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euphol · 7 days ago

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There I was—a loner, sitting inside a crowded lounge, looking at the ring laying in the palm of my hand.

"It's just not going to work." I told myself over and over again, but I had nothing to lose.

I bought it weeks prior from a weird yet friendly stranger—a middle-aged dude looking quite sharp, but something about him was off. He contacted me after I went down the hypnosis rabbit hole. I read multiple articles and posts and watched so many different videos about how to hypnotize someone, willing or not. I even left a comment under one post, even though I was anxious. I was new to this—all of this—and I didn't want anyone to look at me differently.

I always dreamt of hypnotizing a handsome jock to make him my own, but this wasn't happening in real life, was it? That's exactly what I thought when that man reached out to me, offering me this ring. A beautiful silver ring with a blue stone—alluring yet nothing too special.

He told me that this would help me make my wish come true; the only thing he asked for was for me to share some of my future "acquaintances."

I shook my head in disbelief. I was so stupid to trust in this man and his sly smile. He was probably enjoying my hundred bugs while I was blinded by my fantasies.

I put the ring in my pocket and got up from my table. There was no point in staying here any longer; I wanted to go home.

But that's when I saw this handsome man sitting at a table, all alone. He was smoking a cigar and blew a ton of smoke into the air all around him while leaning back against the sofa. His eyes wandered through the room; he seemed to enjoy the attention he was getting from a few people around the lounge, including me.

He looked so good—a well-groomed beard, nice hair, a very hot body—everything I dreamt of. That man had that look on his face: he knew how good he looked, and he was bathing in attention—mine at least.

Something deep inside me wanted this man so badly. I immediately imagined him being mine and mine alone—how good it would feel to touch him, toy with him, and just own him. Good god, I felt myself getting lost inside this daydream.

At this point, I felt the ring inside my pocket. I pulled it out again, looking at it with desire and anxiety. Would this actually work? Or was I in for a beating?

"Fuck it." I breathed and let the silver slide onto my finger. Oddly enough, it fit quite well, but I wasn't feeling any different. I hoped it would feel different, special, or something else. This wasn't encouraging at all.

Shaking my head again, I made my way through the crowd toward that beautiful stranger. He didn't even look at me until I sat down right next to him, causing him to turn his head, giving me a curious but suspicious look.

"Can I help you?" That guy looked at me; I felt his gaze burning my skin, even though I wasn't looking at him yet. I knew he saw me for what I was: a loner, maybe a random creep, but I didn't care.

I placed a finger at the ring and moved it, causing the crystal to move along my finger.

"I hope so." I said, my voice breaking slightly when I turned my head to meet his gaze. Fuck, he was even better looking up close. His lips, eyes, and beard are perfection.

The guy narrowed his eyes at me, and I felt the tension rising between us.

A little taken aback, he regained his composure. "Oh fuck, he was going to clock me," I thought. But the guy online told me to do exactly that—make the ring spin a few times.

"I don't know who you are, but you better..." The guy suddenly stopped, his eyes now stuck at the slightly glowing ring.

I was prepared to just make a run for it when I noticed that he was focused on the ring. His expression softened slowly; the scowl vanished completely, replaced by an empty look in his eyes.

Oh, those beautiful eyes—they lost their shimmer, just barely, but I could tell something was happening deep inside that gorgeous head.

As I kept spinning the ring, he tilted his head, and his expression softened even more. He looked at me with uncertainty, like asking for help. Both of us didn't know what was happening.

"Who?" He said it, with his voice sounding a little deeper than before. I looked him in the eyes before he broke eye contact.

The guy placed a hand on his chest, looking into the distance. He wasn't looking at anything in particular, and his face turned blank.

I was shocked yet aroused. He had a similar expression to all those handsome studs online when they went under, and I felt the ring heating up against my skin. It didn't hurt, but it was kind of unpleasant.

He took several deep breaths until he closed his eyes, leaning back against the sofa again.

"Are you okay?" I said, unsure of what was exactly happening to him, because it couldn't be caused by the ring, could it?

Carefully, I placed a hand on these thick thighs, but he didn't react at first; instead, he slowly opened his eyes after a few seconds, looking at me with vacant eyes and his mouth hanging open.

He looked soft and submissive, and I had to control myself not to let out a moan right here and then.

This was the exact expression I was seeing online in all those videos and pictures, but was he just messing with me? He and the other guy must be toying with me. This can't be real.

I contemplated just leaving, but something deep inside me told me to stop. The guy kept looking at me, waiting for something—perhaps orders.

My eyes shifted across his face and upper body as he wasn't moving an inch. That's when I noticed the cigar in his other hand.

"Do you mind?" I motioned for the cigar, and without any hesitation, he gave it to me and watched me as I started smoking.

I felt the hot smoke fill my lungs, and I just tested my luck. I blew smoke right into the guy's face, but, unbothered, he kept looking at me.

This made me cry right away. Fuck, he was so hot. I started to stroke his thighs gently, and he started to growl contently, even closing his eyes for a second.

If this was a joke, I admired his commitment. But what if it was real?

I looked at the still-shimmering ring and then back to the stud. He was breathing deeply, and I loved seeing his chest heave with every breath he took. I licked my lips while stroking his thighs.

"What's your name?" I asked him as I moved a little closer before putting the cigar into the ashtray.

"M..Matt." His now-rough voice barely came out as he struggled to think. He really was a mindless toy, just responding to me.

"I want to go home, Matt. Do you want to come?" I asked him, my voice breaking once more. I expected him to deny my request, but to my surprise, he just nodded.

I blinked a few times; I couldn't believe my luck. Was that ring actually working?

"Let's go then." I motioned toward the door and started to get up from the sofa.

He was a bit unsteady on his feet and needed my help to regain his composure again, but then he followed me closely. A few people watched us, but I don't care what they might have thought. I was going home with that little, empty jock boy.

Everything happened so fast, and I found myself on the road, with that beautiful specimen sitting beside me, watching me closely.

I felt my cock tent hard inside my jeans; I was surely already leaking just looking at this man. At every stop, every red light, I turned my head to find him looking at me: his eyes slightly unfocused, that muscly man with an empty mind.

I was still in disbelief—that ring—was it really the source of all this? Maybe, but that was something to figure out later.

Just then, the guy started to growl again, and when I turned my head, I found him stroking his own dick through his jeans. So fucking hot.

I felt the ring heating up around my finger—was it reading my mind? Hearing soft growls and moans, I couldn't help it. Instinctively, I stroked myself as well, just like all the times watching videos online.

A warm glow engulfed my stomach as he kept stroking himself while looking at me. I knew I couldn't wait any longer.

I took a turn toward the first empty parking lot, stopped the car, and tried to steady my breath. The car was filled with Matt's deep voice, growling and breathing deeply.

I bit my lower lip, and watching that stud get more and more into it made me harder than ever before. Subconsciously, I reached out and placed a hand on his chest. Right away, he moaned deeply.

His chest felt so good; all the hours he spent hitting the gym paid off as all of his muscles tensed hard against the fabric of his thin shirt. Just touching him made me nearly lose it.

Matt leaned his head back and closed his eyes for a few moments before staring into the distance again. He struggled to keep the door open, like a sleepy, horny jock boy. At the same time, he kept touching himself firmer and firmer.

My body was shaking, my dick was pulsating inside my jeans, and my breathing got even quicker. I hold back a giggle while intensifying my strokes. I observed how firm his pecs were and how they imprinted through his clothes as his entire body bulged more and more.

"Fuck." I moaned, playing with his hard nipple, when he suddenly turned his head toward me, smiling derpily. He was enjoying this just as much as I was.

"Let me see." I held back another long moan before I pulled his shirt up, taking a long, good look at his bare chest. Oh, fuck, was he hot? He was hairy as well, just the way I liked it. I ran a hand along his entire chest, through his pecs, and down to his treasure trail, and Matt was grunting under his breath like a puppy.

As I stroked him again and again, he smiled at me, completely unbothered. His skin felt so good, soft yet firm, and all of him reacted to the most gentle touch. His breathing quickened slightly, and Matt swallowed hard a few times.

He just purred happily and smiled, while my hand ran over his entire chest over and over again. His body was telling me about his excitement. His muscles grew harder, veins got more visible due to the tesnion building up inside him, and most importantly, his dick was standing at attention.

With one final stroke, I let my hand run down right to his crotch, and when I felt him for the first time, he left the tip of my cock. I tried to hold it back, but I just couldn't. I grabbed myself, trying to stop, but it just felt too good. Matt was still smiling with that lovely empty expression, and I felt that ring heating up once more. It didn't bother me; I was too busy fondling my new toy.

I tried to focus, but I could see my own cock move inside my pants. Turning away, I looked at the guy again, who was now drooling while moaning contently. In response, I groaned loudly, and my back bent away from the seat—my body held in so much pressure, and feeling this guy's massive cock made it much worse.

"Fuck." I growled deeply, and that's when Matt reached out to me. At first, I thought he snapped out of it or the spell was broken, but instead, he grabbed my hard cock as well and started to fondle with it, making it much harder to not cum already.

The ring was now burning my skin again, but that pain was nothing compared to the pure pleasure running through my veins.

Together, we unbuttoned my jeans, exposing my wet boxers, but he didn't hesitate. He tugged at my underwear—so eager, yet his expression was emotional. Still, it felt so good to be touched by him—his warm hands, his gentle touch—so good.

With a little help, he pulled my boxers down—the tip of my dick was clinging on to the wet fabric, fuck.

I looked at him again, and he was looking at me. I placed a hand on his cheek and stroked him; his skin was so soft, his beard well taken care of, and his lips were a dream come true. My hand ran through his hair as he kept purring.

Firmly, I grabbed his neck and pulled him closer, smelling him for the very first time. His cologne was thick, yet the smell of sweat was coming through more and more.

My eyes rolled back quickly before I regained my composure. He kept looking at me while I pushed him down, but, like a well-trained boy, Matt opened his mouth, swallowing my hard cock whole.

I could have cried out right then, but it was just the beginning.

That guy knew his way around a man's cock, using his tongue while sucking me off. Rhythmically, he moved his mouth while I encouraged him to go even deeper.

I never had this before: a hot guy willingly—more or less—sucking my cock. It was a sight to behold. It made my entire body heat up quickly, as I was edging myself on already.

I didn't know if I pushed too hard when he gagged, but it was alright. He steadied himself against my thighs while I leaned back contently.

Watching this handsome fella made me feel so good that I ran a hand through his nicely done hair. He really made sure to groom himself. Everything sat perfectly; that's why I wanted him so much.

"Thats alright. Good boy." I said—I loved when they said that in the videos.

And he reacted even better than expected: he groaned happily and his body shuddered. Such a good boy.

That's when I reached my limits. I pushed him further down as I shot my first load, then another, and another. I wanted him to take it all, and as expected, he didn't fight back.

As I was running dry, I released him, and he slowly, swaying back and forth, resumed his position.

He licked his lips; his eyes were foggy and unfocused, but his body was so excited.

"Good boy." I stroked his chest a few times and patted him. He smiled and leaned back as well.

For a second, I just sat there, thinking. "I should take him home." I thought so, but at first, I wanted to have some fun.

I encompassed his firm upper body again before I unbuttoned his jeans as well. His dick was tenting visibly, and I wanted to see it.

I pulled his enormous wet cock out of his underwear. I assumed he had a big dick, but it was even better than expected.

I moved my hand up and down his shaft, and he purred again while looking at me.

Drooling heavily, he stained his clothes already, but it wouldn't stop.

"Let's get home, body." I stroked him again before I turned the key, and the engine roared to life.

On my way back home, I used every opportunity to fondle with his stick—he even leaked again, much to my amusement.

He watched me the whole time, smiling derpily and drooling. I knew he liked it.

From time to time, Matt let out several long groans, his body shifting slightly. I knew he wanted to cum so badly, but something was holding him back.

Back at home, still inside the car, I turned and found him looking at me pleadingly, and my breath quickened again. One of his hands was resting on his thighs, and the other was firmly stroking his meat.

"Fuck." I moaned looking at this man, craving my touch so much. So I wrapped my hand around his massive cock and moved it rhythmically.

Matt whimpered, and he let out a few moans of pleasure. He was so close already that he shot one massive load, spreading his cum all over his clothes.

At this time, his eyes rolled back, and an even wider smile spread across his lips.

That was when I came into my pants again—it just looked so hot. Matt was mine now; I owned him.

I looked at the ring, still shimmering, and took several deep breaths. Then I remembered what the guy online told me to share.

I got Matt dressed back up and wanted to take a picture. But I had a better idea.

I lifted my boy's shirt back up and snatched a picture. I never felt better in my entire life.

I wonder what the guy's going to say to Matt.

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euphol · 7 days ago

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The Spy

Allen moved silently through the Golden Army's locker room, his heart pounding in his chest. He had been tasked with gathering intel on their biggest rivals, and if he succeeded, it could give the Serpents the edge they desperately needed in their upcoming match. He needed anything to help his team win. A playbook, a roster, any inside information would do the trick. But the clock was ticking, and the empty locker room wouldn't stay empty for long.

Just as Allen scanned the rows of lockers, he heard muffled voices approaching from the hallway. Panic surged through him. If he got caught, he knew the Golden Army had their own... "unique" ways of dealing with intruders. And they weren’t known for being gentle to say the least.

Thinking quickly, Allen spotted a gold jersey hanging among many others on the wall. Maybe, just maybe, he thought, I can blend in. After all, the Golden Army was recruiting new players left and right—surely they wouldn’t notice one more. Without a second thought, he grabbed the jersey and pulled it over his head.

The moment the jersey settled on his shoulders, something strange happened. His thoughts began to slip away, melting like snow in the sun. His eyes glazed over, turning into golden spirals that mirrored the shimmering jersey. Memories of the Serpents and his life as their star midfielder evaporated, replaced by a singular drive—serve the Golden Army. On and off the field. In every way.

Allen was no more.

