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[georgewolf14]

Becoming What You Want

“This isn’t happening.” Jake’s pecs shoot forwards with jiggling suckable meat. “Please stop! I don’t want to be a dumb piece of fuckmeat!”

In his local club, Jake drunkenly pulled a girl towards him, grinding up on her from behind. Her face broke into disgust as she freed herself from his grasp. “What’s your problem, bitch?” he yelled over the music. “You’re fucking mid anyway! Just a dumb bitch with big tits.”

And so, the girl cursed him to become what he wanted so bad.

“Please! It’s controlling my dick sucking lips! I don’t want to say these things! I want to suck cock. I’m a hole, I’m don’t want to be straight! That’s all I’m good for now… sucking cock and letting big men suck on my juicy tits!”

There he goes. Lost to his new instincts. A straight man trapped inside a gay boy body. At least he got wanted he wanted, a dumb bitch with big tits.

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Keep On Trucking

Jonah thought he'd hate the rental truck he got when he flew back home. But after throwing on a hat he found in the cabin it seems like he's liking the thing more with every passing mile.

Thought we could do with some more sentimental southerner TFs so here we are ! Happy surprise that it coincides with a certain Texan AOTY ;) Sweaty, strong, and sweet, hope you enjoy Jonah's journey to a new home in the country! -Occam

It must be some form of cosmic comedy that Jonah’s only rental option was this wretched gas-guzzling juggernaut. Sitting a good fair few feet above every other car on the road, the truck that’s been foisted onto him simply demands attention. There’s a tight-lipped grimace on his face as the laundry list of insults he’s hurled at people who drive these fragile masculinity-mobiles over the years rush through his mind.

He’d never say them to a driver of course, both from a general fear of confrontation and a healthy fear of large loud men. His insults thrown never escape the glass panes of his Elantra. Nothing more than playful jibes to help work through the fear of sharing the road with drivers who could literally roll over him, and oft seem to want to. Just barking self-soothingly, like a chihuahua at a caged great dane.

His self-consciousness at plowing down the highway is interrupted however as a small car quite similar to the one he drives back at home veers towards him. Thankfully the road is not too crowded as he swerves to avoid the red speed-demon who flips him off before shooting ahead, surging into the distance to escape the sound of Jonah’s horn blaring. 

The nervous young man clutches at his shirt as he feels his pulse in his head. Eventually he sees the red pinpricks of brake lights disappear and his hands stop shaking from the near-collision. Sighing, he tries to steady his breathing and hopes the rest of his nerves will follow suit. Only then does the strangest thought occur to him ‘Thank god I was driving a truck.’

Jonah rubs his smooth jaw and grumbles to himself, “I guess there are some upsides to driving a freakin’ tank, ugh.” As he puts it to words he can’t help but continue thinking on the matter, besides maniacs like that little punk, people are probably way more likely to respect me on the road driving this thing. He wistfully stares at the road ahead lost in thought, though before taking the leap further to the lofty thoughts that people are more likely to respect his masculinity and authority in this beast, he shakes it off and clears his throat.

“Ugh I need a coffee or something.” Squirming in the seat slightly, only then does he notice the continued discomfort from his brush with danger; He’s sweating up a storm. Cranking up the AC as high as it goes he wipes his brow and tries to push sweaty hair out from his face. When a heavy drop falls into his eyes causing him to shout a hearty “fuck!” He pulls over to the side of the road and searches for a headband or something to solve this issue, “God why’s it so hot in here!”

Looking down at his now clearly sweat-stained shirt he groans, no way is he going to show up to his hometown friend’s party looking like such a slob. He briefly considers using the sweaty top to hold back his hair but thinks better of it, giving it a sniff he finds his deodorant has not been nearly as effective as it usually is. Frowning and going straight to the source he smells his pit and immediately cringes away, “Man what is up with me today? It’s like I forgot to put it on.”

Distracted by his strange overheating, the still-present need for a headband, and now wondering what on Earth he’s going to wear to his friend’s, Jonah doesn’t notice how, beyond the bizarrely more powerful scent, he has begun to change. The few thin curls in his armpit have multiplied without his notice, stretching longer and spreading beyond their usually trimmed patch. Each new strand drips with sweat, permeating his new musk as he scrambles about the cabin looking for some bandana or hat.

“Duuuuub-” Jonah’s hand bumps into the brim of a hat which he quickly yanks out from the dark recesses of the rental truck only to tilt his head as finding a tacky camo baseball cap, “eugh-” After rubbing his hand through his sweaty hair once more, he grimaces and throws it on anyway, “sorry to whoever's hat this is-” It’s not like he’s going to be seen in the kitschy backwater cosplay, he just needs to make it to a store or somewhere where he can buy a shirt and hair tie, then he’ll be scot-free.

Checking the time with a gasp he returns to the open road without much thought at all, leaving him totally unaware as his hair begins to creep into the cap. Long dirty blonde curls shorn to almost nothing, shortening into some short masc choppy look that doesn’t even have a name. Far from his mind’s eye the idea of going to a barber for years buries itself and begins spreading tendrils towards other inactive memories, “Been a few weeks Rob- Just give me the usual.” Were he to picture the memory he would surely see a man who is not himself in the mirror.

