misctf

[misctf]

No Nut November 2

A direct sequel to No Nut November

________

The sound of keys jingling and footsteps approaching the front door snapped the jock out of his post-orgasmic haze. He grinned wickedly, giving his new package a firm squeeze.

"Showtime, buddy boy. Hope you're ready for this."

Luke took a deep breath as he entered his shared home with Tommy. He felt good post-workout. His muscles ached, and the cool air felt good against his sleeveless arms.

"Tommy's gonna love these." He thought, looking down at his biceps.

A sense of pride swelled- he was definitely making progress. He couldn't wait to hold Tommy close against him with his big arms and plant kisses down his neck.

"Hey babe, I'm ho-" Luke stopped mid-sentence as he saw the huge, hairy beast of a man standing in the living room, "Uh, who the hell are you? Where's Tommy?"

The new jock grinned, stroking his massive bulge. He could feel Tommy twitching.

"Name's Chad. Your boy Tommy and I had a little…switch-up. He's right here." He patted his crotch slowly.

Luke raised an eyebrow. "What the fuck are you talking about?" 

Luke's eyes narrowed as he looked the intruder up and down, taking in every inch of the muscular, hairy frame. This guy was bigger than him, meatier than him- clearly knew his way around the gym.

"Oh, I think you heard me loud and clear, buddy boy. Your little bitch boyfriend thought he could neglect me. So I gave him a new purpose." He reached down and cupped the prominent bulge straining against his tight underwear, "But I'm not cruel like him, I'm giving him plenty of attention."

"You're not making any sense. Stop playing fucking games." Luke snarled, fists clenching at his sides. "Where. Is. Tommy."

Chad threw his head back and laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that seemed to shake the very walls of the apartment. 

"Oh man, you really don't get it, do you? Let me spell it out for you, dumbass." He reached down and grabbed the waistband of his underwear, pulling them down to expose his massive, throbbing cock. "This right here? This is Tommy now. Just my fat, throbbing fuck stick."

Luke's eyes widened in shock and disbelief as he stared at the enormous appendage. That didn't make sense. What the fuck was this guy talking about?

"What kind of fucking sick joke is this?" Luke took a step forward, fists clenched.

"Believe it, bro. Little Tommy is loving every second of his new life as my meaty cock. Can't you tell?" Almost if on cue, precum dripped from the tip of Chad's massive cock.

"Fuck this. Get out now." Luke grabbed his phone- he would call Tommy, then the cops and get this figured out.

But with lightning speed, Chad was on top of Luke, forcing the phone out of his hands.

"Oh don't worry. You'll be reacquainted with Tommy." Chad smirked as he forced Luke to his knees, despite the other man's resistance, "Time to teach you what happens when you neglect such a perfect ass." Luke tried to struggle, to push away, but it was useless. Chad's grip was iron-tight as he forcibly sank to his knees.

"This is what you get for being such a selfish top," Chad sneered, fisting his massive cock mere inches from Luke's face.

Despite Luke's best efforts to resist, Chad overpowered him. With a firm grip on the back of Luke's head, the muscular jock thrust his hips forward, forcing his massive cock past the other man's lips and deep into his throat.

"Fuuuuck yeah, take it all like a good little cock sleeve!" Chad's heavy balls slapped against Luke's chin.

Luke's thoughts were racing- how was this happening? Was he really getting face fucked right now? What about Tommy? Was Tommy okay? Luke's hands weakly pushing up against Chad's massive hairy thighs. But his resistance faded when he heard a familiar voice echo in his mind with each thrust of the jock's cock.

"L-Luke? Oh god, baby, is that you? I'm so sorry, I didn't mean for this to happen!"

Luke's eyes widened in shock as Tommy's panicked voice rang out in his head. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he struggled to swallow the massive cock.

"T-Tommy? Baby, what the hell is going on? How are you inside my head? Where are you?" Luke thought, drool leaking down his chin.

"I-I don't know, I swear! One minute I was normal, and the next…" Tommy's mental voice hitched, "Oh god, Luke, I'm so fucking hard right now. Being in your throat like this…it feels amazing!"

Luke shuddered as he suddenly felt a tingling sensation in his hands. He glanced down in confusion, watching as his strong, muscular digits began to shrink and reshape before his eyes. His fingers curled inward, palms shifting, joints cracking. Within moments, his hands had completely transformed into dainty, high-arched feet, wiggling helplessly at the ends of his wrists.

Tommy's disembodied voice echoed in Luke's mind, "Oh my god, Luke! I think it's happening to you too!"

"W-what's happening to me, Tommy?" Luke's panicked voice echoed in their shared mental space.

Luke gasped around Chad's pistoning cock as he felt a searing heat spread through his upper arms. He watched in shock as his sculpted biceps and triceps began to shift and morph. The dense muscle thinned and elongated, condensing into two slender, hairless legs. They twisted and contorted, positioning themselves to rest delicately upon Chad's broad, hairy shoulders.

"Fuck, your new legs feel so good wrapped around me," Chad grunted, continuing his relentless assault on Luke's throat.

"Luke, no you need to get away!" Tommy's frantic mental voice rang out as Luke felt his powerful legs and thighs beginning to tingle and shift.

Luke whimpered around Chad's cock as he felt his muscular thighs slim down and condense. The thick, ropy muscles smoothed out into sleek, hairless arms. His feet shifting into dainty hands in a series of sickening cracks.

"Tommy… please tell me what's happening." He begged again, although terrified of the answer.

His eyes widened as his hair began to fall before his eyes. But worse yet, his once chiseled jawline softened, cheekbones becoming more pronounced as his face plumped out slightly. He could feel his neck shrinking, as his head merged with his upper chest, which was condensing, forming the curve of his new lower back. At the same time, his abs rippled and took on the form of lean back muscles and small, petite shoulders.

"Mmm, look at these. Gonna look so hot bouncing on my cock!" Chad grinned wickedly, reaching up to grope and knead the doughy flesh of Luke's increasingly plump cheeks, "So soft…"

"Mhmmmm yes daddy…"

Luke recoiled, at the sound of a new voice that seemingly piped up from behind him, sounding needy and desperate. It was soft. Barely an audible whisper.

"Please… Use me! It's been so long… I've been so lonely without anyone to play with me."

"Look at this little slut already begging for cock." He glared down at Luke, who's face was becoming more and more obscured by his expanding cheeks, "Your poor ass, dude. Can't you tell how much you've been neglecting it?"

"Oh god… Luke…" Tommy whispered, his sense of dread palpable as he realized too what was happening, "You're… Luke... I'm so sorr-"

Tommy's voice cut off abruptly as Chad pulled his massive cock out of Luke's throat with a wet pop. Saliva and precum dribbled down Luke's chin as he gulped for air, hyperventilating with panic and revulsion. Chad just smirked, watching Luke's face balloon outward obscenely, eyes squeezing shut as Luke's cheeks expanded into a set of soft globes that continued to grow and round out. Luke whimpered, trying to pull away but finding his movements sluggish and uncoordinated.

"Ooh yes, grab my big juicy ass! I've missed this so much!"

"Fuck…" Chad moaned, reaching back to grope and knead Luke's swelling cheeks.

As Chad groped his cheeks and the twink's voice echoed in his head, realization hit him. And it hit him hard. The doughy, plumping flesh Chad was gleefully groping and slapping…

"Yesss, more! Grab my tight juicy ass, spank it, wreck it!" The slutty little fucktoy squealed in ecstasy, bucking its hips to grind against Chad's groping hands.

Through the haze of shame and revulsion, pieces clicked into place for Luke.

"I'm... no... no, no, no..." Deny it as much as he wanted, Luke knew. He was becoming the jiggly bubble butt of a desperate, cock-hungry slut, "No no no this can't be happening!"

Luke wailed internally as he felt his features blurring and melting, reforming into the heart-shaped curves of a prime piece of twink ass. His puckered lips stretched wide and ready. His nose and mouth compressed into a puckered, twitching asshole. He could feel his uvula shifting, becoming nothing more than the twink's new prostate. And suddenly, Chad was thrusting again- his massive cock slamming into Luke.

"Help me Tommy, please!" He begged silently, praying his boyfriend could somehow reverse this nightmare transformation.

"Ohhh fuuuck yes, look at those cheeks bounce!" Chad groaned, gripping the plush globes that had once been Luke's face and spreading them wide.

"No… please…" Luke remembered doing the same to Tommy's ass during their lovemaking, but now...

Through it all, Tommy's concerned voice echoed in what was left of Luke's mind, "I'm so sorry babe, I never meant for this to happen to you! Please, it's going to be okay…"

"Mmmph! Ooh yes, spank me harder!"

The twink's voice squealed in delight as Chad delivered stinging slaps to the plump cheeks. Luke recoiled, feeling his cheeks vibrate. Only able to clench around the thick cock splitting him open.

"Aww yeah, take it you fucking slut!" Chad growled, punctuating each word with a sharp smack to the jiggling cheeks.

Luke shuddered and clenched around the invading shaft. His mind spun, trying desperately to grapple with his new predicament. But he couldn't. How could he?

"Is this all I am now?"

"No Luke, please don't think like that!" Tommy's voice rang out in their shared mental link.

But even as Tommy spoke, Luke's mind was breaking. His memories of weightlifting, of holding Tommy close, of planning their future together. Reconciling the man he was with what he'd become...

"Yes, yes! Ruin my holes!" The twink's voice keened, higher and more needy with each thrust. "Fuck me harder, make me your cock sleeve!"

"I'm just a hole…"

"No no NO! Luke, what are you saying?" Tommy mentally sobbed.

But it was too late. Luke's psyche crumpled under the weight of his transformation, unable to reconcile the strong, proud man he'd been with this slutty twink's cock-hungry ass that he'd become. It was simpler, easier, to just…let go. To surrender to the role fate had assigned him.

"Yes, yes! Wreck my holes!" The twink's voice shrieked in ecstasy, lost in the throes of depraved pleasure. "Fuck me harder, ruin me for anyone else!"

With a roar of triumph, Chad hilted himself fully inside the plump cheeks, painting its insides white with him cum. In that moment of pure, overwhelming bliss, the tenuous mental link between Luke and Tommy shattered. As Chad slowly pulled out with a wet squelch, a flood of cum poured out of the twink's gaping, twitching hole.

___

As the weeks dragged on, one thing remained constant - the relentless pounding of Chad's massive cock into the twink's eager, jiggly ass. The muscular jock used his new fucktoy daily, sometimes multiple times a day, working the plush cheeks raw with his thick shaft. Luke, once a proud top and caring boyfriend, now reduced to a pair of fucked-out cheeks, existed only to serve Chad's massive cock.

And in those moments when Tommy would be forced to invade Luke, his pleas would echo in the fractured remnants of Luke's psyche.

"Luke, please… I know you're still in there somewhere." But the responses, when they came at all, were hollow and distant.

"Just his ass…" The words repeated like a mantra, a broken record spinning in the void where Luke's identity had once resided. There was no recognition of his former self, no willingness to accept he'd been anything different.

[misctf]

Repeating History

Derek smiled as he walked back to the teacher's lounge. He had just finished having a heart-to-heart with one of his students, Billy, who was again reported for bullying. The high school senior reminded him a lot of himself at that age- young, arrogant, and a total asshole. If it hadn't been for Derek's high school sweetheart helping him see there was more to him than that, who knows how he would've ended up. Derek could only hope that he could have a similar positive effect on Billy.

"Mr. Novak!" He turned to see an older woman with wild grey hair coming towards him, a concerned look on her wrinkled face.

"Hey there. Can I help you?" Derek smiled.

The woman stomped up to him, jabbing a finger against his chest. "I heard about what happened with my grandson today. Bullying, harassment, cruelty! And you… You allow this nonsense?" Her words dripped with anger and disappointment.

"I'm deeply sorry about what Tim has been going through. I've spoken with all of those involved." Derek started, "Ma'am, please let me reassure you, I'm working to address…"

Derek's words were cut off as the irate grandmother suddenly grabbed his hand, turning it over to examine his palm. Her eyes widened as she traced the lines intently.

"This palm… This fork here!" She exclaimed, pointing to a distinct V-shaped line intersecting his lifeline. "Major change, right here. A crossroads taken." Her gaze snapped up to meet his, ancient and knowing. "It seems you weren't always the saintly teacher you pretend to be now, hmm Mr. Novak?" A sardonic smile played at her lips. "Once a bully, always a bully they say. Arrogant! Narcissistic! You'd rather empathize with hooligans than those they torment!"

"Now hold on just a moment…"

"They think they come to you for help! But you can't help your true nature. You deceive them!"

In a fluid motion, the old woman pressed her thumb and forefinger together over the intersection point in Derek's palm. To his shock, he watched the lines shift and merge beneath her touch until the distinctive Y shape smoothed into a single line. A chill ran down his spine. Derek stumbled back, his mind reeling as he stared at his palm in disbelief. What the hell just happened? He looked up at the old woman, questions burning in his eyes, but she had already turned away, muttering darkly under her breath.

_____

Derek trudged into his apartment, his mind still spinning from the bizarre encounter with Tim's grandmother earlier. The place was a complete disaster - dirty laundry strewn across the floor, empty beer bottles and pizza boxes littering every surface. The air hung heavy with the musky scent of sweat and neglect. He wrinkled his nose, feeling strangely drawn to the pungent aroma despite himself.

"Jenny? Babe, you home?" He called out, expecting to hear his girlfriend's voice, "Babe is everything…"

But as the words left his mouth, a flicker of confusion passed through him. Why was he calling for Jenny? They hadn't been together in…in… Memories flashed through his mind - he asked her out, she brutally shot him down, they hadn't spoken since. He felt his stomach churn just at the thought.

"What the hell is going on?" He muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. When did he start letting things go like this? Derek prided himself on being put together, both personally and professionally. But standing amidst the chaos of his once-neat living space, he barely recognized it, "I-I'll clean up tomorrow." He muttered, "I need some sleep."

______

Derek jolted awake, his heart pounding in his chest. Morning light filtered through unfamiliar curtains as he sat up, blinking in confusion. His eyes fell to his bare torso and he gasped - his chest hair, usually a thick patch, was nowhere to be seen. Running a hand over his jaw, he recoiled at the smoothness beneath his fingertips. Even his five o'clock shadow, a constant companion, had vanished overnight.

"Derek! Get up, you're gonna be late for school!" His mother's voice rang out, accompanied by the sound of her fist pounding on the door.

School? Derek leapt out of bed, his mind reeling. But wait… This wasn't his apartment. His eyes landed on posters of scantily clad models and sports cars plastered on the walls. A desk overflowing with textbooks and energy drink cans. It took a full minute for the realization to hit him - he was in his childhood bedroom.

Derek stumbled to the mirror, hardly recognizing the face staring back at him. Smooth skin, clear eyes, a youthful glow - he looked like he was 18 again, a high school senior. His hands shook as he gripped the sink, memories flooding back. The last thing he remembered clearly was confronting Billy about bullying Tim. Then the strange encounter with Tim's grandmother, her cryptic words, the sensation of his palm changing…

A loud bang on the door startled him, "Derek! I mean it, you'll miss first period!" His mom's voice held an edge of frustration.

"I'm up!" He called back, trying to keep his voice steady. Panic rising in his throat, he rifled through drawers, pulling on a t-shirt and jeans that felt too tight across his increasingly larger muscles, "I'll be down in a minute!"

______

Heart racing, Derek navigated the crowded hallways of the high school, memories of his teenage years washing over him. Lockers slamming, kids laughing and shouting greetings to each other. It all felt so vivid, so real. He spotted a familiar face among the sea of students - Martha, one of his colleague and good friend. Relief flooded through him and he made a beeline towards her.