He stood up straighter, his identity shifting as effortlessly as his thoughts. He was Bruce now, a loyal midfielder for the Golden Army, dedicated to doing whatever was asked of him. Just then, the locker room door swung open, and Brody and Scott strolled in, deep in conversation. They paused when they saw the blank-faced recruit standing stiffly, his eyes still spiraling.

Scott raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Told ya it’d work, bruv.”

Brody chuckled, giving a knowing nod. “You sure did. The jersey’s magic, man.” He turned to the dazed figure in front of him. “What’s your name and position, bro?”

Bruce snapped to attention. “Sir! I’m Bruce, midfielder for the Golden Army, sir!”

Brody and Scott exchanged another satisfied look.

“Perfect,” Scott said with a smirk. “And you’ll follow any order we give you, yeah?”

“Yes, sir!” Bruce’s voice was robotic, still smiling, completely obedient.

“Good to hear, bro. We’ve got a match against the Serpents coming up, and we’ll need you on the pitch for that. Afterward, report back to the locker room. The rest of the bros will wanna... ‘welcome’ you properly.”

“Yes, sir!” Bruce saluted, already focused on the game ahead. His loyalty was absolute, his mind now belonging to the Golden Army.

With one final nod from Brody, Bruce walked out, his golden spirals staying strong throughout the evening. He was ready to win—ready to do anything for his new team, and it was time to show them that.

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euphol · 7 days ago

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In collaboration with @malehypnofantasy

"As I said before, son. There's no better blessing other than being enlightened. Your strength came from Him. Your good look came from Him. Your wealth came from Him. Spreading His word is only right as a way for you to thank Him for his blessing. So, if I ask your purpose in life, it is--"

"To serve all His needs,"

"And, my words are--"

"Your words are the extension of His will and desires, so it's only right for me to obey you too as His communicator to the masses,"

"Perfect. Your reformation is a true showcase of His work. Bless Him,"

"Bless Him,"

"Okay, now you are discharged, son. Make me proud,"

---

Looking a bit too proud with himself, but why shouldn't he? He's finally the perfect son his father always wished for, and he's more than happy to oblige to his father's needs and demand. He spent way too much time defying the old man orders throughout his juvenile years until his latest semester in college, it's good to finally conform to his father's traditional patriarchal value rooted in Evangelical Christianity. After all, that's the kind of value needed in the community among its youth if the family-run megachurch wanted to remain flourishing for years to come.

Now, he needed to ensure that the app his father installed to his phone ended in every townies phone, including the upcoming students getting back for summer break so his father can be even more prouder to him for making sure that the community outreach worked well. Maybe he should start with the bartender, he's 21 now after all so he can definitely just slide into the bar with no problems. Make him another followers to the cause and then proceed to use his help as they are working on dual operation to convert everyone to join the megachurch through the app's subtle yet effective impact. The townies love to get wasted with their drinks, must be easy to install the app into their phone when they are not even sober. When it's on their phone, it's going to do its job and they just need to sit back, relax and wait for the stream of proud, strong and devout masses beelining their way into the service every Sunday

----

"I don't know how you did it, but your words really reverberated with me. Truly a blessing to be your converted puppet, you know?"

"I mean, talk about perfect takeover. Like, you, a fat pathetic nerd taking over my mind and make me do your bidding? Blasphemous!"

"But well, I'm just your mic now, but you clearly doing a better job than I do. Only because of you my son can be brought back to the right way like that, all my efforts were futile all these years but with you in control, poof, he's becoming someone that I can proudly call son. Really crazy how effective you are in making me your puppet and delivering all your demand as if it's God's commandment. It really is a perfect revenge for this fucked up townies. Serves them right. I really am pleased to be used by you to achieve your goals,"

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euphol · 7 days ago

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Hello Neighbor

Hello mister neighbor.

Don’t worry. I’m not about to hurt you. You know that. You are so strong.

I saw you insulting my boyfriend during one of his visits. Because he was still wearing his qamis. Nod if you remember, no need to talk.

Don’t speak. I know. My eyes are easy to get lost in. But the real reason you aren’t closing the door is my musk. Even if you can’t consciously smell it. Here we go, breathe deeper and deeper, neighbor.

You feel terrible that you insulted him for his faith, don’t you. Nod. Tsik.

Nod YES. You feel terrible about it, you realize as you agree with me.

When my boyfriend will come back, you will ask more about his faith. You will realize you want to convert to his religion. You will agree with his teachings. Nod. Good.

Yes. Open the door wider. Breathe in, breathe out. Let me in, friend. I’m your friend, aren’t I? Good boy, nodding yes when I ask a question. It ciments in your mind. Ciments that I am right. Always. About anything and everything.

If I told you you were a waste of air, you would agree. No need to nod. I don’t want you to be suicidal. You are beautiful.

I see that bulge in your pants. You like that I find you attractive. You accept that I love men that way. Because so do you. Nod. Good. You will be a great boyfriend.

I see your confusion. Yes, I am dating several men. The one you insulted is only one of several boyfriends. No, it has nothing to do with my religion, you racist pig. I’m an atheist. But if it makes my boyfriends happy, they can follow any faith.

Don’t worry. I will cure you.

And you’ll be a proud muslim, won’t you. Yes. Good neighborhood boyfriend. Breathe in. Again. You want to be my boyfriend. Good. And the boyfriend of my boyfriend you insulted. Yes. Good.

Don’t worry, my boyfriends breathe my musk so much, they are putty in my hands. I can assure you he will love you too, “mister neighbor”.

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euphol · 7 days ago

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Coming Out Party 1: Arrival

There’s going to a be a pride near my town soon, so I tried to do a mini-series about pride month…. I tried?

Also, this chapter in particular has a lot of terms used as homophobic slurs. I read quite a lot about LGBT+ folks claming terms like “Queer” and “Dyke” as their own, and wanted to have that kind of vibe, but if it makes you uncomfortable, please skip this one. The next chapters will come in the next days, and they don’t have the same language.

G: So, you said you wanted to go to the nearest gay pride?

O: Yea? It’s something to you? Old trucker values?

G: What? No!?! You just don’t look like I though a gay man would.

O: Because you look gay, man? Don’t lie, look me in the eyes!

G: The fuck, I’m no.. so pretty!!!

O: Hell yea, my eyes are pretty! And you like pretty things, like other dudes!

G: I-I guess???

O: And you like looking good, or else you wouldn’t have got that tat!

G: Heeellll Yeeaaahhh…

O: So you’re a fairy!

G: My dad called them faiiiry…

O: And pride is all about taking back stereotypes! Look at the road but remember my eyes. See them in your mind, bud!

G: Yeeaaahhh… Okay, bro… And I’m a fairy…

O: Your gay, your a proud and open Boi fairy! Repeat it till it’s your whole self, bro!

G: I am gay, I’m a faggot, a fairy, I am super-proud. I am gay, I’m a faggot, a fairy, a cocksucker, I’m super-proud. I’m gay, I’m a boy, I’m a fag, a dirty cocksucker, a fairy, a queer, I’m superpround. I’m gay, I’m a sluttyboy, Im …

O: Yeah, that’s it! And you have a promising future with that monster rising up, dude!

G: Eheh, thanks, but I’m a subby bottom. I’m a slutty gay, a fairy, a queer boy…

O: Yeah, and that pride is gonna be the perf’ Coming Out Party!!! I’m so proud of you!!

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euphol · 7 days ago

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Hypnovember day 19: Drug/Substance

Oh boy! Disconnected from all social medias (too much batfamily fanfics. yes. Seriously.) for a while. Straight-up forgot that I had done day 17 already, for an instant. @mathhypnostories, publishing this. Hope you get out of your apparent own writing block.

Benjamin was looking worriedly at his friend Harry, who progressively started to get disjointed in his speech as he was trying his new stash of weed.

“Dude! Who gave you that?!?” He ended up whispering, when Harry suddenly jumped from talking in a nearly incomprehensive speech pattern about his studies to rambling maniacally about color patterns.

“..A..A..Albert…”

Just the fact that Harry suddenly gave him the name of his elusive dealer surprised Benjamin to no end. No matter what he tried, he never could get Harry to admit who gave him his stuff.

Harry had stopped talking. Instead, as his cig was finishing to turn to ash, he rolled more of the drug in a paper and took another deep breath. Trying to identify by smell the brand, Benjamin coughed widely. He was feeling so light-weighted…

“And he seriously asked you to take it alone?” “And to… Call him…” Having apparently remembered the odd demand only then, Harry pulled off his phone. feeling there was something shady going on, Benjamin told him:

“How about you don’t?” His friend had asked him to join him to test the apparently potent brand, but Benjamin had preferred to remain on lighter things like nicotine. And it was a good thing, in retrospect. “Y..YEah… Guess I don’t… Want.. To Ca..llll.. Him….”

No way, Benjamin though. “Instead. you want to masturbate. It’s okay that you do it in front of me. that’s what bros do.”

Harry nodded like it was the most sensible thing, and exposed his 4 and a half inches flaccid, before fapping vigorously. “Yeah… I want to.. jack… oofffffff…”

Mesmerized by what he was witnessing, Benjamin took his already erect (at a meager 5 inches) cock and half-shouted: “the-The first one to cum gets to be licked clean by the other. You love the idea, right?”

“r-r” Harry hesitated, but Benjamin realized he let his cig drop while masturbating. He quickly took the burning stick and shoved it under Harry’s nose. “RIGHT. Love it, man…”

“You also love the idea of sucking me, so you’re going to lose on purpose, uh? As usual?”

Benjamin wasn’t thinking, but he was too high on his own horniness to think much more than his wonked out friend.

Harry laughed. “Know.. Me.. Dude” He then let a hiccup escape his lips and giggled.

Benjamin came almost immediately, having apparently discovered something about himself.

Harry was a very good loser. As he filled the entirety of Benjamin’s three inches in his mouth, smoke coming out of his nose entered his taller friend’s. As Harry moved, satisfied by his work, he stated:

“You’re… horny again…… dude! Let’s.. Play…. again..”

Benjamin was light-headed from everything his drugged friend just did, but that felt like such a great idea.

“He-he. You’re… on, babe.” “Bro.” “babe.” “Let’s…. bet on… it.” “Oh hell yeah, bro-babe!”

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euphol · 7 days ago

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I wish that I could grow up into a big daddy with a thick roid gut and just be a pro bodybuilder with no responsibilities besides growing bigger and fucking guys. Can you help sir?

Who's your Daddy?

Ok Daddy, welcome to your new life, however with the age you quickly put on, your body now prevents you from the bodybuilder life you lived over the past 30 years.. However you still have the sexy body you worked so hard for, but covered in a pelt of salt and pepper hair now covered it. In recent years you've instead embraced your role as a Leather Daddy.

You glance off in a distance as your ever growing of Young leather boys grows as you've filled your home with hot young boys all older than 18 of course, but most of your days now spent with young men in gear caressing your hairy belly and sucking you off. Losing your youth was worth it for attention like this you think, lying back before puffing on your huge cigar.

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euphol · 7 days ago

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Im a 17 years old guy, there is this new next door neighbor that is a very handsome man, he is in his early 50's he is very muscular and hairy, he is single, i know its wrong but today after he went to work i got in his house by the bedroom window that he leaves open. And threw myself into the bed on the other side of his. Imagining i was older and we were married.

Daddy's Boy

I'd stare out thee window my eyes focused on the new sexy Daddy next door, he was obsessed with leather and damn he looked good in it. One Day I snuck into his house when he left for work. I caught myself sniffing his leather taking in his scent, Damn I wondered what it would be like to feel his muscled body wrapped around mine? But I was a mere high school student, the mere idea of us together was ilegal.

I pulled his jacket on, wanted to feel him near me, the weight of the leather shocked me, didn't expect a jacket to feel so heavy. I saw his closet filled with leather pants and wished I could see him in them, tight, against his bulge and oh so curvy ass. Fuck I wish I was older and his type, I could see us spending our lives together.

Suddenly the room got bright, When everything cleared up I was shocked to see me in front of a mirror, but it wasn't me at least not the old me. In my place was an older version of me, I was 30, my mind caught up to my new life I was 30 and married to the love of my Life Dean, who owned a leather shop in town and a gay bar attached, which I ran.

I was no longer the All American boy next door, but the bad ass leather clad, ink covered wet dream of my husband. Our new lives spent in full leather the mere smell would get me had but mix it with Dean's musk and I became a sexualized animal.

I was Daddy's perfect boy and I loved our life together! New neighbors moved in and I noticed they had a young son about the age I was several moments ago. I saw the way he looked at me, so knowing he was curious as I was when I'd go to work I'd leave the bedroom window open, I figured why not let him discover his destiny as well?

And what do you know, a year later when Joon turned 19 he moved in and joined our ever growing family.

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euphol · 7 days ago

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Time Travel Christmas

My name is Roger Braddock the 3rd. It sounds fancier than it is. You are all probably thinking I look fancy too. It’s 2023, but I’ve always enjoyed everything from the 1950’s, at least the positive things. With a name like Roger, it was bound to happen. I love the fashion, the music, the movies. I hate the social injustices. It is especially hard because I am gay, but the decade is just alluring to me. Yes, I do smoke occasionally too. I know it’s bad, but it is a guilty pleasure. It’s Christmas Eve and tomorrow I am getting together with my family, including my grandfather, who’s prime was the 1950’s and 1960’s. Grandma is gone, but he is still trucking along. It would have been nice to know him when he was younger. I’d get to spend more time with the man I admire, and get to enjoy the 50’s. Well, time travel isn’t real, so that’s not going to happen. I’ll just enjoy time with him now.

The next morning, I woke up and I was in a chair for some reason. I know I went to sleep in my bed last night. That’s strange. Wait, why do I have clothes on. As I looked around, I realized this wasn’t my bedroom. It looked like something right out of a Sears catalog from the 1950’s. Am I dreaming? I walked to the full-length mirror and suddenly stopped, with a look of shock.

