body tenses and he feels his cock struggle to force itself erect in the awkward position he’s fallen in. Dylan moans as every sensation sends signals so intense and potent that his mind can barely maintain consciousness. Indeed he finds himself struggling to even hold his eyes open as his eyelids grow weighty. Even perfunctory bodily functions feel erotic as he begins to fade, the burning of cold air in his stretching lungs, the sound of his own heartbeat and the warmth of blood coursing through his veins. Drool immediately pools under his head as he crests into a stuporous induced unconsciousness, far too unprepared for what awaits him in his trip, and the new world he is to encounter afterwards.

Dylan is sitting in a chair across from a man he knows too well and not at all. Face to face with Ben Harrington, president of Beta Delta Alpha, Dylan has to push down the immediate rush of fear. Taking a breath he reminds himself that this is a dream, one that Tony swears he should have pretty lucid control over. As the president stands opposed, leaning on nothing he flexes his arms and the pastel button up Dylan usually sees him clad in changes into a t-shirt with the sleeves torn off. He smirks as he pushes sunglasses up his face and speaks in a tone intoxicated, under the influence of nothing but Dylan himself. His raspy voice sends a shiver down the meek man’s spine as he feels himself unable to retreat, “So, uhh, Dylan is it?” 

Approaching enough to touch him, Ben puts an arm over Dylan’s shoulder, exposing his clearly unwashed pit. Dylan takes a deep breath and forces his eyes closed from the burning over-stimulation of this man baring down on him. Still, from the sticky breath blowing across the face it's clear he is continuing to inch even closer, “You want me do you?” Dylan gulps as the man gets even closer, Ben’s lips almost touching his own, “Or do you just want to be me?” This takes Dylan out of it as he steps back away from the imposing man. Eyes opening he tries to manipulate the scene as Tony implied he should be able to. The Ben of his mind tilts his head and tsks, “‘Fraid you’re not the one in charge here after all.”

Ben closes the gap once more and throws his arm around the easily manhandled Dylan pulling his body against his own sweat stained form. He smirks and leans in directly to whisper something into the dreamer’s ear, “and if you do really wanna fuck me, well. You’re gonna have to become something more my type. Yeah?” Dylan blinks in surprise, he’s heard of bad trips and the like but something seems decidedly wrong here. Before he’s able to come to any cogent conclusion the dream Ben reaches down his free hand into Dylan’s pants. His sweaty hand instantly wraps around the smaller man’s balls and squeeze. Dylan hasn’t a chance to scream in shock he feels himself lose control. Of his body, his mind, and the world around him as he begins to fall back.

He’s humping the air as he’s falling into an abyss. He doesn’t feel the fear that this descent should evoke. Usually nightmares that turn this way immediately blast him back to consciousness, instead it fills him with adrenaline that only heightens the delight coursing out from his cock. Sure that he’s now laying face down in a pool of his own semen in the real world, Dylan does what he can to focus on the pleasure as intended. 

The sound of wind tearing past him makes him unable to hear his moaning screams as his clothes are shredded by the searing gale. Rapt in delight, the blaring gusts begin to slow. Air caresses him like a full body hug and suddenly he is deposited onto soft ground. Dylan doesn’t quite repose as his body continues convulsing. Cum begins to sprinkle down on him from the plethora of loads released during his descent and he finally finds wherewithal to paw at his crotch. Grasping at his balls he finds them unmistakably larger, “Wha?” No longer falling, Dylan opens his eyes and seems to be back in reality.

Dylan awakens and blearily rubs his eyes with clearly semen stained hands. “Oh what the, ugh- Am I awake?” His eyes take a few seconds to adjust to the lighting of a room that is decidedly not his bedroom. “Can’t be right?” Shaking the mess off his hands without a second thought he stands to his feet with a grunt and feels his cock bobbing, still impossibly rigid. His hands return to this turgid beacon before they almost happenstance fondle his balls. His sluggish mind struggles with how heavy and large they feel, nothing like the ones he has in reality. He smirks as the last words of Ben snake through his mind- “Become something more my type.” Who’d’ve thunk the president was into horndogs.”

Sniffing the air he begins to inspect the room surrounding him. Dirty clothes litter the floor and he finds a pervasive musk filling the air. Something in the back of his mind itches that there should be a can of axe around somewhere to cover it up, which he ignores for a number of reasons. He should be able to will the room to stop stinking. He certainly wouldn't do so with cheap body spray, and for the life of him he can’t bring himself to want to. Each deep breath of the stink he finds himself growing even hornier. Dylan feels his balls churning as he grasps them, he’s already cum a good number of times and yet he still craves release. 

He imagines the firm ass of a frat brother and leans against his dresser he uncontrollably begins to hump once more. Something flickers at the back of his mind yet again and he rips into an open drawer. Throwing clothes onto the pile of dirtied garments already littering the floor, Dylan removes a fleshlight which he proceeds to make exuberant use of. No time for his mind to question why he’s suddenly a top as his cock fills the sex toy more with every grunting thrust. 

Pubes scratch against his thumb as his crotch shifts into one that would instantly render a razor unusable. Likewise hair that has never even had to be controlled on his ass begins to thicken, growing itchy as a true jungle of curls begins to flourish on both sides of his waist. Soon enough his cock grows large enough that the toy is rendered unusable, with a furrowed brow and ungrateful grunt he tosses it to his room leaving it dripping on the floor as he somehow remains just as sexually unfulfilled as when he began, “Fuck I need the real thing…”

The real thing not present Dylan looks down at his cock and gasps as he sees what has become of his package. He doesn’t have a ton of sex but he usually keeps it clean and pretty hairless down there just for his own sake. Beyond the forest of pubes thick enough to get his hand stuck in, he covers his mouth in shock as he sees a veiny cock larger than he’s ever seen on a man with the low hanging massive balls to match. He does his best to focus up on anything besides how horny he is, but as pre continues to trickle from his hardened cock that becomes increasingly difficult. He bites his lip and looks past his throbbing cock at the floor. If he puts it away perhaps it’ll quiet of its own accord.

Dylan doesn’t pay heed to which clothes are clean or dirty as he throws on whatever best could hide his cock from his hands and mind. Nor could he notice just how far cleanliness and decency have fallen as priorities for him as he struggles to fit his package in clearly stained sweatpants. Itching at his waist as his pubes begin creeping up into a treasure trail racing to mee the spreading curls beginning to decorate his chest, his dull awareness finally notices that his whole body has begun changing. His thin arms have clearly put on powerful muscle from his mindless sessions of self-love, veins trailing down them make it difficult for him not to get straight back to masturbating at the thought of his own strength.

Similarly his eyes latch onto a chest that has somehow exploded into pecs without his knowing. Muscle that has never begun to grace his body now jiggles with every movement. He clenches his jaw hard trying to muster willpower not to give into his most basal urges, but as he feels his thighs fill the sweatpants he just threw on he wonders how long he could possibly hold out. His cluttered mind struggles to recall that he is on some kind of psychedelic trip as he fails to remember how long Tony said it would last. Instead swimming through dulling memories the voice of his, er, the frat president speaks up. “Ah god… You’re looking fucking good Big D. How’s your mind hangin’ in there?”

It takes a few moments for the words to sink in before Dylan can reply, “My, unh- mind?” His balls pulse as his eyes dash across the room while he struggles to think. God he’s been struggling to think this whole time. His cock lurches as he’s able to realize that every thought in his mind has been growing increasingly clouded. “Big D?” Dylan can’t help but smirk as his beyond impressive cock strains his sweatpants at being called Big D. He grunts as he tries to shake off the lusty delirium, “Need to chill out. Ugh. Sober up.” He hears the president tsk at him yet again, waiting with bated breath for the mans words his pecs bulge even larger on his chest. “Too late for that bro, just give in. Why have a trip into true unadulterated ecstasy when you can have a lifetime. You can finally be the man of your dreams.” 

As soon as the words of Ben, his president, are spoken in his mind it becomes clear that Big D doesn’t even have the ability to fight back against the ever-present urges that now control his body. He tears off the sweatpants that were barely holding in there as he fully give himself to whatever is calling out for him, the drug, Ben Harrington, whatever. His body bulks beyond measure to become man enough to carry the vulgar package that lies in his crotch. He masturbates into the leg of his sweatpants torn asunder as his torso bulks up, evidence of his endless celebrations as a man of Beta Delta Alpha.

Bestial body hair begins to cover his torso as his beard grows thick and dark. The tangle of hair in his pits thickens and spreads enough that it, nor it’s dominating musk, could ever be hidden. Muscle bulges on his arms large enough to haul kegs and toss out fuckers that get to rowdy at their festivities. Beyond apathetic to manicuring his appearance as he knows he’ll have people lining up at his doorstep regardless of needless things like hygiene or cleanliness he rubs his thick sweat covered thighs and feels how sensitive every inch of his skin has become. 

He smirks as he imagines, recalls rather, how constantly he gets to enjoy the sensual opportunities offered by his new form. He’s got all he needs dangling between his thick thighs and everyone who matters already knows it. The president certainly does. Big D smirks as he thinks of their vacations together on the frat’s dime. He puts his arms behind his head and sniffs his musky pits as he lays in repose, a thick cloud of musky sweat surrounds him as he begins to hear the sound of festivities breaking out on the floor below him and someone’s fervent footsteps racing up the stairs to his den.

Suddenly there’s a knock at the door and Big D imagines that some couple is looking for an empty room with urgency. He paws at his crotch excited to join in on their fun. Instead he sees some nervous looking guy who freezes as soon as he sees the behemoth, fear in his eyes. “D-Dylan!? I- That drug, there was something, something s-” He stutters and his hands shake as Big D rolls his eyes and stands almost two heads taller than he should over Tony, one of their frat’s little party drug dealers. Still, he wouldn’t have come up here for no reason. Big D silences him with a finger and slams the door shut behind him. Tony’s brow furrows as he looks around the room in confusion. Even his perpetually drug-addled mind can tell something unreal, something impossible has happened to his friend. “That pill can’t have done this right?” Tony takes nervous breaths and Big D’s musk rapidly fills his lungs, distracting him from whatever petty issue brought him in. Who cares about concern when his small cock is beginning to rise from simply standing near the priapic titan.

Big D’s voice rumbles through Tony, making him weak at the knees, “You wanna have some fun don’t you?” The drug dealer can’t help but nod and swallow the drool pooling in his mouth as the bestial Adonis stands over him, cock dripping ever-ready for another round. Tony isn’t sure if he’s started tripping himself or what, but as he begins making out with the frat bro he finds himself not minding as memories of whoever Dylan was disappear. After all pleasure is the most important thing, and no one is better at spreading heady delight than Big D.

Getting Comfortable

“Wait! Lemme get a little more comfortable before we hit the road,” Rhett chirped giddily in a high southern accent as he snatched the jeans and t-shirt out of his bag in the backseat. His small, pale, twig-like body flung out of the car in a hurry.

“For fuck sake Rhett, it’s an hour and a half to Nashville, how ‘comfortable’ you need to get?! We’re gonna be late to the show!” Tanner snapped angrily from the driver’s seat in a deep Tennessean accent. He’s been a fan of this particular band for as long as he could remember and wasn’t going to let Rhett fuck it up. He had always been the more alpha of the two of them: more body and facial hair (hell, any body and facial hair), deeper voice, loads of friends and admirers, thicker build. But that didn’t mean Tanner was some good ol’ boy hard ass. His politics emphasized justice, he tried his best to be an ally, and he even fancied himself sexually liberated, not really ascribing to any labels. They’d known each other since they were roughly the same size, but their bond didn’t have trouble lasting through their drastically different physical developments. Tanner and Rhett were inseparable. They’d been friends for years and years, and let’s face it, Rhett always needed someone caring enough but stern enough as Tanner to look after him.

“Just a sec, won’t take long!”

Tanner threw his hands up and leaned back against the headrest, rolling his eyes at Rhett’s delay. He reclined in the seat and rubbed his eyes, not excited to travel an hour and a half, but looking forward to the destination. He just hoped Rhett would hurry up inside.

Tanner lowered his hands and saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Rhett was standing just outside the car door and he had already removed his shirt. He was lowering his shorts quickly, exposing his pale, flat ass and his limp, weak dick.

“RHETT, the fuck?!!” Tanner yelled from the driver’s seat. He brought his voice down, but to a sharp, stinging hiss, “Fuck, man, you tryna get busted for indecent exposure?! Jesus H. Christ, man…”

“Chill chill chill chill chill…” Rhett responded in a carefree, sing-song voice, busying himself with his dressing/undressing and dismissing Tanner’s scolding.

Tanner threw his hands up again and brought him down forcefully on the steering wheel.

“Almost done,” Rhett reassured as he lowered the blue jeans down and stepped into them without any underwear. He wiggled each foot through the sleeves of the fabric and pulled them up. They wore pretty damn high on his waist and seemed several sizes too big for him. “And now…” he buttoned the pants at the waist, but still had to hold up the pants to keep them from falling.

Tanner didn’t want to mentioned how clownish he looked in the jeans as risk of hurting his friend’s feelings, “Good, then put the damn shirt on and get your ass in the—“

“Hhhuurrrrrnnnnnnggggghhh…”

As Rhett grunted, Tanner could see him rise up, gaining several inches in height in seconds, seemingly out of thin air. Tanner’s jaw dropped.

Rhett cocked his head down to see into the car, “Just give me one more minute, bud, I gotta-UUhhhrrrrrnnnnnggghh…”

As Rhett grunted again, Tanner watched as he inexplicably gained more height, several more inches than the last time, shit maybe even a full foot. It was hard for any 23 year old to be 5’4”, which was one of Rhett’s many crosses to bear, but Tanner guessed he could easily be around 6’7” or 6’8”. Fuck, his friend grew well over a foot, in seconds.

Tanner swallowed hard, “Rhett… Man, what’s—“

Tanner couldn’t see Rhett’s head anymore. The jeans at least looked to be the right length on his body, but Tanner saw Rhett hold his still-too-large pants up with his hands gripping the waist of the jeans, “Now, just hold your horses, Tanner, damn, just a couple more—Oh, HHRRRRNNG, Uuuuuuuhhhhh…”

Tanner felt himself chub up as Rhett’s body suddenly started to swell all over as he made his vocalizations. His body filled up well, muscles pressing up against flat, almost emmaciated skin, which deepened to a slightly darker color, as if he was gaining more health, just slightly sun kissed. Tanner could start to see, just barely, the jeans making contact with the shape of his legs for the first time. From Tanner’s vantage, it looked as though Rhett did a modest amount of gym work, maybe 1 or 2 times per week, which Tanner knew for a fact Rhett never did.

“Ah, almost there, like a said, just a couple… more…. HHHhhhhhuuuuuUUURRRNNNGGHH!…”

Tanner was at full mast as Rhett swelled up even more, his modestly muscled body gaining mass at an unbelievable rate, his vocalizations seemingly encouraging his growth. Rhett could let go of the waist of his pants, as his legs slowly filled out the jeans some more, stopping their growth when the jeans were about one size too big. The pants were caught from falling on his ample ass, which had swelled up to an impressive rounded shelf that slightly jutted out from behind him, and exposed the root of his cock and the light blonde whisps of his pubic hair. This time, Tanner could hear bones crack dully from the outside of his car, as Rhett’s body broadened to accommodate his growth. His abdominals and pecs pulsed larger and his waist tapered down to a V, which Tanner always found so sexy on dudes. His skin rid itself of any and all imperfections and deepened even darker in color. Fuck, Rhett developed a proper swimmer’s body in a matter of seconds! How in the hell was this happ—

“One more,” Rhett panted with effort. “One more second, I.. Oh…. I just—aww fuck—I just… gotta… UUUUUUUURRRRRRRNNNGGGGGGGHHHH!!!”

Tanner started absentmindedly, slowly stroking his dick over his shorts as Rhett’s body entered its final stage of growth. Tanner heard the fastest and most pronounced series of bones cracking and shifting as Rhett expanded even more. His skin deepened to a golden, spotless tan. His legs swelled larger and larger, looking like he could effortlessly crush a watermelon between his thighs. It looked like the jeans were painted on his body, hugging every curve. Speaking of curves, his ass swelled even larger, pulling the jeans tight around his impressive glutes. The tightness didn’t help the next developement, as Tanner saw the root of his cock began to pulse and his crotch began to twitch. With each pulse, Tanner saw the root of his cock plump thicker, thicker, thicker, thicker, leaving Rhett with an imposing cock the size of a Red Bull tall boy. His bulge fattened up nicely as well, as Tanner watched Rhett’s balls make large mounds in pants that were already tight as hell. Rhett grabbed onto the waist of the jeans and pulled them up to relieve his wedding tackle of the tightness his ass created, bouncing a little to make sure all his bits were settled in. With his bouncing, Tanner saw his pecs pound hard and thicken into rock hard slabs. His arms, still gripping the waist of his pants, pulsed and bulged and hardened into a set of guns that would rival Captain America’s. Fuck, Tanner had such a weak spot for arms. Finally, his abs cut into sculpted ridges and his waist developed the most mouthwatering set of cum gutters Tanner had ever seen. Rhett was now over a foot taller, and several feet broader than he was just maybe a full minute ago. Just from what Tanner could see from his vantage, Rhett could model anywhere, he’d be scouted in a heartbeat.