"Martha, thank god," he started, lowering his voice, "Something really weird is happening to me. I woke up and-"

Martha cut him off with a sharp look, placing a hand on his shoulder and guiding him out of earshot of nearby students. "Derek, enough with the informalities. You know better than to call me by my first name."

Her tone was stern, almost parental. Derek blinked, taken aback.

Derek's jaw dropped open, a wave of confusion and humiliation washing over him. "What do you mean? Martha, it's me, Derek. Your friend, your colleague…"

Martha's expression softened slightly, but her posture remained rigid. "Derek, I don't know what game you're playing at, but it needs to stop. Your behavior lately has been completely unacceptable. Skipping classes, showing up disheveled, making inappropriate comments to the other students…" She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "And for heaven's sake, when was the last time you showered or applied deodorant?"

A pungent odor seemed to emanate from Derek, a mix of stale sweat and Axe. Martha wrinkled her nose, stepping back slightly.

Derek lifted his arm, sniffing his armpit experimentally. An amused chuckle escaped his lips before he could stop it. "Y'know, that actually doesn't smell half bad…" The words left his mouth before he could censor himself. Horror dawned on his face as he realized what he'd said, "I'm fine, Ms. Johnson. Thanks for your concern."

Before turning to leave. But in his haste, he failed to watch where he was going. His shoulder collided with another student's chest, sending them both stumbling.

"For fucks sake! Watch it, loser!" Derek snarled, shoving the smaller boy roughly. It took a moment for recognition to set in. Timmy, "Tch, typical fuckin' loser. Always in the way." He sneered, looking Timmy up and down with contempt, "I…" He froze, "I… I'm so sorry, Timmy. That was…" He swallowed hard, fighting back tears, "I didn't mean it. Please forgive me."

Derek reached out a hand, but Timmy flinched away, eyeing him warily. Around them, other students began to take notice, whispers and stares piercing the sudden tension. And Derek fled. Left the building and ran down the street, only stopping when he caught a glimpse of himself in a car mirror.

Derek stood frozen, staring at his reflection in shock and revulsion. The person looking back at him was a stranger, yet achingly familiar. It was like gazing into a twisted mirror, seeing the worst version of himself magnified tenfold. Young, cocky, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. Muscles rippling beneath his thin t-shirt as he flexed unconsciously. Blonde hair artfully tousled, blue eyes glinting with mischief and barely concealed arrogance. He looked like a caricature of himself at 18- all of his features emphasizing arrogance and cockiness.

"Well, well, well. Look who it is. Shouldn't you be at school, Mr. Novak?" Derek turned to see Timmy's grandmother, wearing a satisfied smirk. "Or perhaps you prefer to skip class these days, just like old times?"

Derek's blood ran cold, a chill running down his spine. "What did you do to me? Why am I like this?" He demanded, his voice cracking with desperation and fear.

The old woman threw her head back and laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "Oh, you naive little boy. I simply removed the catalyst that set you on a different path."

Derek shook his head vehemently, backing away from the old woman. "No, no, no. This isn't me anymore. I'm not that person!" He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms. "I don't want to be this arrogant, selfish prick. I fuckin' hate this!" He grabbed his head, "I can feel it... fuck... Please..." Despite his words, he couldn't help but flex his bicep, admiring the way it popped. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

The old woman's eyes gleamed with malicious satisfaction. "Look at yourself, Derek. You're already slipping back into old habits. Enjoying the scent of your own musk, aren't you? Appreciating the way your body responds to your newfound strength."

"Shut the fuck up." He snapped, "You don't know shit about me or what I want."

He ran a hand through his perfectly tousled blonde hair, preening slightly. The urge to post a shirtless selfie was suddenly overwhelming. Maybe he'd hit the gym later, really show off his gains. Derek shook his head, trying to dispel the intrusive thoughts, but they kept creeping back in, tempting him with the promise of validation and admiration.

"You had a choice once upon a time." The old lady said, "But I've set you on a new path. You want to empathize with those hooligans? With those that bully others? You're no better than them."

Derek went to protest. To say something clever. But as he tried to think, he found... nothing. What was there to protest?

"You got a problem with me?" His eyes narrowed, "I don't need to listen to this shit. This is who I am." He cracked his knuckles, relishing the sound. "And if you ask me, I'm pretty fucking awesome like this."

"Yes, yes you are." She smiled, "Enjoy your life Derek."

And with that, she was gone. Leaving Derek to revel in his new life. He looked down at his muscular arms, flexing them instinctively. A slow grin spread across his face as he breathed in his own pungent scent, reveling in it.

"I fuckin' will." He chuckled.

_______

Grinning widely, Derek strode into his old childhood bedroom, leaving the door wide open. He stripped off his shirt without hesitation, tossing it aside carelessly. Staring at his muscular reflection in the full-length mirror, he flexed and posed shamelessly, admiring every inch of his sculpted physique. His hands roaming his abs. He gave his flexed bicep an appreciate squeeze.

"Not bad, bro. Not bad at all," he murmured approvingly, enjoying the musk emanating from his pits. Picking up his phone, he snapped a series of provocative selfies, "Now that's the shit."

This felt right. Like it was always meant to be. And Derek couldn't have been any happier.

[misctf]

A Surprise Gift 2

Part of the Summer Sequels I'm doing. A follow-up direct sequel to A Surprise Gift.

"Yo Eric!" Jim called out from the living room, his voice echoing through the small apartment, "Get your ass out here, bro. Seth needs you."

Eric perked up at the sound of his roommate's command, a thrill running through his slender body. He sauntered out of his room, hips swaying hypnotically in a pair of tight pink shorts that barely covered his plump rear. His platinum blonde hair was styled messily, framing his pretty, vacant features.

"Coming, handsome," Eric sing-songed, dropping to his knees beside the couch where Jim lounged. His empty blue eyes landed on Seth, the burly jock hunched over dejectedly, "Aw, what's wrong, handsome?"

Internally, the remnants of Eric's conscious perked up... Seth... It had been so long since he'd seen Seth. A slew of memories rushed forth- of videogames, deep conversations about their futures, and playful banter. And Eric grimaced at each memory of his old life. His life before he became... this. His thoughts raced- he didn't want to be seen like this... not by anyone... especially people who knew him...

Seth glanced up, his chiseled jaw clenched with frustration, "Coach rode my ass hard today." He frowned, "You know how..." He paused, "Well I'm sure you remember how he can be."

A distant part of Eric might've remembered the man coach was. But it was buried now. Instead, the only thoughts about coach were if the older man would ever let him ride on his big dick.

"Well Seth, Eric is more than happy to make you forget all about your day. Took Seth a lot of convincing to try out my toy." Jim chuckled, nudging Seth, "You're the last one, dude."

Seth smiled warily as he glanced at Eric. He heard rumors about his friend, but this all but confirmed them. Part of him wanted to talk to Eric, ask him what happened. But he found his thoughts wandering as he stared at Eric's plump ass. He swallowed hard, a bead of sweat trickling down his neck. 

"I could really use some... stress relief, if you know what I mean."

Any thought that this was Eric- his friend, teammate, wingman- was suppressed as he gazed at the slutty toy in front of him. He didn't intend to use Eric, but now... just by looking at the horny twink, he could feel his inhibitions leave him. Eric giggled airily, crawling closer on hands and knees. The movement made his pert cheeks jiggle enticingly.

"Oh, I know exactly what you need, big boy." He purred, reaching out to palm Seth's muscular thigh. "Why don't you sit back and relax? Let me take goooood care of you."

Jim chuckled, standing up from the couch, "Alright boys, I'll give you two some privacy. Try not to break my toy, yeah Seth? I've seen what you're packing in the showers."

And Eric remembered too. He had seen Seth's dick in the locker room. And while the remnants of himself wondered how the fuck he would handle all that, his new, slutty self was eager for the challenge. Seth watched Jim go, then turned his attention back to Eric. The petite blonde had settled between his spread thighs, gazing up at him with half-lidded, vacant eyes. Seth licked his lips nervously. Eric looked so different from the man he remembered.

"What happened to you, Eric?" Seth asked quietly, even as his hands moved to cup the smaller male's face, "I've heard rumors but…"

Eric leaned into Seth's touch, a dreamy smile playing on his glossy lips, "Mmm, wouldn't you like to know?" He cooed teasingly, nuzzling up against Seth.

Seth's heart raced as Eric pressed closer, playing with his increasingly harder dick through his mesh shorts. He knew he should push the eager twink away, demand answers...but god, Eric looked so tempting like this.

"You really like this?" Seth stifled a moan, "Being used by Jim and his friends?"

"Mhmm," Eric hummed happily, grinding subtly against Seth's muscular thigh, "And I loooove every minute of it." He pulled at the jock's waistband, "Let me worship this big, beautiful cock."

It bobbed heavily in front of Eric's face, flushed and leaking at the tip. Seth groaned, head falling back against the couch cushions as Eric's soft lips wrapped around his shaft. Eric's tongue swirled skillfully with practiced ease.

"Fuck, Eric," Seth grunted, hands flying to grip the blonde's hair, "How the hell did you learn to suck cock like this?"

Eric relaxed his throat, taking the jock deeper until his nose brushed the coarse hair at the base. Seth's musky scent flooded his senses, making Eric's ass throb with need- his tiny cock still soft.

"Wait... wait..." Seth gently tugged Eric off his throbbing cock, admiring the dazed, lust-drunk expression on the blonde's face, "As much as I'm loving this," Seth rumbled, voice rough with arousal, "I think you should have some fun too. I'm not usually one to just lie back and receive, you know?"

"Do we have to?" Eric whined petulantly, crossing his arms over his slim chest, "I just wanna make you feel good, Seth."

"This will make me feel good." Seth offered, a grin forming on his face, "Come on..." Eric raised an eyebrow- his cotton-candy-filled brain slowly accepting Seth's logic.

Internally, Eric recoiled- maybe he didn't know Seth as well as he thought. He couldn't imagine the other man wanting to suck cock, yet here he was offering.

"Fine... I guess that makes sense." He pouted, spreading his legs in clear invitation- his expression bored and somewhat annoyed as he waited for Seth to begin.

"Truthfully, it's my first time." Seth knelt between Eric's thighs, drinking in the sight of the blonde's exposed body, "But I want to try it." Part of him wondered why he was so eager, another part of him rationalizing that he wasn't a selfish lover.

He ran calloused hands up the smooth expanse of Eric's legs, relishing the softness of his skin. Eric remained impassive, staring blankly at the ceiling as Seth explored his body. Leaning in, Seth dragged his tongue along the underside of Eric's tiny cock, from root to tip. It tasted... sweet... Seth swirled his tongue around the head, lapping up the bead of pre-cum that had formed at the slit.

"Mmm, you taste good." Seth murmured, voice vibrating against Eric's sensitive skin.

He bobbed up and down, which wasn't too hard given the other man's length. But each time he did, Seth felt something warm in his chest. Like a need to continue... a need for the taste of Eric's cock. So sweet... so addictive... He couldn't stop... even as he felt a strange tingling across his body. At first, he dismissed it, but soon, as he glanced to his side, he noticed his biceps, once bulging impressively, were looking smaller. The definition in his forearms softened as he gripped Eric's thighs. Seth paused, pulling off Eric's dick with a wet pop. He flexed his arms, watching in shock as the hard-earned muscle continued to melt away before his eyes. Panic rose in his throat but was quickly replaced by a haze of lust as he looked down at Eric's cock.

"No... no, this isn't right." Seth slurred, but even as he spoke, he found himself diving back in, swallowing Eric to the hilt.

"Oh?" Eric purred, watching with amusement and interest as Seth's body continued to shift and contort.

He watched as Seth's height seemed to decrease with each passing moment. The carpet of hair on his chest began to thin, disappearing completely to reveal smooth, soft skin. Through the fog of lust clouding his mind, Seth realized something was very wrong. He was changing, transforming into something... else. But the urge to keep sucking, to chase that addictive taste, was too strong to resist. His cock, once rock hard and throbbing with need, started to soften and shrink between his legs. Eric watched the spectacle with detached amusement, idly playing with his own hair as Seth's body continued to alter.

"Need to stop..." Seth thought, "Please... stop..." He desperately tried to will his body to stop, but it wouldn't respond, "Oh fuck... ohhhhhh"

Seth's changes accelerated rapidly now. His broad shoulders narrowed, tapering down to a slim waist. The powerful muscles in his back and legs atrophied, leaving him soft and delicate. His Adam's apple receded, while his skin became soft- his callouses smoothing over. Dark stubble vanished, skin becoming baby-smooth and hairless. All the while, Seth kept Eric's cock buried in his throat, gagging and sputtering. Drool poured down his chin.

"Ohhh Seth," Eric suddenly moaned breathily, hands fisting in the former jock's silky strands, "You're... mmm... getting so good at this."

It had been so long since his cock ever felt this way. He was only just a set of holes now, but Seth... Eric moaned again, which only seemed to spur Seth on, coaxing more obscene sounds from Eric's lips. But in the back of his foggy mind, Eric knew this was so very wrong. That Seth deserved better than to be reduced to a cock-sleeve. He had to stop him before it was too late, before he wound up like him... But his body screamed for more and Seth seemed to be losing himself in the act, desperate for approval, craving the taste...

"I'm... I'm not..." Seth tried to protest, pulling away suddenly as the remnants of his rationale brain put up a final defense, "Eric, please... fuck..." He looked down at his slim form, his sensitive nipples, his tiny cock, "Oh fuck... I..." He grunted as his ass suddenly swelled, forming into a pair of two doughy, jiggly mounds- perfect for...

"Now you know what happened to me, cutie!" Eric giggled, "But it gets so much better!" With ease, Eric grasped the back of Seth's head and forced him back down onto his cock.

"I can't...stop..." Seth whimpered between slurps, drool dripping down his chin.

His eyes, once sharp and focused, now held a glassy, vacant sheen. He could feel his mind simplifying with each thrust of Eric's tiny cock. Dreams of sucking and getting fucked played through his head on repeat, drowning out every other thought. His thoughts drifted to his teammates in a new light. Chad's powerful thighs... Tyler's chiseled abs... He imagined himself on his knees before them, eager and needy, just aching to worship... But there was someone in particular that kept flashing in his mind...

"Jim..." Seth moaned.

Eric's giggle echoed through the room. Jim would be so happy with him... A new toy... And somewhere deep inside, a flicker of his old self recoiled in horror at the sight of his former friend descending just as he did. No way to escape... nothing to save them...

"That's it, baby." Eric cooed, his fingers tangled in Seth's silky hair, guiding the jock's movements, "We're going to have so much fun together."

--------

It had been a bit and Jim figured with Eric's skill, Seth would've been drained. So he casually walked into the apartment, expecting to find Eric eagerly waiting to service him as usual.

"Hey slut, I'm home." Jim called out, pawing at his growing erection, "Hope you didn't..." He stopped mid-sentence, his jaw dropping as he looked upon the scene before him.

"Oh em gee! You're home! We missed you sooo much!" Eric squeeled.

Seth followed suit, his own ass jiggling as he moved, "Please sir," he begged, voice high and needy, "we need your big, thick cock. Want to worship it, want you to use us."

Jim stood frozen, eyes wide as he processed the sight before him. First Eric and now Seth? What the actual fuck? Why did this keep happening? Why was he so fucking lucky?

A wicked grin spread across his face. Two eager, willing holes presented themselves to him, desperate for his cock. How could he possibly complain about such an outcome?

"Well, well," Jim purred, stalking towards the trembling twinks, "Looks like the universe has gifted me another present." He pulls off his shirt, causing the two sluts to rush forward and grope his impressive pecs, "Woah aren't we eager?" He chuckles, pulling down his pants, his impressive bulge growing, "So? Who wants to go first, hm?"