This wasn’t my body. These weren’t my clothes. I started freaking out and looked over to the dresser and saw a calendar. It said 1958. I ran to the window and looked outside. It looked like a scene right out of the movies from the 1950’s. There were Christmas decorations up too. Did I somehow end up back in time on Christmas 1958? I walked back to the mirror and examined my body closer. I was handsome. I was tall. I had nice bone structure. There is something familiar about the face. I turned and looked at this man’s wedding photo which was also on the dresser. Then it hit me. I was my grandfather when he was younger. I’m Roger Braddock the 1st!

Holy Shit!

Somehow my wish came true. I will be able to get to know my grandfather when he was younger in a time period I love. Just I am now my grandfather. How is this even possible?

“Honey, are you almost ready. My family is arriving.”

That’s my grandmother! Wait a minute, that’s my wife! I look at the window and see that some family is arriving. We must be hosting Christmas. I scramble and grab a tie and put it on. Guess it’s showtime.

I go downstairs. It’s my grandparents house, or I guess my house now. It looks so much nicer. There’s my wife. She is so beautiful. I feel my dick get hard just looking at her. Guess I am straight, or at least this body is straight.

“Daddy, Daddy!”

My god, it’s my aunt Carol and Aunt Alice. They’re so young. My grandmother looks so young. This is crazy. I start to greet the relatives and we start opening gifts. I light up a cigarette. I guess this will be more acceptable now. My new wife hands me a baby to hold. Oh my god! It’s my father! That’s right, he was born in 1958. This must be his first Christmas. This is crazy.

“Roger, pose with the girls so I can take your photo,” my wife says. We pose and she takes the photo. There I am with my two daughters and my son, who is named after me.

I guess I am stuck here living my grandfather’s life. My wish came true. I hope I can pull this off. I wonder if I will ever return to my old life. Here’s hoping I don’t mess up the future too much!

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euphol · 7 days ago

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Mike and pops

Right where did we leave off. Well my former athletic brother was a bumbling adult baby and my dad who was a rough basketball coach was now my boyfriend. My dad also switched careers somewhere along the reality shifts to being a professor, probably to help with the fact my brother now has low intelligence and no athletic skills.

At first it was weird having a now sort of nerdy father but what was more weird was after switching his expectations for me to love, he was completely infatuated with me. It was great before this my brother got all the love, of course he still got attention being a pants pooper but my father swooned over me. I’d started calling him Travis, his first name as we were more like boyfriends now if anything.

Travis walked into the room and saw me and smiled, opening his arms for a hug. "If it isn’t my beautiful boyfriend and son Mike. He said as I shyly hugged him, feeling his large round belly. It was still awkward being doted on so much, something I wasn’t used to. One thing I noticed ever since my dad switched to being a professor is that he hardly had time to workout and he was only getting larger. Before this he had sort of a muscle gut, and would workout with Joel. Now when he wasn’t teaching he was changing diapers or giving private lessons. I wanted to make a switch, see if I could speedrun his own gains. I switched out the traits of fat, with muscular I watched as his suit began to become loose as his muscles bulged out.

For a moment he was stunned before he grabbed me and pulled me into another much more forceful hug. "Sorry son just really felt like squeezing you, hehe" he said as I got a face full of his hard abs. In an instant I regretted my decision, his fat belly felt much nicer and now it was like hugging a body builder over my fat attractive dad. The problem was I couldn’t easily override changes I’d just made so I’d have to swap out other traits to get the desired results. I figured reality might shift in my favor if I made my dad a bit lazier. So I switched out his traits of hard working, with laziness. Instantly my father’s weight began to return to match this change in traits, even his sense of style began to vanish. I watched as my father went from stunned to letting out a huge fart then patting his big belly. "Gyhahaha that was a big one. Imma go sit my feet up honey, why don’t you go check on your brother."

I hadn’t noticed it but as I walked to check on Joel the light in my amulet began to dim. Joel had really begun to embrace his role as my "little" brother . He was playing games, of course the only games he could play were those meant for young kids. I could tell he needed a change from the way his onesie sagged in the back and the faint smell but I didn’t feel like it so I let him sit in it.

“I’m tryna play games! Don’t bother me go let dad kiss you or something!” He took his pacifier out to say and pouted.

“Whatever little bro.” I said annoyed. I went back to find my dad with his feet up on the coffee table watching tv with a beer in hand.

"there you are son URRP." my dad said motioning for me to come give him a hug and a kiss. "Come give me some sugar then get started on dinner, pops is hungry"

I kissed him then groaned as he burped in my face, I got back his belly but I wasn’t a fan of his lazy attitude. I’d need to make another change. I looked to my amulet and noticed its regular glow had dimmed, when I tried to make a change nothing happened. Drat, I’d have to wait for it to recharge meaning my dad was stuck like this.

For the next couple of days my dad would get home from work and toss of his work clothes in exchange for an unwashed wife beater. He’d then kick up on the couch and drink beer, leaving me to cook in clean. I also had to take over the responsibilities of taking care of Joel which was smelly and unfun. At the end of the day my dad would get into our bed and fart up a storm, laughing and saying it was part of being old. The only solace I had was that when he wasn’t being a lazy slob he was great in bed if you know what I mean. Basically things were sorta a mess but I could tell the amulet was slowly regaining power, so I left it in my drawer to gain continue charging.

———

end note:

hope you guys enjoyed the sequel to my last story if you guys are enjoying it leave a comment, let me know if you have any story ideas. What would you like to see next, maybe a part 3?

should Mike continue to use the amulet or maybe his dad Travis will find it. Or perhaps even Joel could find it and get his revenge? Lemme know!!!

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euphol · 7 days ago

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Hey, what are you doing?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder at me with a raised brow. Caught off guard, I lowered my phone for a second, my heart racing as I saw his tall, athletic frame and youthful face bathed in the early afternoon light. He looked every bit the young adult Turkish jock he was: probably mid-twenties, sharp jawline, thick dark hair, and muscles that showed his commitment to the gym.

I had seen him a few times around the campus, always with a group of friends, his confidence radiating like an aura. I knew someone like him—young, athletic, effortlessly charming—would never look my way. Not for someone like me, a lonely 47-year-old guy who had long ago given up on the thought of finding love. But today was different. Today, I had something that could make things… possible.

Trying to calm my nerves, I quickly raised my phone back up, aiming it at him. "Oh, just testing out the camera," I lied with a faint smile. His eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he shrugged and turned away, seemingly dismissing me.

I tapped a hidden icon on my screen, activating the reality-altering feature I’d only dreamed could work. Instantly, time around us froze. The birds in mid-flight hung suspended in the air, leaves ceased rustling in the wind, and the chatter of distant students became silent. Everything stopped… except for me. I took a deep breath, gazing at him, knowing I was about to change everything.

The transformation began slowly at first, subtle adjustments to his frame. His arms thickened, filling out even more as his biceps and forearms gained an undeniable bulk. His chest broadened, the thin fabric of his shirt stretching as his torso became more powerful, more solid. His lean, youthful athleticism morphed into a sturdier, burlier build that spoke of strength and experience.

His jawline softened slightly, no longer as razor-sharp, but more defined with a thick, gray-flecked stubble. I watched, mesmerized, as his facial hair grew in patches until it formed a full beard, the dark strands laced with silvery gray. His once-youthful features matured as fine lines settled around his eyes and mouth, the kind that hinted at years well-lived, at a man who had seen and done much more than the boy he once was.

The changes continued. His hairline receded slightly, leaving him with a close-cropped style that suited his new look—clean, mature, and undeniably attractive. I could feel my heart pounding, realizing how he was becoming not just older but more familiar. Like someone I’d known for years, someone whose presence was as natural as my own.

As I watched, his outfit began to change as well. The casual, trendy clothes he’d been wearing morphed, the fabric shifting and melding until it transformed into a striking red and yellow Galatasaray jersey, representing his favorite Turkish team. The jersey hugged his thicker frame perfectly, emphasizing his broad shoulders and powerful arms. His jeans adjusted to fit his heavier build, comfortably loose but snug where it counted.

Then, a series of intricate black tattoos slowly emerged on his arms, weaving their way up from his wrist and forearm. The designs were meaningful, symbols of his journey, his roots, his life with me. As if each line, each shape, was a story we shared, memories of moments we had never yet lived… but now would.

A heavy watch appeared on his wrist, sleek and bold, the kind of watch I had always imagined he’d wear. I held my breath as I watched a silver band form on his finger, a simple but powerful symbol of commitment, of love. I felt a chill on my own finger, and I glanced down to see an identical silver ring glinting on my hand. It was cold to the touch, yet somehow, it felt like it had always been there. We were bound, now and always.

Then, memories flooded my mind, filling me with images and experiences that I hadn’t lived but suddenly remembered. I saw us together in Istanbul, walking hand in hand along the Bosphorus. I remembered quiet nights watching television, his head resting against my shoulder, his laughter a deep rumble in my ear. I recalled heated debates over our favorite players, afternoons spent in the kitchen trying to perfect recipes, and lazy Sundays where we did nothing but enjoy each other’s presence. I remembered the feeling of his warm hand slipping into mine, the comfort of having him beside me, knowing he was there for me and I for him.

I took a shaky breath, struggling to process the whirlwind of memories, the life that had suddenly become ours.

Time resumed.

He stood there, posed by the railing, a relaxed smile on his face, waiting for me to take the photo. But this time, there was something different in his eyes. A warmth, a familiarity. He wasn’t just some young stranger anymore; he was my husband. He was my partner.

I raised the camera, capturing his steady, confident pose, and as I lowered the phone, he walked up to me, casually draping an arm around my shoulders. “You always make me look so serious in these pictures,” he chuckled, his voice warm and familiar. “Let me see it?”

I showed him the photo, and he nodded approvingly, giving me a wink. “Good one. Now come here,” he said, leaning in to give me a quick kiss. It was brief, casual, but filled with affection, the kind of kiss shared between people who had spent years together, who knew each other inside and out.

And as we stood there, in the middle of the park, the world around us buzzing back to life, I realized that I no longer felt alone. We were together, a publicly out couple, as natural as the sunlight on our faces, as real as the silver rings on our fingers.

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euphol · 7 days ago

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(ai here, hand drawn tf on patreon)

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euphol · 14 days ago

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2k Special

So, guys, like I mentioned early this month, this year’s been way more complicated than I thought it would be. So much so I didn’t even realize I hit the 2000 follower mark! I had nothing planned for the occasion, but since I can’t let it slide, I whipped up this little story. It’s nothing groundbreaking or revolutionary, to be honest. It’s more of a throwback to my roots—the first stories that pulled me into this world, first as a reader and then as a writer.

My inspirations here are the amazing work of CallMecrazy and Aardvark. 'The Jocking' got me started in this game, and right after that, I dove into 'High School Development.' Also to this day, my all-time favorite story is 'Clifton Jocks: Nick' (though I gotta say, 'An Old Fashioned' is the best thing ever written in our niche).

Anyway, this is my little gift to celebrate with you all. Hope you dig it!"

Coach Knows Best

Brock woke up kinda groggy after a weird dream where he was on the school debate team. Like that would ever happen. After letting out a half-yawn, half-laugh at the ridiculousness of it, the football jock let out a groan as he rolled out of bed, his massive frame stretching and creaking. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and checked the clock – 5:30 AM. Time to get his butt in gear for another day of practice. After a cold shower, he admired himself, flexing his boulder-sized biceps and tree trunk thighs.

“Damn, Beef, you’re one fine piece of work,” he muttered to himself, before realizing that if he kept daydreaming, he’d end up running late, and the last thing he wanted was to piss off the coach. He lumbered down the stairs, still half-asleep, trying unsuccessfully not to make noise so he wouldn’t wake his mom. Not an easy feat with his massive size. As he stepped into the small but cozy kitchen, he popped open the fridge, chugging a gallon of whole milk and scarfing down a couple of protein bars and lasagna leftovers, shoveling it all in like a cow chewing its cud. Gotta keep those gains coming, bro, he thought as he let out a loud belch.

After put a sleveeles shirt and a pair of compression shorts he hopped into his late dad's beat-up pickup truck and cranked up the radio, bobbing his head to the rap music as he headed to the local high school, where he played offensive guard for the Oakwood Titans. He couldn't wait to hit the field and ball out with his teammates. Oakwood, was the best, the coaches actually cared about their players and the athletes were treated with respect.

Pulling into the crowded high school parking lot, Brock spotted his bro Trey, another offensive lineman, and they fist-bumped as Brock approached.

"Yo, Beef, you ready to crush some skulls today, bro?" Trey said, his deep voice rumbling.

"You know it, man. Gonna put fear in those punks," Brock replied with a grin, pounding his chest.

The two hulking teens lumbered into the locker room, the floor shaking with each step. Brock yanked open his locker, the cheap metal creaking, and started suiting up. He pulled on his compression tights, the fabric straining to contain his muscular legs. Next came the padded girdle, the protective cups cradling his package just right. He smirked, knowing he was packing some serious heat down there. He put on his shoulder pads, the familiar weight settling on him, and finally, his jersey – number 72, offensive guard.

Brock and Trey headed out to the practice field, joining the rest of the team for warm-up drills. Coach Steele, a former NFL player with a jaw like granite, barked out commands, and the players moved in sync, grunting and clapping in rhythm. Brock loved this part, the camaraderie and teamwork. It felt like a well-oiled machine, everyone doing their part.

Soon, they split into position groups for more intense drills. Brock lined up against the defensive tackles, his eyes narrowing as he focused. The whistle blew, and he exploded off the line, driving his feet and using his massive frame to shove the defender back. Again and again, Brock dominated the one-on-one battles, his competitive nature fueling him.

"Atta boy, Beef! That's how we do it!" Coach Steele yelled, slapping Brock on the back, making the young man puff out his chest, soaking in the praise. This was his element, where he thrived.

After a grueling practice, the team gathered for Coach's speech. Brock listened intently, absorbing every word.