“Woooo!!!” Rhett yelled out enthusiastically to the sky and the (thankfully) empty parking lot as he bucked his hips, flexed his abs, and pumped his guns.

Tanner realized he hadn’t taken a breath for several seconds and inhaled deeply, feeling like he was a hair trigger away from busting all over himself and his car.

He swallowed hard, “Uh, Rhett—“

“I know, I know, Tanner,” Rhett answered in his still-high Tennessean accent, his head still obscured by the limits of Tanner’s viability from inside his car, thanks to Rhett’s massive gain in height. He started slipping on the blue shirt, which moments ago would’ve been way too big on his body, “‘Put on the goddamn shirt and get in the car,’ ya don’t hafta repeat yourself.” He pulled the shirt down from over his head.

“No, dude, it’s—“

Tanner was interrupted by another dull series of cracks, as if bones were breaking and shifting under bags of cloth, hearing Rhett grunt slightly, and seeing Rhett’s new godly pecs and his thick neck twitch. Finally, Rhett let out a hard, wet cough, cleared his throat, and Tanner watched his upper body pivot as he spit away from the car, hearing a heavy, wet slap against the pavement.

At last, Rhett swung one foot in and lowered himself into Tanner’s passenger seat. His face was sharper, more angular, and just downright more sexy and handsome. His hair was thicker, his skin was flawless. Everything, literally all things about this new creature that lowered himself into Tanner’s car bared all resemblance to the Rhett Tanner had always know, except if you took Rhett’s fuckability meter and cranked it up to 1000 and ripped out the dial. He was a fucking hunk, in literally every sense of the word.

Rhett pulled his sleeve back as he entered, knowing it would send Tanner over the edge.

“Alright, let’s move, cowboy,” Rhett said, grinning perfect teeth at Tanner, his voice an impossibly deep bass laced with a thick southern drawl.

“Rhett—!” Tanner moaned and gripped on hard to the steering wheel, cut off by his cock exploding inside his pants, without touching it at all. He moaned louder than he ever had in an orgasm, and veins popped in his arms while gripping the steering wheel as he bucked his hips, his cock still erupting thick volleys of cum.

Rhett, still grinning and chuckling while Tanner voided his balls. He was loving the impact he was having on his friend that he had always seen as a hell of a stud, and decided to give Tanner’s ‘no-hands’ ejaculation the parting shot it deserved. He took his strong hand, turned Tanner’s head towards him, and covered his mouth with his lucious, pillowy lips, shoving his new wider, thicker, longer tongue down Tanner’s throat. Tanner moaned into Rhett’s mouth as one last powerful shot burst out of his cock head.

Tanner was still gripping the steering wheel, heaving panting breaths, “Rhett, buddy, what the hell happened to you?”

“What, ya don’ like it?” Rhett asked with a feigned insultedness. He grinned and flexed his arm a bit more for Tanner’s pleasure.

“Nahnahnahnah, s’not like that at all, but like…. FUCK, man, you got a fuckin’ god bod! You’re a goddamn stud, man! How?!”

“Appreciate it, brother,” Rhett responded in his new, deep, drawling bass with a small blush and settled into his seat. He leaned his head against the seat and rolled his head to look back at Tanner with his hyponitizing green eyes, “You know that woodsy, spiritual shit you’re always giving me guff over?”

Tanner thought for a second, then cocked his head and narrowed his eyes in disbelief at Rhett. Rhett beared his pearly teeth and then spread his arms out, as if presenting his new body.

“No. Fuckin’. Shit.”

“‘Fraid so, my guy,” Rhett responded proudly. “Tried out this ritual last night. Didn’t have a lotta confidence in it, but figured what the hell. Hadta soak these britches and the shirt in this oily solution and let it dry, but once it did,” he displayed his body again as Tanner forced out a few disbelieving chuckles. “Took a helluva lotta self-control to not lose myself in hours and hours of self pleasure…”

“Shit, man, I wouldn’t be able to help myself. Why didn’t you?” Tanner asked admirably with a small laugh, picturing the image of Rhett writhing around on his floor all night, busting nut after nut, worshiping himself. Fuck.

Rhett lowered his head and went somber for a second, “‘Cus once I bust one lookin’ like this, all this,” he punctuated his words by gesturing up and down his new bod with his hand, “is here to stay.” he smirked at Tanner.

Tanner started chubbing up again, and chuckled, “Well, shit, brother, what’s the hold up?!”

Rhett’s smirk dropped and he looked dead in Tanner’s eyes, “Well, ‘cus I wanna do it with you, man.” Rhett started unbuttoning his jeans.

Tanner’s cock flooded with blood, “… Rhett, dude, I—“ Rhett lowered his zipper, “I don’t—“ Rhett pulled out his thick, uncut trouser snake and let it flop against his torso, and son of a bitch it was even bigger than Tanner imagined, “… uh, fuck, know what—“ Rhett spat into his hand and stroked as his cock thickened even more (if that were possible) and pointed straight up, his cock head beginning to peek through his foreskin, “—what to say, I…”

“Just suck it, dude, you know you want to.”

Tanner’s breath heavied. Should he? He looked at the cock. He’d never seen a boy’s dick look so goddamn inviting. He licked his lips. This was really happening.

“Fuck it.”

Tanner threw himself over the driver/passenger divider and eagerly took Rhett’s cock into his mouth and started bobbing his head and sucking with animal intensity. He reached his hand up to Rhett’s new, sculpted tits and squeezed, greedily groping his impressive rack.

“Yeah, man, get yourself a handfula that.”

Tanner gave a blowjob that would put to shame any bj he’d received in his own life, and Tanner was no slouch. Rhett grit his teeth and groaned with ecstasy, his powerful hand running through and gripping his friend’s thick, dark hair. He grinded his hips against his best friend’s face and ran his other hand and meaty arm down Tanner’s back caressing him, reaching under his shorts to squeeze his ass and play with his hole with his new, thick fingers.

“Awww, FUCK, bro, yeah keep suckin’, I gotta little surprise churnin’ in these fuckin’ sacks just for you, my man, awww fuuuckk yeah keep suckin’…”

Tanner obediently sucked, very eager to please his friend. Rhett speeded his grinding against Tanner’s face, his lower abs pressing into the side of Tanner’s head. Tanner could feel Rhett’s mushroom tip swell in the back of his throat, fuck he’s about to nut.

Tanner started to pull off Rhett’s dick, but Rhett forced his head back down, “Aww no man, you gotta take this, gotta little something special, get fuckin’ ready, I’m gonna-gonna-HHHHUUUURRRRNNNGGG!!”

Rhett groaned deeply, his head tilted back and veins protruding out of his thick neck as he unloaded a massive cum dump into Tanner’s throat and mouth. Tanner’s eyes watered as he felt hot, fresh jizz fire down his throat and fill up his mouth until his cheeks were bulging. Rhett took deep, heaving breaths, his huge chest rising and falling, wet sweat darkening his shirt around his neck and under his pits, his face glistened in the light and beads dripped from his hair. Then, like an electric jolt, he felt a cool, fizzing pulse flow through his body. Something changed. He was new. He let out a shuddering, emotional moan. This was Rhett now, he mused. Rhett with the ‘god bod.’

Rhett realized just then, in his euphoric bliss, that he was still holding Tanner’s face against his spent crotch.

“Whoops, sorry there, buddy. But I need you to listen real careful, y’understand?” Tanner furrowed his brow and grunted, Rhett still lodged deep inside his mouth/throat and his seed sloshing around his mouth. Something was off, though… Rhett’s spooge tasted strangely sweet like fruit, and fresh like pine needles, and he could feel it swirl hot and bright, like stardust. “I needja to drink all that baby batter down for me, think ya can do it?” Tanner nodded enthusiastically. “Awright, aww fuck man you ain’t gonna regret this!”

Rhett moaned as he felt the muscles in Tanner’s throat contract and release again and again as Tanner swallowed and swallowed. It took him 4 separate swallows to get all that fuckin jizz down, but the taste made it more than easy. He lifted off Rhett’s cock with a wet *sluuuurrpPOP* and Rhett shivered.

Tanner wiped his lips and chin and crashed back into his driver’s seat, “Jesus H. Christ, Rhett, you are somethin’ else,” Rhett just shrugged and flexed. “So whadya reckon happens now?”

“Well,” Rhett began as he zipped up and buttoned his pants again. “We do have a show to get to.”

Tanner paused then laughed dumbly, “Damn, that completely jumped my mind,” *guuurrgle* Tanner felt his stomach turn. “Then after that?”

“Well, man,” Rhett stared off, “I’m thinkin’ stay in Nashville.”

“Stay??” *guuuuuuurrrrrrrgle* Tanner felt and heard something turn in his stomach. What the fuck?

“Yeah, bro, stay! New me, new city, ya know?” Tanner’s stomach gave off another heavy, loud gurgle. Rhett continued, “Maybe try my hand at music. Always did love singin’.”

“Well you got the voice and the body for music now, that’s for goddamn sure!” the two laughed but Tanner felt another massive turn in his stomach, this one making him shake in his seat. Rhett stared at him greedily, biting his lip. Tanner gave out a nervous chuckle, “Say Rhett, why were you so insistent on me drinkin’ you down?”

Rhett grinned, “Well, ‘cus I want you to stay there with me, babe.”

“Wh—“ Tanner began but was stopped by another gurgling started, only this time, it didn’t stop. With his eyes wide, Tanner, already a modestly swole, tall-ish individual, began to swell steadily. It started in his neck, as it swelled and hardened, widening to a thickness similar to his thighs in his present state. “*grrrrrrgle* Shit, Rhett, what’s you do to me?” He made concerned eyes at Rhett, but Rhett just leaned back watching him, smirking and nodding at him slowly. Tanner returned with a grin, albeit a slightly nervous grin. “Awww, fuckkkkk *ggurrrrrgggg*

Tanner next felt his shoulders and back broaden, causing the threads in his flannel to snap and the seams to tear. Tanner was always keen on wearing tight clothes, but as his shoulders, arms, pecs, and abs began to slowly inflate like he was a giant balloon, a symphony of rips and tears sounded through the car as his swelling skin peeked through dozens of holes in his flannel. Rhett squeezed his own pecs and teased his nipples with his thumbs, taking in open-mouthed breaths of air, never taking an eye off his swelling new lover. As his stomach kept turning, Tanner turned a renewed confident eye to Rhett and smiled slyly. His stretching and growing hands grabbed onto the front of his flannel, and with bulging new arm muscles, he yanked sharply with a feral grunt as the flannel exploded off him in shreds, he yanked both of the sleeves off too to free his massive arms. All that was left was one of Tanner’s loose tanks he always wore under his clothing, his skin retaining the sexy dusting of hair all over him. He tossed the torn fabric over to Rhett, who brought it to his face and inhaled deeply, rubbing his crotch and moaning, still not taking an eye off Tanner, who was swelling so large he started to seem too wide for his seat. Tanner leaned back and lifted his hands behind his head to grip the headrest, his broad triceps bulging over his hairy pits. He braced himself for the next part he could feel coming.

“MMMMMmmmrrrrrfffffff….” Tanner bucked his hips and flexed his ass as he felt it round and firm up under him, lifting him a bit higher off the seat. His thighs thudded into sinewy tree trunks and he clenched his teeth at his calves lengthened and hardened, giving him about 4 more inches in height. His new massive ass and his tree trunk thighs compounded to make his gym shorts appear like way-too-tight boxer briefs. With its tightness, opaque, white jizz rose to the surface and pooled from Tanner’s ejaculation earlier. With his shorts as tight as they were, Rhett had a perfect view for the next part. “OOOOOoooooooohhhhh…” Tanner winced and moaned, closing his eyes, as Rhett saw Tanner’s cock and balls swell and fatten and bulge and rise and thicken against the taut fabric of his gym shorts. His junk now formed three massive lumps that pressed hard against the front of the shorts.

Finally, Tanner let out satisfied groans as he felt his jawbone sharpen and point. He felt the movement across his mouth as his lips involuntarily puckered, giving him a great set of fuckable lips. He again retained the sexy dusting of hair on his face as before, but he felt the hair on top of his head straighten but thicken, giving him a naturally styled, quaff.

He turned and looked at Rhett, who was slack-jawed and sweaty in the passenger’s seat staring at him, Rhett’s thick rod, hard and long, pressed against the fabric of the jeans. Tanner was proud to be the one to make this blonde model hunk bone up.

Tanner smacked his lips, “Well, fuck, Rhett, I’d say you got some pretty potent cream.”

“Hhhaaaaaaaaaa…” Rhett moaned with a deep as hell bass and a slack-jawed grin as his jeans darkened with spurting wet spots from the tip of the bulge his cock made.

“Shit, man, you had s’more of that hulk-out juice and you ain’t gonna share? Gimme some,” Tanner goofily reached a finger across and scooped some of Rhett’s jizz that he seeped through the jeans, grazing Rhett’s still-hard cock and making him shudder, and brought it to his lips, sucking his finger.

“‘Fraid not, brother, that’s all me,” Rhett said panting, grabbing some napkins out of the glove box and wiping himself off. “Plus I think we’re both gonna be cummin’ like hydrants, my guess is that our regeneration cycles have sped up like 1000%.” Rhett tugged at his crotch as though relieving his overworked balls. He paused before his next thought, “I neglected to mention that the ritual gives your last nut has these ‘special properties’ or whatever. I’d assume most guys just slurp up their own spooge, ya know, give ‘emselves a boost on toppa what they’re already gettin’… Sorry I spooked ya… wanted it to be a surprise.” Rhett scratched the back of his head and blushed.

“Woodsy, spiritual shit…” Tanner mused admiringly.

“Woodsy, spiritual shit.” Rhett confirmed with confident nods.

If that’s the case and it really worked with this kind of success, they’re gonna have to take advantage it way more. Tanner was in love with Rhett, he just realized. Nashville, huh? All he could think about was the drug scene he’d been told about there (well, that and of course the music business. Dude’s popping those little black pills and doing all sorts of things. He couldn’t see why he and Rhett would need them anyways, now that they looked like this. Nah, they would keep each other grounded, they cared for each other too much. He’s never really been one to enjoy the big city, but he was more than happy to give it a shot with his friend. His best friend. And his lover.

Tanner leaned in, “Well, consider me very pleasantly surprised,” he turned Rhett towards him and tenderly kissed him, “and very pleasantly spooked,” he kissed him tenderly again, “and very happy to join you.” Rhett’s eyes lit up and he grinned widely with excitement. “Let’s do this, babe.”

Their tongues interlocked as they exchanged one last big smooch.

“Now, let’s get this show on the road,” Tanner stated as he turned the key in the ignition, starting up the car. “Against all odds, we still got time to catch the show tonight!”

He and Rhett chuckled. Some outlaw country crooner belted deeply from the radio, ‘That’s gonna be Rhett,’ Tanner thought, knowing it to be true in his heart. He drove out of the parking lot and headed to the freeway, rolling the windows. Rhett looked over confused as the cool air passed through the cabin.

“Got to smelling like a Turkish bathhouse sauna in here, if y’know what I mean.” Tanner responded plainly.

The two erupted in laughter. Silence fell over them for a second.

Rhett broke the silence, “Y’want some road head?”

“Fuck, yes, man, thought you’d never ask!” Tanner answered immediately with childlike enthusiasm.

The two started tried to work Tanner’s shorts off of him, but they only budged slightly due to the tightness.

“Ah, fuck it.” Tanner said as he gripped one side of the shorts and tugged sharply, causing it to split wide open, his new, massive cock springing and slapping his lower torso. Rhett grabbed it and brought it into his mouth, immediately going to work with his skillful, large tongue.

Tanner writhed and grunted in pleasure. Shame about the shorts, but he had to buy all new clothes anyways.

Some clothes, a new job (mechanic? He’d always loved fixing cars and getting dirty), a new apartment, develop a new routine, and buy new supplements to maintain their physiques for his new life with his new lover.

The Boxers and Bro Cap are 🥵🔥

Thank you, good boy. I really love to write an old-fashioned clothing transformation once in a while.

You know how, sometimes, you'll be out in the world and suddenly think of tf? Like, you see a snapback cap sitting abandoned on a bench, and you suddenly think "That cap would probably turn me into a total bro."

You imagine the kind of guy who would wear a cap like that. Sweaty. Douchey. Self-obsessed. Perpetually shirtless to show off his massive, perfectly aesthetic pecs and bulky biceps. Sexy stubble on his face. Totally brainless, massively horny. A toxic fuck machine who'll cum in any hole.

You can't help yourself. You have to pick up the hat, feel how stiff it is with hard-earned sweat. Put it on, feeling it settle on your scalp. Grab the brim and turn it around.

Fuck, bro, you fuckin' killed that chest day! Now go find some lame femme and pass the cap on, bro!

Cursed

I had a family problems growing up. I had lots of siblings and most of them were gang members and my parents never brought me anything cool and so I gained the habit to steal valuables to sell and get money from. Like the other day, I saw this beautiful purse and I could tell this old woman was filthy rich, when she sat down, I noticed she was waiting for her bus. I waited until it was a perfect time and went for it and soon. She had her phone in her hand and was dialing the police and while the phone was ringing I could see her screaming some words that I couldn’t make out.