The mirror? His eyes glance to his rearview and he gasps as he sees it’s suddenly angled way off. His usual anxiety quickly makes itself known in his sweaty chest. Eyes wide and on the road he doesn’t look down to catch as each quivering heartbeat leaves his chest wider, sticking out further as disparate strands of muscle begin to bulge. In the few half-seconds of him checking his other mirrors Jonah’s chest begins packing on quite the impressive pecs. “Musta- er Must’ve bumped it or, something?”

Going to adjust the mirror his usually careful hand forcefully bumps into it, grunting he wonders how. He didn’t even lean forward, which he knows he had to do when he first got in the truck. His arm would have to be almost half a foot longer. Throwing his hazards on he quickly pulls over once more, again neglecting to notice his changed hair in the mirror as he instead gasps in shock as he sees the arm of a behemoth dangling from his shoulder. 

In the minute since throwing on the ratty ball cap his arms have begun to grow. Every twitching movement on the wheel, every extension, even the slightest adjustment of his now less-than delicate fingers has been sending waves of change across forearms to which the idea of muscle definition is anathema. His mouth falls open as he takes notice of biceps that would have easily erupted from the sweat-stained shirt he had on, or rather, any shirt he owns. 

Jonah tries to process the meaty hands at the end of meatier arms, staring at the movement of individual muscle fibers under tight, suddenly tanned skin. He gulps as he sees them twitch with every accidental movement, power he can hardly understand coursing through them. His lip quivers into a grin as the idea occurs to flex them and he raises his arm to do so, exposing his tangle of pit hair and allowing sweat to drip down his chest.

Though just before getting the chance to truly indulge and delight, feeling the cold rivulet racing down his side he looks down to discover the new weight hanging on his chest. His eyes shimmer with wonder as he stares at pecs as sculpted as Michelangelo’s David now bulge from under his neck as it too thickens with another harsh swallow. His voice drops while his rougher hands go to cup his pecs, rubbing the few apparently shaved hairs as they begin their regrowth.

Despite his usual lucidity and rationality, something about seeing the rugged arms and chest of a man twice his size, something about feeling the strain of new biceps moving or seeing his handful of almost invisible chest hairs darkening alongside a congregation of new curls, his mind is awash with instincts that don’t seem his own. He smirks as he looks at his reflection in the now-adjusted mirror, higher in the seat both from his body lengthening as well as from sitting straighter with pride, he scratches at the stubble appearing on his chin and turns back to the road thicker brows furrowed into a cocky sneer, “They’re gonna be all fuckin’ over me at this party.”

Dragging his attention from his bulking body back to the road, Jonah can’t help but continue thinking about what a stud he’s becoming, what a stud he is. So focused on the strength ambient within him, delighting on the sensations coursing through him as he playfully flexes his arms and chest, that he hasn’t chance to notice his thoughts truly changing alongside his form. Suddenly a Texas-shaped bottle opener dangles from the set of keys that look far too beat up for a rental company to hand out. Obviously of course, why would a rental company have his truck?

One hand on the steering wheel, Jonah can no longer resist groping at the growing bulge that strains his pants. While it’s been certainly hard since the first glimpse of his bulging bicep, as his pride grows so does what may as well be the source of his masculinity. With each clumsy rub and grasp of his package as it threatens to break free from his pants, he continues to become the man to match his apparent wheels.

So too does his truck slightly shift to perfectly display the man that now identifies as its owner. The floorboard where a ball cap was hidden is littered with detritus from living in the country. Dirt paints the once spotless chassis of the vehicle and at the same time, hair thickens on his form as pubes inch above their brief containment, connecting with a treasure trail that begs to expand.

His balls throb as his once imperceptible treasure trail indeed races to cover the whole of his stomach before racing up to a chest that yields to its own mouth-watering pattern of fur. Pits still dripping with sweat lengthen and spread tantalizingly close to meeting with his garden of chest hair.

Jonah grunts as his new bulge grows large enough that the constriction is outright painful. Freeing his impressive rod it becomes clear that his accusations of redneck truckers compensating could not be further from the truth, in his case that is. His seat creaks under his weight as he squirms to pull his pants down to his knees, freeing bulkier thighs and a perfect bubble butt as both are similarly painted with haphazard brushes of hair. Inner thighs coated with curls add to the rugged forest around his pre-dripping package while new curls on his ass tickle against his warm, sweat-covered seat.

Halfway to masturbating he bites his lip as he tries to restrain his desires and continue driving, though the pushing down of his rigid rod so easily shifts to tugs and thrusts. His sticky, wanting breaths fertilize the growth of stubble on his face that will never vacate and a mustache sticking to his upper lip that will always be just a tad thicker. Meanwhile his calloused hands continue to tantalize a cock  edging closer to a release that he will not let yet arrive. Moaning from the intense need of his loins he grits his teeth and powers down the road voice deep and clearly accented as he whispers to himself, “Gotta save mah spunk for the party…”

Still with each slow grasp and pull towards release, his form continues to pack on weight and slick with denser forests of hair. So too does his outfit change to match his new life, with each half-thrust into his hand the brim on his hat widens, its cheap camo-green fading as it becomes a Stetson that any man of his stature demands. Slightly dressy pants stain blue and roughen into jeans while his shirt disappears entirely.

Finally, shoes that have given up the ghost long ago to feet that would cause anyone’s eyes to widen begin staining brown and reforming. Long, hairy toes that stick out from the once tennis shoes are corralled into the dark, expensive leather of genuine cowboy boots. The new soles click against the pedals of his truck and his thicker brows continue to furrow as he struggles not to cum at the sound of his beast rumbling down the road.

