Punkification - Blog Posts

Written by @cinaedefuri. INCREDIBLE work, and I needed to share.

Travis McPhearson was about as normal as one could get. He was a straightlaced straight white cisgender male. But despite all of the opportunities afforded to someone like him, Travis couldn’t find a job that would cover all of his expenses. He didn’t want to go back home and live with his parents, so he put out feelers for a potential roommate. However, no one was biting, except for one guy named Colin Tavish. Colin looked like a punk, with a dyed mohawk and a bunch of facial jewelry in the headshot Travis asked each potential applicant to provide.

He also noted that he was kinky and would be bringing in BDSM gear into the apartment. He was also a bit more muscular than Travis, but he didn’t mind that Colin worked out. He was hoping to find another roommate, someone, anyone better than Colin, but there seemed to be no other options, so he accepted Colin’s offer and they were able to make the rent on the apartment this month. Colin actually didn’t need to share an apartment with anyone. Fuck, he had enough money to leave in a mansion if he wanted to, thanks to his very supportive but unfortunately very dead uncle.

No, the reason he wanted to have a roommate was because he wanted to make him into one of them, a jock punk, that is. He had the power to slowly hypnotize men into becoming just that, and someone like Travis would be an excellent target. Travis kept to himself most of the time, and whenever Colin had a “friend” over who looked like they were a bit kinky as well, he always found an excuse to leave. It was a couple weeks into their new living arrangement when Colin put his plan into action.

Travis walked into the laundry room only to find his basket of clothes was missing. “Hey, Colin, do you know where my clothes are?”

“Oh yeah, mate, sorry about that! I was gonna wash them, and silly me grabbed the bleach instead of the detergent! The washer’s fine, but all of your clothes are ruined.”

“Fuck, Colin! What the fuck am I supposed to wear to work tomorrow!”

“I think I have some dress clothes somewhere.” Travis really didn’t want to wear Colin’s clothes, but he had no other choice, considering how late at night it was. Colin actually came back with some presentable work clothes, but they reeked. There were even sweat stains in the sleeves as well, but thankfully Travis had a blazer he could wear to cover it. He cleaned it to the best of his ability and applied a bit of deodorant and some cologne before going into the office.

He could smell his funk throughout the day, but it seemed no one else could. Colin’s scents were only obvious to Travis, naturally, and as he found himself catching a whiff of it every so often, he learned that he was actually liking it! He tried to rationalize it as being a bit too horny, not having slept with someone for a few weeks now. But there was no denying that another man’s musk was turning him on. After work, he spent most of this month’s budget on new clothes so that this wouldn’t happen again.

Colin was pleased when he saw how harried Travis looked when he walked through the front door that night. His used smelly clothes were tossed in a pile by the door, and the rest of the week, Travis was wearing his new clothes that he bought. He was now actively avoiding Colin in the apartment as much as he could, not wanting to reveal that he was getting turned on by him. Unfortunately, that Friday, one of the execs asked him to woo a potential client, which meant a gym meeting for this particular guy.

Travis hadn’t thought to get new gym clothes when he went out shopping, and since money was going to be tight this month, he needed to ask Colin for some clothes, yet again. “Can I get some clean ones this time, please?” he asked, impatiently.

“Yeah, yeah, let me grab some stuff from the dryer,” he replied. However, while Colin’s powers were active, washing and drying were just formalities. His gym clothes still stunk even after the best-smelling detergent was added to the wash, and Travis just needed to accept it if he were to seal the deal and bag this big client. At least it was socially acceptable to reek at the gym a little bit! The workout went surprisingly well, and the potential client did sign the deal.

However, throughout the workout, Travis kept getting whiffs of Colin’s musk. It was quite a bit stronger than the suit he had worn earlier this week, and he was slowly falling under more and more of Colin’s hypnotic control. When he arrived back at the apartment after the workout, Colin was sitting in the living room area barefoot. That wasn’t odd in the slightest, but what was odd was what Travis did next. Without thinking, he dropped to his hands and knees and crawled over to Colin’s feet and began sniffing them.

Colin smiled as the hypnosis was starting to take effect, but he knew it wasn’t that strong at this point, so it wasn’t long before Travis realized what he was doing. “FUCK! What the fuck am I doing!? Colin, what the fuck are you doing to me!?”