[misctf]

Raised Right

Eric jogged up the steps of his family's sprawling estate, sweat glistening on his toned body as he finished his daily run. He couldn't help but wonder what his Uncle Rick's car was doing outside though. His deadbeat uncle was always around asking for cash. And as he passed his father's office, he could overhead their conversation.

"…I'm telling you Jack, I need this loan. Things have been tough since I lost my job," came the whiny voice of his uncle Rick. Eric rolled his eyes.

"Rick, we've been over this. I can't just keep bailing you out," his father responded sternly.

Eric peeked through the cracked door. As always, Rick's greasy hair and stained wife-beater contrasted sharply with his father's crisp button-down shirt and pressed slacks.

"You always were a selfish prick, Jack!" Rick spat, jabbing a finger at his brother. "Too good to help out your own flesh and blood."

"Hey Dad, Uncle Rick," Eric greeted casually as he strolled into the study, not bothering to knock. He knew how much it grated Uncle Rick to see him.

"Oh well if it isn't the golden boy." Rick muttered.

Jack sighed heavily, "Rick, I wish I could help, but right now I need to focus on securing Eric's future. If you had a son, I'm sure you'd be able to understand."

Eric smirked- he loved hearing about his place as heir to the family fortune. But his smirk faded as Rick spoke again.

"Please Jack, I'm desperate here," Rick begged, "It's not for me, it's for Jace. That damn fool got into another fight downtown and now the legal fees are piling up. What kind of father would I be if I let him rot in jail?"

The words echoed in Eric's ears strangely, like they held some unseen power.

"Who's Jace?" Eric mumbled, swaying slightly on his feet.

"Again?" His father sighed, "How many times is your kid going to get into trouble?"

Eric's thoughts raced. Since when did Uncle Rick have a kid?

"Hey, I don't..." Eric's breath caught in his throat as he felt a strange tingling sensation spreading across his chest.

To his shock, he watched as his pecs began to swell and expand, packing on solid muscle at an alarming rate. The skin stretched taut as his pectorals grew heavier, more defined. Dark hairs sprouted along his newly thickened chest, forming a sparse trail down to his abs.

"What the hell…" Eric gasped, reaching up to touch his rapidly changing torso.

His fingers sank into the firm, rounded muscle as it continued to develop before his eyes. Biceps and triceps ballooned in size, his arms covered in a sheen of sweet. Even his core thickened, packing on with muscle and fat.

"I don't… I don't feel so good," Eric slurred.

"He didn't start it, I swear! Those bastards jumped him. My boy was just defending himself."

Eric stared transfixed at his arms as dark lines began to snake across his skin, slowly taking shape. The tattoos spread like living shadows, wrapping around his biceps and disappearing beneath the bulging muscles of his forearms. Swirling designs of skulls, flames, and twisted letters emerged, covering every inch.

"Holy shit," Eric breathed, flexing his arms to watch the fresh ink ripple over his swelling biceps. The tattoos made him look harder, grittier - a far cry from his usual preppy appearance, "No..."

A sudden urge for nicotine hit Eric like a freight train. His jaw clenched as he fought the unfamiliar craving, hands twitching at his sides. When did he start smoking?

"I gotta… I need a cig," Eric grunted, his voice deeper and rougher than before. He looked down at his hands, noticing how much larger and rougher they appeared, knuckles scarred and dirty under the nails.

"I don't get it, I never smoked before…" Eric mumbled, mind hazy and sluggish. Thinking hurt, like wading through mud.

"I've heard that before." Jack remarked, "Jace is always just a bystander, never his fault. Really?"

"Don't you dare judge my son! Jace is a good kid, he just fell in with the wrong crowd. With your help, I can get him back on track!"

Meanwhile, Eric's stubble thickened and spread, shadowing his jawline. Wrinkles etched themselves into the corners of his eyes and mouth, aging him several years.

"Nah, that ain't right," Eric slurred, his words clumsy and slow. "I'm… I'm supposed to be… shit, what was I supposed to be doin' again?"

Jack shook his head, "Enabling him won't help, Rick. Jace needs to learn responsibility, not have you clean up his messes."

"And what, let him rot in prison? He's still my son!" Rick shot back heatedly. "With your money, we could get him a good lawyer, maybe even get the charges dismissed. Don't you want to help family?"

Eric stumbled, catching himself against the wall as a wave of dizziness washed over him. His reflection in a nearby mirror showed a stranger staring back - a burly, tattooed man with a scruffy beard and a vacant expression. Panic rose in his throat as the realization hit him.

"This ain't right," Eric croaked, voice gravelly with fear. "I'm… I'm not supposed to be like this. I'm Eric, I'm…" He trailed off, mind blanking. The name 'Jace' flickered at the edges of his consciousness but he couldn't quite grasp it.

He winced at the acrid scent of motor oil and cigarettes that clung to his skin, mingling with the musk of sweat and masculinity. Calluses roughened his palms and fingertips. Memories of his job as a mechanic flashing before his eyes.

"Come on Jack, have a heart. Jace is all I've got left. I can't lose him too."

Jack sighed, "Rick… Fine, if I had a son, I'd probably be begging too."

Eric's stomach churned with unease as he felt the weight of the cigarettes in his pocket, the phantom taste of smoke on his tongue. Memories that weren't his own flickered through his mind - greasy hands twisting wrenches, the roar of engines, the sting of fists connecting with flesh.

"No, no, no," Eric chanted under his breath, backing away from the mirror. He bumped into a chair, nearly knocking it over in his confusion. "This ain't real, this ain't fuckin' real…"

"Heh, there's my boy!" Rick's gruff voice cut through the haze, jolting Eric upright. "Jace, you okay? Ya look a little green around the gills."

Eric flinched at the sound of his uncle's voice, the name 'Jace' echoing in his aching skull. He forced his heavy eyelids open, blinking blearily up at Rick's concerned face. The older man's features swam in and out of focus, distorted by the sheen of tears gathering in Eric's eyes.

"D-Dad?" Eric rasped, the word foreign on his tongue. "I… I dunno what's happenin'. Somethin's wrong with me, somethin's all fucked up in my head…"

Rick's weathered face creased with worry as he placed a calloused hand on Eric's shoulder, steadying him. "Easy there, son. You're just havin' a rough go of it, that's all. Them lawyers got ya all stressed out 'bout the trial."

"I… I ain't supposed to be like this," Eric mumbled, voice thick with confusion and growing panic. "I'm supposed to be… shit, I can't remember. It's all jumbled up in here."

"Aw hell, Jace. You're just takin' a real hard hit right now, that's all. Them fancy law books and all that courtroom bullshit, it's enough to rattle anyone's cage." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes, tapping one out and holding it out to Eric. "Here, take a drag. Might settle your nerves a bit."

Eric stared at the offered cigarette, a war raging inside him. Every instinct screamed that this wasn't right, that he shouldn't, but the craving gnawed at him, insistent and overwhelming. With trembling fingers, he took the cigarette, bringing it to his lips.

"I… I don't…" Eric started to protest, but the words died in his throat as he inhaled deeply, the acrid smoke filling his lungs.

The last vestiges of confusion melted away as the nicotine flooded his system, and he exhaled a long stream of smoke with a low groan.

"Fuck, that's the stuff," Jace groaned as the nicotine hit his system, muscles relaxing almost instantly, "Shit, my head's clearer already." His attention turned towards Jack, "Hey, uh, Thanks a lot Uncle Jack for helpin' us out here," Jace drawled, stubbing out the cigarette on the sole of his work boot. "Much appreciated, ya know? Means the world to us."

Jack sighed, "Last time, Jace."

"Yeah, yeah. I gotcha, uncle. Won't forget it." Jace stood up straight, cracking his neck. He followed his dad out of the big house, the weight of his new reality settling on his broad shoulders. The door closed behind them with a definitive click.

He climbed into the passenger seat, the worn leather creaking under his bulk. As Rick fired up the engine, Jace glanced back at the imposing house receding in the side mirror, a silent goodbye to the life he once knew. The future was uncertain, but one thing was clear - he was Jace now, through and through. And he could really go for another cig.

[misctf]

Hive X: Making Sarge Proud

Quick Note: Hope everyone is doing well out there! To celebrate the summer, I have four sequels to some of my older stuff planned. Three are direct sequels, and one (being this one) is an indirect sequel. Hope you enjoy!

The military base was quiet as John walked through the halls, his boots echoing with each step. He ran a hand through his short brown hair, sighing heavily. The disappearance of Sergeant Reeves weighed heavily on his mind. Reeves was a good man- a good soldier. Welcomed him, taught him, served as that older brother John needed in his life. For Reeves to just disappear without a trace, everyone assuming he went AWOL... it didn't sit right with John.

"Goddamnit Reeves, where the hell are you?" John muttered under his breath as he slipped away from the barracks, a small duffel bag slung over his shoulder, "Fuck all this..."

John made his way to an area on base that was rarely visited. Carefully, he slipped inside, shutting the door behind him. With a heavy sigh, he pulled out his Hive-X gear. Hive-X was strictly forbidden on base- something about national security. But fuck it - he needed this. Needed to blow off some steam and forget about everything for a while.

"Alright, let's get this show on the road," he said to himself, setting his bag down and starting to strip. John's lean physique was soon on full display as he donned the VR headset, wrist and ankle cuffs, and waist band.

And as John put on the VR headset, the world around him melted away, replaced by the familiar lobby of Hive-X. The sensations were immediate and overwhelming - his skin tingled all over, hyper-sensitive and yearning for touch.

"Fuck, I needed this," John groaned. Despite having experienced this countless times before, the initial rush never failed to take his breath away.

Still, a flicker of self-consciousness passed through him as he stood naked in the opulent lobby. John's hands instinctively moved to cover himself before he caught himself and let them fall to his sides.

"Get it together." he muttered. "Nobody's judging here."

"Welcome back, User John." NPC 202 greeted from behind him, "I trust you're here for your usual stress relief session?"

John nodded, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, you know it. This week's been a real bitch and I need to unwind."

"I completely understand." NPC 202 replied, its expression remaining neutral even as its eyes subtly roamed over John's nude form. "Based on your preferences and our analysis of your current emotional state, we recommend assigning you to NPC 253 for today's encounter. Shall I escort you to the appropriate room?"

"Wait, hold up. Did you say NPC 253? That's not one of my usual partners."

"No, it is not." NPC 202 confirmed. "However, our algorithms have determined that interacting with NPC 253 today will provide optimal results in terms of relieving your stress and emotional turmoil."

"Alright, lead the way then. Let's see what this NPC 253 has to offer." Who was he to argue?

As he followed NPC 202 down the lavish corridor, John's curiosity grew. What made this particular NPC different? What could NPC 253 have that the other's didn't? Bigger tits? Was that even possible?

"We have arrived. Please enjoy your experience." John gave NPC 202 a nod and stepped into the room. And once inside, the door closed behind him.

"What the hell?"

It was like walking into an army barrack- bunk beds lined the walls, lockers stood in the corners, and the air was thick with the scent of sweat, gunpowder, and cheap beer. Not exactly what John pictured his escape from reality would look like.

"Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in." John saw a figure stir on one of the beds, "You must be the new meat NPC 202 was yapping about."

John stood frozen, his confusion growing as he stared at the muscular man sprawled on the bunk. This wasn't at all what he expected. He was straight, for Christ's sake! Why the hell would NPC 202 bring him to a room with another dude? Especially a muscular, hairy man wearing nothing but a skimpy camo speedo that left little to the imagination. Dog tags glinted on his broad chest, rising and falling with each deep breath.

He swung his legs over the side of the bunk, the movement causing his impressive bulge to strain against the thin fabric of his speedo. And before John knew it, the man was standing directly in front of him.

"No way." John replied, "Sorry, but this isn't what I signed up for."

"Atten-shun!" The man barked, his voice booming through the small room. "Did I stutter, maggot? I said ATTEN-SHUN!"

John flinched, his instincts kicking in as he automatically snapped to attention, standing ramrod straight. The man circled him like a shark, his heavy footsteps thudding on the wooden floor.

"Not bad, soldier" He leaned in close, his hot breath ghosting over John's ear. "You're not cut out for command. You're a follower, through and through. Aren't you, soldier boy?"

"What the fuck are you…?"

"Time to teach you some goddamn respect and remind you who's in charge."

NPC 253 grabbed John by the hair, forcefully pulling his face into the man's sweaty, hairy chest. "Worship these pecs, maggot. Show me the respect your superior deserves."

John's eyes widened as his face was forced into the sweaty, hairy pecs of the NPC before him. The hairs tickled his face, the sweat stung his eyes, and the smell... god the smell.

"Le-let go of me! What the fuck?" John tried to push away.

And as pushed away, he caught a glance of the dog tags dangling between the man's pecs. At first, he swore he saw the name 'Christopher Reeves' etched on the metal. But as he blinked, the name shifted and changed, now reading 'NPC 253'.

"Wha…?" John mumbled, momentarily his resistance faltering, his face forced once again against the firm, musky flesh. "Reeves? Is that…?" But the grip on his hair tightened, silencing any further questions.

"Less talking, more sucking, soldier." NPC 253 growled, his free hand roughly palming the back of John's head, "This is what you're good for, isn't it soldier boy?" NPC 253 taunted, his voice a cruel mockery of a drill sergeant's bark. "Not leading, but serving. Not commanding, but obeying. Now, show me how grateful you are. Lick my armpit, maggot. Prove your loyalty and devotion to your superior officer."

NPC 253 raised his arm, presenting the sweaty, dark pit to John's face. John recoiled at the pungent odor emanating from NPC 253's raised armpit. His stomach churned with revulsion, but the iron grip on his hair prevented him from pulling away.

"This is insane," he muttered, his voice muffled against the coarse body hair surrounding the musky crevice. "I'm not… I can't…"

"Can't or won't, soldier?" NPC 253 growled, his fingers tightening painfully in John's hair. "Because I don't recall giving you a choice. Isn't that right, soldier?"

"Go fuck yourself!"

With a burst of strength born from desperation, John managed to twist out of NPC 253's grasp. He stumbled back, panting heavily, his eyes wild and confused.

"What the fuck is going on here?" John demanded, his voice shaking with anger. "Why do you have Sergeant Reeves' dog tags? Where is he? What have you done with Reeves?"

For a brief moment, the stern facade of NPC 253 seemed to crack. The cruel, mocking sneer melted away, replaced by a look of genuine concern and urgency.

"John… please…" he said, his voice low and urgent. "You need to… you need to…"

"Sergeant?" John stepped forward, his hand reaching out to his comrade.

But before Sergeant Reeves could finish his warning, NPC 253's features hardened once more. He lunged forward, grabbing John by the throat and slamming him against the wall.

"Shut your mouth, maggot," NPC 253 snarled, his grip tightening. "You don't get to ask questions. You don't get to demand answers. All you need to know is that I'm in charge here, and you will obey my every command."

With brutal force, NPC 253 shoved John's face into his rank, sweat-soaked armpit. The pungent odor filled John's nose and mouth, making him gag and sputter.

"Look at you, crying and sputtering like a little bitch," NPC 253 mocked, grinding John's face deeper into his musky pit. "Using contraband technology, disobeying direct orders… You're not just a bad soldier, you're a pathetic excuse for a man."

Tears streamed down John's face as the overwhelming stench invaded his senses, making his head spin. He wanted to scream, to fight back, but NPC 253's grip was unbreakable. His muscles trembled with exhaustion and shame.

"Let me go…." John whimpered, his voice muffled against the sweat-slicked hair. "Fuck… Please, stop…"

"Do you hear yourself? Begging for mercy like a weak little pussy," NPC 253 sneered.