At long last Jonah comes up on the turn to his friend’s little shindig and he sighs in relief at making it before he spills a load on himself. Turning down a long dirt driveway he narrows his eyes as he feels something amiss, would’ve sworn his friend lived in a suburb or somethin’. But then he blinks and remembers obviously not. His boys’d never wanna share their streets with self-important, pretentious pricks. 

Parking in the grass alongside a handful of other trucks, Jonah grunts as he forces his cock down his jeans, its outline quite the clarion call down his pant leg. Buttoning up and cinching a gaudy belt-buckle, Jonah steps out into the party, grabbing a couple of six packs of Lone Star and waddles over to the gathered crew. Taking a deep breath of the cold dusk air as the sun begins to sink past the horizon, though beneath the smell of the woods there is a clear undercurrent of sweaty bodies and something richer, saliter.

Depositing beers that were once a host’s gift and some seltzers, Jonah turns to be greeted by cheers of burly men that seem to have already paired off. Scratching his stubble as he looks for his own quarry his eyes alight onto one shy looking twink standing to the side. Seems he didn’t get the memo that this isn’t some post-ironic gathering, not even wearing a cowboy hat. 

More than ready for some fun, Jonah grabs a discarded hat on the table and wanders over to the lone man. The twink eyes him with a wry smile as he can’t miss the obviously altered gait, they then widen when he recognizes the man as Jonah, “J- Jonah!?” his mouth drops open and his eyes glaze over as something readjusts, “You’ve really, uhm- filled out?” Though even as he says it the idea of the late-comer looking any different than this seems incorrect. 

Jonah ignores the man, Anton, and deposits the hat on his head, leaning down he whispers in his ear, “Evenin’ Ant. You wanna go have some fun?” Anton’s mouth waters as the larger man stands close enough to wash him in musk before deliberately jabbing him with his thick bulge. He babbles something as the new hat blurs his thoughts a tad though it’s more than clear that the thin man, bored out of his mind, has been looking for excitement that only Jonah could bring all night.

Arm around Anton’s shoulder, Jonah escorts him to the back of the nearby barn, already littered with cans and clearly stained by haphazard bodily fluids. Neither man cares as they begin to use the wall just as seemingly every party-goer before them has. Jonah pushes him against the wall and the pair indulge in each other as if there were nothing else in the world. The hat falls from Ant’s head as he begins to change with or without it. His trimmed pubes rapidly stretch above his hairless waistline, racing to connect with chest hair that isn’t even there yet.

His waxed face scratches against Jonah’s itchy jaw and his mouth waters with hunger and jealousy. Before he can even consciously wish for something similar, his own face is overcome with the burning sensation of pores expanding into stubble that has never been given the chance to seed bursting forth. Soon enough his entire face is overtaken by thick lancing curls of a beard. After not much time at all the pair are worked up enough that making out is not nearly enough.

Even as his suitor puts on weight and muscle mass, Jonah easily hoists him up and finally makes use of his new heavy cock. It’s not clear how long the pair exercise their new forms behind the barn. Ant’s rushed initiation into the world of assless chaps and hairy backs and Jonah’s final steps into the hard-working world of farm living last forever and no time at all. Though by the end both men are thoroughly consumed by their new hairy, muscled selves. 

Their hairy bodies rub against each other as new lives together bloom in their minds. Maintaining a small homestead in the town they grew up in, often traveling into the nearby city to show city-folk that country boys ain’t all bad and making it clear to any small minded townies that they better treat their fellow man with respect or get what’s coming to them.

As they reach what must be the apotheosis of their new forms both men lose control at the same time. Awash in the heightened sensation of their new powerful selves and lost in love for each other stronger than they ever thought they’d achieve, Ant and Jonah stumble out from behind the barn.

Ant walking with a gait that can only mean one thing since they certainly weren’t horseback riding. The pair are jeered at by their fellow country queers and finally enjoy the party. It’s a joyous celebration of the first day of the rest of their lives surrounded by their fellow odd folk. When Jonah’s eyes fall back upon the truck he’s been driving for bout a decade now he can’t help but smile in contentment. She ain’t the prettiest wagon in the west, but she got him here. Surrounded by butches and bears alike Wade sits on a bench and pulls his man onto his lap, “Gonna be a good night Ant.” The pair crack open beers and drink in the new world around them, eager to see what their lives together have in store.

[georgewolf14]

this Justin Russo scene altered my brain chemistry when i was younger

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Foot pervert asks basketball player to model his feet in the middle of the park

[georgewolf14]

The neighbourhood wasn’t one that Officer Jonathan Lloyd recognised as he traversed through the loud streets of suburban Dallas. He moved away from New York only weeks ago to get away from the city, but it seemed the south was all the more busy in its own way. 

He could see smoke rising from the backyard of a large picket white fence with a beautiful lawn; the quintessential American home. The summer sunlight that burst through the once grey clouds now created a sense of excitement and seemingly patriotism (though knowing Dallas, that never seemed to ebb away with the seasons), given the amount of backyard BBQ’s that every neighbourhood was flinging. 

This was just one of a long line of many that had the people shout a little too loudly, cheer a little too raucous, and celebrate a little too wildly, untamed and seemingly undomesticated. Officer Lloyd found himself now having to clear up the mess and ask the neighbour to quieten down as he stepped up to the porch and knocked on the door.