“I’m not doing anything to you,” he replied, which was technically right, as it was his powers doing all of the heavy lifting right now. Travis wasn’t too pleased with that answer, but he certainly didn’t want to stick around and see if Colin could make him have sex with him or something worse. The damage was already done, though, and whenever Travis was doing laundry now, he couldn’t help but take deep whiffs of Colin’s clothes. The punk jock actually caught him doing that a few times, knowing that he was falling deeper and deeper under his control every time.

It was Colin who came back from the gym this time around as Travis was lounging in the living room area. He went to get up and leave the room, still wanting nothing to do with Colin, but as he sniffed the air, a different aromatic scent filled his nostrils. It was Colin’s musk directly from the source, as he had just come back from an intense workout. “Wanna sniff?” he asked Travis, and despite his better judgement, he found himself walking over to Colin and sniffing his musk directly from the source.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” Travis moaned, clearly getting turned on by it and the bulge in his pants started to grow as well. However, he wasn’t completely gone yet, and before he took out his cock and began stroking it right then and there, he realized what he was doing and scurried into his bedroom, hands covering his bulge. When Colin found him the next morning with one of Colin’s dirty gym jocks on the bed with him and a recent cum stain on the pouch, he knew that he could accelerate Travis’s transformation.

He was waiting for him in the living room area when he woke up that morning, and Colin was buck naked. Travis couldn’t help but admire his roommate’s incredible body, and his sizable cock as well. “Like what you see, Travis? I know you do. You’re well on the path to becoming me, but you need to get a bit more mindfucked first. So, condom or fleshlight first?”

“Fleshlight,” Travis replied, in a trance-like state. Some of his old straight tendencies showed through, and he thought it was going to be a pocket pussy. It was instead a mold of a gay porn star’s ass, and Colin stuck his dick inside and starting rubbing the fleshlight up and down his shaft. Travis was enamored by the sight in front of him, and Colin’s musk as well, since he hadn’t showered yesterday. He didn’t waste much time at all blowing his load into the fleshlight itself.

As some of his cum leaked out of it, he handed it to Travis. “Your turn,” he said, and Travis mindlessly placed it on his cock, not giving a fuck that another guy had just used it. As the scents of Colin’s musk and cum filled the air, the hypnosis process kicked into high gear. With every stroke of the fleshlight, Travis found himself becoming more and more like Colin, a punk jock just like him. However, the fleshlight only did half the work, so when Travis eventually came inside of the fleshlight, he was well on his way to becoming a punk jock, but not completely there yet.

“Now swallow it,” Colin commanded, as Travis tipped the fleshlight downwards and their shared cum dripped into his waiting mouth. Since the hole was a bit tight, it would be quite some time before everything dripped out, so Colin grabbed the fleshlight and placed it aside as he put a condom on his cock. He normally wasn’t one to practice safe sex, but this was a special occasion. It took a bit longer to cum this time around, but he once again filled something up with his load, the end of the condom filling up with his thick and creamy seed.

Travis actually didn’t swallow it right away, and he wasn’t going to anyways. Instead, he slipped the condom over his own cock as well. It was a tight fit, as Colin had hoped, so most of the cum stayed inside. Travis’s cock was surrounded by Colin’s cum as he stroked his cock once more, getting turned on and getting turned into a punk jock with every second that passed. He too took a bit longer to cum, and by that point, it was just too much for the poor condom. It exploded all over Travis and on the couch and the floor, but its job had been done. Travis was now a punk jock like Colin in mind.

“Wasn’t that hot, babe?” Colin asked, leaning in for a kiss.

“Yeah it was,” Travis replied, and reciprocated the kiss as well. The makeout session soon lead to some hot and steamy sex, and it also showed off another result of the hypnosis. Travis was usually the top when it came to having sex with women, of course, but the hypnosis had turned into a submissive bottom who was still as equally badass as his boyfriend was. After the two of them had fun that day, Colin worked to make Travis look like a punk. A special mixture of his scent and a couple others made Travis into a muscled hunk overnight.