"Men, you're showing real promise out there. But I know we can be even better. This season, we're going all the way to state. But it's gonna take sacrifice, dedication, and leaving it all on the field. No half-assing it, you hear me? You're dismissed, boys, and behave yourselves. I don't want to hear any complaints about you from the other teachers. And woe to anyone caught messing with the other kids, no matter how weak they are!" Coach Steele's eyes scanned the players, landing on Brock. "Brock, stay here. I need a favor.” Said the older man. And Brock waited curiously while his teammates went to the locker room and the muscular giant moved towards him.

“ Brock, You’re one of our leaders; I expect big things from you, and now's your chance to prove it." Said the coach.

"Yes, sir!" Brock responded, his voice booming. He was ready to do whatever it took to please Coach Steele, he was his inspiration, and football was his life.

"Kid, there's a boy in your class, a new transfer, who's been asking questions he shouldn't. I need you to reach out to him. Gain his trust."

"Yes, coach, who are you talking about?"

"Aidan Trent. I understand he's your partner in science class."

"Aw, coach, that guy's lame, a total nerd."

"Beef, are you gonna go against my request?"

"No, sir, I'll do as you say!"

"Great, who knows, you might find you have something in common?" the coach replied with a mysterious smile.

Brock doubted that, but this was his chance to prove himself, to show the coach what he was made of.

Alone in the locker room, Brock stripped off his sweat-soaked gear, relishing the burn in his muscles. He grabbed a towel and headed to the showers, the hot water pounding on his aching body. He couldn't help but admire himself – bulging biceps, chiseled abs, thick tree trunk legs. This was the body of a champion, a warrior. He flexed, grinning at the way his muscles rippled.

After cleaning up, he pulled on a fresh pair of tight boxer briefs, the fabric clinging to his package, and slid into a pair of faded Levi's. He topped it off with an Oakwood Titans blue t-shirt, the school colors bringing out the intensity in his eyes.

After strutting in front of the cheerleaders, Brock headed to his biology class, where he was paired up with his target: the scrawny kid named Aidan. Even though he had a mission, he couldn't help but feel annoyed, wanting to be around his fellow jocks instead of some scrawny nerd. But the coach's words were law, and he would follow them to the end.

"Dude, you got a problem or something?" Aidan asked, sensing Brock's irritation.

"Nah, man. Just ready to get this over with so I can get back to football," Brock grumbled.

"Football, huh? You must be one of those meathead jocks I keep hearing about," Aidan said, rolling his eyes.

Brock felt his blood boil. "You got a problem with football, shrimp?"

"Relax, dude. I'm just saying, there's more to life than throwing a ball around," Aidan replied, backing down.

Brock clenched his fists, wanting nothing more than to pound this scrawny little twerp into the ground. But he knew that would only get him in trouble, and he couldn't afford to miss any games. So, he took a deep breath and tried to focus on the project. He didn't know how to deal with a weakling like that, but if this was Steele's will, Brock would make an effort.

"Man, what do you know about football?"

"That it's a bunch of guys smashing each other over a ball, just to get concussions and die young." Hearing that sent another wave of irritation through the young giant. But he kept his cool.

"Football is way more than that. It's discipline, teamwork, trust, it's brotherhood. Things I bet you don't have with your buddies in the chess club."

"I'm not in the chess club!"

"I bet you're in the choir or some other girly thing..."

"I'm part of the school newspaper!"

"Oh, right, something way more masculine, living off gossip."

"I bet anything with words escapes your ogre brain," the skinny kid shot back just as the bell rang.

At lunchtime, Brock made his way to the cafeteria, his tray piled high with enough food to feed a whole family. He plopped down at a table, right in the middle of the room, greeted by his fellow linemen.

"Yo, Brock, heard you pancaked Tanner in practice. Dude's still picking his teeth up off the field," one of the guys said, laughing.

"Yeah, man. Gotta let these boys know who's boss," Brock replied, shoving a handful of fries into his mouth.

The conversation turned to the upcoming game against their rivals, the Westside Warriors. Brock listened intently, already visualizing himself blowing open massive holes for the running backs. Just then, a scrawny figure approached with a tray in hand: Aidan. This was his time to shine.

Brock spotted Aidan sitting alone at a table in the cafeteria and decided to join him.

"Sup, Aidan, you mind if I park my big ol' butt right here? I think things got a bit rough between us, and I wanted to make it right."

"Uh, yeah, sure, go for it."

"So, newspaper? What's the deal, man? What've you been up to?"

"Not much, just... some stuff..."

Making a huge effort to seem interested, Brock continued. "What stuff? What you write for that rag?"

"Since you insist, I'm working on a story about the funding differences between the sports teams."

"Funding differences? What are you talking about?"

"Well, it seems like the football team gets way more money than all the other teams combined. I'm trying to figure out why that is."

"Hold up, you saying we get more cash? So what? We need that to be the best."

"I'm not saying you don't deserve it; I just think it's unfair that the other teams don't get the same level of support."

"Unfair? You don't know jack about football, man. This team brings in way more cash and fame for this school than any other sport."

"Look, I just want to understand how the funding distribution works. I'm not trying to attack anyone."

"You're trying to expose us, aren't you? Thinkin' we're doing something shady!"

At that moment, Coach Steele approached, noticing the heated discussion.

"Hey, hey, what's going on here?"

"This guy's trying to write a story saying we get more money than we should!"

"Is that so? And why do you think that, son?"

"I just... want to understand better how the funding gets divvied up. I'm not trying to accuse anyone."

"Well, I know things may seem unfair from the outside, but the football team brings in a whole lot more for this school than any other sport. That means more cash, more exposure, more opportunities. But it's not like we're stealing it from anyone. It's all within the rules."

"See? I told you we need that to be the best."

"Easy there, Brock. I get your frustration, but let's keep things civil here. Aidan, if you really want to understand how this works, why don't you come to one of our practices with Brock here to see how it all works, and I can explain it all to you calmly."

"Uh, well... okay, I guess."

"Great. Now, let's all go back to eating in peace, alright?"

Brock and Aidan nodded, still a bit tense, under the watchful eye of Coach Steele.

"Beef with me," the coach said with a stern face, and Brock followed him. "A little more subtlety would have been better, kid, but now I know what the kid was after. And to think I thought he might suspect something..."

"Coach?"

"Anyway, kid, good job, but it's not over yet. You heard what I said; tomorrow morning before practice, I want you to go to Trent's house and bring the kid with you. It's our duty to guide him to a proper understanding of the importance of football, right?"

After school, Brock headed home. Entering the simple house, he exchanged a few words with his mom before flopping down on the couch, flipping through channels until he found a replay of a college football game. Engrossed, he barely noticed the time pass until his mom, a night shift nurse at the town hospital, kissed him on the head and told him that she had left his dinner ready. He scarfed down the massive meal, grateful that his mom knew he needed to keep fueling his body to get bigger and stronger. It was tough for a single mom like her to manage the house and a son with his appetite and needs. But one day, he would repay that. He was going to college for football and become a pro, giving her and the coach all the pride in the world. He was going to be a star, a hero to his team and his community. Brock was going to make a name for himself, and no one was going to stand in his way. And if that meant putting up with the nerd Aidan Trent, so be it.

......

The next morning, Brock woke up with a renewed sense of purpose. He had a mission, and he was determined to make the most of it. After finishing his breakfast, he grabbed his gear and hopped into his truck, mentally preparing for the day ahead. As he drove towards Aidan’s house, he felt a mix of excitement and apprehension.

Pulling up to Aidan’s home, Brock took a deep breath. The house looked small and unassuming, a stark contrast to the towering figure of the young man standing outside. He knocked on the door, and moments later, Aidan's father, an older version of the kid, appeared, surprise etched on his face.

"Huh... what brings you here?" asked the lanky man, adjusting his glasses nervously.

"Hello, sir, nice to meet you. I'm Brock Bennett, Aidan's classmate. I came to pick him up so we can go to school together."

"You're a friend of my son's?" the man asked, both astonished and pleased at the prospect. As if the idea of a friendship between the behemoth in front of him and his son was impossible. Something Brock would agree with without hesitation if it weren't for the need to follow the coach's orders.

"Yeah, sure!" he replied with his best boy next door smile. "Could you call him? We're running late for football practice."

"Football practice?"

"Yeah, I said I'd take Aidan with me to help him with a report for the school newspaper, to help him understand the need for the funding we receive and all that..."

"Ahhh... now it makes sense! Aidan, come here, your friend is waiting!" the lanky man shouted for his son.

Aidan appeared at the door, a bit hesitant, but upon seeing Brock, forced a smile in front of his dad, who seemed confused at the prospect of his son making friends with one of the jocks. "Hey, Brock. What are you doing here?"

"Coach Steele sent me to pick you up, man. You were supposed to tag along to practice, remember? And we're already late. If it weren't for having to grab you, I'd already be crushing in the field by now. So, let's go!" Brock replied, gesturing for Aidan to hop into the truck. Once Aidan settled into the passenger seat, they started driving toward school. The initial silence in the car was palpable, with Aidan staring out the window and Brock focused on the road.

"So, Aidan, what do you have in mind for this article? Got any bright ideas?" Brock asked, trying not to sound annoyed like the day before.

"I'm thinking about something on the importance of funding for sports, you know? How it can impact team performance and player morale," Aidan replied, nervously.

"Cool, but don't you think we've already proven we deserve what we got? Football’s a big deal, and we bring fame to the school; we've been state champs more times than any other team," Brock said, trying to make the other guy understand.

"Yeah, but it's also important that other teams get the same support. It's not fair that just one sport gets all the attention and resources," Aidan argued, the fiery passion in his words.

Brock shook his head, a bit frustrated. "Look, I get your point, but you know how things roll. Football is what puts the school on the map. And who doesn't wanna be a star?"

Aidan sighed, looking at his own reflection in the window. "Not everyone has that dream, Brock. Some people just wanna feel part of something..."

Brock glanced at Aidan, surprised. "And what do you think the team is all about, man? What’s it really about?"

"Not everyone has a team to lean on, Brock!"

"Don't you have friends in your newspaper club?"

"I... I've just never been good at making friends... My mom passed away when I was little, and my dad's an accountant who works a lot. He's cool, but he doesn't have much time for me. So, I end up being alone most of the time," Aidan explained, the sadness in his words almost palpable.

Brock felt something unexpected: a pang of empathy. "Man, I'm really sorry to hear that. I had no idea."

"Yeah, it's not easy, but life goes on, I guess. I just focus on school and the stuff I like to do. But you and your friends seem to have it all, you know? Always hanging out and having a blast," Aidan replied, and Brock couldn't help but notice the envy in the other kid's eyes. He was used to that, with others wishing to be in his shoes but not willing to make the sacrifices needed. But this time was different; Aidan wanted things that Brock himself valued the most.

"Yeah, we've got a solid team," Brock said, trying to find the right words. "But it also has its challenges. My dad's not around. He passed away last year. And my mom... well, she works hard to support me. I guess deep down, we all have our battles."

Aidan turned his head, surprised. "You don't have a parent either? I... I didn't know."

"Yeah, it's part of life, right? We gotta deal with it and move on," Brock replied, his voice a bit softer now. "But it's not like I'm alone. I got my friends, and the team is like family."

"That's cool," Aidan said, a shy smile creeping onto his face. "I've always wanted to be part of something like that." Not knowing how to respond, Brock fell silent as he maneuvered the truck into the school parking lot.

Brock and Aidan got out of the truck and headed for the locker room, where the smell of sweat was mixed with the sound of laughter and shouts from the players. As soon as they entered, they were greeted by the sight of a messy place, with uniforms strewn across the floor and equipment scattered everywhere. The atmosphere was lively, full of energy and camaraderie.

“Hey, Beef! Finally decided to show up, were you giving that kid a blast?” Trey shouted, laughing and making obscene gestures, causing the others to burst into laughter and Aidan to shrink back.

Brock smiled but quickly turned his attention to the approaching coach, his presence demanding respect. Coach Steele had a serious look, but there was a spark of understanding in his eyes.

"Brock!" the coach said in a firm voice. "I'm gonna let this tardiness slide, but only because you brought Aidan. Now, go get changed and put on your uniform, we've got a lot of work to do!"

"Yes, sir!" Brock responded, feeling a surge of motivation at Steele's words. He quickly headed to his locker, grabbing his uniform and starting to get ready for practice. Meanwhile, the coach turned to Aidan.

"Aidan, come with me to my office. I want to talk to you a bit before we start," Coach Steele said, gesturing for the young man to follow him.

Aidan hesitated for a moment, glancing at Brock, who nodded encouragingly. It was strange how just a few words had made the other boy look at him with a completely different attitude. Neither of them noticed it, but Steele, an old fox, knew at that moment that things were heading in the desired direction. He then led the smaller boy along while Brock quickly changed.

Brock felt adrenaline coursing through his veins. This was his moment, the time to show all his potential, any thoughts about Aidan completely forgotten.

As he joined his fellow offensive linemen, Brock exchanged a few back slaps and jokes with his teammates. But he knew that as soon as the whistle blew, the fun would be over. It was time to work.

The warm-up began with the classic push-ups and squats, led by assistant coach Morrison. Brock followed the commands with precision and determination, feeling his muscles warm up and get ready for the challenge.

Next came the line drills. Brock positioned himself at his station, facing the training equipment that represented the defender he would have to face. At the whistle's signal, Brock exploded forward, using his immense strength to push the obstacle back. He maintained the correct position, with squared shoulders, feet firmly planted on the ground, and legs bent. He repeated the movement several times, feeling his body heat up and his determination grow with each thrust.

Then, with Coach Steele returning, the team was divided into smaller groups to practice different game schemes. Brock watched the instructions closely, memorizing the positions and movements he was supposed to execute. They rehearsed some passing and running plays, with Brock blocking defenders with precision and aggression.

During the breaks, Brock drank water and chatted with his teammates. They exchanged tips, encouraged each other, and reminded themselves of the importance of the season. The Titans had a tradition of winning, and in Brock senior year, they would not disappoint.