“What can I do for ya, officer?” The loud and booming voice of a large muscular man that even towered over Officer Lloyd, wearing tight fitting jeans that displayed his muscular thighs, the tight fitting flannel shirt that exposed some of his hairy broad chest. The large almost bearish form of a man with piercing eyes and a strapping dark beard wore a Stetson as he immediately looked up the officer up and down, keeping a hold of the cigar between his rough fingers.

“Good afternoon sir, we’ve just received some noise complaints and need you to quieten down,” said Officer Lloyd,  his voice significantly lower than the expected, as he tried to keep his eyes away from the prominent bulge in the man’s pants. He had seen the stereotypical “cowboy” types before, but this was taking the cake. Was it a costume party? The man simply clasped his hand on the officer’s shoulder, as he laughed.

��Oh sure thing, officer, sure thing,” started the man, it was now Officer Lloyd felt the urge to cough as smoke billowed in his face. He was about to say something but lost his train of thought as smoke seeped into him, making him feel relaxed and hazy. “Why don’t you come in and celebrate with us, you look a bit parched? After all, don’t you want a drink?”

Officer Lloyd’s throat suddenly felt dry, despite the fact he just had a drink on the way over. But it was a hot day and his shift was almost over. He shrugged. 

“Yeah sure, why not?” The man’s grin widened as he led Officer Lloyd down into the living room. Officer Lloyd blinked. He assumed he was going to be taken to the BBQ and shuffled uncomfortably. “Y’know, maybe I should just get going actually, I do have some work to do and…” The man gaze at Officer Lloyd. 

“I think you’re fine, if you stay here,” replied the man, and for some reason, Officer Lloyd stopped at the door, feeling an uneasy desire to stay where he was as he watched the man leave. What was going on? Why did he feel that way? He sniffed at the air at the hint of smoke, and started to worry as he heard the creak of the floorboards fading and then suddenly growing louder and louder, before the man stood in the doorway with a glass of whiskey in his hand. “Here you go.” He handed it to the officer.

“Thanks, really, but I don’t-” Officer Lloyd started. 

“It ain’t nice to refuse a gift from strangers. You should really drink it,” ordered the man, and Officer Lloyd felt his hand quivering as the glass slowly started rising to his lips. This was unnatural, whatever the man said he felt the need to do so.

“What are you-” The next words drowned in the burning brown sea of alcohol that scorched his suddenly dry throat before slowly he felt the liquid start to burn through his body as the final dregs were refusing to go down before the man slowly helped to tip the glass with his finger.

“That’s it…that’s it, come on, drink up,” the man’s voice was low and Officer Lloyd, despite having a girlfriend and never feeling this way before, couldn’t help but feel himself grow hard at the other man as cigar smoke was blown into his face. Officer Lloyd felt himself growing more relaxed, unable to think clearly. “Now you might want to sit down.” The southern accent became all the more noticeable as Officer Lloyd started to burn up before a sudden heat struck him to his core.

“What the fuck is-” Officer Lloyd started before he devolved into grunts and groans, watching his hands as they started to grow more tan and weatherbeaten, the fingers elongated and stretched out, curling and uncurling together against his own will as he felt his hands grow numb yet all the more sensitive at the same time like a hot and cold flash. 

He watched as the sleeves of his own shirt faded away, revealing the hunky mass of muscle that started to linger underneath as his arms started to grow considerably thicker and longer, stretching out like his own fingers. 

“I think it’ll be good if you flex now,” commanded the man and Officer Lloyd felt his own arms started flexing against his will immediately, as his own uniform started to devolve into a red mass. “Stop.” The arms fell limp, still quivering and pumping with muscle as Officer Lloyd quickly reached for his radio.

“I- I need backup!” cried Officer Lloyd into what he thought was his radio. But he simply watched as the radio was now enveloped in a dark red before it slowly started to sink into his uniform, along with the rest of his weapons and equipment that slowly disappeared into his own vest. “S-Stop! I feel…so good… Help…” Another puff of smoke was blown into the officer’s face as his shouts for help become guttural coughs and grunts as he started to feel his own torso change.

Abs began to slowly ripple from his already lean frame, slowly carving themselves out as they grew deeper and larger, first forming a light four pack before growing more from all the hard work that he remembered doing on his family’s farm over the summer and around the house as he could see his pectorals pushing forward, blonde hairs growing on his own chest which he flexed without even being ordered to.

“Why don’t you stretch your legs a bit?” Officer Lloyd slowly felt his legs spreading to reveal his bulge which started to grow larger and larger, almost on par with the man that gazed down at him in his armchair. He started to enjoy this, watching as his length spread down towards his thighs which slowly started to convulse causing him to fall to the floor.

“Feel so…strong, what is- oh god,” moaned the police officer, simply gazing down as he could see his rigid torso and feel his pants becoming denim, turning into tight and rough jeans that adorned his own thick thighs that grew larger in all their muscularity. He felt his own calves growing larger than they ever would being a police officer - but it was a good thing he wasn’t…was he? Officer Lloyd shook his head, trying to hold on to his memories as he could see that his boots were changing.

Where there was once a pair of dark boots holding size ten feet, suddenly grew to be thick large studded boots that looked to be a size fourteen and made sense as like his fingers, his toes crawled forward for the weather beaten soles that soon grew larger, lengthening and widening as they stretched more and more. 

Officer Lloyd watched the man slowly unzip his jeans, bringing them down to reveal he was commando and take Officer Lloyd’s large dick that sprang upright in his hands, watching as pre-cum was already dribbling after the first few strokes. 