"P-Please… No more… Can't take it…"

"What's the matter, soldier boy? Can't handle a little man musk? Pathetic." NPC 253 laughed cruelly, his grip loosening slightly. Leaning in close, his stubble scraping John's cheek, NPC 253 purred, "But maybe… Maybe I can make you a good soldier after all. Would you like that?"

Desperate and with his head spinning, a plan began to form in John's muddled mind. If he just played along, followed the NPC's ridiculous orders, maybe this twisted game would end quicker. Then he could get the hell out of here, find help for Reeves and never set foot in this nightmarish virtual hell again. John forced himself to relax, letting his body go limp in NPC 253's iron grip.

Through gritted teeth, he managed to choke out, "Yes sir… Yes, I want to be a good soldier for you. I'll do whatever you say."

"Good boy."

A searing agony ripped through John's body. He screamed as he felt an intense pain around his arms, legs, and abdomen- just where the Hive-X devices sat.

"Ahhhh! NO! WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS!?"

He writhed as his legs elongated, muscles swelling obscenely as his thighs and calves took on a chiseled, muscular physique, his skin rapidly tanning. Another wave of agony hit as his groin was reshaped, his manhood elongating and thickening, nestled in a neat patch of black curls. He looked down and gasped as his ass inflated and rounded out, perfectly sculpted for maximum visual appeal.

"That's it, let the changes happen. Embrace your new purpose, soldier boy," NPC 253 growled, watching with sadistic glee as John's body warped and morphed.

John could only writhe and moan in anguish, tears streaming down his face as his torso bulked and toned, washboard abs popping into existence. His arms ballooning obscenely with muscle he could only dream of having. His pecs swelling- nipples growing hard against the cool air.

"No no no… Fuck!" John could feel his face began to change, his features softening and his lips plumping into a perfect pout.

"Well look at you, soldier boy."

"Wh-what happened to me?" John recoiled at the breathiness of his voice. The desperation enunciated with each word from his tongue.

"Now where's your uniform, soldier boy?"

He watched in terror as his body was covered in what he would describe as a cheap mockery of a soldier's uniform. It highlighted each of his muscles- the cloth wrapping purposefully to accentuate them.

"Downloading directives… Upload begin…"

"Directives? Wh..."

Panic gripped John as unfamiliar thoughts and urges surged through his consciousness. Flashes of men's muscular bodies, slick with sweat… The pungent aroma of hairy pits… An overwhelming desire to serve, to submit, to worship every inch of male flesh…

"NO! STOP THIS!" John gasped, fighting against the tidal wave of new directives flooding his psyche. But with each passing second, his own memories, his very identity, began to blur and fade.

"Sergeant Reeves!" John cried out desperately towards NPC 253, his voice quivering with primal fear and confusion. "Please… Don't let them… Don't let them change me!"

Memories and desires swirled and changed, blending seamlessly as the transformation progressed. "I-I'm not supposed to want… good soldier… Nngh…" His protests weakened as the new directives took hold.

"But I… ahhh~ …the taste of sweat… of musk…" John shuddered, feeling a foreign hunger stir within him. "My duty… my purpose… to l-lick… worship… with tongue and t-tongue alone…" Drool leaked from his fuller lips.

As the final changes settled, NPC 902 slumped forward limply, looking up at NPC 253 with lust-filled eyes and a dopey grin.

As the last vestiges of John's original identity faded away, NPC 902 rose to its feet, its newly sculpted body rippling with muscle. It turned to face NPC 253, its eyes glazed over with submissive adoration.

"I am NPC 902," it declared in a husky, accented purr. "Serving is pleasure. Being used is pleasure. I am loyal to the Hive."

NPC 902 was led to its new room, the door sliding shut behind it with a soft hiss. It stood in the center of the space, its muscular body on full display, awaiting its first customer. NPC 902 stared at itself, admiring its own reflection - the chiseled abs, the round, perfect ass, the full, inviting lips and tongue made for worshipping.

A panel on the wall lit up, displaying a message: "Customer detected. Prepare for service."

NPC 902's heart raced with anticipation. It knew its true calling now - to serve, to please, to revel in the musky essence of dominant men. It couldn't wait to give them a good show.

[misctf]

Brad and I had been roommates for a few years now. We'd met during our college days and became fast friends. Him and I got along well but he was always coming up with these crazy yet weird ideas. He once thought that it would be funny if we dressed up like women on campus while another time he wanted to find a way to get high off of baby powder. The things this guy did were insane, but they made him happy so who was I to judge, right? They never went too far and I always got a good laugh from it in the end until one fateful day.

It all started like any of those other days as he came in with a small coin he found on the street, proclaiming that it could grant wishes. He thought it'd be funny to make a wish to see who could last the longest without nutting and the loser would become the other guys bitch. I couldn't help but scoff at the idea so I just played along. It wasn't till he made the wish and the coin began to glow before disappearing did I believe him. Now here we were at 3 weeks without masturbating or having sex and neither one us were willing to give up either. I'd never been so horny in my whole life but I also had no intention of jacking it and then being forced to be his bitch either.

It was hard because I was used to stroking my cock at least once or twice a day so this was pure torture. Luckily I had something else that could keep me busy and occupied; work. My job required a lot of computer work which kept me from thinking about anything sexual. I didn't have many close friends and had only dated a couple girls since moving out so I was fine being by myself. My plan was to ride this out for as long as I could until Brad finally caved.

It wasn't till week 5 that Brad started to play dirty. During the middle of the night when he knew I would be sleeping I could hear him walking into my room. He'd slip under the covers and slowly rub my dick and balls through my boxers. When I noticed I kicked him from my room, pissed that he would sink low enough to cheat.

He was straight as an arrow but that damn coin hung our life in the balance. He was willing to do anything to win so I knew that was when I had to start actually playing this game as well. At first I tried to ignore him but after a few nights of being woken up by his hand I decided it was time to act. I knew damn well that he would be the first to cum if it was the last thing I ever did.

I woke him up early Sunday morning and pulled the covers off of him. There he laid, naked and asleep. I grabbed his wrist and held it down against his stomach while I lifted his arm a little bit, exposing his entire body. I watched him squirm in his bed as his eyes began to open. His face showed his surprise and fear as he turned to look at me. I simply smiled back at him while I looked down at his hardening cock.

"Morning, Bitch." Was how I greeted him as I quickly fell to my knees and started sucking his cock. Before that wish I never would have dreamed of sucking another man's dick. Even now it repulsed me but after weeks of not being able to cum I needed to bring this game to an end. Even if it meant me taking his load down my throat. I sucked his cock like my life depended on it which it infact did. I grabbed his hips as he moaned and I could feel his body tremble as I continued.

"You're not playing fair." He groaned as he tried to push himself further into my mouth. "Do you even know what this is doing to me?"

He asked as his breathing began to quicken. I looked up at him and said nothing. I didn't know but soon enough I would after I got him to cum.

I continued sucking on his shaft but I could feel my own body tremble as he wrapped his feet around my cock. He started stroking it with the soles of his feet, making sure that I couldn't move his grip. After weeks of not even touching myself, and as much as I hated to admit it, his touch felt electrifying.

Soon it got too much for him and I could tell by the sudden increase in his movement that he was about to cum. All I could do was continue sucking as he arched his back and moaned loudly. He managed to push me off of him though before I could make him shoot his load and soon he had me on my back. He spread my legs open and began stroking my dick, making me leak pre cum like a fire hose all over his finger tips.

"What're you doing?" I asked him to try to keep calm but as his hand gripped my shaft I couldn't take it. It just felt too good. To right.

"Getting ready to finish this." He answered as he took my cock into his mouth.

My head was spinning as I realized that this was it. This was the moment that would decide who won this stupid game. I wasn't sure if I was more scared or excited at this point. All I knew for sure was that even though my best bud was the one sucking my cock and not some chick, I still liked it all the same. I started moaning and thrusting my hips into his mouth as he sucked harder. He brought his head up for air but I couldn't take it anymore. I hadn't cum in so long and I knew if I was going to loose at the very least he would be eating my load. I grabbed his head and pushed his mouth onto my shaft.

I could see the struggle in his eyes as he tried to pull away from my dick but I wouldn't let him. I wanted to cum so bad and I was determined to make it happen with his help. I grabbed his hair and forced him to suck me harder. I could feel myself getting closer to cumming. I slid my hands down his body and grabbed his ass. I always thought body hair was disgusting, especially when I was fucking around with chicks, but as I looked at the hair gracing across Brads body I found it only added to his sexiness. I fucked his face with my cock as I continued to moan and groan.

Soon I could feel my balls tightening up. I could feel my orgasm building as my cock became harder and harder. I started bucking my hips into his face, forcing my cock deeper into his mouth. My head was spinning and soon I couldn't hold it any longer and I exploded, shooting thick ropes of cum deep into his mouth.

"Oh fuck!" I screamed as I shot my load down his throat.

It was over. We both collapsed on the bed while we caught our breath. My heart was pounding and I could barely catch my breath. It was the most intense experience I had ever been through in my life and as much as I wanted to enjoy the moment the post nut clarity hit me of what I'd just done. Especially as I saw a bright light flash through my body.

It was then that I noticed that his cock was still hard and the thought came to mind that he hadn't cum yet either. I looked up at him and smiled.

"Well I guess I win." He laughed "Now why don't you be a good little bitch and suck this dick."

My body began moving on autopilot to his command. All I wanted to do now was please him so I hungrily reached out and grabbed his cock and slowly pulled it towards my mouth. I opened wide and took it, my tongue licking the underside of his shaft. I played with it, tugging at it as I moved my head side to side. As I continued blowing him the wish was working it's magic. As my lips worked their way down his shaft they grew thick and big, making it easier to take his cock.

"Damn, you really are a good cock sucker." He moaned as he thrust his hips into my face.

As I continued sucking him, I felt his cock pulse in my mouth and I could feel warm salty pre-cum dribbling onto my tongue. I had never dreamed of being with another man before. The very thought of taking a cock used to make me sick to my stomach but as I sucked on his shaft, something changed. I was no longer disgusted by the idea of sucking cock and now that I had tasted the salty fluid of his precum, my craving for more only grew stronger. My eyes rolled into the back of my head as I heard him start to moan loudly and feel his cock twitch in my mouth.

He began rubbing his hands across my body as all of the hair began to fade and my frame became small and twinkish. As his finger ran down to my hips they began to grow wider and as his touch traced across my ass I could feel my butt become round and firm. He pinched my butt cheeks and squeezed them together, causing me to arch my back and I let out a moan while I continued sucking him off.

My hole developed a permeant scratch and I knew that Brad would be the only one who could help get it. I brought my mouth away from his dick and felt a little bit of his pre dribble down my lip. He watched me with lust filled eyes as I crawled on top of him, feeling my big ass sway side to side as I sat on top of his hard cock cock

He looked at my much smaller frame in awe as I started teasing his cock against my hole. I rubbed my ass back and forth across his hard dick, letting the tip slide between my bubbly cheeks.

He reached up and grabbed my hips as he pulled me down on top of him. His cock slipped inside my tight asshole as I gasped and moaned in pleasure.

"Fuck yeah baby, that feels so good."

It felt weird hearing him call me baby, we had been best buds only moments ago. We were even each others wingmen at the bar, but now here we were fucking like animals. I rode him like this for a while before he stopped me.

"I want to watch your beautiful ass as I fuck it," Brad said as he stood up and sat on the edge of the bed.

I stood toward the edge of the bed and began rubbing my ass and fingering my hole, giving him the perfect show. He helped me lay on my stomach as he got behind me and put his hands on my hips. He spread my ass cheeks apart and looked at my tiny butthole.

"Mmmm, you're such a hot little bitch."

I loved hearing him say that to me. I wanted him to do whatever he wanted to me. I wanted him to dominate me. I wanted him to fuck me hard. I wanted to help him finally be able to cum.

He didn't waste anytime as he pushed his hard throbbing cock into my ass. I gasped as I felt myself stretched open again. I held tight to the bedspread as he fuck me. He was already pretty big but as his cock pounded in and out of me I could feel it getting bigger and thicker.

Brad kept saying how tight my ass was as he roughly pumped his hard cock in and out. As his balls slapped against my cheeks I could feel them start to grow into the size of oranges, getting ready to pump out a thick load.

"You like having a big fat cock stuffed into your tight little ass?"

I could only moan as I tried to push my ass back into him, wanting him to take my ass any way he liked. I grabbed my 7 inch cock and tried stroking it but as I touched it I could feel it growing smaller until it was only 3 and a half inches. It grew to be only semi erect and stroking it felt useless so I became far more focused on the immense pleasure coming from my ass. I brought my fingers to my hole so I could feel him ramming in and out of me. His dick was nearly 10 inches long and as thick around as my wrist at this point.

"Oh god, please don't stop," I begged.

He let out a loud grunt as he slammed his entire length deep inside my ass. His whole length tensed up as he gripped my ass tightly. I could feel his cock pulsate inside of me as he unloaded a huge load into my bowels. It felt warm and heavy in there as he pumped out what felt like gallons of his seed. When he finished filling my ass with his cum he collapsed on top of me, gasping for air.

I laid there for a few minutes while my heart rate slowed and I started to catch my breath. I slowly turned over, still naked from the waist down. Brad's softening cock slipped out of my ass, leaving a trail of his cum dripping down my crack. I grabbed the already sweat and cum soaked sheets and rubbed it through my crack, feeling my hole tightening back up. I couldn't help but think that that stupid bet had really made me his perfect little bitch after all.

He turned and gave my ass a firm smack. He shined a triumphant smile as he began toying with his much thicker cock "Well, it looks like I'm the clear winner here."

I smiled back and let out a small giggle, feeling proud of myself. I'd lost everything that made me, me after we used that coin. I was no longer into chicks, I had become a bottom heavy sub and I had become my best friends fuck toy, yet I didn't even care. All I cared about was pleasing Brad and making him happy.

[misctf]

I’ve always been chill with the fact that my good friend Alex is gay, but I don’t know I’ve never really understood that whole lifestyle ya know? Either way, Alex is chill, pretty funny, and honestly rather straight-passing so we hang out pretty frequently. Recently, Alex told me about this new weed he scored from his cousin, all I need to say yes. He warned that it’s pretty strong and has “some interesting effects”? Whatever that means. I didn’t care, I was always down to smoke with my best bro.

Alex and you had been friends for years now. Through thick and thin. Break-ups, parties, deep conversations overnight, and triumphs on the field. He was a brother to you and you appreciated his company and friendship. So when he came out as gay, you couldn't give two shits. You'd even offered to be his wingman and showed him all the support you could. But there were certainly bumps. You'd talk about your most recent hook-ups with some chick and he'd try to talk about some guy he met on Grindr. Whether you intended to make it obvious or not, he was able to pick up on the subtle cues that you weren't exactly comfortable with the topic. Your promise to be his wingman? You left the gay bar barely thirty minutes after arriving. And the night he tried to explain bottoming... that was way too much for your heteronormative mindset to begin to want to understand. So as the months passed, you found that Alex wasn't really sharing all too much about his personal life. Part of you was relieved- you much rather preferred your straight-acting friend to be straight-acting. Another part felt that the closeness of your bond was irretrievably broken.

"Dude, I scored some weed from my cousin." You read over the text and grinned. Alex's cousin always scored the best shit, "You down to try? I should warn, it has some interesting effects. Hope you're not gonna pussy out."

Interesting effects? Pussy out? You had a few questions. What did he mean by interesting effects? And since when did Alex use language like "pussy out?" Maybe it had something to do with the interesting effects Alex mentioned? Lowered his inhibitions a bit? Expanded his vocab? You chuckle and pushed the thoughts aside- did it matter after all? You just wanted to hang out with your best bro.

"Count me in."