When practice ended, Brock felt his body tired, but his mind was more focused than ever. He knew that every drop of sweat, every push, every effort was worth it. Brock was part of a team of champions, and he wouldn't let anything or anyone stand in his way. As he laughed and exchanged bravado with Trey and the others, he let all his arrogance and ferocity show.

And then he came face to face with a mesmerized Aidan.

“Hey man, did you watch the whole practice?”

“Yeah! You guys… you are… awesome!” Aidan replied, surprising Brock, but not as much as his next sentence. “I… I want to be just like you… bro!” Said the smaller boy with unfocused eyes and drool dripping from the corner of his mouth.

What the hell was that? Something wasn't right.

“Coach! Coach Steele, sir!” Brock called out in alarm. “Something's not right with Aidan. He's…” the gigantic young man began to say as the coach approached.

"He's exactly as he should be, my boy!"

"But coach…”

“No arguments, Beef. You’re going to have to trust me.”

“Yes, coach.” Brock replied as he made his way to the locker room accompanied by the stupefied Aidan.

Brock watched Aidan with a mix of confusion and concern as the young man walked beside him, with a glazed expression and a silly smile on his face. Something was definitely not right, and Coach Steele's request seemed increasingly strange.

Upon reaching the locker room, the characteristic noise and smell filled Brock's senses. He greeted his teammates with back slaps and a few jokes, but his attention was focused on his new "friend."

Aidan seemed completely oblivious to the chaos around him, his eyes fixed on Brock with an expression of admiration and devotion. Brock couldn't understand what was happening, but he knew he had to keep an eye on him.

Brock began to undress, taking off his sweaty uniform and heading for the showers. Aidan followed him like a puppy until Brock made him sit on one of the benches where he remained still, but without taking his eyes off the big guy. Brock felt uncomfortable with that gaze but tried to ignore it, focusing on washing the sweat and dirt from practice.

After the shower, Brock returned to his locker, putting on a pair of jeans and a school t-shirt that outlined every detail of his powerful muscles.

"Hey, Brock, who's your little buddy?" Trey asked, nudging Brock.

"Oh, it's Aidan. Coach asked me to keep an eye on him," Brock replied, trying to sound casual.

"Seriously? That's weird. Well, if the old man told you to, you better take good care of your pet, huh?" Trey laughed and walked away, leaving a confused Brock behind. He approached Aidan, who continued to watch him with that disturbing look.

"Hey, Aidan, you okay, man?" Brock asked, trying to understand what was going on.

"Yeah, Brock, I'm great! You're so strong and amazing," Aidan replied, his voice full of admiration.

Brock felt uncomfortable with that reaction, but before he could respond, Coach Steele approached.

"Brock, Aidan, come with me. I have some things to discuss with you," the coach said with a serious look.

Brock and Aidan followed him to the coach's office, where Steele made them sit.

"So, Aidan, what did you think of the practice?" Steele asked, with an enigmatic smile.

"It was amazing, coach! The guys are so strong and skilled, football is awesome, and Brock too! I want to be just like him!" Aidan replied, his eyes shining.

Steele nodded, satisfied with the answer.

"Great, great. I see you've understood the importance of football for this school. And that's exactly why I want you to join us."

Brock widened his eyes, surprised by the proposal.

"But, coach, he doesn't play football. He's a nerd from the school newspaper," Brock protested.

"Exactly, Brock. And that's why I want him to join us. He needs to understand the true value of football, and there's no better way than being on the field, side by side with the players. Don’t take your eyes off Trent. Understood?”

Brock still wasn't convinced, but he knew better than to question the coach's orders.

"Alright, coach. I'll take care of him," Brock said, reluctantly.

"Great. Now, go get ready and enjoy the rest of the day. Don't take your eyes off Aidan, Brock. I want him at your table at lunchtime and tomorrow morning at the usual time, I want you two here, ready to train, understood?" Steele said, dismissing them.

Brock and Aidan left the office, and Brock couldn't stop thinking about what was happening. He couldn't understand why the coach wanted Aidan to join the team, but he knew he had to follow the orders. After all, football was his life, and he wasn't going to risk it all for a nerd, he justified to himself.

The morning went relatively normal if it weren't for the new adoring shadow Brock had over him in the form of Aidan. Although as the hours passed, the other boy seemed more normal. If Brock had paid more attention, he would have realized that the behavior he was taking as normal was expected for jocks like him and not nerds like Aidan. He only noticed the extent of that change when it came time for lunch when he found himself forced to share the table with Aidan and the football team boys.

During lunch, Brock found Aidan eagerly waiting for him at the football players' table. The skinny and awkward boy looked out of place among the muscular giants, but his posture and facial expression had changed drastically.

"Hey, Brock! Saved me a seat, bro?" Aidan said, in a deeper, more confident voice than Brock was used to hearing.

"Uh, yeah, sure..." Brock replied, still a little confused by the sudden change in behavior.

Aidan sat next to Brock, his tray overflowing with food, just like the other players. He began devouring the food with the same voracity as his teammates.

"Wow, Aidan, you're eating like a horse!" Trey commented, laughing.

"Yeah, man, gotta keep these muscles fed, right?" Aidan replied, patting his abdomen.

Brock widened his eyes, realizing that the boy was not only imitating the players' manner of speaking but was also bragging about his "muscles," something that definitely did not match his physical appearance. Or was it? Looking closely at the boy, he no longer seemed so skinny. He hadn't obviously reached the muscle mass of the team boys. But compared to most of the nerds at school, he was light years ahead.

"Seriously, Aidan, are you okay?" Brock asked quietly, so only the other boy could hear.

"Of course I'm okay, Brock! Never felt better. This football thing is awesome, man. I don't know how I lived without it until now," Aidan replied, laughing deeply.

Brock remained silent, watching Aidan interact with the other players. He joined in, made jokes about flatulence, and even started telling stories about his conquests with girls, which left Brock speechless.

"Hey, Aidan, I heard you're hitting on Brittany. Didn't know you had game, dude!" Connor the quarterback said, giving him a friendly nudge. Since when did those two know each other?

"Oh, you know, I've got my mojo. That blonde can't resist my charms," Aidan replied, winking.

Brock couldn't believe what he was seeing. That wasn't the same Aidan he knew. The skinny and shy boy had been replaced by a caricature version of a football player, complete with bravado, arrogance, and even romantic interests—everything Brock himself was. So why did it seem to bother him so much?

While the other guys laughed and continued the conversation, Brock remained silent, analyzing the situation. Something was very wrong, and he had a feeling Coach Steele was behind it all.

When the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, Brock turned to Aidan.

"Hey, Aidan, can I talk to you for a minute?" he asked, in a serious tone.

"Sure, Brock, what's up?" Aidan replied, with a confident smile.

Brock pulled him aside, away from the other players.

"Man, what's happening to you? You're not like this, what did the coach do to you?"

Aidan looked confused for a moment, but then his face lit up with a smile.

"Happening to me? Nothing, Brock! I finally realized how amazing football is. And all thanks to you and Coach Steele. Now I want to be part of it, be one of you, brothers!"

Brock frowned, unconvinced by the explanation.

"Aidan, I know you're not like this. You're a nerd from the school newspaper, remember?”

“Nah, man, just because I write for the paper doesn't make me a nerd. If things don't work out with football, I'm gonna be the next Adam Schefter, we even share the same name! Me, a nerd? You're a jokester, bro! I gotta go, see you tomorrow morning. Get ready 'cause tomorrow I'm gonna show you my skills.” Said the not-so-small boy as he walked down the hall while a stunned Brock stayed behind.

Still dazed, Brock headed to his next class, but his mind was far from there. He couldn't stop thinking about what had happened at lunch and Aidan's strange words. That sudden transformation left him uneasy.

During class, Brock tried discreetly to contact Coach Steele, but his messages went unanswered. He needed to understand what was going on, but the man who should have the answers seemed to be avoiding him.

At the end of the day, Brock ran to his car, determined to find out what was behind that bizarre situation. As soon as he got home, he threw himself on the living room couch, opening his laptop and starting to research.

His searches led him to stories about the "Stepford Wives," a fiction novel that talked about a community where women were replaced by perfect, obedient, and submissive replicas. Brock couldn't believe the similarity between that plot and what was happening with Aidan.

Could Coach Steele be involved in something similar? Was he turning the boys at school into idealized versions of football players? The mere thought made Brock feel sick. He didn't want to believe that his mentor, the one who inspired him so much, could be involved in something so dark.

Confused and worried, Brock eventually fell asleep on the couch, his mind restless with theories and speculations. He knew he needed to act, but he wasn't sure how to proceed. After all, Steele was his idol, and he didn't want to believe that the man who helped him become the player he was today could be involved in something so disturbing.

.............

The next day, after a restless night's sleep, Brock felt like a wreck. However, he still decided to train. Upon arriving at the locker room, he was approached by Trey and the other players.

"Hey, Brock, what's up, man? Where's Adam? Coach Steele is gonna be super pissed when he finds out you didn’t bring him.”

Brock felt a knot form in his stomach. What if Steele finds out Brock suspected something was wrong?

"I... I don't know, Trey. Something very strange is happening with Aidan, and the coach seems to be involved," Brock replied, hesitantly.

"Man, are you serious? The coach? No way, he's the man, our mentor. You're tripping, Brock, and it's Adam, man! I thought you were the guy's best friend!” Trey said, laughing.

Brock wanted to insist, he wanted to convince his friend to believe him, but before he could say anything, Steele himself entered the locker room, his demeanor serious.

"Brock, my boy, where's Adam?” the coach asked, his voice firm.

"I... I don't know, coach. He hasn't shown up yet," Brock replied, suddenly feeling uncomfortable in the presence of the man who until a day ago had been his idol.

“If I recall correctly, you were supposed to have picked him up at home and brought him to practice? You disappointed me!” Responded the coach, making a feeling of shame arise in Brock's chest, after all, despite his suspicions, Steele was still the great example for Brock.

"Relax, coach. I took the opportunity run a little to warm up,” said a deep voice. Turning towards it, Brock was taken by a huge shock. It was Aidan, but it wasn't. Before him stood a man who had familiar features in a gigantic muscular body. As if someone had fused Aidan with a muscular man.

"Brock, my boy, you should have picked up Adam as I asked," Steele said, with a serious tone. "Apologize to your teammate."

Brock swallowed hard, feeling ashamed. "Sorry, Aid… Adam. I... I forget you were coming."

"It's all good, Brock. I get it," Adam replied, with a confident smile. "The important thing is that I'm here now, ready to show what I can do."

Steele nodded, satisfied. "Great, great. Now go get changed, we have important practice ahead."

Brock and Adam headed to their lockers, starting to gear up with their game uniforms. Brock grabbed his number 72 jersey, the padded pants, and the protectors. Putting on that uniform always made him feel part of something bigger, a team of brothers.

While changing, Brock watched Adam out of the corner of his eye. The boy seemed so comfortable, as if that environment was his natural habitat. He put on the uniform with ease, adjusting the protectors precisely.

"Hey, Brock, you ready?" Adam called, already fully equipped.

"Ah, yeah, I'm coming," Brock replied, finishing getting dressed.

Together, they left the locker room towards the field, where the rest of the team was already warming up. Brock could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins, the desire to show all his potential returning with full force.

As soon as they arrived, Trey and the other players greeted Adam enthusiastically.

"Hey, Adam, ready to show your worth?" Trey said, giving him a friendly pat on the back.

"You know it, Trey. I was born ready," Adam replied, with a confident smile.

Brock watched the interaction, still a bit confused. How had Adam integrated so quickly into the team? Could Steele really have something to do with that transformation?

Before he could think more about it, the coach's whistle blew, signaling the start of the warm-up. Brock positioned himself, ready to give it his all. He couldn't let his concerns distract him. After all, the football field was his domain, and he wasn't going to disappoint his team brothers.

Throughout the practice, Brock watched Adam's performance closely. The boy seemed to have become a completely different person, with agile movement, strength, and determination. He stood out among the others, and Brock couldn't understand how that was possible.

During the first break, Brock tried to talk to Adam, trying to understand better what had happened. But the boy seemed absorbed in his own world, focused only on improving his performance.

And truth is Brock was impressed with Adam's performance on the field. The two seemed to communicate without words, anticipating each other's moves with impressive synchronicity.

When the coach yelled a play, Brock and Adam positioned themselves instantly, knowing exactly what to do. They blocked the defenders with precision, opening holes for the runners to advance. The offensive line worked like a well-oiled machine, with each piece fitting perfectly.

Adam's confidence was contagious. He moved with agility and strength, overcoming his opponents with ease. Brock felt motivated to give his best, wanting to be on par with him.

In one of the breaks, Brock couldn't contain his excitement:

"Damn, Adam, you're flying out there, man! Never seen anyone integrate into the team so fast."

Adam smiled, giving Brock a friendly pat on the shoulder.

"Oh, you know, I've always be a good player. Just needed a chance. And Coach Steele gave me that opportunity."

Brock nodded, impressed. He couldn't understand how it was possible, but he couldn't deny that Adam's performance was exceptional.

"Hey, you and I are a scary duo, huh?" Brock said, with a smile.

"You bet, bro!" Adam replied, excited. "Together, no one can stand against us."

Brock felt more confident than ever. Having Adam by his side made him feel invincible. They were a force to be reckoned with, an unstoppable duo.

As practice went on, Brock found himself focusing more and more on the game, setting aside his worries. The synergy with Adam helped him forget the doubts about Coach Steele and the strange transformation of the kid.

When the final whistle blew, marking the end of practice, Brock felt exhausted but extremely satisfied. They had given it their all, and the result was evident.

As they headed to the locker room, Adam looked at Brock with a confident smile.

"Hey, man, you really are an amazing guy. I'm glad to be on the same team as you."

"Thanks, Adam. I'm happy to be part of this too," Brock replied, with the same smile, momentarily forgetting who he was talking to. However, those concerns came rushing back as soon as they entered the locker room. Seeing Adam strip down made Brock question his sanity for the thousandth time that day. It was impossible—Adam, Aidan! His name was Aidan! And It was impossible for him to have that body. Before him was a man with broad shoulders, a defined chest, and arms full of muscles. The tanned skin only enhanced the imposing nature of his physique.