With every stroke, Officer Lloyd felt closer to cumming, closer to realising his true self as a redneck - no, as an officer!

“Fuck…what is…” Officer Lloyd’s begging turned into moans as he couldn’t resist the sensitive touch of the man. With every stroke, he couldn’t help but feel himself change more, and only want more.

Stroke.

His stifled groans became deeper, his voice changing, as he felt his speech change.

“What is…happening to m-me y-y’all can’t b-be…” Surprised at the change of his voice as he felt himself devolve into moans again.

Stroke.

Officer Lloyd felt his own hair becoming a bright blonde, that styled upright.

Stroke.

His officer hat transformed into a dark cap turned backwards, covering his hair. 

Stroke.

His eyes became a deep green.

Stroke.

His mouth grew longer to form a cocky smirk.

Stroke. 

His nose grew shorter.

Stroke.

He felt it getting faster.

Stroke.

And faster

Stroke.

His forgot his work.

Stroke. 

He forgot his friends.

Stroke.

He forgot his name. 

Stroke.

“Come,” ordered the man as he jerked the cock off one last time and watched a fountain of cum rocket out of the throbbing and large glazed pink head. 

If there were noise complaints before, they would be nothing when Officer Lloyd moaned out loud, coming in as a police officer and leaving as John Willingham as he came again, and again, and again…and everything simply blurred together. 

After a while, it turned out there were actual noise complaints and who better to turn up than another cop, suddenly being commanded to “drink” and “come”, it turned out the fellow southern folk were real inviting, and as John got to know his new community better, they were always on the lookout for newer folks to join them. 

In fact, they think they’ve already found another one.

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Business Trip

RING! RING! RING!

Ethan’s eyes snapped open as he heard the marimba ringtone echo through the hotel room. Still half-asleep, he picked up a phone off the bedside counter and turned off the alarm. Blinking a few times, it took him a few seconds for his eyes to focus on the digital clock which read 8:00 AM. After a few more seconds, he realized his friend was not in the other bed.

“Caleb?” he asked groggily.

The other bed was not only empty, but perfectly made, as if his friend hadn’t slept in it last night. That seemed odd. Caleb was even messier than he was so it seemed unlikely that he would have cleaned the room so thoroughly. The two boys had met at the start of the high school basketball team’s season and had become decent friends. Ethan’s lax and easy-going nature clashed with Caleb’s ditzy and excitable one, but they made it work, becoming good friends throughout the season. Both boys’ shared tall height and lanky builds helped them become helpful players to the team, both very agile and quick on their feet. It was hard to believe they were playing a team from the suburbs and actually had a shot at making it to the championship this year. Being in a suburb was quite a culture shock. Their rural hometown was so far away that the team needed to spend the night in a hotel before their afternoon game.

Ethan sat up and looked around the room. It was a typical two-bed, one-bathroom with a tv and dresser in the center. The clutter the two boys had generated last night after the statewide basketball banquet had been cleaned up entirely. Ethan scanned the room, seeing no snack wrappers, no leftover pizza, no water bottles, and no sign Caleb had even been in the room with him last night.

“What a weirdass,” Ethan yawned as he stood up and stretched, feeling a bit confused. The only two objects he could see in the room were the dress shirt and the yellow and blue tie he had worn to the banquet last night.

BZZZZTTT

Glancing over, Ethan noticed a reminder message pop up on the phone. He picked it up before realizing it had a different phone case than his and was also an older model. It must’ve been Caleb’s phone. “I can’t believe his phone still has a home button on it,” he remarked.

There was a reminder message that simply read “flight at 10.” That seemed like an odd message, but Ethan decided not to think much of it. It felt weird to invade Caleb’s privacy like that. That over-excited dork must’ve been so excited to eat breakfast in the lobby with the other boys on the team that he left his phone.

Still, it’d be funny to take pics on his phone just to mess with him.

Swiping up on the lock screen, Ethan activated the front-facing camera. He ran a hand through his messy bedhead before taking a few pictures by rapidly pressing down the white circle. With a content grin, he chuckled and put down the phone back on the table. As he did, he felt a chill across his body. Weird. It must be the air conditioning or something.

Ethan sat back down on the bed and heard his stomach rumble. It sounded like it was time for some breakfast. He just needed to find his own phone first. Lifting up the bedspread and checking around the dresser turned up nothing. He even checked the large, expansive closet by Caleb’s bed. There were only so many places his phone could be hiding in the room.

“Maybe I should call it,” he said to himself. Pressing his thumb on the home button only brought him to the passcode screen, displaying the “try again” message. He clicked the option for emergency calls in the bottom left and he quickly punched in his own number. After a few seconds, he could hear it ringing.

It rang and rang on the other end, but no one picked up.

“Come on dude, pick up,” Ethan said, perturbed before the phone went to voicemail. He rolled his eyes. Caleb was the type who could never sit still in one place for long so it made sense he grabbed his phone instead of his. It looked like he’d have to meet him and ask for it in the hotel lobby.

Getting out of the bed with the phone still in hand, Ethan headed towards the door. He realized that the carpeted ground felt much harder than before. That was odd. As he glanced down at his feet, he saw nothing wrong until he lifted one of them up. Instead of seeing the bottom of his white sock, he saw a black rubber sole with grooves running through it like the bottom of a shoe. He was so fixated on the change that he didn’t even notice his white socks were darkening to grey and starting to climb up his legs until they rested at his calves.