I ran into an alleyway and I went throw here purse I could see many items that looked extremely expensive and old. I had finally hit the jackpot. One thing caught my attention when I began searching through the bag, it was this necklace. It felt like it was speaking to me. When I grabbed it cold metal, I could feel shivers that ran up my spine, as I place it over my neck. I could feel the pleasure of this being around my neck.

Soon I heard the sound of police cars. I couldn’t cause myself to move and run. The car parked right up to the alleyway and they saw me standing, I began to feel the motion of my body as I began to move. But right before I could he grabbed my arm and pulled towards his car. I couldn’t do anything at this point as was already in the hands of this muscular man. I tried to run, but I didn’t work. My body was so small compared to his.

The officer reached in his pockets for his handcuffs, but before he could something strange grew in my chest. Everything began to slow around us as I could feel this warm energy coming from him. I could feel this mans big body pull towards me. I could feel his warms and his sweat possibly from working out all getting sucked into my weak body. I couldn’t handle it as his big arm began to sink through. His pecs began to enter me as I moan with pleasure. I could see the officers look as his screams weakened. Soon his other arms began to enter my body. Soon nothing was left of him as I could feel this great wave of greatness come through me.

I didn’t understand what happened and looked at the necklace and it was glowing. I could feel the heat coming out of it. I soon realized that everything around me made me want to faint. I soon was about to throw up as I looked to the cop car and heard the noise of the radio ringing for the officer. I couldn’t catch up to it as they were already sending back up. I tried to run, but the necklace burned my chest as I didn’t want to move again.

I soon couldn’t take it as my body began to grow taller. My pants began to rip. I could do anything as my pants were completely torn off. I could do anything about it as my legs muscles began to twitch and grow. My body could do anything. My pain white skin began to darken as my body twitched all over the place. My ass began to grow in any way as I could feel my face change as my check bones popped out. I tried to take off the necklace but my mind didn’t let me control myself. Small little hairs began to show on my face as my eyebrows grow thicker and darker.

My ass began to shake itself and it felt good as I could feel it balloon up even more. My arms began to grow bigger and bigger. My pecs began to bounce and soon and began to form as I could feel become harder. My average sized dick became so big it looked like it was becoming 12 inches erected. My arms wouldn’t stop and my chest continued as my mind began to change. My family wasn’t some piece of shit that never love me, instead, I lived in a rich home with my two parents. Soon my became hard as black hairs began to appear all over it as soon my blonde hair changed to become darker. My balls were so full of semen I had to empty. My short was looking like a tight tank top and soon my briefs looked like some small speedo that made my ass look big. My mind was becoming different that my mind wasn’t for women it was for men.

Soon my body was able to move. My mind was still changing as I was now a hot rich Mexican because of my parents adopting me at a young age and me becoming a police officer and meeting my boyfriend. Soon another car pulled up and looked at me with a smirk and a wink as I could tell this was my boyfriend and soon the purse and my ripped pants disappeared, as I could tell my boyfriend was happy for me to find a dark alley with no one to see us having sex. I could tell what I was wearing made him get turned on.

Well, looks like my me body will get any guy having an orgasm for days when I have sex with them. And I am glad I look like this now.

I'm not a huge coffee drinker, but what the heck I'll have something. How about an americano? Nice and strong.

You can't seem to take your eyes off the hot man on the packaging. You bought the DIY Hot Coffee Americano kit from the online storefront and was pleasantly surprised by how cheap it was and how quickly it was delivered. Literally within an hour of your order there it was, in a little cardboard box with the Hot Coffee logo on it. You took the supplies out of the box, set them on your desk, and then caught sight of the hot - who is he? the owner? - guy on the pre-made - just add hot water! - Coffee base.

It's almost like you can smell him...

Or maybe it's this water?

The water that came with the pre-made mix is so warm, like it's been boiled. But when you took the top off it, the smell of sweat and musk hit you in the face. You take big deep gulps of air as you bring the water to your nose. You sigh pleasurably as your cock begins to stir in your shorts.

That's not normal.

But you find yourself dumping the water into the Coffee anyway. Stirring it around with the coffee stirrer. God the smell is intoxicating. Your cock is fully hard now and pointing straight out of your shorts, the bulge visible and making you blush. It's like the sweaty, musky water is just blanketing your head and making your center of thought right now your twitching, pulsating cock. You start humping the desk as you take your first gulp of the Coffee.

Three things startle you: one, the Coffee doesn't burn your tongue like you expect; two, it tastes absolutely delicious and makes your cock eject a droplet of pre; and three, your roommate saying, "What is that smell?"

You swivel in your chair to see him standing in the doorway, sniffing the air. You blush even harder knowing your cock is at full attention, and you can't do much of anything except make a bunch of horny sounds into the thermos you're drinking out of. Your roommate sees your cock straining your shorts. You notice it feels...bigger. Harder and more prominent.

"Oh, sorry am I interrupting something?"

You've drank half the thermos that quickly. A hot rush of pleasurable heat fills your body, landing squarely in your balls which you can feel jostle around in your scrotum. Then both balls drop and start growing, blowing up like two tennis balls and when you sneak a glance down, you can see the imprint growing on the soft fabric of your shorts. You squeeze your legs together and let out a soft moan at the sensitivity.

"I'm just so horny bro."

Bro?

Your roommate stares at your cock again as you can feel it stretch larger, like the muscles are preparing for a hard workout. It's definitely not the 5 and a half inches you're used to. Now it's creeping past 6 and a half, the swollen head glistening with pre-cum that you can feel pump out at a steady rate from those still growing balls of yours. God they feel so weighty, pushing against your thighs and making you groan and grind against your desk chair.

No you're not grinding. You're fucking the air as you drain the last dregs of your Coffee.

"Okayyyyyy. Just don't make too much noise I guess?" Your roommate laughs and is about to turn when he sniffs the air again. You're covered in sweat, soaking through the plain gray shirt you're wearing. Huge swaths of sweat darken your pits as you feel hair growing out of them, the bump of testosterone making pubes blossom like a garden, pushing out of your waistband. "Is that you?"

It is you!

"Yeah bro, smell good?"

Your voice drops as your Adam's apple expands, throat thickening and growing larger. It's got the amount of vocal fry perfect for a frat boy, deep and...dopey. Dumb sounding. And you definitely wouldn't say something like that. Definitely wouldn't lift your arms up and expose those sweaty pits to your roommate, fatter cock bouncing and growing larger and girthier. You're 7 and a half inches now, cruising to 8 full inches of man meat. So thick, the bulge so tight. You wouldn't plow your roommate and make him scream your name as loud as he could. Wouldn't dump a big load in him right?

Or would you?

What the hell is happening?

"I'm gonna - I'm gonna go." Your roommate is hard now, cock pressing against his sweatpants as he rubs himself absently. You close your eyes and groan as you feel your shoulders pop wider, broadening and putting immense strain on your shirt. In your head you're fucking a nice, tight bubble butt resting on that fat cock of yours.

You clench onto the armrests as your nipples harden against your shirt, sensitive and begging to be tugged or sucked on, the kind of special attention your chest deserves. Your big 8 inch cock flops out of your waistband and rests against your lower stomach. The stain on your underwear is unbelievable with your huge, churning bull balls and that thick tube of man meat on top. Your horniness feels so unnatural, so hot. You're so sweaty the entire front and back of your shirt is clouded with your sweat and thick with your strengthening musk that seems to be filling your entire room. Hell the entire apartment. Your cock pumps out pre at a steady rate and you can feel just how close you're getting to cumming.

And when your stomach sucks inwards and your pecs bulge out, taking advantage of those bigger broader shoulders, you lurch forward and moan lewdly in pleasure. It's loud, made even louder by your deep, bro voice. You clench your stomach and feel your waist widen with pure strength and muscle, hard, tight abs chiseling their way through the lost fat that's slid up to your chest and bulging it out. Still holding onto your stomach, you stand up on shaky legs and stagger over to your bed, shoving a pillow under your beyond hard cock as it finally rips through your underwear, the tension that was there and holding your cock back now gone. It presses freely against your shorts, the tent shoving the waistband away and giving you a full view of the base of your musky, huge cock and the bush of pubes above it.

But you immediately look away as muscle starts flowing into your pecs, perking them up and pressing them against your shirt, the hard nubs of your nipples brushing against your tight shirt. You collapse onto a pillow and start fucking it. Wrapping your arm around it and imagining one of your bros under you, getting absolutely railed by your big fat cock. You don't notice, but you can feel the pleasurable tickle of tattoos forming across your expanding forearms, the strength and blood flowing into them bloating and stretching them and making you fuck the pillow even more forcefully. You're moaning and groaning against the pillow, face buried against it in pure pleasure.

Muscle piles into your pecs, putting such strain on your shirt it tears clean down the middle, exposing your slightly hairy cleavage and the still swelling mounds of sweaty muscle mounting on your chest. They're huge and sensitive, the nipples expanding further as a little more fat from your stomach slides behind them, stretching the skin and increasing the sensitivity even more. You take your expanding, stronger hands, the palms and digits inflating into big meaty paws and rip your sweaty shirt clean off. You strip the soaked strands of your shirt off and flex your growing bicep, the muscle bulging and swelling into a bowling ball of muscle as you get your first whiff of your pit.

God I smell so fucking good.

You've managed to fuck a hole into your pillow and you drive your cock into it further and harder, licking and worshiping your expanding bicep, while your other hand goes down and explores your abs as they go into their final stages of growth and expansion. The strength of your core is undeniable as cum gutters carve their way to your throbbing cock, the etching of them making you moan and thrust your cock forward as cum drools out of your overly sensitive cock, your body riding the wave of this mini orgasm as your huge hands grab onto a nipple and tug, more muscle piling into your pecs and stretching them out and creating a real shelf of muscle on top of your abs. You bellow out loud, a deep horny moan as you continue fucking your pillow. You dimly think about your roommate as your smarts begin leaking out of your cock as well, the thick fluid going right through your shorts and into the pillow.

You hear a distant moan somewhere in the house.

Bro's probably horny as fuck too.

And why wouldn't he be? With your smell becoming a part of the apartment? With your deep moans and groans in that sexy voice of yours? What about now, the clap of your ass cheeks as you stick your ass out, totally unable to keep thrusting and surrendering to the pleasure ripping through your body, as both of your cheeks bloat and expand?

You grab one handful of a fatty, muscular cheek through your increasingly tight shorts as your ass cheeks take up whatever free space is left. You grit your teeth and howl with pleasure as your ass grows hairs that blossom out of your puckering, tight hole, and spread like a thick, musky rug across both of your fat cheeks. They fill your palm with dense, flexing muscle, enough fat to make them jiggle and bounce. A nice twerkable, fuckable ass. Your hips widen and become stronger, denser, making your now restarted thrusts harder and stronger. You press down on the pillow - god you're so strong now, the strength of those rippling biceps make you burp out more cum - as your ass stops growing, the cheeks swelling and clapping together one final time as they rip through your shorts and let your fat ass hang free in the air.

I'm so close. I'm so close.

Your feet crack and expand, the bones shifting around in the stretching skin as they expand wider and larger, thick toes ripping through the head of your socks. They feel much more sensitive now, and maybe that could just be because they're actively growing, huge meaty stompers. You cum again as your feet rip through your strained socks, huge size 13s. You look over the big curve of your bubbly ass as you see your feet for the first time, moaning loudly.

You definitely hear your roommate bro whining in the next room in pleasure. It sounds deeper than it did earlier. But...that can't be right?

The expansion of your thighs pop the few brain cells you've got left, whatever resistance you were going to try to mutter splattering into your pillow as a stronger orgasm rips through you. Cock just oozing cum as your thighs squeeze your big balls, huge thick pillars of flesh, the muscles expanding and pressing against the taut skin. Your calves grow to support not only that fat ass of yours, but that strong upper body. Those thick legs. All of which courtesy of you never skipping leg day. Your shorts are extremely tight, small tears forming around your thighs as they break the seams, becoming thick and solid. Like your ass, good to grab onto while you're fucking a bro, or while you're riding a bro with that strong core you've got.

As your hair grows blonde and styled, the big orgasm that you've been denied catches you off guard as you collapse, fat ass wobbling with the impact, as you fall flat on your pillow as your cock fires like a broken fire hydrant. You can't do much of anything but moan, so loud that the pillow is not doing anything to mute the sound as your cock fires rope after rope of thick, musky cum. Your tongue expands, fatter and longer, perfect for eating ass or sucking dick, making your bros feel every inch of your tongue on their hard cocks and in their tight asses. Your jawline sharpens. Your nose pops and expands bigger like invisible hands are pulling on it. A stubbly beard grows on your face, itchy and scraping pleasurably against your pillow as you give one, exhausted pump into the pillow to force the rest of your old self out of your still cumming cock, the steam not as strong as earlier but still enough to drip through your ruined shorts.

Out of breath, cock spent, covered in sweat, you sit up slowly on your shaky hands. A full length mirror has materialized out of your bookshelf and now you see yourself for the first time. The new you. The new sexy, frat boy you. A short king stacked with muscle everywhere. Dull, horny, lustful eyes.

You stick out your fat tongue and take a pic of your hot body, shoving your hand in your strained shorts and creating a bigger tear around your jiggly ass. You need to invest in more tight clothes. Your soft but still huge cock makes such a visible imprint you might as well be naked. You flex. Pop your pecs. Tighten up your abs. Each movement feels so good it makes your just spent cock stir again, your balls to rumble excitedly.

Your bro is quiet now.

You step out of the room and run right into him. He's a huge tank of a man, a pair of tight shorts, just like you, adorning his bloated, sweaty form. He's out of breath. His eyes are still a little sharp but there's a fogginess creeping behind them.

He looks like he's about to say something, a little dull panic creeping into his eyes.

You kiss him, roughly, pulling him in and feeling his tight, huge muscles relax into the kiss. Hands on your hips as you both makeout like horny porn stars in the doorway to your room. Your cock is hard again, and his equally large cock rips through the fabric of his tight shorts.

"You were gonna say something bro?" you ask.

His eyes dull over, horny and glassy.

"Oh yeah." A dumb laugh sounds from him, making his solid tits jiggle. "I was gonna ask who's turn it is to bottom. I'm super horny bro."

You clench your bubbly ass cheeks. An empty feeling creeps into your hole.

It's been a while since you've been filled. You give your bro boyfriend a dopey, horny smile as you kiss him again, guiding his big, meaty hand to your ass cheeks.

Then that thick finger right towards your sensitive, greedy hole.

Machismo Musk

Finishing up his skincare routine Valentino smeared his face mask over his already supple skin. Waiting to be able to wipe it off he pulled out his phone and began planning the next time him and his best friend can go hangout again! Opening his texts he sees that he has left his best friend on delivered, looking at the text from Edgar it read, “Yo Val! We gotta hang again bro! I met this guy at the gym today and I think he can really help you get out there again!”. It was odd to Valentino that Edgar was calling him Val and bro, but Edgar was right, ever since Valentino and his boyfriend split three months ago he hasn’t put himself back out there at all. “Okieeee” Valentino texted back, “just tell me when he is free and I'll be there”. Within seconds Edgar responded with “Dudeeee he is free tmrr! Shld I give him your addy”, being more weirded out by his language but thinking it's just a bit, Valentino tells Edgar to give the guy his address and tell him to come over at one tomorrow afternoon.

Hearing the knock at his door Valentino lifted himself out of his bed and looked at the clock. “Weird” he thought to himself “it's barely even 11:00 A.M. I wonder who that could be”. Rubbing his eyes he got up and went to the door not bothering to brush his teeth or really do anything to get ready, expecting it to be a package or just some kid being a punk. Opening the door he was met face to face, or really face to pecs, with a hunk of a man standing on his welcome mat.

A little shocked Valentino asked hastily “Who are you!?”, “Wow don’t sound too excited to see me brochacho” the hunky man said, “Im Angel! Your friend…uhhh Edgar told me to come here!” Angel said with enthusiasm in his voice. “Uhhhhh Angel is it…yea it’s nice to meet you but you are two hours earlier…”, “Oh am I?”Angel responded earnestly, “I thought you wanted me to come over at eleven.”, “No no no, I told Edgar to send you at one o’clock”. Valentino corrected. “Oh my god Im so sorry” Angel apologized “I’m horrible with numbers and you know Edgar huhuhuh, he is utterly simple-minded…more so than me huhuh!” Angel chuckled out. “What are you talking about? Edgar is one of the smartest guys I know” Valentino questioned, assuming that Angel had mixed two guys up in his own head. “Well are you gonna make me wait here for two hours?,” Angel asked rhetorically, completely ignoring your question. Not want to seem rude on the first meeting

Valentino invited him in, bringing him inside and shutting the front door. Valentino asked as they still stood next to the front door, “Oh do you mind taking your shoes off here?”, “Oh you don’t want me to do that little broooo!” Angel responded.