However, his haircut needed to be done by a stylist and he had to grow out his facial hair as well. He bought the chains and other jewelry he wore, though, and the clothes that made him look like a punk jock as well. Very few people who knew him questioned all the changes he had made in the past year, as he did look genuinely happy with Colin and the two of them were even talking about marriage. They were also talking about adapting Colin’s scents in a way to make other guys into punk jocks but submissive to both men at the same time.

The Drifter

Every now and again, when things just weren’t going your way, a brisk hike through the woods always helped to clear your mind. The rustling leaves, chirping of birds, the gravel trail beneath your shoes... it just seemed to help all the troubles and struggles of the day melt away. Today, however, something was off. You parked your car in the North Lot, and being so eager to decompress you left the lights on. Two hours later, you return to a lemon. The battery was dead, and with no one else in the parking lot, your only option was to run to the South Lot where the ranger station was. Thus, you sighed in exhaustion as you turned around and stumbled the long three mile trek to the South Lot.

The park was massive, and only had one main road for cars to pass from the entrance to the two parking lots. The winding gravel road was not particularly well maintained, and you thought to yourself on more than one occasion that the designer of the park must have had some bad Acid when he had routed it. Hard right turns, steep hills and filled with potholes the size of bowling balls. This was hardly the way you’d have preferred to get to the South Lot, but it was the most direct route and had the potential of a passing motorist saving your afternoon. Yet, a mile and a quarter in, not only had no one passed by you, but the sun was beginning to set beyond the canopy above. Surely a park ranger would have seen your car and gone looking before closing the gates?

Regardless of how long you had been walking, in your mind, you’d gone fifty miles. Just as the tree stump tumbled over on the side of the road looked awfully nice to take a quick nap on, a faint red light in the distance caught your eye. Just around the bend, on the other side of the ridge was a black car, and it was running. Relief! What modicums of energy you could expend, you did as you booked it down the gravel road, nearly tripping over your own feet three times enroute. Finally, the sound of a running motor brought such reassurance as you came up on the car. It was an old muscle car, a 1969 Mustang, not that you knew it. All you knew and cared about was the assistance from whomever the driver was. Walking up to the drivers side window, you sigh and prepare to thank the driver...

Empty. The car was running, windows down, The Weeknd blaring on the radio. You looked around the surrounding area for the owner, met only with empty woods at dusk.

“Hello?!” You cried out, now worried that you had stumbled upon a crime scene or a trap. No response. You turned around to glance at the car again, only to see the drivers side door was now ajar. You knew that you hadn’t opened it. You knew that there was no one inside the car, and after a peek under the car you knew there was no one around. It was an old car, perhaps it just didn’t shut properly? Ignoring the implausibility of that thought, you took a seat on the drivers seat, and tried to think of a plan. The sun was setting, you’re sitting in an abandoned car in the middle of the woods, and you’re still miles away from the ranger.

“Get in...” an ethereal voice whispered out of the radio, superimposed over the uninterrupted music. You turned to the old radio, second guessing your senses, not even realizing you had brought your legs inside of the car. The door slowly shut behind you as you examined the radio. The stick shifted into drive, and the car began to lurch forward. Panic set in, it was a trap of some sort. Kidnapping? You were poor no one would pay... Human Trafficking? Maybe, but this was awfully elaborate for that. A prank? A TV prank show was not out of the realm of possibility...

“Relax...” the voice cooed over the radio again, it’s soothing and velvety tone was certainly comforting. The car drove slowly, winding down the road toward the rangers station and the South Lot. Bruno Mars was now serenading on the radio, music that you were rather indifferent to before and yet in that moment it felt as if you knew every word and every verse. You allowed the music to relax you, to let you breathe.

“Smoke...” You looked down at the ashtray, a still smoking blunt sat waiting next to a metal lighter. It felt second nature to you to bring the blunt to your mouth, the dampness of its previous owners lips could still be tasted as you inhaled your first toke. You blew rings of delicate smoke as if you’d been smoking since you were a teenager. The haze of weed washed over you and you sank back into the seat, enjoying the vibes of the music, the smoke, and the drive.