“What the…”

Standing at the edge of his bed, it took Ethan a few seconds to realize it was actually getting closer to him. Having always been a tall kid, he quickly realized that the height he’d been so generously given was being taken. “No, no, no,” he whimpered as the bed grew closer and closer. His six foot two height, which was his greatest asset to the basketball team, disappeared inch by inch and all he could do was watch helplessly. In a few seconds, his basketball career was lost in an instant and he now stood at the compact height of five foot eight. How would he explain this to Caleb or the other boys for that manner? Studying his shrunken figure, Ethan couldn’t believe he looked like this. His shorts even looked a little baggy around his legs.

“OOOH!” he suddenly yelped. The phone fell from his hand and onto the bed and Ethan felt a tremendous pain in his crotch. Glancing down, he noticed his cock had swollen up to a much larger size, tightly pressing against his loose basketball shorts. Somehow, it had doubled in size in a matter of seconds and the sensation was less than comfortable. He pawed at his flagrant bulge in an attempt to provide it with more room, but to no avail. Sitting down on the bed, Ethan pulled at his shorts’ elastic waistband to try and free his constricted dick.

Ethan froze as he saw the bulge in his shorts grow larger. The feeling was a combination of wonder and anguish. He really wanted to see his new cock, if only he wasn’t in so much pain. Somehow, it had doubled in size in a matter of seconds and the sensation was less than comfortable

Instead, Ethan decided to claw and pull on the bottoms of his black shorts, a decision which finally gave him some respite. Ethan watched as the outline of his cock became fainter and fainter as the pouch of his shorts widened. More fabric materialized around his crotch and down his legs and his longer cock rested more comfortably on his thigh. He exhaled with relief and released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. But he was still flummoxed. Why on earth were these strange things happening? Was he dreaming?

“UNNGH!!” he gasped again.

Rivers of testosterone were pouring through his body, his new larger cock functioning as its epicenter. It felt like there was a flurry of sparks, tingling beneath his skin, and creating a numbness that enveloped his whole body. Ethan became so numb that he didn’t even feel the fabric of his shorts cascading down over his thighs. His new fabric was not only fancier-looking, but also muscle-inducing. Its touch caused Ethan’s legs to expand and swell new muscles that grew larger and larger. Ethan only realized his thighs were growing when he felt them touch each other, creating a support for his husky bulge. He readjusted them and groaned, taking in what was happening. This was another hindrance to his agility. There was no way he could run across the court with those cumbersome legs.

God, his body looked so strange. Yet he was starting to love it.

Placing his hands on his thighs, Ethan grinned as he could feel the new, firm muscle. The fabric felt so smooth beneath his fingertips and he couldn’t help but massage his upper thighs. He was thankful there was nobody else in the room. He lifted up one of his legs just in time to see the fabric finish materializing at his ankles, leaving him with a brand new pair of black dress pants.

Somehow, new shoes had appeared around his feet. Ethan didn’t remember putting any on, especially none that looked this…shiny. They were two of the shiniest black shoes he had ever seen in his life. Oxfords, he remembered; that’s what they were called. What a weird thing to know. Maybe he’d heard it in a movie or something. Inspecting them further, Ethan loved the way their immaculate gleam paired with his long black dress socks. The shoeshiner at the airport had done a great job. At this point, he knew most of the ones in the major airports by name and always tipped them handsomely.

That couldn’t be right. Ethan had never even been on a plane before, let alone have someone shine his shoes. He was just a kid from the country. More importantly, he’d never even stepped foot in an airport before yet he could recall the interiors of many of them across the country. Shaking the conflicting thoughts away, Ethan’s attention shifted back to his changing body.

He breathed a sigh of pleasure. His suited bulge looked impressive on his shorter body. He didn’t mind the idea of being a shorter guy his whole life if it meant he got to dress like this. He became obsessed with his new pants, as if a switch was flipped in his brain because he could not stop thinking about how proper his formal clothing looked. It just looked so regal and refined and pleasing to look at. He almost felt sexually attracted to the idea. Maybe, that was why he wore nice clothes everywhere. He wanted to demand respect and maintain that level of dignity everywhere he went. After all, why shouldn’t he? It’s a man’s duty to look his best after all.

Ethan looked at his t-shirt and frowned. Fuck, he needed to dress nicer.

Impulsively, he stepped over to the other side of the room and pulled the white dress shirt off the hanger. He had worn it to the basketball banquet last night and thought nothing of it, but now he was so thankful he brought it. It hadn’t felt nice to dress up yesterday for some reason.

Ethan pulled off his black t-shirt and threw it on the bed examining the slightly wrinkled dress shirt. Before he could put it on, he froze and looked down at his chest. Where did all this body hair come from? His chest was coated in a thin layer of brown bristles that had also spread to not only his back and shoulders, but his crotch and legs as well. As a result, he could feel himself getting warmer as the new layer of hair insulated him. He decided to button up every one of his dress shirt’s buttons to cover it up, however his growing chest loosened the top button.

Ethan swore he could feel his chest growing with the shirt’s touch. For some reason, he felt the urge to tweak his nipples beneath his changing shirt. He loved when people played with them and he loved the way his muscular body looked when dressed like this. He could envision it so clearly. The changing man loved the feeling of the cotton felt against his chest and back. Coated in a light dusting of hair across his body solidified the change, there was no denying that he was becoming a bulky young man. His friends wouldn’t believe their eyes.