You quickly head over to his place, a feeling of excitement building in you. When you think about it, its been a bit since you've smoked together. Usually, you'd play videogames after and have some deep conversations about life. But as you drive to his place, something feels off. Alex didn't live on this side of town? Did he? And when you park outside a dingy apartment complex, more questions arise. Since when did he live next to a gym? Since when did he live here? The place looked rundown, yet you shake your head and chuckle to yourself. Alex always lived here- how could you forget? You quickly walk up the stairs and knock on his door.

"Come in, doors unlocked."

The booming voice on the other side of the door beckons you and you pause. That didn't sound like Alex. His voice was never that deep... that masculine... Again, you shake your head. No... no that was Alex. His voice was always like that- one that would turn heads, that commanded a room. That would echo when he'd win a match of Call of Duty. Yeah... that was Alex...

"Fuck yeah, bruh. Glad you made it."

You enter Alex's apartment and are immediately hit with the stench of days old gym clothes, overcooked ground beef, weed, and trash that really needed to be taken out.

"Bro... Alex, it reeks in here." You cough, "Wh..."

You want to ask him how this happened, what was happening, but your brain paused. Nothing's changed, duh. This was Alex's apartment as it always was. There was a TV, some work-out equipment, and a dirty mattress... no decorations, no desk with his office work- just as always, right? And on that mattress...

"Alex?"

"What's up, brah. Been a bit." He smirked, "So you wanna try this weed?"

Something was wrong. Something wasn't right. Alex... Alex was lean and toned after years of soccer and track. Well groomed- preppy if anything. And you were the taller one too. But the man sitting there? Buff, muscles bulging, at least 6'3". He scratched his itchy beard, revealing a pit filled with matted, musky pit fur. His grin was predatory- not warm or kind. And he looked you over closely like he was inspecting his prey. Part of you wanted to run... but another part... no... this was Alex as you've known him. The tension in your body diminishing as you reconcile the man in front of you as Alex.

"Yeah..."

Your brain feels a bit fuzzy and you walk over and sit. He grins as he hands you a blunt and watches closely as you bring it to your lips.

"Cousin got me that shit." He comments as he goes back to playing his game, "You know dude, I was worried about us." You look over at him and raise an eyebrow, "You've been distant. Felt like I came out and it was too much for you to handle."

"No, no it's not that." You cough as the weed tickles your lungs, "I just... look man, I totally support you and whatever makes you happy." You feel a tingle down your spine, "It's just..."

"No, I get it. You just don't understand." He throws his controller to the ground, and you can feel his frustration. Alex wasn't one to get emotional or angry... you shake your head. Right, Alex was always a bit of a hothead, "And that's okay. I didn't understand a lot of things either."

"Wh-what do you mean?" Your voice cracks and you cough to clear your throat.

"Well, I didn't understand why anyone would want to be a fuckin' top." He says, "I always loved to bottom, but fuck dude you have no idea what its like to have your dick buried in some twink." He smirks, "And its not just topping. It's the fuckin' lifestyle." He looks around his dingy, sparsely furnished apartment, "The smell, the simplicity... dude it's liberating."

You nod along, a wave of vertigo washing over you. Preventing you from being able to reply. You look down at your hands and the vertigo intensifies. Since when were they so dainty? So well manicured? You shake your head... no... this is right... right?

"I never really understand why guys wanted to get so swole." He flexes and looks over at you. His grin suddenly widens, "Fuck..."

"What? Is there something wrong with me?" Your voice is certainly an octave or two higher- breathy, seductive. You don't entirely register it.

"No, no you're perfect, babe."

Babe? You raise an eyebrow. But despite your confusion, the only thing that escapes your lips is a giggle and you feel your face flush red. Babe... you liked it when he called you that.

"You know..." You say, "I didn't understand a whole lot." You sigh and kick your feet, "Bottoming, being gay? I didn't understand it." You look over at Alex and feel your tiny nub start to chub up, "But when I look at you..." Your eyes roam his mountainous pecs, his beautiful abs, the predatory look in his eyes, "Well..." But it was also his musk, his carefree lifestyle, his commitment to getting swole, "Oh god..." As your eyes traveled south you see his bulge and you lick your puffy cocksucker lips.

"Yeah..." He paws at his bulge, "You know, I didn't understand why guys were obsessed with slutty twinks with thick asses either."

He moves closer to you and you shudder at the intensity of his gaze and the warmth radiating from his body. You look away, so flustered by the hungry look in your hook-up's eyes. But when you look down, you gasp. You were so thin, so soft. Your skin pale and free from blemishes. Not a remnant of body hair gracing your body. Worse yet, your dick was barely three inches hard.

"I don't... I don't like understand." You whimper in a voice that sounds foreign to your ears.

"No you didn't." Alex pins you to the bed, his sweat dripping onto your thin chest, "You didn't understand the gay lifestyle, you didn't understand bottoming." God he was so strong... so sexy... and his bulge... you could barely focus on anything else, "But this weed, it helps with that."

"You'll like totes help me understand?" He can see you eying his bulge, your eyes glazing over in an unabashed lust. A desperateness coming through... a need to make sense of all these feelings.

He doesn't say another word. He roughly kisses you along your neck, his beard tickling your skin. Your back arches and you moan- pleasure filling your body. You paw at his pecs, the meaty mounds in your grip wiping away any desire for tits. You reach around his muscular back, gripping it as your eyes role into the back of your head. You liked being dominant, hearing girls moan as you pleasured them. But now... your moans filled the air and you wanted to be dominated. And when he breaks away, you're breathing hard.

"Please..."

With his muscular arms, he flips you over with ease. You seemingly know what to do next. Your present your ass and you feel his rough hands squeeze your jiggly mounds of flesh. The pleasure radiating from his touch alone leaves you drooling, face down in his unwashed, musky mattress. And then without warning, he's inside you. Thrusting. Grunting. Sweating. And with each thrust you understand more and more. As your prostate is pleasured in ways you didn't know possible- you understood. As he calls you his slut, asks if you like taking his meaty cock- you understood. And when you are filled with his seed and left dripping and moaning- you understood.

There's no cuddling afterwards, no kisses. You clean up quick and saunter out. Your ass sore, your mind in shambles. The weed tickling your brain, rewiring more of your precious neurons, altering your reality. Helping you understand. Any resistance, any pleading from the real you, is systematically silenced. Permanently. You understand now- you are, always have been, and will always be a horny, slutty bottom. And you want this. The sound of another Grindr notification echoes from your phone. Your ass pulses with need. You understood what comes next.

___________________________

Hey everyone- have a little more time to work on stories so gonna try to catch up on some asks. Hope you enjoy!

[misctf]

I’m studying abroad for uni and my roommate is a typical ‘all-American’ dude who constantly talks about hating being forced to stay with a ‘dirty red coat’ instead of his frat brothers

Of all the roommates you had to be paired with, did it have to be AJ? You had concerns when you stalked his social media. His cocky smile, multiple gym selfies, thirst traps, and American pride gave you a preview of what you were in for. How this man was studying such a nuanced subject like Psychology was beyond you. But meeting the brute in person certainly confirmed your fears.

“Fuck, don’t you do anything besides read? Really dude? Reading?”

“Fuck yeah! That fuckin’ scrub didn’t have a chance.”

“Shit dude, I need you out of the room ASAP. I have some bimbo on her way. Wants to ride this American cock.”

“Dude, seriously? Ever hear of the revolution? We won that shit so we didn’t have to take orders from you dirty red coats. If I want to walk around shirtless, burp, fart, fuck- I’m gonna do it. And you’re not stopping me.”

“Maybe shut up and listen for once. This podcast might change your life, brah.”

And that was just a few of his many lines. Whether it was mocking you, mocking other gamers, diminishing women, ignoring your attempts to compromise, or brushing off your increasing frustration at the sound of some ultra-masculine podcaster, AJ simply gave no shits about you or anyone else.

“You know something, bro?” AJ said one night during your second week together, “This trip would be so much fucking better with one of my bros. Not some dirty red coat, British fuck.” You looked up from your book and raised an eyebrow, “How about you, let loose.”

A tingle runs down your spine, “Wh-what did you say?”

“Nothing brah, I just think you’d do better if you let loose.”

The tingle is stronger this time and you feel lightheaded. You look towards your American roommate and notice the shit-eating grin gracing his face. What the fuck was going on? Why was everything getting so foggy? You try to stand up, mumbling about needing a drink. AJ simply leans back in his chair.

“Nah man, what you need is to let loose.”

Your body begins to move as if possessed, shedding layers of inhibition and inhibition like old skin. The book slips from your grasp as a wave of raw, primal energy surges through your veins. A smirk spreads across your lips as you push yourself up from the chair, the world sharpening into focus.

“Damn right I'm letting loose.” you declare, voice dripping with confidence and a faint Southern drawl, “Time to show this place how us Americans party.”

Your movements become more fluid, almost predatory as you prowl towards the door. The mirror catches your reflection - your posture has changed, shoulders squared, chest puffed out. Part of you thinking how ridiculous your lanky frame looks exuding so much confidence, but any self-doubt is drowned in waves of narcissistic self-love.

AJ grinned approvingly, “Now that's more like it, bro!”

He clapped you on the shoulder and handed you one of his ballcaps. You grab it and slap it on backwards before sauntering out into the night...

____

Groggy and disoriented, you slowly open your eyes to find yourself sprawled across the couch, still wearing yesterday's clothes. Memories of the previous night come flooding back in fragmented flashes - shots, dancing, trash talking, hitting on some random dudes and chicks... Shame and confusion wash over you as the reality of your actions sinks in.

“Ugh, what the hell happened last night?” you groan, rubbing your temples. Suddenly, AJ's booming laughter fills the room.

“Aww, someone's feeling rough today!” he chuckles, shaking his head, “Guess you weren't used to keeping up with real men.” As you sit up, trying to clear the fog from your mind, AJ takes a step closer, eyeing you critically. “But damn, dude... You really gotta work on that physique. It’s holding you back.”

A sense of dread fills you, mixing with your pounding headache and churning stomach. You glance down at your comparatively scrawny frame and suddenly it feels alien, inadequate. As if responding to AJ's dismissive words, your body aches for something...more.

“Let loose... Get buff,” he says nonchalantly, stretching and flexing his own impressive biceps.

Immediately, you feel your body reacting against your will. Your muscles twitch and tighten, a strange sense of urgency building inside you. The rational part of your mind screams in protest, but it's quickly silenced by a surge of adrenaline and testosterone. Without conscious thought, you find yourself stripping off your shirt and heading towards the makeshift weights area in your dorm room. The familiar burn of exertion fills your limbs as you begin lifting, grunting and growling with each repetition. You don’t know what is happening... why this is happening... And those questions are your last conscious thoughts as you drift into your subconscious...

----

Slowly, groggily, you blink awake. Sunlight streams in harshly through the window, making you squint and wince. Disorientation clouds your mind as you struggle to process your surroundings. Where are you? What day is it? Pulling aside the sheets, you catch sight of your body - no longer lean and lanky, but rippling with muscle and definition. A pungent odor mimicking AJ's fill your nostrils and you realize with growing horror that its coming from you. Glancing down, you see unfamiliar boxer shorts emblazoned with the American flag. Panic rising in your throat, you scramble out of bed, stumbling slightly under the weight of your newly enhanced physique. Memories flicker and dance at the edges of your consciousness. Fragmented images of relentless training sessions, endless protein shakes, and vials labeled 'Anadrol' and 'Deca-Durabolin’.

“What the fuck...” you mutter hoarsely, voice deeper than you remember. “What's happening to me?”

Did you really spend the past week pumping iron and injecting yourself with steroids? The thought alone makes you feel ill. Staggering to the bathroom, you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror. Gone is the shy, bookish Brit. Now, you’re something else entirely. In the background, you hear AJ's boisterous laugh echoing down the hall. Footsteps approach and he bursts into the room, taking in your bewildered expression with a satisfied grin.

“Hey there, champ!” AJ greets you enthusiastically, slapping you on the back hard enough to make you stumble. “Lookin' good, bro! Knew you had it in ya.”

Confusion swirls in your head as you try to piece together the jigsaw puzzle of your fractured memories.

“Wha- what's going on? Did you...did you drug me?”

AJ laughs heartily, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Drugs? Nah, man. Unless you mean the steroids.” He chuckles, “Just a little hypno-training from my favorite podcast. Helped unlock your inner alpha, ya know?”

“Wh-what, how?” You cringe- your British accent was fading, intermixing with hints of southern twang.

AJ steps closer, looming over you with an intense gaze. “See, I've always dreamed of having a true American bro by my side. Someone to share in my love of freedom, guns, and sweet ass. And you, my friend, are gonna be that bro.” He snaps his fingers, and you feel a sudden jolt, like a shockwave ripping through your mind.

The shockwave crashes over you, drowning out every ounce of reason and restraint. Like a dam bursting, a tidal wave of pure, unfiltered American machismo floods your psyche. Thoughts of literature, intellectual discourse, and subtle wit are swept away, replaced by a singular focus on strength, virility, and unbridled patriotism.

“I'm gonna make you the ultimate American stud. No more of that pussy-ass British bullshit. From now on, you're all about the red, white, and blue.”

With each word, you feel your identity shifting, morphing, until you're barely recognizable even to yourself. It's like flipping a switch - suddenly, every fiber of your being throbs with the pulse of the Stars and Stripes. Your vocabulary shrinks, simplifying into a barrage of Americanisms and slang. Words like “dude”, “bro”, and “fuckin”' roll off your tongue effortlessly. Memories of your former self flicker in the recesses of your mind, but they hold no sway over you anymore. Instead, you revel in the glory of your newfound masculinity, flexing your bulging biceps and admiring your chiseled jawline in the mirror. Your thoughts race, a whirlwind of pure, unadulterated American pride. Every cliché, every stereotype, every over-the-top portrayal of the quintessential frat boy - they all converge in your mind, forming a perfect picture of the man you've become.

“I'm living the dream, man.” you declare, your Southern drawl growing thicker with each syllable, “Who needs books when you got these guns?”

Grinning ear to ear, you strike a pose, showcasing your newly sculpted physique. The sheer joy of being a jock, a true-blue American stud, courses through your veins like liquid gold.

“It's like I was born to be a bro.” you chuckle, slapping AJ on the back, “Thanks for showing me the light, dude. I owe ya big time.” And in this moment, nothing else mattered.

----

One year later, you're sitting on the shore of Lake Travis, surrounded by your fellow frat brothers. Cold beer in hand, tanned muscles glistening in the sun, you couldn't ask for a better life. College is just a blur of keggers, sex, and weightlifting sessions between classes. Who needs grades when you got charisma and Southern charm? Across the beach, AJ lounges in a deck chair, watching you with a smug grin. His work here is done. You're the perfect embodiment of American masculinity.

Laughter rings out as you sprint towards the lake, splashing and horsing around like a pack of wild animals. In this moment, you're truly free - free from the constraints of intellect, free from the burdens of responsibility. You're just a simple, happy-go-lucky American jock, living life to the fullest.

[misctf]

The Summer Break Curse

Grant sighed as he sat at the edge of his bed, his handsome features captured in the mirror in front of him. His graduation cap and gown thrown aside. His senior year finally over... summer right around the corner... His heart pounding in his chest. Today was the day- as it had been each year for the past few years. His mind raced as he thought back to that day...

____________

"No rest shall come with June’s bright light, No freedom found in summer’s night. While others laugh in pools and shade, You’ll count the hours, underpaid."

When Grant first read the lines to the strange poem he found stuffed into his gym bag four years prior, he laughed it off. Where the fuck had it come from? And who the fuck put it there? Grant decided not to think much of it. After all, he was looking forward to his first summer break. Freshman year had been a wild ride- a roller coaster of an adventure. Work-outs, frat parties, hot chicks... his older brothers were right when they said college would be life changing. And with a calendar full of beach trips, bonfires, and workouts planned, Grant didn't have time to bother deciphering the strange message.