Slowly Valentino could, as if on cue, smell a masculine funk began to fill the room, contaminating the air with a stale, musty smell.. Valentino, trying not to cover his nose or bring out the Febreze, told the potential partner “You came so early haha I didn’t have time to get ready! I will be back. Do you mind waiting here?”, “What didn’t you do? You look ready to me?” Angel said with a hint of a flirty tone. “Oh ya know I ummm…didn’t get to brush my teeth or wash my face or even put on any deodorant…hahaha” Valentino let out a laugh trying to hide his embarrassment “I promise i'm normally more put together”. Angel responded with all seriousness and said “I don’t mind huhuhuh. If it makes you feel better I never wear deodorant” Lifting up his arm and exposing his hairy and damp cavern of musk. Not being able to contain his gagging, the miasma of B.O. began pumping into the room and into his nose. Between an orchestra of gags, Valentino tried to excuse himself once more, “I want to get uhhhh nice and get ready for you…”. Seeing through this white lie grabbed the back of Valentino’s head and muttered, “It’s rude to react like that. It’s time to help you realize the beauty of tapping into your inner machismo”. Valentino tried to pull away, confused by what this stinking hunk was saying, “What the fuc-?” Valentino’s profane response to Angel’s comment was interrupted by a face full of sweaty, pungent, armpit hair. Being pulled into the source of Angel’s “machismo musk” as he would call it, Valentino’s brain immediately fogged up making him weak and incapable of thinking rationally or with any semblance of his normal intellect.

As Valentino pummeled Angel's torso with blinded, wild blows, his already weak punches grew weaker and weaker with every second in the pit. At the same time Angel could hear Valentino’s confused, angry, mumbling slowly fade at the same time. By the time 30 seconds had passed, all that Valentino could say in protest was a light moan that was still an arduous task for his musk filled mind, and all he could do was gently raise his hand and push back with so little force that he couldn’t even be able to push around a piece of paper if he tried. Feeling what felt like growing pains in his feet Valentino let out a loud groan which swiftly dulled into a soft, constant, moan. Valentino felt his feet begin to crack as if the bones were breaking and shifting, he felt as his toes were being forced outwards and the soles of his feet began to grow larger both in width and length. Valentino incapable of picking up on any scent other than Angel’s B.O. could only feel the changes not smell them, but Angel could smell a cloud of buttery funk mixed with the smell of fermented cheese rise and help fill the room. Valentino began to feel his legs inflate, leaving him with nice, tight calves and two massive thunder thighs. Like any good himbo Valentino felt his perky little twink ass inflate into two pillows which jiggle and bounce with every step. Angel had to lift his arm a little higher and take a step back for the newly acquired height of the 6’1 Latino. Valentino felt the readjustment and unconsciously made sure his own nose never left or got too far from the source of the funky scent. Feeling a rumbling in his gut Valentino felt his tiny little gut and naturally cinched looking waist expand and turn into a stomach with the making of a 6 pack but with a nice, soft, layer of fat keeping the chiseled statue still encased in a little bit of marble. His pecs began, much like his ass, to inflate without his permission or full knowledge as they became a gorgeous rack of pure man mass.

The next transformation happened to his arms, becoming nice, soft, tendrils of unthreatening muscles but as soon as he flexes the soft edges harden into sharp, cutting muscles. Above the transformation in his arm, his armpits became much like Angel’s, filled with a foul-smelling, putrid, jungle of long dark hair, absolutely contaminating what little fresh air was left in the apartment. The final changes came in the form of his face growing a bit more masculine and alluring, stubble growing in and his hair shortening a little.

Being pulled out of the malodorous prison that just turned the neat and clean twink into an unhygienic and dirty himbo, Valentino caught his breath. Looking at the work of art in front of him Angel asked “How are you feeling bro?” and in a much deeper voice that shocked Valentino he replied with “W…what did you…do to me?”. Angel, needing to finish the newly minted himbo’s transformation, brought Valentino over to the couch and sat him down and then saddled on top of Valentino’s hips, trapping him in place. “Shhhhh you will be finished soon, pretty boy,” Angel said. Hearing the words “pretty boy” dance out of his mouth, felt like a static shock swept through Valentinos brain, assisting the dissipating B.O. that was keeping Valentino dazed during the transformation. As the static shock shot from ear to ear he felt his own head fall back against the couch and his mouth become unbarred of his lips and be left agape, losing the power to keep his lips fully shut. Angel, knowing that it is time to complete the sweaty hunk he is mounting, removes his sneaker, brings it up to his own nose and takes a whiff.

Shuttering out of pure pleasure and excitement Angel moans out “I stink so goddamn good! You’re gonna love this part dude!”. Lowering the shoe over Valentino’s face, covering his mouth and nose with the outpouring of foot funk rapidly escaping from the heavily used shoe, Angel watches as Valentino’s eyes roll into the back of his skull as if he is trying to watch his own brain transform. The stench, bolting out, trying to escape the shoe that kept it trapped like a genie in a lamp, forced its way out of the shoe to find a new home. Being met with an open mouth and two nostrils the rank air shot into Valentino’s lungs and brain. In his brain Valentin felt as his thinking got, somehow, even slower, he could feel his thoughts, starting from his most recent, begin to evaporate into the stench. As the wave of foot funk continued to alter Valenti’s mind he could feel his years of going to bookstores and quaint little cafés with Edgar turn into years constantly hitting the gym and playing soccer with Edgar. Valent felt the memories of learning how to take care of himself and keep a neat ship from his loving sisters turn into him and his brothers leaving dirty laundry everywhere, ripping ass constantly in each other's faces, overflowing their kitchen sink with dishes and passively hotboxing their rooms with their own foul funk. Helping tutor kids after school while Valen was in High School turned into needing to get a tutor for every subject, no one would take him because they couldn’t bear the stench. All of these memories of being a responsible, smart, and clean functioning member of society turned into memories of an irresponsible, total airhead of a jock who only filled his head with the scent of him dutch ovening himself for fun and the funk of his never washed armpits or feet. Vale struggled as he tried desperately to hold onto his memories but for whatever reason these new stink filled memories seemed just so much better in every way, life was easier, simpler, he loved hanging with his best bro Edgar even more, and he never needed to clean up after himself. I mean if he or his friends didn’t mind the stink constantly hanging in his apartment, and knowing that his friends amplify the stink whenever they come over he knew they didn’t mind one bit, then why would he need to get rid of his own hard work? And Val never got rid of his “hard work”, all over his apartment layed piles of damp piles of clothes that stink to high heaven, and the stupefying scent of the shoe rack at the front door will make sure that any non-jock coming in, or even any jock coming in, will leave a little bit stupider. Whenever Val has a guy over he always gets a little annoyed when the twink he takes home won't stop complaining about the lingering smell but he doesn’t mind it anymore because he knows that just one whiff of his bedroom will render their minds incapable of thinking of words for at least an hour.

Angel feeling a wet spot spread out across Val’s crotch knew that Valentino was never coming back, Val was here to stay. Removing his other shoe and throwing them both on the ground at the foot of the couch, Angel got off of Val and sat next to him with his arm around Val’s shoulder. “You and your friend Edgar transformed nicely into your true, machismo forms.” Angel mumbled to himself. Angel then asked you “Hey bro after we fuck do you have any twinks that I can uhhhh…help realize their true potential.” “Uhhhhhhhhh” Val thought for a long time trying to get a thought to bubble through, “Oh! My friend Bruno is single right now!”, “Perfect. Text him and say that I will take him out tomorrow at 1:00” Angel requested of his new macho gym bro.

Jonny Get Your Gun

While thrift shopping Jon stumbles upon an old helmet from which he will not walk away the same. Sub to dom army masculinization!

Been a while since I’ve written a military TF and after somehow getting Over There stuck in my head this happened! Hope you enjoy! -Occam

Jon and Troy were at the thrift store looking for something cute to wear to a friend’s party this weekend. The couple certainly have established wardrobes to choose from but are looking for something new, something flashy. They’re looking for something that’s just calling out to them. Never wanting to spin their wheels in place they want something to mix it up. Lo and behold as Jon makes his way to the back of the store does he find a hat doing just that, or rather a helmet.

Almost out of place on a dust-covered in the back of the store, rack Jon’s interest is immediately piqued by the army helmet. Nearing it his mind shuffles through thoughts, each one drawing him closer and compelling him to just go ahead and try the helmet on. Camo is chic right now, surely this would be just the kind of quirky experimental look they’re going for. At the very least Jon can’t help but grin at what Troy’s reaction will be when he sees Jon do a little campy salute wearing it.

With a slightly scheming grin Jon’s hands grasp at the helm, ignoring the pleasant warmth as it sits in his fingers as he hoists it onto his head. Heavier than he thought it would be, he thinks before everything around him goes silent. For but a moment he is alone with his thoughts, he hasn’t even enough time to notice that his priorities have immediately realigned before the buzz of the outside world returns. Jon shakes his head presuming that to have been his ears popping as he returns to his business, only briefly struggling to recall what that business was.

He would almost forget the helmet was on his head were it not for the soothing comfort it offers. Scratching his thin chest as he pushes it lower on his head before seeing his boyfriend and lighting up. Jon quickly aways to meet his Troy standing at a rack of tacky clothing that he for some reason he can’t bring himself to care about. He almost laughs as he sees his boyfriend pull out a technicolor blouse, presuming it to be some kind of joke. Forgetting his own plan of using the helmet as a joke he greets his love.

“Troyyy, surely you’re not wearing that yeah?” His boyfriend turns and holds up the certainly eye-catching silk blouse with a sarcastic scoff, “Ugh! I thought it was cute!” He does a brief pose with it and Jon laughs transparently judgmentally. Jon holds for some witty remark on the garment that should well have spilled forth from his ever-clever boyfriend, but none arrives after his boyfriend laughs louder than usual. He rolls his eyes and then looks to his boyfriend shocked that he’s missed something so dreadful on his head.

“Oh you’re one to talk G.I. Jon.” He half smirks as he pokes fun, assuming this is what his boyfriend intended walking up dressed like they’re at some surplus store. For his part Jon looks briefly confused before feeling at his head and remembering his new accessory. He laughs harshly once more, Troy flinches at the volume and looks around hoping no one is disturbed by his boyfriend acting uncharacteristically boorish. “Hey keep it down babe!” Jon swiftly obeys, holding a finger to his mouth only slightly mockingly before forcing a hand onto his boyfriend’s head and ruffling his hair.

Troy jumps back and rapidly sets to righting his pristine hair with a click of his tongue before returning the blouse to the rack, “Surprised you even but that on babe. Surely your hair looks like a nest now under that bowl.” Jon thinks about that for a second, sure that his boyfriend is right, that he should care about how messy his hair would be. After a second he is reminded of just how right the helmet feels and he knows he doesn’t mind whatever after effects there could possibly be. He begins scheming for a way to walk out of here with the helmet as it seems his boyfriend doesn’t seem to appreciate it nearly as much as he does. But Jon needs to have it.

They spend about half an hour longer browsing the aisles, Troy picks out a few things every so often turning to his boyfriend for his takes which come slower and less tactful at each turn. Jon’s mind swims as he feels this should be more enjoyable than it currently is. He briefly looks at some clothes for himself but with each passing minute the idea of him experimenting with clothes feels increasingly alien. Eventually he pulls out his phone and just trails behind his boyfriend, scrolling for any stimulation as he finds the idea of clothes shopping suddenly not only rote but impossibly boring. 

He groans loudly as Troy turns down another rack and his boyfriend turns in absolute shock to find Jon’s face plastered with genuine irritation. “Is everything alright Jon?” Seeing a look of concern on his boyfriend’s face Jon quickly struggles to hide his sour mood, pushing the hat down once more as he apologizes, “Uhh yeah of course, sorry I just read something, uh, on twitter.” Troy, grimaces at the phoned in lie and resolves to hurry up, “Sure sure, we can head out soon. I’ll grab this anddd you can put that helmet back and then we’re gone.”

Jon stands still in shock and Troy’s brows rise at the idea his boyfriend actually intended to keep wearing that stupid looking tin can. The idea is so bizarre to him he doesn’t even know how to respond, in the moment he just does an awkward smile and speaks through his teeth, “Oh, did you um. Want that? helmet?” Jon’s eyes race as he too struggles to find the words racing through his mind, overwhelmed by a level of desire he’s never even neared feeling before the army gear graced his head. Almost like hunger or the need to breathe is the desire for the helmet, his helmet, to stay where it belongs.

Seeing something strange painted on his boyfriend’s face Troy sighs and turns to walk to the counter, “If it’s more than thirty bucks we’re leaving it.” Jon’s heart thrums with excitement as he follows behind his boyfriend. For a brief moment that pings as uncomfortable for the man, surely he should be the one in front right? He shakes it off just as quick as they arrive at the counter, scratching at his hair underneath the helm, unaware as his lengthy curls almost seem shorter underneath, thicker and rigid as it pokes his hand and the helmet.

The cashier quickly rings up Troy’s pile of purchases before turning to see what Jon has brought, seeing the helmet on his head, “Oh, did you want to buy that as well?” Jon wordlessly nods with excitement that the cashier couldn’t miss, he continues, “Pshh, y’know what? That was going to be trash tomorrow so I don’t really mind just letting you have it.” Seeing the needy grin grow into a confident smirk on Jon’s face the cashier’s heart almost flutters as he concludes he made the right choice there. Despite knowing the two are definitely boyfriend’s he can’t help but flirt with Jon, “Consider it kismet, looks good on you.” with a wink. Troy scowls and the cashier quickly apologizes profusely before the two quickly usher themselves out the door.

Troy holds his tongue as they make their way to the car, less than thrilled that the helmet is coming with them. Even less thrilled at the fact that Jon’s gait is clearly shifting after being flirted with, in a manner Troy is quite familiar with. Not usually the jealous type, Troy easily pushes that down but remains on edge as he sees Jon maneuver to the driver side of the car. Holding the keys he honks the car to remind his boyfriend he’s the one driving. Jon scoffs and rolls his eyes before sauntering to the passenger side, deliberating adjusting his crotch as he does so. Troy narrows his eyes and lets loose his held tongue, “Are you just hungry or what Jon!? Can you chill?” Moving his hand from his package Jon raises his arms defensively but before he can answer his stomach indeed growls and he laughs. Taking this as confirmation that his boyfriend’s odd state is just some form of hanger Troy hops in the driver’s seat and starts the car.

Jon can’t help but grimace getting into the passenger’s seat, he knows this is his boyfriend’s car and that he doesn’t even like driving. But something just feels emasculating about this current situation. Try as he might, it's just bothering him, like a buzz in the back of his mind that something is wrong. Agreeing with Troy’s appraisal that he must just be ravished he reclines his chair as far back as it goes and shifts the helmet to cover his face. He can’t even hear as Troy chides him for doing so while driving, nor the playful judgment at how that helmet must stink. Instead he relishes the familiarity in its scent.

Eyes on the road Troy can’t see how Jon’s hair has changed in a manner totally unexpected. Rather than disheveling the long wavy curls as should have happened, his hair has completely changed to a look he would never be caught dead in, not quite a buzz or high and tight; his boyfriend is now sporting something jarringly jockish. Not only that but as he takes deep seemingly sleepish breaths of his helmet his chest rises higher, stretches wider than ever before, the hem of his shirt inching higher and exposing a waist not quite as thin as either man would have expected. Hearing snoring Troy steals a glance of the midriff exposed and blushes as he sees not only the barest hint of a treasure trail rising above the waist but that his bulge has returned with a vengeance, pulsing as whatever swift dream Jon has found is clearly more than a little alluring.

Under the helmet Jon isn’t quite asleep, as soon as the helmet covered his face he found himself obsessed with the scent that now bathes him. Something deep, musky, and impossibly familiar. Not quite the locker rooms of his youth, nor the sweaty bacchanals of pride events today. No it is something he knows he has never smelled before but with each breath the sweaty metallic scent imbues the not-quite memories with more reality. It’s at the edge of his mind, the edge of his tongue. He opens his mouth and looses his tongue into the humid breathy air underneath the helm and a memory that never was sears itself into his mind. Lifting weights with men clearly performatively masc, bodies stained with patriotic tattoos, grunts filling the air. Long dark nights in barracks, sweaty bodies grinding silently against each other in bunks.

Half-dreaming of a reality he never experienced and yet knows intimately his true body finds itself awkwardly catching in between his reclined seat and its seatbelt. He shifts as muscle groups never trained strain to grow. His ass hardens as in his mind he can’t help but picture grinding against other men in his cohort and his body responds in kind. Pushing against his seatbelt as it holds him tighter, his cock staining the jock-strap he threw on this morning with pre as his cock grows to push it further than it ever has before. Hearing the concerning sounds of fabric stretching and eventually a deep breathy moan Troy blushes and calls his boyfriend’s name, “Jon?”

Immediately cogent, the flashbacks of a life he hasn’t lived cease and Jon rockets up in his chair, slamming into his taut seatbelt, shooting his helmet into the windshield. “Fuck!” Going flying it thankfully bounces off safely before landing in Troy’s lap as he squints in irritation at his boyfriend. Without pause he stretches and yawns like a foghorn, his hands bumping against the low roof of Troy’s car as they rise higher than his thin arms should allow, “Yeah I could eat. You gonna cook?” Troy tilts his head at the question, both of them obviously knowing that Jon is the cook between the two. 