Wasting no time, Ethan picked up the phone on the bed to take a picture. Holding his thumb over the home button, he found no success, so he instead swiped up to the camera option. He could’ve sworn his hands felt a little larger than they had before. Gel appeared in his hair, converting his bedhead into a suave and clean-cut style. His sandy blonde hair had never looked so professional. Facing the mirror, he placed his hand on his hip and took the picture.

Still, his outfit felt incomplete. It needed a centerpiece. Ethan’s expression brightened when he remembered the yellow and blue tie he had worn last night. He was so excited to grab it that he didn’t even register that it was the only item of clothing in the dresser drawer.

Holding the tie in his hand, he quickly flipped open his collar eager to get it on. He impulsively grabbed the two ends of the tie and froze. What on earth was he doing? He could hardly even tie a tie. He remembered one of his teammates tying it for him last night, a very awkward and strangely intimate process.

Then another strange and inconceivable thing happened.

The tie freed itself from Ethan’s hands before Windsor knotting itself in a matter of seconds. He could only watch with disbelief as the tie had a perfect knot, even fastening itself around his neck. By the time it had finished tying itself, Ethan’s dress shirt had widened in size to contain his growing frame and its fabric became even silkier than before. Ethan grinned and his pecs jiggled when he moved. He loved the way the tie’s colors popped against his white shirt.

“Y..yes,” Ethan purred, feeling a strange mix of confusion and joy. He could think of no logical explanation on how his tie had tied itself. He wanted to panic, but instead looking at the tie filled him with a strange nostalgia. It was a splash of color on his black and white outfit. It just looked so dapper and sprightly. All that mattered was looking nice, he told himself.

Taking a step backward, the heel of one of his new Oxfords bumped against the bed causing him to lose his balance. As he fell through the air, his sandy blonde hair darkened to an auburn brown in a matter of milliseconds before his back landed on the cushiony mattress.

“Ungh,” he groaned as he felt his muscles start expanding pulse beneath his new clothing. Still in a realm of pleasure, Ethan grinned and placed his hands behind his head and looked up at the ceiling. The testosterone still dispersing through his body felt like a spa inside of him. His dress shirt contained his upper body so perfectly that he found himself obsessed with the soft feeling of it wrapped around his torso.

“This is so nice,” he moaned to himself.

Ethan imagined what Caleb would say when he saw how nicely dressed he was. For some reason, he felt like he was here for some high school basketball game, but that couldn’t be right. He could care less about basketball. He was much older than that. His free time was usually spent with his family, just the four of them in his house in the suburbs, far away from this hotel or this city for that matter.

“But…I’m not an adult,” Ethan said aloud to himself, trying to convince himself he was still seventeen.

That was when his face started to feel numb.

Surrendering to the sensation, Ethan closed his eyes and relaxed on the bed, feeling a wave of tingling spread across his upper body. Unseen to him, a faint bald spot appeared on the back of his head. His face trembled when he felt his nose expand while a brown mustache exploded into existence below it. His lips plumped, becoming kissable in an instant. Dark circles appeared around his eyes complimented by his new bushy brown eyebrows. His new face was a combination of hunkiness and maturity.

Ethan’s cock stirred in his pants at the thought of his friends seeing him with facial hair they wished they could grow. His friends would always comment on how uptight and formal he was. They were soft like that. Ethan could be gentle, but not when work was involved. He was a hard and stringent worker and by the book, always motivating his constituents to better themselves. He was known for being a loveable hard-ass.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Ethan whispered to himself as his cock bobbed in his pants. He felt a larger pair of underwear form around his member, giving his cock more room to breathe. A new leather belt fastened itself around his waist, tightening the suit pants closer to his body. Ethan’s cock stirred at the thought of wearing these clothes outside the hotel room. He wanted all of his friends to see.

The testosterone pumping through Ethan were more than the rest of the basketball team had. Everything about him was undeniably masculine and nobody could ever mistake him for a high school kid again. However the longer Ethan thought about it, the less he wanted to be a high schooler. He wanted to be older and have the freedom to dress however he wanted and go wherever he wanted. The growing young man grunted and rubbed his cock. The changes were so mesmerizing and placating. He was addicted and didn’t want them to stop.

When Ethan reopened his eyes, his face was not the same as it once was. He started to feel wiser. After all, a man who dresses nice must also have knowledge and experience. Memories of working in an office building downtown inundated his head. He smirked at that thought. It sounded nicer than a stuffy old high school. Plus, he got to dress nice all the time. More memories kept piling in. Ethan was respected in his field. People always had questions for him. He often traveled for work. He was a leader of sorts, a sales ambassador. He even had a whole team of coworkers in the office in his suburban hometown.

That couldn’t be right. He lived in a town in the middle of nowhere.

Yet that thought felt less and less alien the more Ethan thought about it. He was a family man and he always sought to provide for them. He prodded his nipples at the thought. He wanted to be that man. His jaw widened at that thought, making his mustache and clean-shaved chin look even more impeccable.

Still numb, Ethan was oblivious to the extra girth that started to pile around his upper body. His pecs were the first to inflate with desperately desired muscle. His biceps and chest followed soon after, broadening in unison with his back muscles. Stretching on the bed, Ethan felt his muscles expand in all directions, almost like a full-body massage. Glancing down, he noticed his pecs were huge! They had to be larger than his head. Even his forearms looked meatier within the dress shirt. His sleeves were tapered perfectly, revealing two perfectly manicured hands that looked larger than life. Huge too. Like he could throw a basketball with one hand. Curling one of them into a fist, he loved how imposing they looked beneath his sleeves.