"Holy crap, Adam! You're a beast, man!" exclaimed Trey, giving the new player a pat on the abs.

"I know, I know," Adam replied, laughing heartily. "No wonder the girls drool over me."

"I only see Brock drooling over there, huh?" Connor nudged Brock with his elbow, making the others laugh.

"Ah, shut up, man!" Brock tried to hide his embarrassment, averting his gaze.

"Ah, leave Brock alone, he's just jealous of my bod," Adam said, doing a flex, making his muscles pop.

The other players applauded and whistled, impressed with the display.

"Damn, Adam, you think you're CBUM!" Trey commented, laughing.

"It's not that, it's you guys looking like a bunch of nobodies next to me," Adam retorted with a confident smile, while hugging Brock completely naked.

"Hey, knock it off, man!" Brock replied, lightly pushing his teammate.

"Chill, Beef, don't get jealous, bro. You're a prime specimen too," Adam said, giving a friendly elbow to Brock.

The other players laughed at the joke, and soon the conversation turned into a typical teenage banter, with jokes and bravado about who was the strongest, fastest, or most attractive.

After showering, Brock and the others got dressed, donning their school uniforms. Adam flaunted his new body with pride, intentionally wearing tight shirts and pants to highlight his muscles.

"Hey, Adam, you're more stuffed than a Thanksgiving turkey," Trey commented, laughing.

"Hey, man, gotta keep this bod on display. After all, the chicks love a hot athlete," Adam replied, winking.

Brock watched the scene, still unable to believe what he was seeing. That wasn't the Aidan he knew. That was a football player in every essence, with the same arrogance and confidence that Brock and the others displayed.

While the other boys bragged and joked, Brock remained silent, his mind racing. As they left the locker room, Brock noticed that Adam seemed to have won the admiration of all his new teammates. They laughed and joked with him, treating him as one of their own. Brock, on the other hand, felt increasingly distant, his doubts and worries isolating him from the rest of the group.

As they walked, Brock couldn't help but watch Adam closely. The man seemed so confident and popular, greeting all the classmates they passed by. It was almost as if he had been part of that group his whole life.

When they reached the classroom, Brock noticed Adam's behavior. He sat next to Brock, but instead of grabbing his class materials, he started taking selfies, showing off his muscles in different poses.

"Man, have you seen how many likes I got on this pic?" Adam said, showing his phone to Brock.

"Uh... no, I haven't," Brock replied, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

"Oh, you gotta see! It's blowing up, everyone's commenting on how ripped I am," Adam continued, not taking his eyes off the phone screen.

Brock watched the scene, unsure of what to say. The skinny, studious boy had been replaced by someone who seemed to care only about his appearance and popularity.

When the teacher finally entered the room, Brock tried to focus on the lesson, but his attention kept straying to Adam. The kid wouldn't stop fiddling with his phone, taking more and more photos and updating his social media.

"Hey, Brock, you think this pose looks better?" Adam whispered, leaning closer to Brock.

"Uh... I guess so," Brock replied, unable to hide his discomfort.

"Cool! I'll post this one later," Adam said, smiling with satisfaction.

Brock shook his head, still unable to believe what was happening. He glanced sideways at the teacher, who seemed to completely ignore Adam's behavior.

Did nobody else notice the drastic change in the kid? Or was everyone simply accepting that transformation as something normal?

During lunch, the table was full of laughter and lively conversations. The Oakwood Titans football players gathered around a table, with trays full of food, ready to discuss strategies and share dreams.

"So, what's your favorite NFL team, Adam?" Connor asked, while biting into a burger.

"The Chiefs, no doubt! Mahomes is a beast! I'd love to be part of his offensive line," Adam replied, his face lighting up as he talked about the quarterback he admired so much.

"Oh, you and Brock with that obsession over the guy. But he'll never be a Brady. There's only one GOAT. And I'm gonna be the one to take that spot from him! I want to be the quarterback for the Dallas Cowboys and take them back to the top! Imagine me playing for the packed crowd at AT&T Stadium! Connor Walsh making The America’s Team Great Again!” Connor exclaimed, gesturing enthusiastically while the others booed and threw food at him.

Adam, who had cheerfully thrown an apple core at Connor, nodded, laughing before continuing. "It'd be awesome to play alongside Brock on the Chiefs' offensive line, man! We could dominate any defense!"

"For sure, Adam! And you could protect Mahomes while I make the plays! It'd be a perfect combo," Brock said, feeling increasingly comfortable with the new Aidan/Adam.

"By the way, wouldn't it be great if we could all be in the NFL someday?" Trey commented, a hopefull smile on his face. "Imagine us four, playing together on a real team!"

Brock started laughing, imagining the scene. "That'd be epic! What could go wrong? A team of linemen ready to crush anyone who crosses our path!"

"Yeah, and we'd still have to fight for that chance, right? It's not easy getting there," Adam added, his eyes shining with determination.

"But who says we can't do it? We have the skill and the strength!" Connor said, pounding the table to emphasize his point.

As the conversation flowed, Brock let himself be carried away by the excitement and camaraderie. He was genuinely having fun, laughing and sharing stories with Adam and the others. For a moment, the doubts he had about Aidan's change disappeared, overshadowed by the energy around him.

"I remember the last time we played against the Warriors," Brock began, laughing. "We crushed them! It was a real show of strength."

"Yeah! And that touchdown you made? It was insane! I almost fell off the bleachers with excitement!" Adam exclaimed, laughing along with the others.

"That's right! And I still have a video of it! Brittany sent it to me. Too bad you weren't playing with us yet. But now I'm gonna post it in our group for everyone to see!" Trey said, grabbing his phone.

“Hey man, not cool!”

As the group continued to chat, Brock realized he was genuinely enjoying himself. He liked the new Aidan—Adam—and the way he fit in with the team. It was a relief to see that even with the strange transformation, the boy seemed happy and confident. But deep down, Brock knew something wasn't right. Aidan's change wasn’t natural, but at that moment, surrounded by his friends and immersed in conversations about football, he decided to set aside his worries.

"So, who's ready for the next game? Let's show them who's boss!" Brock shouted, raising his diet soda cup in a toast.

"I'm in! Let's crush them!" Adam replied, raising his cup as well.

The table filled with cheers and laughter, and Brock felt that, for a brief moment, everything was as it should be.

Brock and Adam left the cafeteria table, laughing and chatting animatedly about the upcoming practices. As they walked down the hallway, Adam suddenly stopped in front of a large mirror, adjusting his hair with his hand and admiring his reflection.

"Hey, man, could you cut it out with the vanity? You're not a runway model," Brock joked, giving Adam a pat on the back.

"Ah, shut up, Beef! I just want to look presentable. A football player has to take care of himself, right?" Adam replied, winking at the mirror while running his hand through his hair again.

"Take care of yourself? You seem more worried about that than the next game!" Brock laughed, amused by the scene.

"Relax, I just want to make sure I'm ready to shine on the field. And you should worry more about your image too!" Adam retorted, pulling Brock in front of the mirror.

Brock hesitated, but Adam had already grabbed his phone and positioned himself for a selfie. "Come on, smile! One, two, three!"

Brock made an exaggerated face, and Adam enjoyed the image. "Perfect! Now I'm gonna post this!" He quickly added a filter and before Brock realized, he was typing the caption.

"Rivals to brothers!" Adam said, with a satisfied smile as he pressed the button to post.

Brock was confused. "Rivals to brothers? Why'd you put that?"

Adam looked at Brock, surprised. "You're kidding, right? We’ve been playing as rivals our whole lives! And now we're on the same team! That's a big deal, man!"

Those words hit Brock like an arrow. He had forgotten for a moment that this bro wasn't real. Now, that post, the idea of being "brothers" on the team made his concern return.

"Wait a minute, Adam. You really don't remember anything, don't find anything... strange?” Brock said, trying to find the right words.

Adam frowned. "Strange? No, man! This is just what happens when you finally find your place. Football is my passion! And you should feel that way too, right? Don't tell me you're having an identity crisis!"

Brock didn't know what to say. Adam's transformation was so drastic that he couldn't ignore it. "No, it's not that... I just... just…” Brock mumbled. He knew something was wrong and couldn't let it pass. "I need to talk to Coach Steele," he decided, determination growing within him.

"Talk to the coach? About what?" Adam asked, his eyebrows raising.

"About you. About this strange transformation. It doesn't seem right, Adam," Brock responded, feeling more firm in his decision.

"Transformation? What the hell is that? You're out of your mind, Beef! The coach is amazing! He only wants the best for the team. Don't get carried away by silly thoughts!" Adam exclaimed, a tone of concern beginning to emerge in his voice.

Brock looked at Adam, and for a moment, he saw the boy he knew before—the nerd who cared about school and writing. But now, the image he saw was of a vain football player, completely different from the Aidan he knew.

"I need to go," Brock said, determined.

"Go where? Brock? Brock???" Adam asked worriedly, but Brock was already walking away, ignoring his friend.

As he walked towards the coach's office, Brock felt adrenaline rushing through his veins. He was about to uncover a mystery that could be affecting not just Adam, but the entire team. He needed to know the truth. No matter what happened.

Brock knocked on the coach's office door. "Coach Steele, I need to talk to you!" He announced, his voice firm.

"Come in, Brock," replied the coach, his expression serious but welcoming.

As soon as Brock entered, he closed the door behind him, determined to find out what was going on. He faced Steele, who looked at him with a mix of expectation and curiosity.

"Coach, I... I don't understand what's happening with Adam. He's not the same, and you seem to be behind it!" Brock said, frustration evident in his voice.

"Oh, Brock... you really got worried about that?" Steele responded, his voice calm and controlled. "Don't you see that this is for his good? For the good of all of us?"

"For his good? He's becoming a version of himself that I don't recognize! This isn't right!" Brock exclaimed, feeling anger growing within him.

“This isn't right, coach. He's not being himself!"

"You don't understand, Brock. Football is a game that requires strength, courage, and confidence. And sometimes, that means leaving behind who we were before. Adam was a threat and now is an essential part of our team," Steele replied, his voice firm.

"But at what cost? What are you doing with him? This isn't natural!" Brock insisted, feeling the conversation was intensifying. “And why me? Why use me to do this to him?”

"Because I needed a catalyst and you were perfect for that, boy. Understand, you're dealing with a new world, Brock. A world where the weak have no place. And I'm doing nothing but what's necessary to ensure our success. You should focus on what matters: winning," Steele replied, his expression unwavering.

Brock fell silent, the coach's words echoing in his mind. He was about to lose everything he had fought for—his friendship, his identity. And now, what was more important? Victory or the truth?

“Let me help you understand better, son. Changes are necessary for us to be the best version of ourselves, Brock. You've been through it yourself," Steele said, his gaze penetrating.

“I... what? No, that's not true, I would know…”

“Just like Adam knows? You want to take the risk? I can reverse what happened to him, but by doing so, I'll do the same to you. So, boy, what's your choice? I leave it in your hands. What do you say?”

“I… I prefer to stay as I am.” the boy replied.

"I thought so. Now, so they don't say I'm a monster, relax, boy, I assure you everything will be fine."

….

Brock woke up the next morning, the sun's rays peeking through his bedroom curtains. He stretched his muscular arms and legs, feeling refreshed after a good night's sleep. As he got out of bed, he couldn't help but admire his physique in the mirror - the chiseled abs, the bulging biceps, the powerful thighs.

"Alright, time to get this day started," Brock said to himself, heading to the bathroom to start his morning routine. He brushed his teeth, splashed some water on his face, and then made his way downstairs, the smell of breakfast wafting through the air.

In the kitchen, Brock's mom was busy cooking up a hearty meal - scrambled eggs, bacon, and fluffy pancakes.

"Morning, sweetie," she greeted him with a warm smile. "I made your favorite. Gotta keep those muscles fueled, right?"

"Thanks, Mom," Brock replied, sitting down at the kitchen table and digging in. He savored every bite, knowing he needed the calories and nutrients to power him through another intense football practice.

After breakfast, Brock headed outside to his truck, ready to make the drive to school. As he pulled out of the driveway, he felt a sense of excitement and anticipation. Football was his passion, his purpose. He couldn't wait to get on the field and prove himself once again.

Brock pulled up to Adam's house, ready to give him a ride to school. As he approached the front door, it swung open, and a tall, muscular man stepped out. Brock immediately recognized him as Adam's father, although he looked vastly different from the lanky, bespectacled man he had met just a few days earlier. not that he had any memory of that encounter.

"Brock! There's my boy!" the man exclaimed, his deep voice booming. He strode over to Brock and enveloped him in a bear hug, slapping him firmly on the back.

"Mr. Trent, good to see you," Brock replied, a bit taken aback by the man's enthusiastic greeting.

"Please, call me Hank. We're practically family now, with you and Adam being such good friends and all," Hank said, flashing a wide grin.

"Uh, yeah, sure, Hank. Is Adam ready to go?" Brock asked, glancing past the muscular man.

"Adam! Your ride's here!" Hank called out, and moments later, Adam emerged from the house, a confident grin on his face.

"Brock, my man!" Adam exclaimed, jogging over and exchanging a fist bump with Brock. "Ready to crush it at practice?"

"You know it, bro," Brock replied, still a bit bewildered by Adam’s father.

Hank chuckled and placed a heavy hand on Brock's shoulder. "I've been hearing all about your football exploits, Brock. Sounds like you boys are gonna have one heck of a season, eh?"

"Yeah, we're really looking forward to it," Brock said, nodding.

"That's what I like to hear!" Hank boomed. "You know, I used to play a little ball back in the day. Maybe I can give you boys some pointers, huh?"

Brock's eyes widened slightly. "You played football, Hank?"

"Sure did, son. Defensive end, back in my glory days. Though these days, I'm more focused on keeping the town safe as a firefighter," Hank said, puffing out his chest proudly.