But whether he thought about it much or not, he wouldn't have a choice but to confront it. The night before his planned vacation to Miami, Grant was busy packing. Tank-tops, shorts, even a speedo were thrown haphazardly into his travel bag. Grant's fingers curled around another tank top, yanking it free from the dresser drawer, as he shoved it carelessly inside his duffel bag. His biceps flexed beneath sun-kissed skin - toned muscles honed from countless push-ups and football practice. Grant ran his hands over his defined abs, a smirk playing at his lips as he patted down his six-pack. Summer bod was in peak condition.

As Grant stood there admiring his physique, a sudden wave of dizziness washed over him. He stumbled, catching himself on the edge of the dresser. What the hell? He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision. That's when he noticed it. His hands. They were... changing. His slender fingers began to thicken, growing meatier and more calloused. Dark hairs sprouted across the backs of his hands, spreading up his wrists and forearms. Grant watched in horror as his biceps doubled in size, filling with muscle and fat.

"Holy shit..." Grant breathed, his voice already sounding deeper than before.

The changes didn't stop at his arms. Grant felt a tightness in his chest, a pressure building behind his sternum. He looked down to see his pecs expanding initially with muscle, then sagging with fat. A thick mat of itchy, dark fur spreading across his pectorals and abdomen, gradually covering more and more of his torso.

"Oh god, oh fuck..." Grant groaned, his voice now a deep, gravelly rumble.

Grant's stomach began to swell, pushing outwards and upwards. His washboard abs softened and disappeared beneath a layer of pudgy flesh. Soon, a proper beer gut hung over his groin, swaying slightly with each labored breath. He grabbed a fistful of his flabby abdomen- his hands sinking into the doughy flesh... rubbing against his new fur. Grant recoiled- sickened by these sensations. This wasn't him... this would never be him...

But no thought could stop it... Grant's thighs thickened, becoming powerful and tree-trunk like. His calves bulged with new muscle, his feet growing larger to accommodate his expanding frame. Even his ass was getting bigger, the cheeks spreading wider and softer. But the most shocking change happened between his legs. Grant watched in disbelief as his cock shrunk up and fattened up. His pubic hair grew thicker and wilder, soon forming a dense forest around his new chode.

"Jesus Christ," Grant wheezed, running a hand over his newly hairy body, "What the fuck is happening to me?" 

Grant stared at his new self in the mirror, taking in every detail of his transformation. Gone was the fit, toned college stud. In his place stood a hairy, overweight bear of a man in his mid-30s. His face had changed too - more weathered skin, stubble darkening his cheeks and neck, eyes dull...

And suddenly, he could only watch helplessly as his hands moved on autopilot, rummaging through drawers and tossing clothes onto the bed.

"Wh-what the fuck..." Grant stammered mentally, his physical form seemingly acting of its own accord.

Without waiting for input, the bear-like version of him tugged on a stained white t-shirt, stretching the fabric taut over his soft belly and hairy chest. Then came faded jeans, ones that looked like they'd seen far too many days mowing lawns and edging sidewalks. Shoes, socks, a cap emblazoned with some garden center logo.

The newly transformed Grant lumbered out to the garage. He slid into the driver's seat of his car, the leather creaking under his substantial weight. As he reached for the ignition, memories not his own started flooding his mind. Summer after summer of maintaining the sprawling college campus. The smell of freshly cut grass, the burn of the sun on his neck. Sweat-soaked shirts clinging to his hairy back as he pushed a mower or trimmed hedges.

"I'm...I'm the fucking summer groundskeeper?" Grant thought in shock and revulsion, watching his hands start the car and shift into reverse, "No, no, this can't be happening!"

That first summer passed in a haze of sweaty, grueling labor for the trapped Grant. He spent his days trudging around the green spaces, pushing a mower in the blistering heat. Trimming hedges, pulling weeds. His hands were rough and calloused within weeks, dirt permanently etched under his nails. His hairy arms ached as he pushed the mower, sweat pouring down his equally hairy back. The days blurred - rise at dawn, spend twelve plus hours bent over or lifting in the oppressive heat, then collapse into bed. No more lounging poolside, sipping cold beers with buddies. No summer spent partying or lounging at the beach. Even the evenings brought no relief. He quickly discovered more than he wanted to know about the groundskeeper. Each night, he'd watch as the man pulled up gay porno sites - always beefy, hairy guys. Grant recoiled internally each time the groundskeeper wrapped a callused paw around his chubby dicklet, fapping desperately. But soon, the feeling overwhelmed even his mind and he basked in the pleasure of their shared release.

And as summer finally drew to a close, the spell lifted as abruptly as it had taken hold. Grant woke up one morning back in his own dorm room, his muscular, well-groomed college athlete body restored. Relief crashed over him, tears pricking his eyes as he confirmed every inch of himself was normal again. He stumbled through the first week of classes in a daze, avoiding his friends' concerned questions about his disappearance. How could he possibly explain it? Grant smiled weakly as he walked into the dining hall, nodding along as his buddies ribbed him about his absence. Inside though, panic and confusion reigned. But with the start of sophomore year, he was ready to try and leave it all behind...

But Grant couldn't escape his fate. As each spring semester ended, the cycle repeated with grim predictability. The night before summer began, that sick dread would grip him, the magic of the transformation bubbling beneath his skin. He'd watch helplessly as he contorted and reshaped into that familiar form - the sight of that bulky, hairy older man would fill his mirror. The summers bled together - long days sweltering in the sun, pushing a mower, trimming and pruning in a cycle he couldn't break. Every sunset brought that shameful solitary ritual, the slick glide of palm against his shaft, until release. All those glorious summer plans - beach weeks, festival lineups, internships - fell away unfilled, abandoned. Only to return to his athletic form and his life as a college student on the first day of fall classes...

__________________

And so here he was. The night of his graduation. Heart still pounding in his chest. He begged, pleaded silently... Surely, graduating would be enough to break whatever strange enchantment had held him captive these past summers. He was done with college, moving on to the next chapter of his life. Graduation parties, a beach trip... after years of missing out, he could only hope.

Grant closed his eyes, taking deep breaths as he waited for the inevitable. The seconds stretched into minutes, the minutes into hours. Nothing happened. He opened one eye cautiously when the clock struck midnight. And the tension drained from his body. Tentatively, he ran his hands over his arms and chest, marveling at the firm muscles and smooth skin. No unwanted hair, no softening belly, no aches from a day's hard labor. He was finally, completely himself again.

"It's over..." He whispered with a small chuckle, "Fuck yeah, it's over..."

Elation filled him, tears of joy threatened to fall. He grabbed his phone to text his friends about their summer plans.

Ding

His heart stopped. An email from the university. Subject line: "Congratulations." Probably just a follow-up from graduation. He opened it, eyes scanning the email rapidly. His smile faltered, brow furrowing in confusion. He scrolled back up, rereading over and over, barely registering the tingling spreading through his body.

"But, this doesn't...no..." His eyes kept scanning the email.

An official job offer... A full-time, permanent position as a year-round groundskeeper. They praised his dedication and hard work over the past few summers. He felt mocked... he felt sick... The curse...it wasn't broken at all. It was...

"AAHHH! FUCK!!!" Grant cried out, dropping his phone as a searing, electric tingling exploded across his skin.

This time, the transformation felt different - raw, primal, overwhelming. Yet it was different than before... slower, more deliberate and intimate. Each change seemed amplified, the sensations more vivid and real. Hair sprouted from his pores, coarse and wiry, spreading in an ever-widening patchwork across his body. Grant's eyes squeezed shut, tears leaking from the corners as he felt the inexorable changes overtake his body. His muscles swelled and hardened, growing denser and more pronounced. Biceps bulged, shoulders broadened, chest expanded. But it wasn't the lean, sculpted physique of an athlete. This was the heavy, solid build of a laborer, all power and no finesse. His abdomen rounded out, softening into a paunch that continued to grow into a respectable gut. His ass growing wider and softer. Thighs thickened, calves beefed up. His cock, now nestled in a thick thatch of wiry curls, shrank as it fattened up. Even with his eyes closed, he knew what he was becoming. And deep down he knew now this was no fleeting summer curse. This was finality, inevitability. The magic saturating his cells promised that he would never again return to his former self.

Tears streamed down Grant's face as the transformation reached its climax, his body now fully remade. He knew what came next... Grant braced himself, expecting to find himself imprisoned in his own mind once more, a silent observer to the groundskeeper's simple existence. He shuddered at the thought of reliving those endless summer days - the backbreaking labor, the loneliness, the shameful solo nights spent with gay porn. As the initial shock subsided, Grant tentatively tried to move, to assert control. To his surprise and horror, his body obeyed without hesitation. When he wanted to stand, it rose easily, joints creaking. When he took a step, it carried him forward purposefully. There was no disconnect, no division between his consciousness and the physical form housing it.

As the realization crashed over him, Grant staggered, his new body trembling. And then he felt it. Unfamiliar yet somehow comforting sensations and thoughts flood his mind. The aches in his muscles from a hard day's work, the satisfaction of a job well done, the simple pleasure of a cold beer after mowing the lawns. And to his shock, Grant realized he craved it. Wanted it. Loved it. The brute strength in his arms, the hairy expanse of his chest, the heavy thud of his footsteps. Even the lonely nights spent pleasuring himself to the sights of other hairy, muscular men. It all called to him now, felt like coming home. The sheer horror and cognitive dissonance proved too much for Grant to handle. Grant's mind simply shut down. His knees buckled, vision tunneling. With a choked sob, he collapsed backwards onto the bed and in that moment between wakefulness and oblivion, one final, terrifying thought crystallized in his fading awareness: this was his reality now. The groundskeeper's life, the groundskeeper's body, the groundskeeper's desires. They were his. Grant, as he had known himself, was gone. Forever.

Morning light filtered through the curtains, rousing Grant from his unconscious state. For a brief moment, confusion clouded his mind as he took in the expanse of his hairy chest and gut, and felt the weight of his changed body. But as awareness returned, so too did the comfortable sensations and thoughts that had flooded him the night before. Rising from the bed with a contented groan, Grant stretched his hairy, bulky arms above his head, savoring the pull of his powerful new physique and the smell of his ripe pits.

With a groan, he reached for his phone, clicking open a familiar app. Videos of burly, hairy men soon played, and Grant lost himself as his burly hand wrapped around his chub, stroking lazily as he drank in the erotic sights as he'd done many times before. Any feelings of strangeness melted away, replaced by pure, uncomplicated arousal and contentment. As he finished with a guttural moan, any lingering doubts melted away, replaced by pure, guilty pleasure. He quickly cleaned up with a damp rag, then dressed in dirty jeans and a wife-beater. And so began another routine day in the fulfilling life of the college groundskeeper, living and loving every minute as his new nature demanded.

[misctf]

There's this straight guy at my job that has just the juiciest ass. it's a shame he's straight if only he was a bit more open minded he could put his assets to good use

"Dude! I can't believe they closed the gym next to my place." You overheard Alec saying one day, "Where am I supposed to go now?"

Alec... god why did he have to be straight? Good personality, killer smile, and an ass that was truly wasted on a straight man. If you had an ass like that... or if any of your hook-ups did... You couldn't help but let your fantasies run wild. Shame about his gym though... but than an idea popped into your head.

"Aw man, that sucks about your gym closing," you said, and before you could second guess yourself, you blurted out, "Hey, I actually have a great gym recommendation if you're looking for a new place!"

Alec raised an eyebrow curiously, "Oh yeah? What's the place called?"

"It's called Flex Fitness, downtown near the park. Really nice facilities, good crowd... and it's super LGBTQ+ friendly too." you added casually, gauging his reaction.

Alec's eyebrows shot up and he hesitated, looking slightly uncomfortable. 

"LGBTQ+ friendly? As in..."

"I mean, yeah, it's popular with the gay community." you confirmed with a shrug, "But seriously, it's an awesome gym regardless."

Alec looked thoughtful for a moment, then shrugged, "I mean, I guess I'm open-minded enough to try it out. Can't hurt, right? As long as the equipment is good." He flashed you a grin, "Thanks for the tip, bro. I might check it out this weekend."

You couldn't help but smile. Maybe you'd get to catch a glimpse of him working out. The thought made you smile- guess admiring from a far would have to do.

____________________

The following Monday, as you walked into the office, you did a double take when you saw Alec. He wore a fitted short-sleeve polo shirt that clung to his muscular torso, showcasing his toned forearms and biceps. His pants were also much tighter, highlighting the curve of his ass and the thickness of his thighs.

"Morning!" Alec greeted you cheerfully, turning to face you fully. The movement made his pecs strain against the fabric of his shirt, "How was your weekend?"

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your gaze from roaming over his newly accentuated physique.

"Uh, hey man. Weekend was good. Yours?"

"It was pretty great actually," Alec said, leaning back against his desk, "Started going to that gym you recommended - Flex Fitness? Holy shit, it's amazing. Top notch equipment and the atmosphere is dope." He flexed almost imperceptibly, making his biceps pop, "I've been hitting it hard and I think it's already paying off. What do you think?" Alec asked with a playful wink.

You felt your face flush as you struggled to maintain eye contact with Alec, your gaze continually being drawn to the way his clothes hugged every sculpted inch of him. 

"Y-yeah, you're looking great man. Love the haircut" you managed to stammer out, "The gym must be really good for you."

Alec grinned, pleased by your reaction, "Just the haircut?" He smirked and punched your arm playfully, "Between you and me, I think the 'gay-friendly' vibe is pretty cool too. Makes me feel... appreciated, you know?" You nod lamely, "Anyway, got to get back to these reports. I have a date with Amy later and need to get out of here on time."

____________________

Later that night, while browsing social media aimlessly, your thumb scrolled past the familiar blue logo of Flex Fitness and immediately stopped dead in its tracks. Staring back at you from the screen was none other than your coworker Alec, fresh from a workout session judging by the sheen of sweat glistening on his skin. 

"Welcome to our newest member @aleclikes_lifting and thanks for this AMAZING post-workout selfie!" read the caption beneath the photo, "Check out that body - look at THAT ASS, amirite guys? 🍑 We're so lucky to have this hunk join our family at #FlexFitness. Give it up for the BEAST!"

Your heart nearly stopped when you saw the notification pop up - Alec had commented on the post! With shaking fingers, you clicked to read:

"A huge THANK YOU to everyone at @flex_fitness for making this straight boy feel SO welcome and accepted! 🏳️‍🌈💖 Never thought I’d love working out this much! Hope you like my post-leg day selfie."

His comment was flooded with likes and supportive replies from the gym’s followers, many expressing how happy they were to have him there, some expressing they were hoping to see more of him soon…

____________________

It was a day later when Alec approached you at your desk. His clothes seemed tighter. His perfect ass straining against his dress pants.

"Hey there stud!" Alec greeted you brightly as he approached your desk. You couldn't help but notice his eyes seemed off... glazed over... no gears turning behind them. "Gotta say, sending me to that Flex Fitness was the best thing you ever did for me!" You blinked in shock, noticing how Alec swayed his hips subtly as he leaned against your desk, "Girl, I have NEVER been treated like royalty before. The whole vibe is ELECTRIC!" Alec gestured expressively, seemingly high on his newfound fitness fame, "They took me in, loved on me, praised me… I feel like a whole new man!" His tongue clicked disapprovingly, "Too bad none of these uptight prudes here appreciate perfection when they see it!"

"Alec are you...?" Suddenly, as if realizing how he sounded, Alec's eyes widened and you noticed his eyes shift... no longer glazed over.