“Let me in... Take the wheel...” You did as instructed. It felt so right to just fall, to just be, to just be driven. Your hands touched the worn leather steering wheel, and a shock ran up through your fingertips all the way to your toes. Your hands grasped the wheel confidently, and shifted gears effortlessly. Surges of energy hit you in waves, each one slowly washing you into a clean slate. Those woes and worries that had brought you into the woods in the first place seemed so far away now. Just the thought of snipping that life away, beginning anew as someone else. No cares, no worries, just the wide world and open road to wander.

“Just drive...” the voice now echoed inside your head, entirely separate from the radio. Zayn now crooned his sultry tones over the speakers, your personal favorite. He reminded you a bit of who you wanted to be: laid back, unbothered, stoic, effortlessly cool... that attitude of ‘I don’t give a fuck’ just gets under your skin and takes control. In fact, you wanted it to. You wanted that attitude, that vibe, that life inside of you. And as it began to flow into you from your hands gripping the wheel, you welcomed the change.

It started with pinpricks, as if your arms had fallen asleep. Yet, as they moved independently of you, grabbing the blunt, taking a toke, shifting into 2nd... it became a different sensation entirely. It was as if water was flowing into you, the swishing and sloshing of liquid within you, flooding from your fingertips downward. Your palms grew sweaty and calloused, doubling in size as they continued driving the car. Little scars and knicks from bygone bar room scuffles adorned your knuckles, drifting free spirits aren’t always welcomed in roadside haunts- so you had learned to handle yourself early on.

Your forearms were growing as well, the viscous sensation flowed upward into your arms, large biceps began to expand your shirtsleeves until your grey shirt had ripped. Poke and stick tattoos sprawled up your tanning skin, an outlet for your creativity and frustrations when you are bored at your Midwest rest stops or refueling at the lonely desert gas stations. Thick tufts of hair sprouted from your pits as the liquid flowed into your broadening shoulders, the remains of your poor shirt falling in shreds around you. A subtle musk started to emanate from your pits, peppery and sharp... one of your favorite scents.

Your chest expanded, two pierced Nipples perked brightly on your glistening, sticky pecs; the droplets of sweat rolled down to your navel, lean abs popping up as they passed by. You feel your posture adjust as your ass rounded out, two firm globes had you spreading your growing legs wide and leaning back into the worn leather seats.

One hand on the wheel, you grab your swelling bulge. The constraints of your pants and underwear was mounting rapidly, and in just moments you’d unzipped your fly, and released your throbbing uncut 10 incher. You groped your balls, cupping them as the grew and dropped like two golf balls in a sac. Just the slightest touch of your coarse, calloused hand on the sensitive tip of your head gave you an involuntary gasp. Pre flowed out like a faucet slipping under your musky foreskin, making every movement and jolt of the car an incredible barrage of ecstasy.

Your thighs ballooned out, and your calves hardened after years of hard work doing short stints in mechanic shops across the country. A couple hours per week, just enough to fix up the car, and keep going to the next place. Your slick, ripe size 13 feet were never going to be tied down to any one place. The world was your playground. You love your freedom, you love your independence, you love yourself, and you’re ready to roam the roads carefree from now until infinity.

Your face was the last to adjust, your eyes turning into a bright minty green, with a healthy scruffy beard sprouting up from your eternally youthful skin. As the liquid flowed up your throat, your Adam’s apple protruded even further, as the pressure kept mounting. By the time it had rushed into your head, luscious blonde locks curled out of your scalp, and earrings popped out as a final cherry on top.

You turned around, grabbing your bag from the backseat, happy to put on your favorite jeans, cleanest tank top, and well worn and loved leather jacket. Your car pulled up to a halt at the ranger station just as you were pulling on your rank harness boots. Musk, weed, and leather smells poured from the open windows as the ranger walked up to the car.

“Hey there’s an abandoned car in the North Lot. Been there for a few hours.” Your velvety baritone voice instantly charmed the man, and combined with the wafting smells from your Mustang he replied,

“Uh... yeah, yeah. Thank you sir... I’ll take a... a... a look...” the ranger stared at the sexy drifter before him, his pants began to tent. You of course took notice, reaching out for a quick grope. He gasped and moaned at your confident grasp. With one single wink, a sticky spot quickly formed in his pants.

“Ay, hurry up and we can go take a drive, whaddya say?”

I enjoyed writing this. Commissioners, your pieces are coming.