"Wow, that's really cool," Brock replied, genuinely impressed.

"Yeah, Dad's a total badass," Adam chimed in, grinning.

" I'll remind you that you said that the next time you call me out and call me cringe, dude! Yeah, I miss my glory days, but one upside of quitting gaming was I could dive into amateur bodybuilding and finally focus in becoming shredded as hell. Now you and Adam don’t have to stress about that just yet, you need to be the biggest and badest player on the field or my fellow defensive line brothers will eat you alive. But from what I see around the house, and looking to you son looks like you guys are totally in the loop about it. Anyway, you should probably get going, Boys. Don't want to be late for practice."

"Right, of course. It was great seeing you, Hank," Brock said, shaking the man's hand.

"Likewise, Brock. Take care of my boy, you hear?" Hank said, winking.

Brock nodded and headed towards his truck, Adam falling into step beside him. As they climbed in, Brock couldn't help but feel a bit more at ease. Hank's warm, fatherly presence remember him of something he hadn't received since his father's death, and he hadn't realized how much he missed it.

"So, your dad's a firefighter, huh?" Brock asked, glancing at Adam.

"Yeah, man, he's the best. Always been my hero, I want to be exactly like him." Adam replied, his eyes shining with admiration.

"That's cool. I almost can see the resemblance if we take off some grease from you."Brock said, chuckling.

Adam laughed heartily. "Hey, Aren't you listening to him? We gotta keep up our physique, you know? Gotta be ready to tackle anything, on and off the field."

Brock nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. As they drove towards the school, the two chatted about the upcoming game and their plans for the season. Brock couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie with Adam, a feeling he hadn't expected to have for a former rival.

As they pulled into the school parking lot, he could already feel the energy and excitement in the air. The sounds of laughter and the sight of his teammates gearing up for practice filled him with a renewed sense of purpose.

"Alright, Beef, let's do this!" Adam exclaimed, jumping out of the truck and heading towards the locker room, Brock following close behind.

In the locker room, they joined the other players, all pumped and ready for another day of intense training.

"Yo, Beef, did you see that pic I posted yesterday? It's blowing up on Insta!" Adam said, giving Brock a friendly nudge.

"Yeah, man, it's blowing up for real! You're looking like a pro athlete already," Brock replied, laughing.

The other players gathered around, all with big smiles on their faces.

"Hey, Brock, Adam, ready to smash the Westside guys on Friday?" Trey said, high-fiving both of them.

"You know it, Trey, we're gonna make them beg to leave the field!" Adam replied confidently.

"Damn right, bro! Let's show them who's boss!" Connor chimed in, pumped up.

Brock watched the interaction, feeling like part of something bigger. These guys weren't just his teammates; they were his brothers. He belonged to this group, this family.

"You guys ready to kick those punks' asses?" Brock said, joining in the excitement with his friends.

"Of course, Beef! Let's crush them!" Adam responded, pounding his chest.

The players continued to get ready, cracking jokes and hyping each other up. Brock felt more confident than ever. This team was his second family, and he would do anything to protect it and lead it to the top.

When Coach Steele entered the locker room, everyone fell silent, knowing it was time to get down to business.

"Great work this week, boys. You're showing you've got what it takes to go far this season," Steele said, his gaze sweeping over the players. "I want to see that same effort out on the field today. I expect nothing less than your best. Now, go warm up!"

The players charged onto the field, adrenaline pumping through their veins. Brock and Adam lined up side by side, ready to give it their all.

The practice began with the usual warm-up drills, and Brock lost himself in the rhythm, focused solely on executing each movement to perfection. Nothing else mattered but becoming the best player he could be.

When it came time for the line drills, Brock and Adam took charge of opening gaps for the runners. They worked in sync, predicting each other's movements and crushing any defender who dared to get in their way.

Brock felt the sweat pouring down his body, but he ignored the fatigue. All that mattered was victory. He needed to prove to himself and the team that he was worthy of being part of this champion squad.

During breaks, Brock and Adam chatted animatedly about the plays, exchanging ideas, complimenting each other, and joking around.

When practice ended, Brock felt exhausted but satisfied. They had given it their all, and he knew they were more prepared than ever to face their rivals.

As they headed back to the locker room, Brock looked at Adam, who seemed radiant.

"Man, you're flying today! We're getting more and more in sync," Brock said, giving Adam a friendly nudge.

"That's right, Beef! Together, no one can stop us," Adam replied, with a confident smile.

When they reached the locker room, the other players were already hurrying to shed their sweaty uniforms. Brock and Adam joined them, laughing and sharing stories about practice.

"Did you guys see that play Beef made? That was awesome!" Trey exclaimed, giving Brock a slap on the back.

"Ah, man, it was nothing. You guys were killing it out there too," Brock replied, feeling proud.

"No way, Beef! You're the man, dude!" Connor joined in, giving Brock a friendly punch on the arm.

At that moment, Coach Steele gathered the players in the locker room.

"Boys, you did great out there today. I'm proud of you," Steele said, his penetrating gaze sweeping over the athletes. "But we can't stop there. This season is gonna be the toughest you've faced yet."

The players listened in silence, knowing the coach was about to deliver one of his motivational speeches.

"You need to be willing to sacrifice everything—your comforts, your personal interests, even your social lives—for this team to reach the top. There's no room for ego, no room for laziness. You're a family now, and family comes first."

The players nodded, their faces filled with fierce determination.

"So, I want to see you give your blood on that field. I want to see you surpass yourselves every day, every game. I want to see you become champions!"

"Yes, sir!" the athletes responded in unison, their shouts echoing through the locker room.

After the coach's inspiring speech, the players began to strip down and head to the showers. Brock and Adam walked side by side, chatting animatedly, completely naked, without the slightest bit of shame. They were brothers.

As they approached the showers, the sounds of banter and laughter filled the air. The players, now naked, examined one another, comparing muscles and sizes.

"Hey, Trey, your leg looks like it's getting thicker. You been doing extra squats, huh?" Connor said, giving his friend a friendly elbow.

"Oh, yeah? Well, check this out!" Trey replied, flexing his bicep.

Soon, all the players were laughing and teasing each other, showing off their muscular bodies.

Brock watched the scene, feeling increasingly integrated into that group. He knew these were not just his teammates but his brothers. They would fight together, sweat together, and, if necessary, die together in pursuit of victory.

While showering, Brock felt the tension in his muscles dissipate. He knew that with this team by his side, nothing could stop them. They were invincible.

After the shower, the players left the locker room in a group, chatting and laughing animatedly. They walked through the hallways, drawing the attention of other students with their imposing presence.

As they walked, other players joined the group, high-fiving and greeting each other enthusiastically.

"Hey, QB's getting stronger, huh?" Lance a running back said, admiring the quarterback's muscles.

"You got it, man! I need to show these guys who's boss around here," Connor replied, smiling.

The group grew as they moved through the hallways, attracting curious and admiring glances from other students.

"Hey, did you see those cheerleaders over there?" Connor said, pointing to a group of girls.

"Of course I did, man! Brittany's dying for me to ask her to the homecoming dance," Adam replied, with a mischievous smile.

"And I'm tagging along with her friend, Brie," Brock added, laughing and being joined by his friends, their deep and powerful voices echoing through the hallway. The cheerleaders watched them with longing looks, some waving and smiling at the athletes.

"Hey, Beef, you're on fire, huh?" Trey said, giving Brock a nudge.

"You know it, man. We're the best," Brock replied, laughing and heading to class.

At the end of the day, Brock and Adam were surprised by a request to meet with Coach Steele and made their way to his office, curious about what he wanted to discuss.

Upon entering, Steele greeted them with a serious demeanor, but his face soon softened into a smile.

"Brock, Adam, I'm glad you came. Please, have a seat."

The two athletes obeyed, settling into the chairs in front of the coach's desk.

"Well, boys, I called you here because I want to know how you're feeling about all this. I know things have changed a lot since Adam joined the team, and I want to make sure you're comfortable with the situation."

Brock exchanged a look with Adam before responding.

"Look, Coach, I trust you and your decisions. I know you always do what's best for the team. And Adam's arrival has only made our squad stronger."

"Great, so nothing's bothering you, kid?"

"Other than the fact that we haven't crushed the Warriors yet, there's nothing wrong, Coach!"

Adam nodded, laughing and adding:

"That's right, Coach. I know my coming here was unexpected, and Beef and I had a rivalry, but that's in the past. I feel completely integrated into the team now. All the guys welcomed me with open arms, especially Beef, and I couldn't be happier to be part of this family."

Steele observed the two athletes attentively, satisfied with their responses.

"I'm glad to hear that, boys. You're key pieces of this team, and I want to make sure you're fully engaged and committed to our goal. Now, Adam, about your article. I understand it comes from a good place, but perhaps it's best not to stir up controversy."

"Article? What article?" Brock asked, confused.

"Mr. Trent here is also a member of the school newspaper, Beef. And he wrote an extensive piece explaining why the football team needs more funding. Which is admirable, Adam, but raises questions that are best left alone. Which I trust you will do."

"Yes, Coach, your word is law," Adam replied, while his friend looked at him with a mocking gaze.

"Hmm, newspaper? Didn't know you were such a nerd, Trent."

"I'll show you who's a fucking nerd, Beef!"

"Boys, enough. Now I suggest you go home and rest because tomorrow is the big day."

After the conversation with Coach Steele, Brock and Adam left the school and headed to Brock's house in the old pickup truck.

During the drive, the two guys sang rap songs loudly, each defending their favorite artist.

"Man, there's no way around it, Eminem is the greatest of all time!" Brock exclaimed, pounding the steering wheel to the beat of the music.

"Ah, come on, Beef! Kendrick Lamar is way cooler than Eminem!" Adam retorted, giving his friend a friendly punch on the arm.

"Are you crazy, man? Eminem is a legend, the guy's a lyrical genius!" Brock countered, turning up the radio volume.

The debate over who was the better rapper continued throughout the drive until it eventually shifted to their favorite topic.

"So, Beef, who do you think is the GOAT of football? Tom Brady or Mahomes?" Adam asked, curious.

Brock thought for a moment before answering.

"Ah, man, that's easy. Tom Brady, no doubt. The guy's a legend, got an insane resume. That dude is the standard of excellence in football."

"Seriously? I think Mahomes is getting close to surpassing him. The guy's a phenomenon, plays like a beast!" Adam said, excited.

"No way, man. Brady's unbeatable. How many Super Bowls has Mahomes won? Three? Brady's got like, seven!" Brock retorted, laughing.

"Yeah, but Mahomes is younger, he'll get there. And the way he plays is way more exciting than Brady's!" Adam insisted.

"Excitement is good, but titles are what matter, brother. And Brady's got more than double Mahomes'. He's the GOAT, no question!" Brock concluded, giving Adam a slap on the shoulder.

The two continued debating the merits of the two quarterbacks until they arrived at Brock's house. Even with different opinions, it was clear that their friendship had grown stronger.

As soon as they entered, Brock tossed his backpack into a corner and went straight to the fridge, grabbing some drinks and snacks for them to share.

"Alright, Beef, now that we're here, tell me, are you really cool with me joining the team?" Adam asked, looking at his friend seriously.

Brock thought for a moment before answering.

"Man, I'll be honest. At first, I was a bit skeptical, after all, we were rivals and all. But now, after all the dedication you've shown, I can't imagine the team without you. You've proven to be a brother to us, and I know that together, no one will be able to stop us."

Adam smiled, giving Brock a friendly punch on the shoulder.

"Thanks, man. I don't see myself outside this family either. Let's show those Westside guys who's boss!"

The two guys clinked their zero-sugar soda cans, toasting to their brotherhood and the victory that awaited them.

While Brock and Adam chatted in the living room, Brock's mom walked out of her room, all dressed up and elegant. She was carrying a bracelet and struggling to fasten it around her wrist.

"Sweetie, can you help me with this?" she asked, approaching Brock.

Brock looked at his mom, surprised by her appearance.

"Sure, Mom. You're all dressed up today. Something special going on?" he asked, fastening the bracelet on her delicate wrist.

"Well, actually, I swapped my shift at work tonight. I have an appointment," she replied, with a slight smile on her lips.

Brock raised an eyebrow, skeptical.

"An appointment? What kind of appointment?"

Brock's mom let out a soft laugh.

"Oh, sweetie, I'm an adult woman and single. I'm allowed to have my own appointments, don't you think?" she said, giving Brock a kiss on the cheek.

At that moment, the doorbell rang, interrupting their conversation.

"That must be my date," Brock's mom said, quickly fixing her hair before going to answer the door.

Brock stood there, watching his mom walk away, with an expression of surprise and confusion on his face. So, she had a date? His mom, the woman who always seemed dedicated only to him and her work, had a personal life?

He exchanged a quick glance with Adam, who also seemed intrigued by the situation.

"Hey, Beef, is your mom going on a date?" Adam whispered, with a mischievous smile on his face.

Brock shrugged, still trying to process everything.

"Looks like it, man. I didn't even know she was seeing someone."

The two guys stayed silent, listening to Brock's mom's footsteps and the voice of a man in the house's entrance. Brock felt a twinge of curiosity, but also some concern. After all, his mom was everything to him. He let out a long sigh.

"Man, this was unexpected," he commented, still processing it all.

Adam chuckled, giving his friend a pat on the back.

"I can't even imagine my dad going on a date with someone, dude."

The two guys exchanged nervous smiles as they listened to the conversation at the entrance of the house. Brock couldn't help but feel a mix of curiosity and apprehension upon hearing the man's voice accompanying his mom.

When Carol returned to the living room, she was accompanied by a tall, muscular man, whom Brock immediately recognized as Hank, Adam's dad. The shock was evident on Brock and Adam's faces, and an awkward silence fell over the room.

"Dad?" Adam exclaimed, with a look of surprise.

"Adam… Brock?" Hank responded, equally surprised. "I had no idea you were Carol's son!"