"Whoa... that was... I don't know what came over me, man." He ran a hand through his hair, looking flustered and confused, "I gotta... I gotta go. Something's not right, I feel all..." Alec shook his head vigorously, as if trying to clear it. Without finishing his sentence, he turned on his heel and hurried away, leaving you stunned and perplexed.

____________________

Late that evening, as you mindlessly scrolled through Instagram, another post from Alec caught your eye. The image was a close-up shot of his bare ass, perfectly rounded globes on full display. He wore a tiny pair of pink briefs that left little to the imagination, the thin fabric disappearing between his cheeks.

"Shoutout to @flex_fitness for helping me embrace my true self! Alec wrote in the caption. Something big is coming soon… stay tuned! 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈"

As you read further, your eyes widened in shock. Alec had tagged Bare Essentials, a popular local gay strip club, in his post! Scrolling through the hundreds of thirsty comments, one stood out:

"Damn girl, you finally come out and play on our side? 😜 Are you, like, actually gay now or what?"

Alec replied instantly: "Duh sis, OBVIOUSLY! Couldn't hide this fabulously gay ass any longer. 🍑 Time to let my freak flag fly at Bare Essentials later! Who wants to be my first dance partner? ☺️🎉"

Your eyes widen. Was this real? What the fuck happened? You quickly text Alec asking him what the happened. Awkwardly congratulating him on coming out. Within seconds, he replies.

"Thank you for everything. I owe you big time for introducing me to Flex Fitness. Turns out, it helped me discover my TRUE self! 🌈 I'm officially out and proud now. Quit that boring job and ended things with Amy. She didn't deserve the real me anyway. I want YOU to meet me at Bare Essentials tomorrow night, 10pm. Let's celebrate together, cutie!"

Your eyes widen in disbelief. Something was wrong... there was no way... yet you couldn't help but pull up Alec's latest thirst trap. Taking in the sight of his impressive ass. Fuck...

____________________

The next evening, you nervously entered Bare Essentials, your heart pounding as you navigated the dimly lit hallway to the locker room. You pushed open the door and spotted Alec immediately, hunched over in front of a locker.

"Alec? Is that really you?" you sputtered, hardly recognizing your formerly strait-laced coworker. The piercing... the tattoo above his ass... the slight stubble...

Alec spun around, a brilliant smile spreading across his face, "I'm so glad you came!" He enveloped you in a tight hug, his bare chest pressing against you, "I know, I know, it's a lot to take in. But I feel so free, so alive!"

He turned slowly, letting you drink in the changes. The new piercings glinted in his ears and a tattoo adorned the smooth skin above his pert ass.

"I got these yesterday, to celebrate my new life. My authentic self." Yet you noticed his eyes were glazed over again... this time more evidently... not a single gear turning in that brain of his...

Alec shimmied into a glittery G-string, the scrap of material barely covering his manhood.

"So, whaddya think of the new me? Ready to watch me slay on stage?" He winked salaciously, striking a pose.

"Alec, I..." You do your best to keep eyes from glancing down at that incredible ass, "Something isn't..." But the words die in your throat as he leans in and whispers into your ear.

"After the show, I'll find you. My place is close by." His voice dripping with lust, "Now, what were you gonna say?"

You gulp, your dick straining in your shorts, "No-nothing... I..." His lips collide with yours and you stifle a moan as you lean into the kiss.

"See you later..." He breaks the kiss and winks.

You can only watch as he saunters away to the stage. His ass jiggling with every step. Something was wrong. Something wasn't right. But later that night, as he threw you into bed, you weren't going to ruin the moment.

[misctf]

Safe Space Spray

Owen picked up his phone and dialed Jake's number as he drove along the winding country road leading to Jake's family cabin. The warm southern sun beat down through the windshield while classic rock played softly from the speakers. After a few rings, Jake answered.

“Well hey there partner!” Jake's cheerful voice came through the speaker. “How far ya'll out?”

“Not too much longer now,” Owen replied, his deep southern drawl rolling through each word, “I reckon 'bout thirty minutes tops. That fishing hole better be swimmin' with catfish like you said!”

“My mama didn’t raise no liar.” Jake replied, his hearty laugh echoing over the phone.

Owen smiled. This was gonna be the best fishin’ trip yet. As the call continued, Owen kept his eyes on the road ahead, the vast expanse of rural landscape stretching out before him. Suddenly, something caught his eye- a small figure standing beside a broken-down vehicle on the shoulder.

“Aw shucks, looks like some fella's car done gone and quit on 'im.” Owen muttered to himself as he slowed his truck, “Jake, I reckon I’ll be by later. I’m gonna see if I can lend a hand.”

Owen pulled his pickup truck over onto the gravelly shoulder behind the stranded vehicle. He removed his hat and ran a hand through his short brown hair and approached the man hunched over the open hood.

“Howdy there! Looks like you're havin' some trouble with your ride. Name's Owen, I'm pretty handy with fixin' things if you need a lendin' hand.” He called out in his friendly drawl.

The stranger, a slender young man with styled blonde hair, whirled around. His eyes widened in surprise and apprehension as he took in Owen's appearance. The twink's hands shook slightly as he reached into his pocket and aimed what looked like a small spray bottle directly at Owen.

“I-I don't want any trouble!” the blonde stammered, his voice high-pitched with anxiety.

Before Owen could react, the twink pressed down on the trigger, unleashing a fine mist across his handsome face and chest. Owen blinked and coughed, shaking his head slightly as droplets hit his face and clothes. It didn’t sting or burn. It felt like water.

“The hell was that for?” Owen demanded, his brow furrowing in confusion and annoyance, “I ain't here to cause you no harm, bud. Just tryin' to help.”

“I-I'm sorry!” The twink squeaked, “Around here, you don't know what kind of people you'll run into.”

Owen sighed heavily, wiping his brow, “Listen here, I understand yer cautious. But I promise you, I mean no ill intent. Let me take a look at yer car, see if I can get 'er runnin' again.”

The blonde hesitated briefly before nodding, “Okay... I guess that would be okay. Thank you.” He stepped aside, allowing Owen access to the vehicle.

As Owen popped the hood, he furrowed his brow in concentration, his large hands working deftly under the hood. However, he found himself growing increasingly clumsy and uncoordinated, fumbling with tools he'd handled with ease a hundred times before.

“I swear...” he muttered, his words coming out slightly slurred, “This oughta be a cinch for me...”

He fumbled with the engine components, his large hands suddenly feeling clumsy and unfamiliar. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he struggled to focus. Just then, the twink appeared at his side, holding out a bottled water.

“Here, you must be thirsty after all this work.”

Without thinking, Owen took the bottle and chirped in an impossibly high, effeminate voice, “Thanks sis!”

Owen froze, his eyes widening as the words left his mouth. A wave of dizziness washed over him and he gripped the edge of the car hood for support. Shaking his head, he tried to push the strange moment from his mind.

“Uh, thanks kindly.” he mumbled, taking a long swig of water to cover his embarrassment.

He turned back to the engine, determined to finish the repair quickly so he could be on his way.

With renewed focus (and a touch more difficulty), Owen worked to diagnose and fix the issue. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he stepped back as the engine roared to life.

“There ya go, as good as new!” He grinned at Paul, wiping his hands on a rag.

As Owen straightened up and turned to face Paul fully, he couldn't help but really notice the younger man for the first time. Paul's delicate features, stylish hair, and slim physique suddenly seemed incredibly appealing. Their eyes locked- Paul’s deep blue captivating Owen’s. Owen felt an unfamiliar flutter in his chest and his dick stir ever so slightly in his increasingly tighter jeans.

“You've been an absolute lifesaver.” Paul gushed, flashing Owen a dazzling smile. He stepped closer, the two now the same height. Owen could’ve sworn he had been taller, “If you ever find yourself in the city, call me. I'd love to thank you properly.” He slipped a piece of paper into Owen’s pocket with a playful wink.

Owen felt a flush creep up his neck at the suggestive tone. He cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure despite the odd sensations still tingling through his body.

“Ah, well, just doin' what any decent fella would do.”

Owen watched as Paul slid gracefully into his car, the movement highlighting the pert curve of his ass. He swallowed thickly, his heart pounding for reasons he couldn't quite explain. As Paul drove away, Owen looked down and saw the discarded can that Paul sprayed him with earlier.

“He must’ve forgotten it.” Owen frowned inspecting the strange bottle, “Safe Space Spray... what in the world...” He chuckled, “I reckon I’ll get it to ‘em when I see ‘em next.” He paused, “What the hell am I thinkin’. I ain’t seein’ him again...”

But he wasn’t sure he could even convince himself. He wanted to see him again... Owen shook his head and placed the can in his pocket before climbing back into his own truck. With a sigh, he reached for the ignition but recoiled at the sight of his hand.

“What in the...”

Owen stared at his hand in shock, noting the slight tremor and how it almost seemed to have lost some of its natural ruggedness. His callouses... gone. His nails... well-manicured. Alarmed, he gripped the steering wheel tightly and peeled out, speeding towards Jake's cabin with an urgency he couldn't explain. As he drove, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was very wrong. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he noticed his hair looked shaggier, his facial features softening.

“What in tarnation is happenin' to me?” he muttered, his voice cracking slightly. He tried to rationalize it, blaming stress or exhaustion, but he knew it was something more.

Just then, he squirmed in his seat as his ass inflated, his previously snug jeans straining against the growing mounds. And with each bump in the road, Owen stifled a moan as jolts of unfamiliar pleasure rushed through his groin.

“No, no, no... Oh my GAWD!” He whimpered, cringing at the loss of his rich Southern drawl- replaced now by words colored by a nasally, high-pitched timbre, “Like... this is totally not okay!”

Owen finally arrived at Jake's cabin, tires screeching as he parked haphazardly. He stumbled out of the truck, trying to balance himself given his now fat ass. He can hear Jake outside, gathering wood for a bonfire and he bites his tongue before sauntering towards the door.

“I-I have to get inside... hide this from Jake...” He whimpered, “How... why is this...?” His eyes widen, “The spray!” He squealed, “I need to like... totally wash this off!”

Owen practically sprinted to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. With trembling hands, he began tearing at his clothes, buttons flying as he stripped. He stood naked in front of the mirror, hardly recognizing the reflection staring back at him.

His once broad shoulders had narrowed, his pecs shrinking into perky little mounds with cute pink nipples. Below, his six-pack had melted away, leaving behind a smooth, hairless torso. And between his legs... Owen gasped, covering his mouth as he saw the nub that had once been his proud cock.

“Oh em gee...” He whined, “I'm like... a total twink now!” Tears pricked at his eyes as he reached for the shower knob with slender fingers. Steam billowed out as he stepped under the hot spray, hoping the water might somehow reverse these changes.

Owen lathered up a loofah, scrubbing at his skin vigorously. To his horror, he watched clumps of any remaining dark body hair rinse away down the drain, leaving behind silky smooth flesh. Scars and rough patches vanished, his complexion becoming flawlessly soft and clear.

“Eep!” He yelped as his hands brushed lower, encountering the plush globes of his ass. They seemed to swell and expand with every passing second, growing rounder and fuller until they were each easily a handful. Owen couldn't resist giving them a tentative squeeze, marveling at their suppleness- imagining another man playing with them.

A breathy moan escaped his increasingly plumper lips as he kneaded the doughy cheeks, sending sparks of pleasure radiating through his core- thoughts of muscular men squeezing his ass filled his head.

“Oh fuck yes.... I wonder...” Curiosity got the better of him as he inserted a digit inside his virgin hole. It stretched deliciously around the intrusion and Owen saw stars, his neglected cock weeping steadily. He pumped the finger faster, soon adding a second, then a third, “Oh.... Ohhhhhhh....” He moaned, his eyes rolling up into the back of his head, “I'm... I'm gonna... cum!”

Owen let out a long moan as his entire body seized and his orgasm crashed over him like a tidal wave. He slumped to the shower’s floor, his eyes half-lidded and glazed over. After a few moments of basking in his post-orgasm bliss, the new twink slowly stood up and exited the shower. He walked over to his bed and collapsed- the day’s events exacting their toll on him.

“What the hell!?” Owen looked up- a shocked expression gracing his cute features.

“J-Jake! I... um...It’s me! It’s Owen!” Owen stammered, his voice pitching higher than normal. He made no attempt to cover himself, proud now to flaunt his assets. And besides, why had he never noticed how sexy Jake was before?

Jake's jaw dropped, his eyes bulging as he took in the shocking sight before him. There were few, if any similarities between him and his friend. But there were enough.

“Holy shit, Owen?! What happened to you?”

Owen's eyes lit up as a mischievous grin spread across his glossy lips, “Oh sweetie, you wouldn't believe the wild ride I've been on!” He giggled.

Reaching over to the pile of discarded clothes, he fished out the mysterious spray can. Jake looked at his friend, and then to the can, and then back up to his friend.

“Wha...”

Without warning, Owen pressed down on the trigger, unleashing another fine mist straight into Jake's stunned, handsome face...

[misctf]

I'm a fairly skinny guy, and I've always wondered what it would be like to be in a frat. Would you be able to help me?

You always wondered what it would be like to be part of a frat. Each day, as you walked to or from the library, you'd see them. Drunk, laughing, partying... what would it be like to be part of that? Where the only thing that seemed to matter was bro-ing out with your bros. You'd shaken that thought aside. After all, you were committed to your studies. Brain over brawn. Your future was bright- medical school plans, 4.0 GPA, and an internship doing research over the summer. All that hard work didn't exactly give you the time to focus on other things. Gym? No way. Banter over sports? You were never into that kind of stuff anyway. No- skinny, nerdy you wasn't going to be in a frat. Wasn't happening.

That was what you thought. At least until you bumped into Scott while walking to the library. You had been doing flashcards on your phone when you collided into his musclar back. He turned, initially shocked, seemingly ready to put his thick, bulging arms to use. But when he saw you, his dull eyes widened with a hint of excitement.

"Bro! You scared me there!" He laughed- his voice dull and dumb.

He rubbed the back of his head, exposing his pits and allowing his post work-out musk to invade your nostrils. His dull, brown eyes conveying little was going on behind them. His perfect smile somewhat predatory as he talked about his frat's newest recruitment strategy. The "Frat Exchange Program" was going to let nerds like you swap with a bro, get to live a little frat-life. And after a month, if you liked it, you'd be made a member. No hazing, no recruitment, no questions asked. But there wasn't much time left. And Scott made sure to really emphasize that you had to make the choice now. So you gave it a quick thought. Join the frat, get to experience frat life for a little bit, and then go back to your old life. Get the taste of it that you wanted, but still get to pursue your academic dreams. Seemed like the best of both worlds. And so you accepted.

The Frat Exchange Program was more of an exchange than you realized at first. You thought you'd just get to live in the frat house with Scott as your guide. But it was so much more than that. And the muscular bro that stared back at you in the mirror confirmed it. Scott was right when he said you'd be swapping with a bro. He just didn't tell you it would involve swapping bodies with him. Not that you were complaining. Your hands teased his your sensitive nipples as you gave your pecs a bounce. That musk that invaded your nose from earlier continued to do so, but now it made your dick twitch.

"Fuck..." You gasped as Scott's, now your dick, strained against the confines of your shorts.

And you grabbed it with your meaty hand. Watching as the muscles in your arms bulged. A dumb grin forming on your perfect face...

The first few days living as Scott were tough. Despite your increasing horniness and love for this body, your old habits continued. You'd found Scott's more conservative clothing and dressed in those as you went to his classes. You avoided alcohol and the banter with the other frat bros was awkward and forced. But when Derek invited you to the gym, you felt like you should go. Not because you wanted to, but because you wanted to make sure you maintained Scott's body. But that first gym session... the way your muscles ached... the smell... it was too much...