Ethan pulled himself off the bed, a task which had been much less laborious minutes ago. Standing up caused even more muscle to pile onto the growing man. Calmly raising his arm in a windmill-like motion, Ethan’s back radiated with muscle and his shoulderblades doubled in size. His pecs swelled even larger beneath his dress shirt. That was why Ethan loved dress clothes. They were equally formal as they were flirty. Everything about his figure was enormous and on full display. Ethan let out a grunt and raised his eyebrows at how much lower his voice sounded. A wave of anticipation overwhelmed him as he remembered there was a mirror adjacent to the hall closet. Slowly walking towards the mirror, his eyes were drawn to his reflection and how much different it looked than before. “Holy shit!” he exclaimed when he saw himself in the mirror. His low voice left no doubt that the testosterone had done its job completely. It had corrupted everything from his body hair to his muscles to his larynx. Ethan brought a hand to his new, older-looking face in awe. The man looking back at him could not have been the same boy he saw minutes earlier.

Turning to the side, he blushed when he noticed how perky his ass looked. It even swelled a little bit larger in size, solidifying into a firm piece of muscle that was on prime display in every pair of dress pants he wore. He chuckled to himself and adjusted his meaty and thinly-veiled bulge. As Ethan’s pecs shook with his laughter, a darker blue violet color overtook his yellow and blue tie, leaving behind two of the yellow stripes. The last remnant of his old life was changed forever and nothing about Ethan was the same anymore.

He needed to tell someone what had happened. Grabbing the phone off the bed, he placed his thumb on the fingerprint scanner and the phone unlocked perfectly. Instead of the home page, the screen opened directly to the camera app. Sure enough, the colossal man in the mirror matched the man on the phone screen. Ethan studied his broad shoulders, his hulking arms, and his protruding pecs all contained beneath his dress shirt. His face looked like it was carved from stone and his stoic expression could evoke intimidation in others. Ethan liked that thought. Then, he wondered why it felt weird. This was just what he looked like every day. The longer and longer he stared at his reflection, the less weird it became. The fierce masculine independence he felt on the inside finally matched his commanding exterior. He wasn’t just pretending he was a businessman from out of state, he really was one. He hadn’t even been in high school since the 80’s.

He had been staring at himself for so long that his phone had turned off. When it vibrated in one of his massive hands, he promptly noticed that he had gotten a message. It took him a couple tries to click on the right app. They didn’t make these phones for large men, that was for sure. A message from a woman named Nora appeared at the top of his messages and read “Hope the business trip went well, honey. The kids and I miss you and we’ll see you when you get home.”

In the tiny contact photo, Ethan noticed the face of a woman who must’ve been in her late forties and she looked so familiar. Seeing her brown hair, green eyes, demure smile, and gorgeous face caused a wave of memories to come rushing through his head. Slightly older than him, although still shorter, Nora’s short and slender figure gave her an effortless grace that sustained her through motherhood. Raising three kids had been quite an ordeal. Luckily, the hardest days were behind them as the kids were entering high school and were not even an iota as much trouble as they had once been. Ethan loved Nora so much. Not only did they share the same attention to detail on their attire, but their personalities balanced each other’s out. Her compassion mediated his myopic tenacity and his determination was contagious.

Wrinkles appeared on Ethan’s face as he remembered the last seventeen years, all of which he had been married. He was there every step of the way for his kids and wife. His skin weathered as the added years finally endowed him with the wisdom he desperately craved. Ethan Edgerton, or Mr. Edgerton as he was known around the office, was a stringent man who worked tirelessly to provide for his family while still making time for them, always prioritizing being there for his kids as much as he could. And his wife of course.

His. Wife.

His erection throttled up to full force at that thought.

After all, why would a successful businessman in his forties not be married? He even had three kids. James, Riley, and Veronica. Ethan was a loving father, happy to provide and give the kids the life he’d always wanted growing up.

His erection finally burst and Harold Edgerton finally let out a pent-up moan that reverberated across the hotel room. His eyes rolled back with pleasure as he could feel his seed soak into his clothes. He was finally the man he wanted to be, free to fulfill his sartorial fetish every single day.

When Harold reopened his eyes moments later and looked back down at himself, he was pleasantly surprised to find no mess. His clothes looked just as pristine as they had seconds prior. He always had trouble containing himself when he was alone on business trips. That was why he always packed spare outfits.

It was an open secret around the office that Harold Edgerton took immense pride in his appearance, perhaps a little too much. He would ridicule even the smallest of dress code violations saying that work was for looking your best. On business trips, he strenuously abided by his rule. He flexed his arms and looked around the room, still suspended in a self-indulgent haze. Naturally, his eyes fell on his phone still in his hand and he realized he needed to send out a response to his wife.

Before responding, Harold decided it best to add a picture. Facing the phone’s camera to the mirror, Harold Edgerton took a picture of himself to send to his wife. Harold hadn’t been home since the beginning of the week so he knew his wife was missing him. He added a text saying “Miss you. I’ll be home this afternoon and we will go out to dinner tonight.”

Putting the phone in his pocket at last, Harold looked at himself in the mirror again and flexed one more time. He zipped up a massive suitcase filled with other nice shirts and pants that had not been on the bed a second ago. He adjusted his tie and smiled to himself.

He had a flight to catch.