He pauses for a few seconds waiting for his boyfriend to address this in any form. Saying he doesn’t want to cook, that it’s a joke, anything at all. But after realizing how matter-of-fact Jon was Troy realizes that something is up. Biding his time he goes with something less than confrontational, “Did you want to grab something to eat?” Jon looks over at him in excitement, eyes flitting between his boyfriend and the hat in his lap, “Oooh Yeah! Fuck I’m craving some burgers babe!” 

Troy almost swerves as Jon says this, his boyfriend has been a vegetarian as long as the pair have dated, before even. He again waits for Jon to state this is an odd joke that simply hasn’t landed but the seconds slowly pass and judging by the dumb almost drooling expression on boyfriend’s face it’s clear that Jon is being nothing but genuine. Still driving he glances over to inspect his boyfriend closer and finally begins to pick away at his appearance. He balks at the bizarre haircut, sure that Jon did not have it this morning, nor could he picture a world where he boyfriend would deign to get it as it inches even shorter still. Trailing down to look at his body he sees the seatbelt straining to hold him down, he hears Jon grumble as it almost seems to cut in even tighter. Suddenly muscle that has never graced the chest of his boyfriend begins to rise underneath the belt.

Acting first out of concern Troy asks him, “Babe, I think your seatbelt is a little tight?” Jon guffaws in response, agreeing before undoing it and letting it slam into the window, “huhu you’re so right babe! So are we gonna stop at Micky D’s or what?” Seeing his boyfriend scratch at his pubes and refraining from returning his seatbelt Troy, ever a superstitious type, begins to suspect something sinister and otherworldly occuring and the root of it is more than clear. Clenching his own jaw as he sees Jon’s dumb smile above a jawline not nearly as petite as it should be, he rolls down his own window and prepares for the only recourse he can think of. 

When Jon checks his phone looking for the nearest fast food restaurant, Troy acts. Grabbing the helmet and launching it out the window. Unbuckled Jon drops his phone and launches himself onto his boyfriend, “What the fuck!” The helmet shoots back and crashes against the highway as Troy swerves with the weight of his boyfriend on his lap, heavier than Troy knows him to be. He ignores the harsh litany of swears being shot at him as Jon ambles back to his own seat and stares at the highway behind them. Each insult in his diatribe at Troy sounds crueler than the one before it, darker and almost deeper before he turns back and sulks in his chair. Arms clenched as anger begins to seep into every muscle in his form.

“Can you put your seatbelt back on?” Jon scoffs and ignores him, “Why did you do that?” Troy puffs his cheeks as he tries to think of a reasonable explanation for his actions, knowing that his boyfriend is generally against his superstitions, and certainly not knowing just how consumed his boyfriend had been by the helmet now dented in the dirt behind them. Eyes hidden by a brow higher and deeper than the pretty boy's face should have. Jon barely listens to his boyfriend’s justifications, finding absolutely nothing of note to justify such wanton destruction of something so meaningful, so tantamount to his own being. Troy continues to try and offer meaning, unaware that the damage has already been done in more ways than one.

The rest of the ride home is silent and brief. The boyfriends opt to fend for themselves for dinner. Hiding away from ire he simply can’t bring himself to understand, Troy goes to make himself a sandwich later that night and finds the kitchen in absolute shambles. The floor is littered with packaging from every piece of junk the two men had in the house, he balks as he tries to imagine his usually meek and pompous chef of a boyfriend stomaching the mess that lies at his feet. Almost a dozen egg shells lie tossed into the sink alongside tofacon that was clearly spit out and discarded after a single bite. 

Troy puts off his dinner to clean the mess made by his boyfriend. He knows it’s unlike Jon to leave a mess like this, or, he racks his brain to remember just how neat his boyfriend is supposed to be and struggles to really come to a conclusion. Soon enough he is completely overcome with a headache, one that grows with intensity as he tries to remember aspects of Jon. Though usually the human mind is skilled at holding contradictions Troy is struck with a migraine as two paradoxical images of his boyfriend come to mind.

The former the one he swears to be true. He remembers him at university, always going out of his way to speak up in class. Eager to go above and beyond. Showy but never too ostentatious. Anyone would describe him as kind and caring. Nothing like the man who jumped on top of him while he was driving. The Jon he knows would never go this long without checking in, especially after they had such a spat as they did. Nor would he leave half eaten tofu on the counter. Ugh but such is the sticking point, would he? He certainly has now. Troy scours his memory once more for another instance of indecency. His mind latches onto something, it is just like when they first moved in together! Right after Jonny finished his tour. What? Troy clenches at his head as it feels like a metaphysical ice pick just stabbed into his mind.

He screams and even more distress arrives after Jonny doesn’t even come to check on him. Troy hasn’t the prescience to care all too much at the moment as he feels but seconds away from passing out altogether. He barely gets up to his feet before stumbling down the hall to their bedroom. The room is filled with a musk that Troy doesn’t even have the prescience to notice. Seeing the man on his bed his vision blurs as the massive body is juxtaposed in his memory. Arms that hadn’t enough muscle to lift a cinder block fade before the powerful biceps in front of him. He moans as aftershocks of his migraine arrive before he collapses onto the bed, unconsciousness swiftly arriving as he feels the massive arms immediately encompass him.

He awakens completely entrapped in biceps that are larger than his own legs. Jonny’s new arms hold him tight to his sweat covered chest as Troy struggles to even have mobility to take a deep breath. “J- Jonny!” He chokes out before squirming around in Jonny’s iron grip, finding it easier than it should be as his torso is slicked by the inhuman amount of sweat drenching him. Troy tries to push off foolishly as his hands find no purchase. Changing strategies he instead slips out underneath as Jonny starts to stir, his face coming awfully close to a soaking wet package far larger than it should be. He sees tattoos stained across his boyfriend’s body. Ones that he wouldn’t in a thousand years imagine his boyfriend getting. Though as he does indeed imagine he finds he clearly remembers Jonny telling him about his plans to get each and every one.

Jonny awakens with a loud yawn, stretching as his whole form lengthens to its final height. Legs truly as thick as tree trucks hang off his bed while his arms raise high above their headboard before moving elsewhere to scratch the dense bushes in his pits and pubes. Troy pointedly looks away from the morning wood bobbing in the air between them as he desperately awaits for some sense of normalcy to return to his life. Finishing his morning ritual of feeling himself up and scratching at every itch that arises Jonny speaks up, his voice a harsh and raspy baritone that forces all, especially Troy, to pay attention, “Mornin’ babe. Yo can you make me some food while I get a morning pump on?” 

Troy is torn between nodding enthusiastically and fleeing for help, causing him to stand motionlessly in place. His mind is made up as Jonny stands suddenly a foot taller than him and reaches to pull him close once more, forcing his head into his sweaty pecs, inches from the forest of already musty pit hair. Troy struggles not to sharply inhale as Jonny grabs his hair and forces him to make eye contact, he smirks before releasing his boyfriend and heading off to their office, slapping him on the ass before beginning whatever work he sees fit.

This has never been their morning routine but Troy sets out like it is the only reason for his existence. He finds a fridge beyond stocked with everything such a massive trooper could desire. Swiftly preparing a meat filled breakfast Troy has barely any time to himself to even begin to question what has gone on, and when he does so his paranoia and discomfort is replaced with a desire to do nothing but obey his boyfriend. After all, is it not his place to please him? He is the man of their house. This is how it has always been.

Troy loads up a large plate to bring directly to his boyfriend, only pausing to tidy up his own appearance. He pulls an apron, one once monogrammed with a J, tight to highlight his slight curves as he knocks on their office door. He is washed with a rush of musk and sweat as if he were walking into a rainforest. Where there were once desks and bookshelves there are reams of free weights and other gym equipment, Troy’s head twitches before he has no problem at all, the room obviously is as it always has been. As it always will be, he blushes as he sees Jonny hard at work, his arms already far larger than when he woke up to them around his waist this morning.

He feels his cock stir as he sees Jonny’s pulse with every lift of the weight. The army green of his clothing highlighting every bulging muscle as he continues to exercise it towards perfection. Troy bites his lip as he imagines the things that could be done with that cock, memories of himself topping swiftly erasing as Jonny is so obviously the top it would require a rewrite of reality for it to not be the case. Hanging on the wall is an old helmet that Troy would have sworn he threw against the pavement at 60 miles per hour. His psyche immediately chastises him for the thought, how could he have done that! He knows how much Jonny loves that helmet!

Troy quickly goes to leave the food on a bench out of use before retreating from the room, not waiting for his boyfriend to say thanks. He skips making his own breakfast to instead tidy the kitchen and their living room, somehow already soiled with dirty laundry. He smells his boyfriend coming before he sees him, a trail of post-workout sweat steaming off in his wake as he goes to sit on the couch. Immediately staining it before discarding clothes onto the only recently tidied floor. He turns on the television before patting on his meaty thigh.

His boyfriend, knowing what this means, immediately rushes over to make his acquaintance. Doe eyes inspecting every bulging muscle and pulsing vein across his body. Jonny’s cock clearly begs for post-workout release as the two sit on the couch together. Troy gets to the floor and begins to pull at his boyfriend’s underwear when he hears the massive man click his tongue, “You know babe I’ve been thinking.” Already on the floor Troy waits patiently, his face inches away from the throbbing cock, “You ever wanted to enlist?”

Images of powerful army bodies dance through Troy’s mind. His small figure out of place among them certainly, but with each passing day he could fit in more. Be more. He imagines himself becoming far more than he is, running drills, pumping iron, commanding lesser men. The idea sends butterflies in his stomach as he pictures himself finally being on top, alongside Jonny. It’s barely enough for him to bear as whimpers on the floor in front of his boyfriend. Jonny just smirks and reclines, “Gotta start somewhere.” planning to go grab his favorite helmet off the wall as soon as the pair are done here. There’s always room for more men in the corps, and wouldn’t it be nice to get head from someone else who's fucking huge.

Biker Breath

Zane was riding home from work on his bicycle when he passed a pile of stuff sitting on the curb with a sign attached saying “For Free”. Zane stopped to inspect what all was left out on the street and saw a super nice looking biker helmet, carefully picking it up he noticed some scratches and dings on the helmet but besides that it was still in perfect working condition. While he was examining it Zane noticed the rancid scent emanating out of the helmet. Holding his nose, Zane began to put the helmet back onto the curb when he heard a voice in his head that wasn’t his, it was a deeper, more masculine voice demanding him to put the helmet on. Wanting to resist, Zane set the helmet down and turned his back to it and the other stuff on the curb when the voice again demanded “Put on the helmet”, Zane was overcome with the need to put the helmet on. As he lifted the helmet up over his head Zane pleaded with the voice “Please…No…It reeks”. Feeling the voice command him to lower the helmet on his head, Zane’s mind and body obediently obeyed as he lost control of both. Upon lowering the helmet onto his head Zane could smell the reeking stench of the helmet. It reeked of sweat and B.O., the previous owner had obviously never even attempted to clean it.

Regaining consciousness and control of his body, Zane tried to take the helmet off, but quickly he heard the voice command “Breath in deep wimp” Zane once again obediently followed orders and took in a deep whiff of the helmet’s noxious stench. Zane would have normally been disgusted but he wasn’t, in fact he loved the rancid stench of sweat trapped in the helmet. Zane heard another command echo through his head, “Get on your puny bike loser”. Zane sat on his metal bicycle and began to pedal away. With every pedal, he bike became more akin to what a real man would ride. It slowly transformed into a fast and slick motorcycle.

Zane revved the bike instinctually and he felt his dick shoot to life at the same time, it was weird, Zane never was interested in motorcycles but his body was aching for more. Zane’s puny body was sitting atop a nice expensive motorcycle now but his body and face were still that of a wimpy nerd. That was soon to change, the voice started describing what a biker boy should be like. “Biker boys are unhygienic beasts who never wear deodorant, shower once a week, and never brush their teeth, all of that is for weak pussies” Zane could suddenly remember why the helmet smelled so bad, it was HIS stench that was infused into the helmet. Zane breathed in another deep whiff of the stink HE cultivated and let out a pleasurable sigh, breathing out a torrent of funky smelling breath, Zane added to the stench and made himself more loopy. Feeling his weak body get light and tingly Zane kept riding his newly minted motorcycle, he stopped at a red light and looked over at the car next to him, “Had I always had such big muscles?” Zane thought to himself as he saw his reflection in the car’s window. “No…can’t be I…” he took a breath in and inhaled more of his noxious B.O. and bad breath, “…I have always been this buff duhhh” Zane pulled off and sped home away from the stop light. Arriving home his brother was getting out of his car in the driveway, pulling up was surprised when he saw the man on the motorcycle, he looked like a stranger to him. “Hey man I think you got the wrong address” Zane’s brother told the now insanely ripped Zane, “Whatchu mean bro this my crashpad!” Zane said loudly. “Nah my brother lives here with me and my dad not you” Zanes brother remarked. Zane got off his bike and walked up to his little bro, “Heeeeeeeeeeey man chillax…no need to get your pantiessssss in a bunch” Zane drew out certain syllables on words so that he could breathe out his nasty breath that smelled like he had just eaten garlic, and fish, and hadn’t brushed his teeth in weeks. Zane’s brother’s eyes glazed over upon smelling his older brother’s stale and stinky breath, “Oh hey bro welcome home” Zane reached an arm around his brother’s shoulder and they walked to the house together. “Yeaaaaaaahhh you love your big bro’s stinking breath dont cha lil man” Zane laughed and purposely let out a blast of his funky breath into his brother’s face, “Yea…bro I- I love how…stinky…your breath i- is…I wish I was m-more like you”His brother said mindlessly as if in a trance. “Well in that case lil bro I wanna take you on a ride tonight okay? You can wear my helmet I jusssssst got it” Zane breathed out more of his rank breath while he spoke. “Yea…uhh like…totally bro…” His lil bro responded not knowing that the ride would seal his fate just how his brother’s was.

Locker 054

Michael was excited to be picking up a new hobby, he was going to start going to the gym, he was always a pretty skinny guy but he was looking to put on some muscle. Entering the gym for the first time Michael spoke to the guy running the front desk, he got a membership set up for himself and was pointed in the direction of the locker room. Entering the locker room for the first time, Michael was met with a musty smell lingering in the place. Of course Michael wasn't expecting it to smell like a perfume counter so he didn’t pay too much mind to the smell, but as he entered deeper into the locker room the smell got more and more intense. He had passed by a tall gym bro who had dumbly told him “Broooo, locker 054 is unlocked if you wanna use it.”

Michael had decided to find locker 054 and when he got to it he set his stuff down on the bench while he opened it up. Upon opening it he was met with an obviously worn tank top and a pair of gray sweatpants sitting at the bottom of his locker, and on top sat a pair of ripe gym socks. Gagging and turning away Michael was disgusted from the ripe scent pouring off of the clothes and out of the locker. It reeked so horribly that Michael grabbed his stuff and started to walk away when he suddenly thought to himself “Why am I leaving my locker wide open…? Im such a dummy” turning back around he made his way back to the toxic smelling locker. Setting his stuff back down Michael began to get changed, picking up the stinking socks he slipped one foot in and then the other. Feeling the wet feel of the sweat soaked socks would have typically disgusted Michael but now he felt as if this was natural for him. He could smell the newly acquired putrescent stink flowing out of his feet. Taking a deep whiff he felt his head get lighter, and for some reason being here in the gym, in the locker room, at this locker, it all felt so routine.

He proceeded to grab the sweat pants and pull them up above waist, his crotch immediately released the stench of his dried cum and ball sweat wafting towards his nose. It was odd to Michael that he could smell it given that he had showered right before he came to the gym, he shouldn't reek already. Checking if it really was coming from him Michael did something that he would never have done normally, he scratched his balls with his right hand and brought his fingers up to his nose, taking a big whiff he audibly went “Huhuhuhu…so stinky”.

Going back to putting the gym clothes on after his sniff check, Michael put his arm through one arm hole and then the other arm through the other of the white tank top. Now completely on Michael once again smelled a new nasty scent radiating off of him, sticking the same hand he had used to scratch his balls underneath his armpit he left it tucked there for a few seconds. Pulling it out he once again brought his hand to his nose and took a deep whiff. Letting the smell of his wet, tainted, armpit flood his nose sealed his fate. His body began to inflate as his arms grew more muscular, his legs grew sturdier, his feet grew bigger. He let out a deep dump giggle and picked up a can of AXE body spray from his bag. Spraying a spritz on each pit he gave them a sniff to check, to him they now smelled fresh as a daisy, but to anyone else they completely reeked of strong B.O. and cheap AXE. Looking in the mirror Michael saw a hot gymnast reeking of pheromones. Proud of his muscles and progress over the past few years coming to the gym he flexed in the mirror, lifting his arms to do so let out his festering pit stench directly from the source.