"Wait, Mom, you're going out with Adam's dad?" Brock asked, trying to process the situation.

Carol and Hank exchanged glances before starting to laugh, breaking the tension in the air.

"Well, it seems we have a little coincidence here," Carol said, smiling. "Hank and I met when he brought a patient to the hospital. We talked a bit about our kids, but we never imagined… this.”

"This is kinda... strange, but funny too," Adam commented, scratching his neck.

"Yeah, I guess life has those surprises," Hank added, still laughing. "But don't worry, guys. It's just a casual date."

Carol nodded, looking at the two young men. "We're just getting to know each other better. Who knows what could happen, right?"

Brock and Adam exchanged glances again, still trying to get used to the idea.

"Well, be good boys and don't make a mess while we're out," Carol said, giving Brock a kiss on the cheek before leaving with Hank.

As soon as the door closed, Brock and Adam exchanged nervous laughs.

"That was totally unexpected," Brock commented, still laughing.

"Totally! But, hey, if things work out, we could end up being real brothers," Adam said, winking at Brock.

"Yeah, that would be pretty crazy, but also pretty cool," Brock agreed, feeling a strange sense of happiness at the thought. Having a badass stepdad like Hank and a brother like Adam would make his life even more perfect than it already was, eliminating one of the few worries he had, which was his mom's loneliness. And if there was one thing Beef hated, it was worrying and overthinking. That's what he had Coach for, and things were better that way.

169 notes · View notes

euphol · 19 days ago

Text

Welcome to the Harem

"Are you quite alright, Sayyid?"

Liam woke up, startled. In front of him, blocking the sun stood a tanned young man with dark hair, looking down at him.

"Excuse me?" answered Liam, still not fully awake. His accent revealed his origins. He was British.

"I'm sorry, Sayyid. I have noticed you have fallen asleep in the sun, and I am worried you might burn your skin."

The other man was probably a few years younger than Liam, possibly in his early twenties. Unlike Liam, who was a tourist visiting this sun-kissed region of Hurghada, he seemed to be from around here: his skin was dark and his body lithe and strong. He had a slight Arabic accent, which added a certain exotic flavor to his words.

"Uh, I guess I dozed off a little."

It was hard to rip his gaze away from the young man in front of him, since he didn't even look half-bad, but Liam knew better than show any signs of homosexuality here. Even coming here, to a resort, as a tourist wasn't entirely without risk, but the British man had made a pact with himself not to let anything stop him from relaxing for the first time in years. And what better place could there be to escape the endless rain of the kingdom than the beautiful, sun-drenched beaches of the Red Sea.

"Ah, Sayyid, I fear that I have noticed too late. Apologies."

Liam was confused for a moment until he looked down on himself. And really: his exposed upper body had turned a bright shade of red.

"Bloody hell", he cursed, before smiling back at the native apologetically. "Sorry for that. You are right, I shouldn't have stayed out in the sun for so long."

His conversational partner seemed to look all over Liam before he smiled the same thin smile from before.

"Do not worry Sayyid, it happens a lot. The sun here is stronger than where you are from. If you want, I can offer some soothing lotion against the burn."

"Well, I'd appreciate that, thank you. What did you say your name was?"

"I am called Hassan." Hassan said. "Please allow me to apply the lotion."

Liam felt a bit uncomfortable, as the young man produced a glass bottle filled with a milky white substance and unscrewed the lid. He knew a bit or two of the Arabic language and knew that the name was rather fitting: Hassan meant 'handsome' in English, and Hassan was, indeed, rather good looking. Liam feared that it might be just a tad too exciting being touched by a handsome guy with lotion, but it was probably exceedingly rude to reject the offer.

"Sure, thanks a lot."

He just had to control himself a bit.

However, nothing prepared him for the feeling when Hassan carefully began rubbing the white substance onto his skin, with careful, almost tender touches. Liam felt the heat radiating off the young man's body while his fingers massaged the lotion onto his body, which, in contrast, felt cool and soothing, and he had to fight an erection forming. It didn't help at all that Hassan seemed to know exactly what he was doing, massaging his skin just the right way.

"There you go, Sayyid. You will feel much better soon."

Liam was fighting very hard but despite his efforts felt himself chubbing up in his tight speedo. Damn it. He should have worn something less revealing. Now he could only pray that Hassan wouldn't notice.

That hope was short lived. With skillful hands, he massaged the lotion into all visible skin, even right next to his tented speedo. While Hassan didn't acknowledge the show of indecency per se, he did take his time on the sensitive skin there, gently rubbing the lotion, and Liam knew exactly what the Arab was doing. He was teasing him, and it worked. The Brit was painfully hard and was glad when Hassan finally pulled away.

"There you go Sayyid. That should allow your skin to regenerate." he said, still with his thin smile. By now, Liam's head was at least as red as his chest, and he couldn't bring himself to directly look at Hassan.

"Ehm, thank you. That was very kind of you. What... kind of lotion is it exactly, by the way? It sure smells interesting."

The question was mainly to change the topic of the conversation to a safe territory, but Lian was also genuinely intrigued. Most suntan lotions he knew smelled fresh and flowery - or not at all. But this one... The smell was strong, and herbal, but with an interesting undertone. It smelled somewhat musky and manly, like a gym or a locker room. And there was something else, something familiar that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"Ah, I'm glad you asked. It is a special recipe from my boss, Sheikh Tariq, himself. Do you like it?"

"Yeah, it's... pretty intense."

"Sheikh Tariq's recipes are always very... powerful, you know. You shouldn't have any problem with your sunburn anymore, but if you want, I can check on you again tomorrow."

"Sure."

Lian felt a strange pull from the handsome Arab and couldn't bring himself to refuse.

"Very well, Sayyid. May I ask your name?"

"Eh, yes, sure. It's Lian."

"Liam, is it?"

"No, Lian, with a 'n'." This was hardly the first time people confused his name, so Lian was used to it by now. Something seemed wrong about that, though, even though he couldn't say what.

"Very well, Lian. I shall return tomorrow."

With a final nod, the young Arab walked away, and Liam watched his toned, muscular body moving before he lay back down. The lotion did feel nice, and he felt his muscles relax and his burning skin soothe. Still, to be extra sure, he moved to the shade before he dozed off again.

Lian was surprisingly hungry at the evening buffet this day and wolfed down plate after plate of local food, which was delicious. When he went to his hotel room afterwards, he just felt wonderful. He decided to take a shower before bed and was amazed to find the redness had disappeared completely, leaving his pale skin smooth and soft. Except... it wasn't quite as pale anymore. Instead, he had acquired a slight tan. It looked good on him, he decided, as it complemented his lean definition and sparse body hair nicely.

That night, Lian had strange dreams. He dreamt that he, somehow, was pale as a piece of paper, thin like a stick figure and, of course, completely smooth all over his body. That was of course nonsense, Lian laughed about himself when he woke up. He probably had some distant ancestors from a sunnier region of the world, since even in winter, his skin never really lost its tan, and was often compared to a surfer's.

It was a good day for sunbathing again, and, secretly, Lian wouldn't mind meeting Hassan again. He packed his towel, his sunglasses and his book, and went outside. However, it wasn't long until he had dozed off again, and when he was woken by Hassan again, it was already afternoon.

"Ah, good evening, Lian. Are you feeling better?"

"Yes, yes, a lot. Thanks again for yesterday. You really saved my vacation."

"Don't worry, Sayyid, this is my job."

He looked at Lian with an appraising look but was apparently not too happy with what he saw.

"Would you like another application of the lotion, Sayyid?"

"Yes, thank you, Hassan. That would be lovely."

The Arab was just as good with the lotion as the day before, and as soon as his skillful hands touched Lian's body, his dick grew hard again. However, since it didn't really pose any problems yesterday, Lian didn't even try to hide it today. Besides, it was probably normal, right?

He half registered that the tent in his underwear was much larger than yesterday, but that was probably imagination.

"Do you know what ingredients the lotion contains, Hassan?"

"Yes, Lian. We use a special extract of the Aloe Vera plant, as well as essential oils of local herbs. And then, there are some secret ingredients that only Sheikh Tariq knows about."

"Damn, that Sheikh really knows what he is doing. Are you Bedouins?"

"Yes, in a way. However, we no longer live the traditional nomadic life. Instead, the Sheikh founded an island resort that is open to the most exclusive guests.

"So, he is kind of a businessman then?"

"Yes, that is a way of putting it."

"Wow, that sounds fascinating. I'd love to see that."

Hassan smiled his thin smile, as he carefully massaged the area around Lian's throbbing erection. It was almost like he was amused about a secret joke.

"I can ask him, if you want. Your name was Lian, right? And you come from...?"

"Layan", corrected Layan. "And I'm from the United Kingdom, although my dad immigrated from the UAE."

"So, a man of mixed race then. Very good. I'm sure that will please the Sheikh. If you excuse me, I'll have to make a phone call."

"Sure", Layan agreed. His own slight Arabic accent felt somewhat alien all of a sudden, but it was probably just because he noticed the way Hassan spoke. After all, Layan had it all his life now: Even though he was born and raised in the UK, they only spoke Arabic at home, since his father refused to learn English, even now.

The smell from the lotion was even stronger today than yesterday, and it mixed so well with his own body odor. Layan's tan skin was sweating a lot, like usual, and the small pelt of black body hair was always soaked with his manly smell. He liked it that way: If he didn't have to, he didn't use any deodorant at all. And now, the smell of the spices completed his own odor nicely.

It didn't help that his dick was so hard, and his balls ached. His speedo was obscenely tented and for a moment, Layan feared someone in the resort might find it offensive. Truth be told, the conservative atmosphere in the resort was one of the few reasons that held him back from rubbing one out right here and now, seeing as a wet patch of precum already stained the tip of the tent.

Before Layan could think more about that, however, Hassan came back.

"Good news!" he said, and it took Layan a bit to notice that he had switched to Arabic.

"The Sheikh would be delighted to have you in his resort. We can leave immediately, if you want to. It also might be a more private atmosphere on his island."

The last comment was obviously aimed at Layan's throbbing rod, but Layan surely wasn't one to be easily embarrassed by his own masculinity.

"I would love to come. Let me just grab my stuff." he replied in the language of his father and got off his deck chair. Hassan nodded and waited politely, while Layan hurried to his room to pack his stuff. However, once he had arrived in the privacy of his hotel room, he couldn't help but admire himself in the mirror: He was a fine specimen of man, really:

His skin was a beautiful golden color, his black hair was short and shiny, and his dark, stubbled face gave him an exotic and masculine air. Not to mention his defined chest, his ripped abs, his well-trained arms, and his powerful legs, all covered with a layer of soft, black hair. And in between those powerful legs hung the pride of Layan, a heavy, uncut Arab dick, surrounded by a bush of the same black pubes.

He just couldn't help it. Hassan would have to wait a few minutes longer, he decided, as he closed his fist around the erect shaft and started to pump. He really needed that! He hadn't shot his load since... this morning. No, he was a man, and he needed release every few hours! In a few minutes, his large dick was shooting a stream of cum all over the room, and he sighed happily. He would leave that to the room service to clean up, as he didn't want to delay Hassan any further.

However, once he left the room behind him, he suddenly realized what the smell of the lotion had reminded him of: Cum. Was that the secret ingredient? Well, it probably wasn't, but it was a nice and naughty thought, in any case.

Together with Hassan, he boarded a private yacht that set course to the Sheikh's island. He couldn't help but admire the young man's physique as he steered the boat and licked his lips involuntarily.

Finally, they arrived. The island resort was luxurious, even more than Layan had anticipated it to be: Palm trees lined the white sand beach, and several servants awaited the two guests, who were led to the main building. It was a modern, western style house, but with some traditional middle-eastern touches, like the intricate wooden window panes and the colorful tiling. What Layan noticed, though, was that everyone they met, the many servants and the very few guests, were men, in their prime. There were no children or elderly, and certainly no women. In short: Everyone was hot!

"Sheikh Tariq will be expecting you, Sayyid", Hassan told him, and led him into a private room.

"But before you meet him, let me apply the lotion one more time."

"I'd love that, thank you!", Layan said with a grin.

He was a bit surprised but didn't resist, when Hassan grabbed his speedo and pulled it down, exposing all of Layan's body to the handsome man. His cock was quickly getting hard again.

"I need to apply the lotion to your whole body, this time." Hassan explained and, without hesitation started to work, as the totally nude Layan stepped out of his speedo and widened his stance until he stood legs shoulder-width apart, in his typical power-stance.

This time, Layan was prepared for the wonderful feeling of Hassan's strong hands and his teasing ways and could fully enjoy the sensation. He smirked and let the other man do his work, enjoying the touches with closed eyes.

Due to these, he missed the fact that his body changed drastically under the repeated effect of the lotion: Even more hair sprouted, and his frame quickly packed on more muscles. He even grew a bit taller, still, now significantly bigger than Hassan in every way.

As Hassan massaged his hard cock, a soft moan escaped Layan's lips. The cum-like smell, mixed with his own body odor made him even more horny, and his dick grew even bigger in the skilled hands of Hassan, until it was positively massive, both in girth and length. His old, unimproved, British cock would have fit twice over into that monstrosity.

Layan didn't think much about it, though. In fact, as Hassan progressed, he thought less and less. His thoughts became even simpler and more and more focused on nothing than his body, and his need to *fuck*. Yeah, that was right. Layth was a pure-bred piece of Arab prime beef, created for nothing but one thing: Bringing pleasure to men, and fucking them senseless. His name meant "Lion", and, true to that name, he was nothing short of an animal in bed.

Only when Hassan withdrew his hands, Layth opened his eyes. The smaller man had an obvious erection in his pants, but nodded politely, while licking his lips.

"I'm sure the Sheikh will be pleased with his newest addition to his harem. I can't wait to play with you, once Sheik Tariq had his turn."

Just like that, a vacation can turn into a calling for life. I'm sure the Sheikh will be impressed! You can enjoy a few additional versions of our newest addition to the harem over at my tip jar.

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