After practicing his gymnastics routine for an hour or so he returned to the locker room. Michael got changed back into his everyday clothes that were now too small and straining at the seams. He took the pile of damp gym clothes and set them back in the locker. Adorning his filthy pile with his even smellier socks on top, he leaned in and took a deep sniff of the stinky pile, eyes rolling back in his head from pleasure he knew had had a good workout based off of the stink he and his clothes let off. Closing the locker and leaving it unlocked he had begun to walk to the door when he passed by a lean guy walking into the locker room. “Broooo, locker 054 is unlocked if you wanna use it.” Michael disclosed with his usual idiotic tone.

Hey man I don’t know what is happening to me and my best friends. We been working on a science project for our chemistry class at college but something has went very wrong. We accidentally. Got some of the chemicals on us and now we feel very weird and our clothes fell tighter then normal plus I feel to have a closer relationship to my best friend of 15 years bro. So bro I need your help…… help to stop what hap….. uhuhuhuh…. happening to us BRO!

The sirens were activated. The lights flickered, and the colour changed from its usual white to red. The liquid in the test tube you were holding started to give off a thick smoke. The room was quickly filled with vapor, blocking your view.  You and your best friend panicked, screaming in fear. With a jerking motion out of fear, you spilt your test tube on the lab coats of you and your friend. In  panic, the two of you evacuated the laboratory.

You and your best friend has become flatmates when you discovered you were attending the same university. You both were doing a major in chemistry. You were two very bright students who spent most of their time studying and playing TRPGs. You had never been in a gym, and you did not really connect with people who did fitness as a hobby. However, the two of you had both grown jealous of the big burly men who roamed the campus. You combined your knowledge to find a shortcut to a better body. A shortcut to a better life.

Today was a crazy day. You and your best friend, who had been roommates for a year now, arrived home. The weird liquid had stained both of your coats. It had eroded through it, and dyed your skin. You took turns trying to wash it off. But nothing seemed to work. Your friend had been sweating since he got home. His damp clothes did not help masking the strong musky smell. You told him to shower and to go to bed. You planned to shower tomorrow.

The next morning you felt extremely tired. You stretched your arms, which seemed to be harder than usual. It seemed like your body was struggling because of, well, itself! You looked at your arms. They definitely seemed bigger than usual. A thick layer of hair covered your lower arm, as thick muscles adorned your upper arm. You looked down, to be met with two mounts of flesh that weren’t there before. Your chest was covered with a dark pelt of fur. The hair went from your chest all the way to your feet. You touched your new body, feeling the coarse hairs. You touched your belly, feeling a layer of chub on your frame. You were by no means fat, but you weren’t shredded either. Your new hair seemed to work as some sort of isolation material. You were sweating buckets! A strong smell came from your glorified body.

You headed out of your room, looking for a mirror to check out this new you. In the bathroom, you are met with a man you barely recognize as your best friend. The previously blond twink had grown a dark stubble overnight. His body had also grown in size, but not as big as you. He had gained some inches, as well as some muscle. “Bro, what happened to you?” He said. Bro? He never said bro. He wasn’t some weird douche! “Whacha mean man?” You were shocked by what left your mouth! Your voice had dropped 2 octaves being a full and heavy voice. 

All of a sudden the way your friend looked at you changed. As if his train of thought had changed. He looked at you with lust in his eyes. “He bro, you look like you need to blow of some steam. Let me help you.” He got onto his knees, his nose in the thick bush just above your dick. He sniffed your ripe musk, looking up at you as if asking for permission. You could only grin at him, as he put your thick girthy cock in his mouth.

A new bunny in the gym

My roommate Ryan has always been telling me I need to loosen up and stop taking life so seriously. Maybe he's got a point. While I spend all my time in the library studying he spends it at the gym or having fun at the club, and being bisexual he never has a probably finding a fuck.

I finally relented and joined him at the gym. The place was huge. Full of men of different sizes, all with bulging muscles. Though I was straight, not that I had much luck with girls, I could appreciate that all the men here were pretty attractive.

As I didn't know what to do or what to wear at the gym Ryan took me under his wing. Giving me socks, shorts, trainers, t-shirt, baseball cap, and a jockstrap to wear.

I was hesitant at first with the jockstrap, the black material didn't exactly look like it was new. It certainly wasn't something I would usually wear either.

"Don't worry bro, it's what all the guys wear!" Ryan promised.

I thought that I should listen to him considering that this was his domain so I done as I was told.

We started with some squats. Ryan showing me how to do stretch properly and safely use the weights. As I started squatting I felt the huge weights actually become easier and easier each time .

"Your legs are going to be so thick after this!" Ryan called out.

"...and so will that ass" he muttered under his breath.

We moved around the gym using the different machines. Each time they became easier to use really quickly. What I didn't notice was my body changing.

Muscle was quickly building up across my body. Turning me into a meaty gym bunny.

At the same time all those hours spent in the library were slipping away. Which explains why I didn't notice the changes.

It also explains why I didn't notice that all the guys in the gym were all very similar. About half were strong tall beasts with huge muscles. Whereas the rest were smaller, leaner but just as muscly with round bouncing asses.

Our final exercise was a couple of bench presses. I lay on my back with Ryan standing above my head helping me lift.

As he did he lowered his crotch towards my face. Breathing in his sweaty musk I felt everything click in place. My cock harded immediately and I became lost in his trance.

"I see you're changes have finally finished" Ryan said.

Putting the bar into the rack I stopped and looked up at him.

"You weren't living life and I was sick of coming back to the apartment to find you studying and not having fun. So when I found out about this place I had to bring you. Now that you're a muscle bro you can join me and have fun."

I just let the words sink in.

Ryan continued. "The best bit is that now you're just a cock hungry gym bunny. With an ass like that you'll be getting plenty of dick. Most of it mine. You won't even remember being straight."

---

That was four months ago. He was right. Now we go to the gym everyday together. Him a towering hulk of a man and me, a lean twunk with an ass that just begs to be fucked.

And it is fucked, all the time. I quickly grew to love the feeling and now I can't get enough. When Ryan isn't free I sometimes get help from the other guys at the gym. They're always happy to stretch me out after a session.

Life is so much easier now, why did I waste all that time in the library?

_____

First time writing, let me know your thoughts!

Your stories and images are beyond incredible. My favorite blog on tumblr BY FAR. Truly incredible work. I guess it’s kind of selfish, so absolutely so absolutely no worries, at the very least I got to tell you how much I appreciate and love your content. But I’m a short, nerdy, thin, art student in college right now. I’m tired of being in the closet, I’m tired of being a push over, Im tired of being weak and submissive, I’m tired of being a virgin, and I wanna change. Maybe you could help with a story by turning me into one of those jaw dropping beautiful confident men that you make the pictures of, I would very much appreciate it. But no worries if you can’t, I just love your content!

Confidence

Nathaniel sighed quietly, as he came over his hairless stomach. Of course, he had to be quiet! The dorm walls were paper-thin, and he certainly didn't want the guys from the neighboring dorm rooms to hear him. He looked at the website once more, with the story and the hot buff men before he closed the incognito browser tab and proceeded to clean himself up.

When he looked into the bathroom mirror, he sighed again, but this time, it was a sigh of sadness. There really wasn't anything remotely impressive about him. He was thin and weak, and pathetic really. If it wasn't for his lack of boobs and his sorry excuse for a dick, he could very well pass as a woman. In fact, he had been mistakenly called "Madame" more than once, and one time, he had even been asked "how his transition was going".

No, Nathan was a cis man, just not a very impressive one. He was gay, of course, and loved to look at 'real' men while jerking his small cock. Most of the time, he fantasized about some hairy brute rough-handling him, pushing his face against the bed and fucking his tiny ass into submission. However, even though the thought was exciting to Nathan, he even more wished to *be* such a man. The rational part of Nathan knew that both fantasies would not happen anytime, though. It was physically impossible to just *become* a 'real man', and it was impossible for Nathan to even admit to anyone that he was gay. So, he would probably just stay a closeted virgin forever - doomed to masturbate to some kinky stories he was so embarrassed about that he only dared to look at them from an incognito browser tab.

He sighed a third time when he crawled into bed. Perhaps someday he would accept his fate.

Nathan was already almost asleep when he heard the firework starting outside. Right. It was New Year’s Eve. What a way to start the new year.

The next morning, Nathan was feeling a bit better. Of course, his deep-rooted unhappiness still lingered within him, but Nathan decided to try and enjoy the day. He liked new year’s days. Everyone usually was at home after having celebrated the whole night which meant that the world outside was very quiet. Not much happened on New Year’s Day.

Nathan decided to go to a nearby cafe. There, with a steaming mug of hot chocolate next to him, he got out his drawing utensils and looked around the place. There weren't too many people. An older couple sat together, the man reading a book, and the woman reading a magazine, while an elderly lady sat at the counter. She was probably the owner. However, there was one more guy, a young adult like Nathan, who sat on a nearby table all by himself and was playing on his phone. He had his chair tilted back a bit, stabilizing himself against the wall and rocking a bit. He had earphones in his ear, so he was probably listening to music while doing so.

Nathan's first instinct was to draw the old couple, but then he looked at the other young man again. He looked a bit like one of those men from the internet, the kind that Nathan would fantasize about. Just a bit. The other man wasn't burly and muscular and assertive, but instead he had a lean, fit build. Nathan was a bad judge of character, especially without having spoken to the person in question, but the young man didn't look particularly assertive or dominant either. So, all in all, not too much like the men Nathan longed for on the internet. But still, he had a certain charm to him. Nathan liked the fit, lean body and the aura of positivity the man seemed to exude and wanted to capture that on paper.

Nathan began sketching the man, while occasionally looking up, making sure the man wouldn't notice. However, it was hard to keep his eyes off the guy. Every now and then, he would laugh a bit or make a funny face when watching something on his phone, which Nathan couldn't help but find very attractive.

He was just working on drawing the man's hands, when Nathan suddenly heard someone address him.

"Hey, what are you drawing?" The voice didn't sound rude or unfriendly, but plainly interested. Still, Nathan flinched visibly. The attractive man on the other table had removed one earplug and turned towards Nathan.

"Uh, sorry?" stuttered Nathan, not quite sure how to react. The guy pointed at Nathan's drawing pad and smiled: "You're an artist?"

Nathan could feel the blood rushing to his face. The drawing pad was tilted towards Nathan, so his unvoluntary model could not have seen what exactly Nathan was drawing. He could - no, he should - just lie and tell him he was sketching something in the room. But he just couldn't think of anything and the time for a good answer was running out. Almost involuntarily, Nathan stuttered, with his head red like a tomato: "Uhm, yeah, kind of. I was sketching you, actually."

The guy laughed a short and friendly laugh: "Really? Cool! Can I see it?"

Nathan could feel his heartbeat quicken, and his face got even redder. This was so embarrassing! But he couldn't very well refuse now, could he? So, he placed the pad flat on the table, just as the guy came over and sat himself down on Nathan's table.

"Oh wow!", he sounded impressed. "You're really talented! It's like looking into a mirror."

"Thanks" - Nathan hated getting compliments. Not only didn't he know how to react to them, but he also found them mostly fake. He was an art student, but he wasn't that good really, at least in his own opinion. In the dictionary, there was probably a picture of Nathan right next to the entry for "Imposter Syndrome".

"But why are you drawing me?" Although Nathan had feared that this question might come up, he didn't have a good lie to answer it. It was almost as if his mouth was acting on its own, when Nathan heard himself stammer: "Uh, eh, it's because I... I find you quite handsome actually. Good-looking I mean."

Nathan wished for nothing more than to be swallowed by the earth here and now. But to his big surprise, the guy just laughed again and said: "You think so? Thanks! The name's Oliver by the way." Oliver had, apparently, much less of a problem taking a compliment.

"Nathan." said Nathan and started to relax a tiny bit. However, the situation suddenly got even worse, when Oliver continued, in the same light-hearted voice. "Nice to meet you, Nathan! Are you into guys?"

Nathan froze solid. He hadn't expected that. And even worse, the answer was, of course, yes. But there was no way he could say that, was there? So, instead, he just stared at Oliver with his eyes wide open and a deer-in-headlights look.

"I mean, I'm gay - are you as well?" Oliver explained. "With the whole drawing dudes and all."

Nathan's brain had stopped working properly, so he couldn't help but nod and mumble a faint "yes".

Oliver's smile broadened and he said: "Really? Cool!"

Nathan's mind was racing. He had just admitted his homosexuality. To a complete stranger. Out of the blue. He didn't plan to come out that way, it just... happened.

A moment of awkward silence radiated from Nathan, but, thankfully, Oliver salvaged the situation pretty elegantly.

"Listen Nathan, I'll have to run now. But are you free tomorrow around 2? We could grab a coffee and you could show me some of your drawings if you like."

A spark of bravery, completely foreign to him, awakened in Nathan and he answered: "Y-yes. I think I would like that."

Oliver smiled another of his broad smiles. "Awesome! Let's meet here then tomorrow!"

With that, Oliver nodded at Nathan and left the cafe, putting in his headphone again while humming happily.

Did that really just happen? Nathan looked from the unfinished drawing towards the cafe door. Did he really just... got invited to a date? With a handsome guy named Oliver? Nathan wasn't sure whether to be happy or not. On the one hand, it was a miracle, a once in a lifetime opportunity. A cute and hot guy was actually interested in him! But on the other hand, there was no way he could make a good impression. How desperate had that Oliver guy to be to actually ask *him* out?

A small voice in his head insisted that he could just not show up tomorrow and avoid the whole disappointment. But the spark of bravery was still there, and Nathan fought down the feeling. No, he was going to show. If it turned out to be a disaster, he could still flee the scene - it wasn't like Oliver knew literally anything about him.

Nathan quickly packed his things and returned to his dorm room. Once he arrived, he noticed that he was completely covered in sweat of fear. His shirt showed wet spots under his arms and felt cold to the touch. Disgusted, Nathan immediately went for a shower. Only there, standing under the hot steamy water, Nathan could appreciate what happened. He got *asked out*. On a *date*. With a *guy*. Yesterday he had been certain he would die alone and lonely but then, today, he got *asked out*. Was this really a thing? Did it really happen?

He wasn't sure. He had a hard time believing it. Perhaps the whole thing was just a weird dream? A figment of his imagination. But no. The half-finished drawing was proof enough that Oliver really existed.

When Nathan exited the shower cabin, the whole bathroom was covered in steam, blinding the mirrors. Perhaps this - or the spinning of his thoughts - was the reason that he didn't notice that his hair had changed. Instead of his usual medium length brown-ish hair, he now sported a much shorter hairstyle - in a much darker color, almost black. Be it as it may - Nathan had other things on mind than checking his hair. He spent the whole afternoon and even the evening researching on how to make a good impression on a first date.

The next morning, Nathan slept in, which was pretty unusual for him. His whole frame felt weird, when he crawled out of bed. It wasn't too late, either - he had a comfortable 3 hours until the date. When he passed the bathroom mirror on his morning routine, however, he stopped for a moment. Something was... off about his face. His hair. It looked kind of... different?

Nathan stared at his reflection for a few seconds, straining his mind. Somehow, the shape of his jawbone seemed unfamiliar. And was his hair always that dark, almost black?

Finally, he shook his head. No, he was just seeing things. Of course, that was as it always had been. After having finished his bathroom business, Nathan went for a shower and prepared himself.

An hour later, he stood in front of the mirror, trying out a bunch of outfits and felt slight panic rising inside of him. None of his clothes fit very well, it was like he was cursed! It wasn't that his shirts and pants were much too big or much too small, but for some reason none of his clothes really felt comfortable. Both his favorite shirt and his usual jeans felt somewhat constricting today. Finally, Nathan just put on an outfit, and left his room.

When he entered the cafe, Oliver was already sitting there, two coffee mugs in front of him. He smiled, waved and gestured for Nathan to join him.

"Hello, Nathan!"

"H-hi." said Nathan, his nervousness returning.

"Here, I bought you a coffee!" Oliver pushed one of the mugs over the table.

"Thanks." Nathan was somewhat distracted by the ill-fitting clothes, and he could pretty much feel the nervous sweat practically pouring out of his pores.

"No problem!", said Oliver. "I was early, anyway. How are you doing today?"

"Fine." said Nathan and took a sip of his coffee, trying to hide his nervousness. He vividly remembered all the good advice he had read yesterday, but all that felt just impossible to him.

"So, you're an artist? What do you do?" Oliver asked with genuine interest.

"Well, I study art, I guess. I want to be a concept artist, you know, for games or movies or so. But, eh, right now, I'm just a student, and I'm not really that good."

"That's not how I remember it!" smiled Oliver. "Can you show me more of your work?"

Nathan nodded as he got out his sketchbook. Talking about his art was something he was comfortable with and allowed him to warm up somewhat over the course of the conversation. Oliver appeared to be quite a nice guy and had a lot of questions about drawing, so, Nathan, in turn, started to relax and talk more freely. He found out that Oliver was a veterinary technician and had a part time job at a dog shelter. That, combined with the fact that he was, in general, a really nice and positive guy, made him incredibly appealing to Nathan.

After the two had talked for a while, Oliver suddenly remarked: "You know, I really like your stubble! It really suits you!"

Stubble? What was he talking about? Nathan rarely needed to shave, but he had done so this morning, so, it was absolutely impossible that he should have visible facial hair. And yet, as he felt his chin, his fingers met with bristly short hair, so dense and long that there was no way he could have missed it this morning. Nathan found it strange, to say the least, but didn't want to make a scene in this situation. His spark of courage was a small candle flame now, as he just smiled while he felt his chin and said "Thank you!"

The two continued to chat a bit. While doing so, Nathan tried not to think too much about the fact that his clothes were, somehow, tighter than before.

Finally, Oliver's phone buzzed, and he looked at the screen.

"Damn, it's that late already?"

"What is it?", asked Nathan.

"Oh, the dog shelter. I have a shift soon, I need to go!"

Nathan sighed inwardly. He was really enjoying the date and didn't want it to end. He was pulled out of his thoughts by the feeling of Olivers hand on his. It felt... good. Good and strange, like the texture of his own hand was somewhat wrong, somewhat rougher than before. When he looked up into Oliver's eyes, he found the other man smiling.

"I really enjoyed this. You are a wonderful person, Nathan. We should do this again."

Nathan nodded. He didn't trust his voice right now.

"How about... tomorrow?", Oliver continued. "There's an art exhibition in town, perhaps you would like to go there with me?"

Nathan's heart jumped a beat. He didn't have time or courage yet to go to the exhibition and the prospect of seeing Oliver again so soon was wonderful.

"I would very much like that", Nathan replied and smiled.

"Great! Let's meet there, say at 5?"

"Sure!"

Oliver smiled his beautiful, broad smile, and stood up, leaving some money for the coffees on the table. Nathan too got up, but before he could leave, Oliver stopped him with a warm expression in his eyes. "You know, I really think I like you a lot." He said, and his hand touched Nathan's somewhat bristly cheek. Almost automatically, both of their faces drew closer to each other, until their lips met with the slightest touch. It was a chaste, short kiss, but Nathan could feel Oliver's lips smile when they broke apart.

"See you tomorrow!", said Oliver and left the cafe.

Nathan's knees felt weak, and his heart was beating rapidly. There were a thousand feeling, all happening inside him at once and Nathan needed a moment to sort through them before he was able to move again. There was a part of him that couldn't quite believe what just happened, but the biggest part was just euphoric. He basically jogged back to his home, full of a never experienced energy.

When he arrived in his room, his body was feeling even weirder than before. All of his clothes were way too tight. It was not just that he felt constricted, no, the clothes actually were much too small. He quickly got rid of them, noticing that, again, he had sweated like a pig. As Nathan glanced down on himself, he could almost see that his body was somehow different. Fitter, healthier. It was probably just his imagination, though, caused by his ecstatic mood. He briefly considered taking another shower but postponed it to tomorrow. There would be plenty of time and Nathan felt really glad and tired for today.

Nathan woke up from two different feelings the next morning. First, he felt itchy and sweaty all over his body and was subconsciously scratching himself in his sleep. Second, and perhaps even more importantly, Nathan was experiencing a severe case of morning wood. His manhood was rigid and pulsating under his sheets and was begging for attention. Nathan had a hard time remembering when he last experienced such an urgent urge to jerk off. He wasn't sure, but the memories of their kissing yesterday came to his mind as soon as he woke up, so, he couldn't resist closing his hand around his hard cock and started pumping. His hand felt rough and big, and Nathan couldn't be sure, but both length and girth of his tool seemed increased, too. However, Nathan could hardly concentrate on that due to the waves of pleasure washing over him.

It didn't take very long for Nathan to shoot a big load onto his stomach, with a moan. It was a big and sticky load, too, mixing with the little dark hairs on his stomach and chest. Nathan blinked in post-nut clarity. Hairs? He didn't have body hair.

Nathan got up quickly and went to the bathroom. Something about his perspective was off, too. It was like the ceiling was closer than it was supposed to be, and the ground further away. Once Nathan had used some toilet paper to wipe away most of the cum, he took a look at himself in the mirror. There was no denying that he looked different. He was definitely somewhat taller and broader than before. He didn't have a scale, but he was sure that he had gained quite some weight as well - not only due to the increased height and broader shoulders but also because his previous stickman-like appearance had been altered quite somewhat. All over his frame, a lean definition was visible, hinting at muscles even. His chin was covered in visible stubble and there was a bit of body hair visible, mainly on his chest and stomach as well as peeking out under his armpit.

Speaking of which, as Nathan raised his arm to look at his pits, a certain smell reached his nose. A musky, manly, slightly sweaty odor that wasn't quite unpleasant but was certainly unfamiliar.

Nathan had a hard time wrapping his mind around what he was seeing. There was no denying he looked *good*. He just didn't look exactly like *himself*. And for some reason, this didn't bother Nathan quite as much as it probably should. He should be panicking or calling a doctor. People didn't just grow taller overnight or put on definition without working out. And yet, Nathan only felt a slight bit of curiosity and a weak impulse that he probably *should* work out then.

Nathan shook his head and went back to his bedroom. He didn't bother putting on clothing and tried to pass the time until afternoon. The only thing that he *really* regretted about his sudden changes was that his favorite shirt and jeans would definitely not fit anymore.

He ended up watching a bit of TV and browsing the internet, before he decided it was time to prepare himself. Finding clothes that would fit now proved to be quite a challenge, but in the end, he settled on a plain t-shirt and some cargo pants. He had bought both of them a number too big by mistake, which came in quite handy now.

Walking through the city was a strange experience. He felt good about himself and held his head high. Combined with the fact that Nathan's head was, indeed, higher than before, it was like seeing the city in a whole new perspective. Less looking at the ground and more looking straight ahead.

His new posture seemed to have another effect, too. Where before he had to avoid people, trying not to get in their way, now they seemed to be stepping aside for him, which was a foreign but not unpleasant experience.

Finally, he arrived at the exhibition and found Oliver already waiting for him. They greeted with a hug and a short kiss, both fully reciprocated by Nathan, and went inside. Although Oliver seemed to notice something was off about Nathan, he didn't mention it and apparently forgot about it quickly.

Today, Nathan found it much easier to talk to Oliver and brought up topics by himself.

The exhibition however was kind of a let-down for Nathan. Although he could judge on a rational level that the art presented here was really well-done and interesting, on a purely emotional level, Nathan found it mind-numbingly boring. The conversation steered away from the art quickly, and more towards personal matters, which was a relief. So, even though they didn't care much about the paintings around them, the two of them ended up wandering around the exhibition for hours, talking and having a good time.

During the date, however, Nathan was quickly experiencing an unfamiliar feeling. The company of Oliver was... exciting. Exciting on a sexual, primal level. Nathan's larger manhood grew semi-hard in his underwear quickly, so Nathan had to readjust himself more than once. At first, he was very self-conscious about it and tried to be as subtle as possible. However, with every push his cock needed in order not to be too obvious, Nathan actually cared less about who saw him readjust himself. He was a guy after all, and all big-dicked men had that particular problem from time to time.

Besides forming a bulge in his groin, however, his constantly semi-hard cock did one more thing: Nathan was leaking precum in his underwear. First, it was just a drop or two on an involuntary throb, but it quickly became more. His underwear was feeling damp before long, and a faint note of sexuality mixed into his still present smell.

After a while, Oliver even commented on it, in his usual upbeat way: "Hey, Nathan, I have to say, you smell pretty good. Are you using cologne?"

Nathan hadn't noticed his own smell too much. His first impulse was to apologize, but the burning campfire of courage inside of him quickly told him otherwise. Oliver didn't complain. In fact, he liked it.

So, Nathan answered with a grin: "Nope. That's just how I smell."

Oliver took another whiff of the mixture of sweat, dried cum and precum and smiled. "Well, I like it!"

Nathan wasn't quite sure how to react, and just said: "Thanks!"

The exhibition was closing down soon, and Nathan offered Oliver to accompany him to the train station, which he gladly accepted. When they parted, they kissed again. This time, it wasn't a small, timid kiss like before, but a long, sexual one that made Nathan's dick twitch like mad in the confines of his pants. Since their bodies were pressed closely together, Nathan could be sure that Oliver felt the movement against his own groin.

Only after they broke the kiss, Nathan noticed that he was now looking down on Oliver slightly. He could have sworn that Oliver had been slightly taller than him yesterday.

There was no telling on how the evening would have continued hadn't it been for Oliver's train to arrive just then. Before Oliver could board the train, however, Nathan grinned at him and said: "Dinner tomorrow? The Italian place downtown, at 6?"

"I would love that!"

They kissed again and Nathan watched as the train pulled out. Then, he went back to his dorm, whistling a happy tune. It didn't even occur to him that he had taken the initiative in asking Oliver out for a third date. The fire of confidence was burning bright inside of him.

When he came home, Nathan immediately stripped out of his clothes. Even the larger shirt had become somewhat tight. He took a short look at it. There was a wet patch under both arms from his constant sweating, and the t-shirt had adapted his smell. There was something else in the smell, though. At the chest region, there was a medium sized stain, machine oil from the smell of it. Nathan wondered briefly how he could have missed it this morning but then diverted his attention to more pressing matters. His cock was fully hard and was poking out from the waistband of his briefs. Nathan hadn't had an erection like that since puberty and, if he was honest with himself, the feeling was rather nice. Without hesitation, he closed his hand around his hard meat and gave it a few experimental pumps. A low growl escaped his mouth, and a shiver went through his body. He didn't want to go slow, he wanted to fuck. His mind was focused on the task at hand. He didn't even bother to close his curtains, as he went for it. Nathan was jacking himself off, fast and hard, growling and groaning, until he finally exploded all over his chest and face, shooting multiple loads of thick white cum everywhere.

As Nathan was catching his breath, the smell of cum was heavy in the room. God, he needed that. Ever since he met Oliver today. He wiped his face and chest with his discarded t-shirt and briefly considered if he wanted to take a shower. The smell emanating from him was rather strong now, but still, he didn't want to. Oliver seemed to like his body odor, and, if Nathan was being honest, he did so himself, too.

Nathan was woken by his alarm the next morning. As his mind came to focus, his hand reached for the smartphone automatically and dismissed the alarm. He yawned and stretched. He was really looking forward to today. Given, it was the last day before classes started again, but he was going to a third date with Oliver this evening!

When Nathan crawled out of bed and went for his bathroom, however, his body felt weird again. The muscles had become more defined over the course of the last two days and now, the whole body structure felt *strong*. The few hairs from before had become a small forest of body hair and the stubble had grown thicker. He still didn't feel the need for a shave, though.

Nathan wasn't quite sure about the whole situation. Of course, he was enjoying the change. On the other hand, ... No, fuck the other hand. This was great, plain and simple. He finished his morning business standing up while peeing, which he usually never did. But right now, it just felt *right*.

After that, he inspected his wardrobe. He had half-feared that he would need to go and buy new clothes, but apparently, overnight his wardrobe had changed as well. It was filled with sturdy cargos or work pants as well as simple shirts and the occasional overall. Good!

His underwear choice had also changed. Instead of briefs or boxers, the drawer was now filled with jockstraps. That made sense, of course - only a jockstrap would set his large dick in the right scene.

None of the clothes qualified as "clean". Sure, they had been washed before they went into the wardrobe, but permanent grease or oil stains had permeated the fabric just as Nathan's manly stink - both marks no washing machine could ever erase entirely.

Nathan grabbed one of the pants and smelled it. He couldn't help but smile. This was his smell. This was *his* smell. His manly, sweaty, dirty, horny smell. He even felt his ever-present dick twitch a bit at the smell. Nathan wasn't sure if he would ever get used to this new reality. Or if this even was the final reality.

The hours passed quickly. Nathan was keeping himself busy, playing games or listened to music. Not once did it occur to him to draw something or even look at his art. This new him wasn't particularly creative, it seemed.

Nathan's mind wandered back to the date this evening. He couldn't wait to see Oliver again. In fact, he couldn't wait for more than that. It was a third date and Nathan wanted to go all the way with Oliver. He wanted to take his ass and fuck it into oblivion.

At around 5 pm, Nathan stood in front of the Italian place, waiting for Oliver. When Oliver finally arrived, the two men greeted each other with a passionate kiss. Nathan could tell that the kiss was having an effect on Oliver, as his breathing was quicker than usual.

They went inside and sat down on a table. Almost automatically, Nathan's legs spread wide, taking up space, establishing presence and, most importantly, giving his equipment the necessary space. The *old* Nathan would have sat with his legs closed or even crossed, in order to not draw any attention to himself. However, the new Nathan didn't want to draw *less* attention.

The two chatted a bit, with the main topic of the conversation being the menu, before ordering. When he spoke, Nathan noted that his voice had dropped an octave, making his voice gravely and his laugh a low rumble. When Oliver had chosen, Nathan summoned the waiter and ordered for the both of them, his lower voice full of confidence. For Nathan, it was a large meat pizza and a beer.

"You know, I have never seen you drink before", remarked Oliver.

"I don't usually", replied Nathan. "But I thought I'd have a beer today."

"You're not driving, are you?"

"Na, I'm here on foot."

Oliver smiled his usual smile. "I'm here by car, so if you like, I can give you a ride home afterwards."

There seemed to be some subtext to this offer, but it went over Nathan's head. Not that it was necessary, because he had the exact same plans, anyway.

"Sounds great!"

A couple of minutes later, their pizzas arrived, and the two dug in.

"I really like your style, Nathan." said Oliver after a while.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, the way you dress. The way you talk. The way you act."

"Oh. Thanks."

Nathan thought for a moment before he added: "You know, I go by Nate these days."

"Nate, eh?", smiled Oliver.

"Yeah. Fits better, you know."

"I guess so. I like it a lot!"

"I like your style, too."

"What do you mean by that?", Oliver laughed.

"Just, the way you talk, the way you walk. Everything. You're cute, you know."

"Why, thank you!"

The conversation was definitely a lot more flirtatious than yesterday. When they had finished their meals, they didn't linger much longer in the restaurant but got into Oliver's car.

Nate proceeded to give Oliver directions to his home. However, at a certain crossing, he had to stop and think for a moment. He knew for a fact that his dorm was to the left. But he also knew for a fact that his *home* was to the right. Nate decided not to overthink it and directed Oliver to the right with a firm voice.

They didn't get very far from that point, when suddenly, the car stopped with a jerk.

"Damn, sorry!" said Oliver. "The engine is acting up again. It's probably too cold or something like that. I'll just try to start it up again."

When after the third try, the engine didn't start again, Nate laid a hand on Oliver's. "Let me try." he said with a confident voice and left the car. When he opened the hood, the problem became clear to him right away.

"The carburetor is a bit clogged, I'll unclog it real quick and we're ready to go."

While Oliver was staring at Nate in surprise, as the latter quickly and with trained skill removed a few parts and then, with a flex of his mighty arms, applied percussive maintenance to the part in question. After Nate had reassembled the engine, he cleaned his hands on his pants and got into the car again, filling out the passenger seat with his presence.

"It should work again for now, but I'll have to clean it thoroughly tomorrow. The thing is just old and worn down, it needs replacing soon. Just try starting the engine."

Oliver was still staring at Nate with a disbelieving look on his face. Finally, however, he tried starting the engine again, and the car did indeed start running smoothly.

"Wow, Nate, that was amazing! Where did you learn that?"

"What do you mean", grinned Nate. "That's what I do!"

Oliver stared at him for a moment. "Wait, you're a mechanic?"

"Yeah, sure, didn't I tell you when we met?"

Oliver seemed to think about it but then slowly nodded: "Yes, I... think so. Weird. I could have sworn..."

Nate shrugged and pointed down the road: "Shall we go?"

They arrived at Nate's place shortly after. He had a cheap apartment directly over the car garage where he worked. Nate did try to clean up a bit the afternoon, but the place still screamed "Manly bachelor" all over the place with the occasional beer can or jockstrap scattered around.

Neither of them had time to care, though. As soon as the door closed, the two kissed. It wasn't just a chaste, romantic kiss. This was a heated, passionate kiss, full of desire and lust. Nate took Oliver's body and pushed him against the wall, grinding their bodies together. Both were hard and their breathing was rapid. Nate's hands wandered up and down Oliver's body, squeezing and grabbing his body. His fingers were strong and forceful, and he squeezed the smaller man's buttocks and his dick with the same intensity. Oliver responded by moaning and pushing his groin against Nate's, humping him.

Suddenly, Nate broke the kiss. "Oliver, I... I want you. I want to fuck you."

Oliver didn't answer, but kissed Nate again, harder this time. Nate's tongue invaded his mouth, and the bigger man's hands were ripping Oliver's shirt and pants off him. Once Oliver's dick was free, it was enveloped by Nate's big calloused hand, and Oliver's breath hitched in his throat.

"Oh god, Nate, yes!" he moaned.

Nate had enough of foreplay, and he wanted to fuck, now. Without wasting any time, he quickly pushed his pants down and pressed his dick against Oliver's. It was massive, even compared to Oliver's not insignificant size. While Nate's balls were big and heavy, his cock was thick, long, and veiny, with a fat mushroom head. It was also rock hard, and the head was already drooling precum.

With one hand, Nate stroked the two cocks together, rubbing them and smearing the precum all over his dick and Oliver's. With the other hand, he pulled Oliver close and kissed him again, a long, sensual, passionate kiss, which made Oliver moan into his mouth.

The two stood like that for a while, but finally, Nate's need to fuck was stronger than anything else.

"Bedroom. Now!" he growled and dragged the smaller man with him. Once there, Nate simply tossed him onto the bed and followed quickly, his cock pointing up. He positioned himself on top of the other man and kissed him again, their tongues dancing in their mouths.

When the kiss broke, Oliver was panting.

"You really are a big boy, huh?"

"Damn right I am."

"Oh god, I need your big dick inside of me!"

"Yeah? You want me to fuck you?"

"Please! I've wanted to feel your huge meat in me for days."

"Fuck yeah. You're gonna get it."

Nate reached under his bed and produced a bottle of lube, which he applied liberally to his dick.

"You're ready?"

"Do it, big guy."

Nate placed the head of his massive cock against the tight pucker and started to push. Slowly but steadily, his dick invaded Oliver's ass.

"Oooooooooh god, Nate, yesssssss!" moaned Oliver.

The pressure around Nate's dick was unbelievable. Oliver was clearly tight, and the way his asshole was massaging his dick felt heavenly.

Finally, Nate's dick was balls-deep inside Oliver. Both were breathing heavily, and Oliver was moaning incoherently. Nate gave him a moment to adjust and then started moving his hips, first slowly, but increasing his pace quickly. Soon, he was slamming into Oliver's ass as hard as he could, pulling almost completely out and then thrusting back inside the smaller man.

"Fuck yeah! You like that? You like my huge dick pounding your tight little ass?"

"God, yes, Nate, fuck me, fuck meeee!"

Nate was groaning and growling, a sound that came deep from his chest and made Oliver moan even louder.

"Oh shit, Nate, I'm so close! Don't stop, please don't stop, don't st- ooooooooh gooooooood!"

Nate felt Oliver's muscles clamp down on his dick, and that sent him over the edge. He buried his dick as deep as he could and shot a big load of cum deep into Oliver's guts.

The two of them collapsed on each other, spent but happy.

A lot had changed for Nathan in this new year. He had gotten a new body, a new job, a new identity even. But most importantly, he had found love. Nate the manly mechanic sighed. If he were to describe his feelings, looking into the future, there was only one fitting word: Confidence.

I actually generated a ton (okay, 50) of images for this story. If you want to check out the alternate versions of the different stages of Nathan/Nate, check out my tip jar, where I posted them!

The university was clearly scraping the bottom of the barrel when they paired you up with your jock of a roommate. The residence hall questionnaire could only have been entirely ignored when dorm assignments rolled in and the housing department created the ultimate odd couple.

You were there to study, take notes, get a degree, and learn how to live on your own without your parents there to cook and clean. Your roommate on the other hand was there to meet bros, build muscle, and attending to the incessant needs of his cock with whatever convenient vagina he could find at that moment. And all this took president over any kind of cleaning or tidying or laundry—it didn't take long for his sweaty clothes from his routine workouts to establish a sustained odor. At the same time, you also managed to develop a raging crush on your inflexibly straight roomie.

It didn't take long for his habits and your habits to cause friction and even less time for you to get to the end of your rope. Getting out wasn't going to be an option, not this year with the dorms at capacity and no other willing swappers in their system. In your desperation to get out or try to change any aspect of the situation, you find yourself reaching out to me.

My solution is a potion that promises to make the necessary changes to guarantee he becomes the perfect roommate for you, so long as you both drink it.

Slipping it in his protein shake proved to be quite simple. Once he was off to the gym for the evening with his spiked supplement, you took the other vial in your hand, regarded the liquid for a moment, and downed it.

...

You wait for a moment, expecting... well what should you be expecting...

After a few seconds of nothing, you wonder what you really just drank. Magic wasn't real, and despite what you'd heard about me from... whatever source, you realize how foolish you were thinking a little—mountain dew maybe?—would change anything with your disgusting roommate.

Man, his musky work-out smell is really strong. You always think it's the worst it's been and then the b.o. manages to intensify. Instead, you make a feeble attempt to distance yourself from the stench by crossing to your side of the room, except it proves to be inescapable.

Ugh, you look down and see a shirt on the ground on your side of the room. He's really taking over everything now. You go to pick it up... but realize it's one of your shirts... and... it smells. Do you need more deodorant? Did you forget to put the shirt in the hamper?— Is he wearing your clothes?... Did that thought turn you on a bit?

Wait a second. Are you smelling the shirt? You were smelling the shirt. You didn't even realize it but you while you were lost in thought, you had brought the garment with his rank aroma to your nose and taken a nice deep breath... maybe a couple—you couldn't remember...

And again... it smells kinda nice... except... you realize the shirt was his. It was a lycra compression shirt, and you didn't own any lycra... why did you think it was your shirt? You didn't go to the gym, work out; you don't have any muscle like he does so it make sense because if it was yours, you'd—

You catch a view of yourself. Each side of the room had a closet for every resident, and these closets had large, fully-mirrored sliding doors. If you had muscle, you probably would own lycra clothing, you probably would check yourself out in your closet mirror like he did, you probably would flex your muscles, like...

Like this... and this...

Even though you didn't work out, you saw some shadow of definition. You felt your modest weenie chub up as your biceps bulged even just slightly. And if you fleeeeeeeexed again... you might be able to smell your own musk wafting outward from your exposed arm pits. If you strike this pose... it could exaggerate the taper of your midsection from your shoulders narrowing to your waist. If you wanted to see that v-shape even better, you could take off your shirt... let it hit the floor... add to the pile of your other sweaty rank gym clothes. If you contracted like... this, you could cause your pecs to bulge and your arms to come into clearer definition, almost like they were not just bulging with muscle, but actually swelling, growing larger. This is what muscular people must feel like—your were turning yourself on more and more making your dick grow harder and harder seeming to thicken in your underwear until it bulges obviously in your black joggers.

And if you did have a bigger dick and bigger balls you'd have more testosterone, a sharper jaw, body hair. Hair that would highlight your abs and dust your pecs and give you thicker muskier bushes under your arms. But if you did have a bigger dick, you would probably be soooo horny. You would probably be so dumb. if you were swole, you'd just need to lift and flex... and if you were horny, you'd just need a steady stream of cock and ass to tend to your own big thick dick...

you flex again... and again... and again...

if you were a nerd, you'd probably hate living with a dumb bro like you, but you got paired with the perfect roommate who just wants to flex and fuck. just like you.

The door opens and your roommate enters. You turn towards him, mid-flex. The stench of your combined musk hits him like a drug and you see his bulge swell visibly in this fuckbro gym shorts. Somehow the college had paired you with another gay bro who was always down to offer a hand or a hole any time of day or night—and you were just as willing to return the favor.

Batter Up!

Back to it! Here's another nerd to jock TF, a bookish nerd learns to enjoy baseball the hard way! Hope you enjoy! -Occam

America’s game eh? Jeremy was never all that into any kind of sport, but baseball was a particularly dull one. At least your footballs and basketballs have man-on-man contact right? He briefly scans the field to find anything, anyone perhaps, of interest. The briefest of inspections shows these athletes are some real man’s man types that Jeremy turns his nose up at. His attention turns back to the book sitting in his lap and he loses himself in a world not consumed by a nine-inning snooze-fest.

He hears the loud smash of a bat beaming a ball. As one should expect at the game, not like the batters should miss that often right? Given they’ve nothing else going on up there they should just hit every pitch right? He smugly thinks to himself, taking no time to inspect the field at all. Foolish as even a glance up would bring his attention to the rapidly approaching predicament. His friend who dragged him to the game shouts “Jere!” and the bored bookworm looks up with just enough time to see a baseball torpedoing towards him. His grimaces, starting one last one last snide remark to his friend “Aren’t they supposed to-” before being nailed in the head and losing consciousness.

He awakens elsewhere, though clearly still in the stadium. His head is absolutely pounding with a headache greater than he thought possible. His mind starts to hobble together yet another criticism of the game before a stabbing migraine beats him to the punch. His whole body clenches in response to the pain. Strain and soreness seep through his limbs and core as he tries to sit up. Jeremy then notices his right hand squeezing something with such strength it is almost alien to him. Dragging his arm up with more effort than it should take he finds his hand grasping the baseball that laid him flat, a small bloodstain dotted across the stitching.

His attention doesn’t rest too long on the blood-stained ball clenched in his hand however. This concussion must be messing with his perception or something as his hand looks wrong. Jeremy closes his eyes and shakes his head, trying to will his vision back to normality, dropping the baseball in his lap as he inspects his hands next to each other. This makes it beyond apparent that something truly bizarre must be happening to his psyche. His right hand looks like a, well, baseball mitt compared to the thin fingers of his left. Its wingspan large enough to easily palm a basketball, his eye twitches as his mind tries to reconcile his apparently massive hand. Rationality fighting against the current reality as his eyes trail down to see something similar happening to his arm.

Each twist and turn of his hand sends a cascade of twitches down his arm, this he’s used to. His thin arms always broadcast the slightest movements of his hitherto delicate hands, what is beyond odd is that with each movement of his new mitt his forearm is beginning to grow. He feels his chest begin to tighten with anxiety as he watches tight muscle begin to course down his thin bony forearm. Seemingly trying to catch up with the monstrous hand on its far end. Somehow scarier than his arm beginning to bloat with strength is the idea that is beginning to creep on the edges of his mind that this is all normal. Spent all that time at the gym for it right?

Jeremy slams his eyes shut and struggles to take deep breaths, leaving him unaware as the growth quickly spreads further up his arm into his bicep. For the best that he doesn’t notice it, for all his cynical whining at the sport he does quite admire the player’s massive arms. Should he see his beginning to develop such cannons he may have given in to whatever this episode is outright. Instead he shifts his shoulder as a unique tightness arises with the ongoing growth of his bicep, veins pulsing larger down his right arm as his shoulder puts on mass to be able support the increasingly meaty arm. Muscle twitching across his arm as his bicep peaks ever higher.

His eyes still closed, Jeremy goes to rub his face, reminding himself that this must be some kind of delusion or hallucination from his concussion. Instead he finds more changes occurring away from his vision. His face feels rougher. Both his petite left hand and massive right feel a face far more worn and scratchy than the pale inside kid one he knows he has. His brows knit together in fear as he feels what can only be stubble dragging at his palms. The tips of his fingers feel said brows grow thicker and darker as they aim to ever cast a shadow over his eyes. He finally opens them and contemplates if he should find a mirror or not which is when a new horror alights. As his left hand touched his face, sidling up to that alien mit, it too has begun to change.

Calluses peek out on his fingers that his mind without hesitation assigns to holding a bat. He clenches his jaw, feeling pressure as it grows wider underneath the itchy stubble. He watches as his small hand balloons to match its monstrous pair, his headache returning as he cries out in his mind that this isn’t right. Something deep in the pit of his stomach disagrees, glad that he’s finally got the hands of a man. He gulps and finds it is suddenly difficult to swallow. Bringing a meaty palm to his neck he finds impossible warmth as an Adam's apple quickly pushes out, bobbing larger as Jeremy realizes that if there is a battle to be fought, that he is already losing.

The life he has lived has not primed Jeremy with any way to respond to this impossible new reality besides freezing up. His mind is caught between impulses to flee and to fly, his body can only react by beginning to hyperventilate. Heavy panicked breaths swiftly fill his chest as new impulses begin to grace his consciousness. Each uncontrollable inhale fills his torso with air, lungs growing as they are more than happy to expand beyond constraint. On top of his bony chest pecs begin to creep into existence, expanding quickly to match the still growing shoulders behind them. Memories of practices he can’t quite dispute begin to rise as his chest grows heavy with muscular weight. The shirt he threw on is quickly strained as muscle he could never dreamed to exercise begins to surge larger. An image of a man that is not him, that cannot be him sears itself into his mind.

Lost is a sea of memories of batting practices and uneventful hours upon hours of waiting in the outfield Jeremy begins to find familiarity if not affection towards the sport. He shakes his head through his stupor as strategies and concepts of the hitherto mind-numbing game begin to arise. Scraping together just enough of himself to slow his breathing and regain himself he looks down to see a body that has been painstakingly sculpted for the sport, America’s game. 

His shirt is totally ripped across every seam as a deliberate tear appears down the front, buttons dotting down it as a team logo, his team logo, begins to stain across the uniform. His heavier chest presses him into the table as he feels stitching appear in the back O’Hara, 11. Names that are almost more meaningful to him than Jeremy at this point. His coaches always call him by his last name anyway right? The mantra that this is a dream is the only thing holding his fragile mind together. Suddenly there is a burgeoning presence in his crotch and he sees a baseball lying squarely on his cock as it gets the message and quickly begins to force itself larger.

O’Hara bites his lip as blush begins to sneak through his still tanning face. The impossible fear of becoming something so contradictory to himself begins to pale with the mounting lust and desire for release rising from his ballooning crotch. He feels his balls quickly fill his briefs and his cock swiftly spills out of them down his pants leg. He cannot bring himself towards any reaction but rubbing his legs to try and distract himself, feeling the fabric of his shorts rapidly change and roughen. Growing elastic as his thighs begin to demand far more space than they could ever offer. He moans as a cup suddenly appears in his underpants, forcing his cock in an awkward position and hugging his still growing balls tight, of course for their own protection.

His mind hazy from lust and delirious as new hormones assail his waning mind a teammate comes to mind, yelling at him to get with it. Shit is he supposed to be on the field right now? He scratches at his head as his hair grows dark and dirty with dried sweat. His patch of pit hair expands as it releases his B.O. into the open air, heighting his erection even more. O’Hara goes to stand only to find his calves and feet cannot nearly support his monumental upper body.

He scowls down at them wondering how the fuck he ever let himself skip leg day to such a degree, he’s a fucking athlete right? An eye twitches and he is unable to begin to dispute the idea, flexing his pecs as he feels his calves begin to agree with him, quickly bloating with muscle. He screams in pain as they cramp to surge larger with the greatest haste yet. The pain breaks through to an immensely pleasurable soreness as they pound to the size of a titan’s legs. They  immediately fill his polyester pants, putting on size enough to ever show through, making it clear that O’Hara is more than a gem to his team. His team. Jeremy clutches his head again in one last attempt to recover. 

He opens his mouth to cry for help, only producing a deep moan as his feet expand, his no-show socks rocketing up his massive calves as his size seven shoes burst apart. Rubber and cloth fall to the floor as his toes shove through the front of them, his feet widening enough to be mistaken as flippers. His pupils shrink as he watches his hairy feet outgrow his new socks before the holes are stitched together by thicker cotton. His hands jump to his face in despair as a sob catches in his throat. His body pulses with the effort and expands yet again in every direction. Palms grow wider on his face and his mouth lulls open, he hears his pants stretch as his legs lengthen and grow heavier. His uniform tears as his shoulders grow wide with power enough to hit homers every time he’s at bat. 

His eyes twitch with effort one last time as he falls back into unconsciousness, the thought that this will be the last time he lets a ball hit him accompanies him as he crests into sleep. His conscious mind cannot dispute the new life that overcomes him in his dreams. Years of exerting himself to be the best at a sport which demands give and take. Exercising muscle in isolation to ensure optimization that could allow him to outperform in every regard. Sending pitches careening farther than his eyes can follow and sprinting to first base at speeds that the human eye would say is inhuman. He smirks in his rest as the cool air wicks the sweat off his ever-steaming body.

Suddenly Jeremy O’Hara awakens. Weird, he would’ve sworn he was in the middle of a game? His eyes glaze over becoming as dull as they are to be evermore, his slow one-track mind struggling to understand why he’s in a clinic. He springs up and makes for the door with a haste that he has never been able to muster before. Scratching at his crotch he throws on the size 15 cleats and wanders out into the stadium, not questioning why he’s not wearing a top. The music from the field blares in the busy hallway as he stumbles towards the dugout, smirking at the hordes of fans gawking at him. His massive hand struggling to cover the even larger bulge in his crotch as it pulses with their clearly lustful gazes. 

He hears his manager shout for him to get back to the team as he wanders around cluelessly. Forcing his way through the crowd he grabs O’Hara and berates him for his brainlessness, “I fuckin’ swear kid if you weren’t the goddamned best player I’d ever seen, fuck it the league’s ever seen, you’d not be worth the trouble.” O’Hara only caught part of that and from what he understood it was a complement. Hearing the game in play and seeing the green of the field O’Hara’s mind is suddenly preoccupied only with the game. Once more or for the first time it matters not. His coach watches as his bulge pulses in his pants and berates him to think with his real head before pushing him into the dugout.

O’Hara watches his teammates run across the field catching balls and strategizing the best place to throw them in turn. Chin upraised he just readies himself to join them on the field and show them what a real player looks like. Gritting his teeth as his opponents run the bases before the inning ends. His body vibrates with energy and an impossible eagerness to enter the playing field. He was going to show them what this sport is really about. What the best can really do. Hearing his walk-on music beginning to blare into the stadium he leaves the dugout to see a crowd larger than he can understand, feeling the vibration of their cheers in his chest as it bulges with even more power. He smirks as he prepares to perform, pointing his bat to the stadium, sure he’s got another home run ball soon to make its way to his fans.