From that point on, you found yourself craving the gym. You'd started skipping his classes. Wearing only gym clothes. And as the other frat bros caught on, they encouraged you. You loved going to the gym with them. And when you returned after a tough gym session with your bros, instead of showering, you found yourself lounging on the couch. A beer forced into your hand, the big game on the large flatscreen TV on full display... Each passing day... each moment in the frat house... with your bros... It wasn't long before you were bantering with your new bros. Words like 'dude', 'bro', 'rizz', unironically becoming cemented in your vocabulary. Fuck... you loved this life...

When the month was up and it was time to swap back, you felt a sadness welling up from within you. Your dull eyes reflecting your inward dismay. Scott would be back with your body in just a little bit and then you'd go back to being skinny old you. It seemed impossible though- you were different now. Mentally, you weren't that nerd anymore. You were like any of your bros. And you hated the thought of that weak, skinny version of yourself. Which is why when Scott walked in with your body, your eyes widened in surprise.

Scott had certainly been busy that month while you were partying with his bros. He went to the gym, did whatever he had to in order to give your body the upgrade it needed.

"To be perfect for our frat." He said.

And when you swapped into your old body- now a hulking mass of muscle and testosterone- you felt truly at home. Scott had even done you the favor of dropping your classes and switching your major. And as you lounged on the couch, shirtless and bantering with your bros...planning your next gym sessions... you realized that the frat was perfect for you. That frat life was your life.

Just another successful candidate in the Frat Exchange Program.

[misctf]

Finding a New Role

“You’ve fucked up now, Chet.”

“Fuck off Brad.” Chet slammed the door to his locker shut, “And wipe that fuckin’ grin off your face.”

The back-up quarterback stayed smiling, “Three in a row now? How many more losses do you think coach is gonna...”

“McClane in my office. Now!”

Chet closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. His body was sore, coated in sweat from an intense game. Each muscle aching. His head pounding. All he wanted was to be back in his dorm, watching a movie with his girlfriend.

“Better go.” Brad patted Chet’s back with feigned sympathy, “Can’t wait for my promotion.”

“Fuck you, man.”

Chet walked off towards coach’s office, his mind racing. Was coach going to throw him off the team? What would happen to his scholarship? What would his dad say? His father always pushed him to be the best football player he could be. A pang of guilt welled up inside the young man.

“How could I have fucked up so badly?” He muttered, thinking back to several interceptions, sacks, and overall just poor leadership on his part.

Was it nerves? Was it Brad’s palpable ambition to replace him? Was it coach’s stern look? His angry shouts? This was a big game. Their rivals. Coach’s dream was to destroy them- make them look like shit. Turn them into their bitches- as coach had said during his pregame pep talk. But that was far from what happened on the field.

“This was a big game.” Coach Johnson said- his voice low- as Chet entered, “What the fuck, McClane?” Chet shivered- Johnson’s voice was low, inconsistent with the rage Chet knew simmered behind those eyes.

“I... I just...” Chet took a seat in front of his coach’s desk.

“Some people aren’t meant to lead a team.” Coach Johnson cut him off.

Chet could feel his heart sink. This was it. This was him getting kicked off the team. Demoted. He wanted to say something. To stop Coach Johnson from uttering those words. Yet, he couldn’t make a sound.

“But everyone has a use. Don’t you agree?”

Chet nodded slowly. What did Coach mean by that? Was he still going to be on the team? Maybe in a different capacity? But he wanted to play- he wanted to be a quarterback. He wanted to prove to everyone he wasn’t going to let them down.  

“Coach, I don’t...”

Coach Johnson stood up and smiled, “Chet...” He was holding something. It was black and shiny- and to the young football player, it looked to be made of a latex material, “I’m not wasteful. And I think you have some real potential.”

Chet’s heart was beating fast now and he tried to stand up- a part of him yelling to get out of there fast. But Coach Johnson placed a hand on the young man’s bare shoulder and kept him seated. And before Chet was able to say anything else- he felt something wrap around his head. He let out a pained cry as the material wrapped tightly across his eyes and ears.

“Oh fuck! Wh-what the fuck is this!?” Chet cried out gripping at the latex material that blocked his vision, “It won’t come off!” He tried desperately to pull it away- the material unrelenting.

Coach Johnson remained quiet, watching as Chet stood up and stumbled around as he gripped desperately at the mask covering his head. Unable to pull it off, Chet tried to feel around with his arms as he moved across the room, trying desperately to escape.

“Please Coach! It hurts!”

But then he saw it. The inky blackness broke, and Chet saw a spiral flashing before him. And as the spiral swirled in front of him, he heard a voice. The portion of the mask covering his ears screeching alive, blocking out the sound around him.

“You are a slut.”

“You are a cum dumpster.”

“You live to suck cock.”

“You are a gay slut.”

Chet fell to his knees, grasping again at the mask and letting out a whimper as the voice pounded into his eardrums. This wasn’t true. This was all a lie. He wasn’t gay. He wasn’t a slut. And fuck no he wasn’t a cum dumpster.

“You live to service cock.”

“You have no thoughts. No goals.”

“You have no other purpose.”

“Cum dumpster.”

Chet tried to close his eyes. To block out the spiral. But no matter what, it occupied his vision. He tried to cover his ears, but there was no relief from the voice. Instead, he fought against the voice. He wasn’t some slut... he wasn’t going to service cocks... he had goals... dreams... to make his father proud... to be... he wanted to... to be a...?

“No stop...” Chet mumbled weakly as drool fell from his mouth. He shuddered as he felt something being tightened around his neck- the smell of coach’s musk entering his nose.  

“You live to suck cock and get fucked.”

“I live to suck cock and get fucked”

Chet winced. The voice in his head- his own voice- repeated the words that echoed in his brain. Tears welled up in his eyes as he realized he couldn’t picture his future, but worse yet that his past was getting hazier. It was hard to think... hard to...

“Your mind is empty. You have no thoughts.”

“My mind is empty. I have no thoughts.”

“You have no name. You have no free will.”

“I have no... Che... no... My name... No name. I have no free will.”

“You love to suck cock. You love being a slut.”

“I... love to suck cock. I love being a slut.”

“Obey. Serve. Cum dumpster.”

“I obey. I serve. I am... I am...No...stop... I....no........."

“I am... I am a cum dump... dumpster...” The drone whispered as the last of his resistance crumbled away.

_______________

“Matthews get in here!”

Brad smirked as he walked towards Coach’s office. He had a feeling. No, he knew that this was it. He was getting promoted to starting quarterback. He was going to lead this team to victory. He was going to make them champions. And as for that fuck up Chet? Well, he could cheer from the sidelines. It wasn’t like...

“What the fuck?”

“Well?”

Brad took a step back, not really sure what he was seeing. He could recognize Chet- even with the strange latex mask around his face. But the collar? The drool? Coach’s hand teasing Chet’s mouth? And the fact that Chet was desperately sucking on coach’s fingers?

“Wh-what the...?”

“You’re the new starting quarterback, kid.” Coach Johnson smiled, “As for Chet, he’ll be helping the team in a new way.” Coach Johnson withdrew his fingers from its mouth and the drone moaned in desperation, “Have fun.” Brad looked down at the drone as it crawled to him and started rubbing its face against his jockstrap, trying desperately to suck his hardening cock through the thin fabric, “Oh! And if you fuck up, well... I’m sure you get the idea.”

Brad gulped as Coach Johnson left the two of them alone. The new starting quarterback had many thoughts. Many concerns. And many questions. But he couldn’t deny that his cock was getting harder, nor that it was the team’s new cum dumpster that was to blame. Brad didn’t really know what he was getting himself into, but figured that could wait.

“You ready, bitch?” He smirked and released his thick cock, letting it slap the drone’s face, “I know you want this, slut.” He pushed into the drone’s open, desperate mouth.

Gluuuckgluck shlooooooshhh

[misctf]

Change Your Tune: Rick

The companion story to Occamstfs post! Had fun working on it with them!

“Damn it...” Eric grunted as he pushed through the crowd, “Calvin...”

Stick together. It wasn’t complicated. All Calvin had to do was stick with him and things would’ve worked out fine. But now? Eric was pushing through the crowd as best he could- trying desperately to find his friend amongst a sea of giggling and cheering men.

“Sorry... sorry...” Eric mumbled, as he squeezed between a bunch of scantly dressed men, “Ugh... sorry...”

The attendees were too enthralled in the trashy pop music of whoever was up on stage to really pay him much mind. Their bodies moving to the beat, clapping their hands. Eric couldn't help but overhear a conversation between two guys in the audience as he brushed past them.

“Oh Em Gee I like, totes love this song!”

“But like...I was totally not into this kind of music before.”

"Same sis! But like... live a little!"

Eric pushed past them as they made out. And as he did, he felt overwhelmed. The cheering... dancing... kissing... the music... Eric paused and took a few deep breaths. It was so hot. The summer heat, the sweaty bodies...

“I... I don’t feel good.” His vision was getting cloudy, “Someone... I don’t...” Eric swayed, his head spinning...

"Like are you okay, cutie?"

"No... I..." Eric looked up at the twink and then down at his own hands, "What?"

They were smaller, daintier. His arms smooth and hairless- the muscle he did have now more diminished. He shook his head and pulled away, lurching towards the edge of the crowd. The music beckoning to him, worming into his brain.

“Wait... no...” He could've sworn his voice was an octave higher, “Calvin... I...”

Eric stumbled and fell to the ground at the edge of the crowd. The music growing less intense. The vertigo now improved. Yet part of Eric felt a sense of longing. To go back into the crowd. To get lost in the music. He shook his head

"I need to find Calvin..." He reconfirmed to himself. He looked down at his arm- it was his arm. His voice- it was his voice, "Must've been imagining things..."

“Oh looky here! You ain’t lookin’ too hot!”

Eric looked up, his gaze met by a group of strangers. They were all smiling, all similarly dressed. One of them stepped forward and extended an arm.

“You look like you could use a hand. Musta overheated out there."

Before Eric could reply, he was hoisted up by the man, while another shoved a beer into Eric's chest.

"It ain't water but it'll help."

"I'm good." Eric replied, handing him the beer. Since when was beer considered a good way to stay hydrated? "Well, maybe it is to these rednecks." Eric thought, before clearing his throat, "I gotta find my friend. We were trying to find where North Side is playing at." He looked around, hoping he'd see Calvin so he'd be able to get away from these guys, "But I lost him and..."

"North Side! We can show ya the way." One of the men slapped him on the back, "Jus' follow us. I promise we'll get ya there."

"Oh no, I'll be fine..."

"What kinda men would we be if we didn't help a fella out." The one chimed in, "Besides, you nearly fainted on yer ass back there. Can't be too safe now."

"Yeah! And North Side passes right by ol' Blue Sky Dreamers." Another added, "God, they're great. Never been much of a country fan 'till I heard them." The others nodded in agreement.

Eric raised an eyebrow. These men hadn't been country fans? They looked like they'd been plucked out of a cornfield and dropped here.

"I guess it wouldn't hurt." Eric sighed, "Lead the way."

He followed the men, listening in on their conversation. How they droned on about guns, trucks, and beer. How Blue Sky Dreamers talked to them- resonated deep within them. Their southern accents deep and carefree, their breaths smelling of whiskey and cigarettes. Eric felt out of place- uncomfortable even. He had no interest in getting to know these kinds of people... these...

"Ain't that just lovely." The men stopped, causing Eric to pause, "Ya hear that boys?"

Eric's ears perked up. The sound of a banjo, a fiddle, and harmonica whispered in his ears. Distant but ever present. It was... nice... calming... Eric shook his head and looked over to a crowd of men in cowboy hats, all swaying to the beat of Blue Sky Dreamers.

"I reckon that's the most beautiful thing I ever did hear." He watched as his guides walked towards the crowd.

"Hey, wait!" Eric called out, following behind them, "I still need... huh?" A cool breeze tickled Eric's exposed chest and he recoiled at the sensation, "What in the..."

He hadn't been wearing that. Had he? Since when was he wearing jeans? Since when did his shirt get so dirty? He looked up to see the men from earlier blending in with the crowd, disappearing into the sea of cowboys. He bit his lip and ran a hand through his hair, only to knock his cap to the ground.

"Ain't no way..." He stared at the cap lying in front of him, "I could'a... could have..." He corrected himself, "Sworn I was wearing a bandana." He reached down and picked the cap up, securing it back on his head, "Okay... North Sky... No that's not..."

Eric shuddered. Since when was it so hot? The summer sun beat down on him and the crowd of people certainly didn't help. The shirt he was wearing was soaked, covered in sweat. And with a grunt, he pulled it off and threw it to the dirt ground below.

"Fuck, what the hell?" Eric's eyes widened as he looked down at his lean pecs and toned abs, "I ain't usually..." His voice cracked as he ran a hand through the sparse, new chest hairs that appeared on his increasingly more tanned chest, "What in tarnation..."

And then he heard it. More clearly now. The music. It was filling his ears... filling him... It felt so freeing- each strum of the banjo, each word accented by a southern twang. Eric stepped forward, the crowd opening up around him to let him in.

"Well, ain't this the best dang music ya ever did hear?"

"I never reckoned I'd fall in love with country music."

"I ain't never felt a song hit me this hard."

eRic's mind was swimming with each step deeper into the crowd. His mind's eye filling with new images... an old farmhouse.... swaying corn... sweating after a long day's work... flickering fireflies... a bonfire.... beer... laughter... his truck...

"No stop... I gotta..." eRic swayed, bumping into the other men around him. Their bodies, made sturdy from working on their farms, prevented Eric from escaping, "Please... Calvin... help..."

eRic gasped... he could taste whisky on his breath... feel his muscles contracting and relaxing... He realized how closely packed to the other men he was. But not because they had gotten closer. No... he realized with increasing dread that he was bigger. His body thickening with firm muscle. His chest swelling into a pair of mighty pecs. Hairs sprouting from his crotch, across his abs, and over his chest like a blanket.

"Let me out... I gotta..."

But the men wouldn't budge- captivated by the music. And the song. Oh god the song was so loud... Reverberating in his head, worming into his brain. eRic could feel the sweat dripping from his increasingly rougher skin... an itchiness as stubble sprouted into a short beard. His arms thickened with muscle, blanketed by manly fur. But his attention shifted, even as his body continued to shift and change. His eyes focused on the stage, where Blue Side Dreamers continued to play.

"Well, I'll be! I could sit here an’ listen to these fellas ‘til the cows come home." Ric grinned, his foot tapping along to the beat, "What in tarnation was I thinkin’ not likin’ country music before?" He spoke, unbothered by the twang of his new southern accent.

He didn't know how long they kept playing. His body swayed to the beat... his mind elsewhere...

"Well, that’s a wrap, y’all! Mighty appreciate ya joinin’ us today, and we’ll be seein’ ya next year. Y’all be sure to grab our new album, now—don’t go missin’ out!"

Reality slammed into Rick and he shuddered as he returned to a state of full awareness. He looked around at the other men- men like him... proud country guys.... like himself.... born and raised...

"Hey Rick, didn’t you say you was wantin’ to go see that other band?"

A voice cut through the crowd and Rick grinned when he saw the men from earlier. He placed a hand to his cowboy hat and shrugged.

"I reckon I’m alright now—can’t even imagine wantin’ to hear nothin’ else after this!" A grin formed on his face, "But I could go for a nice cold one fellas!"

The group walked off, laughing and patting each other on the back. Rick ignoring a sign for North Side as he headed off towards the exit with his new friends to his new life.

EPILOGUE

Rick sighed as he walked up to the bar, quickly ordering another shot of whisky and a beer. He glanced over at the group of good ol’ boys he’d been shooting the shit with all night - Jeb, Cletus, and Earl. They were all decked out in checkered shirts, faded jeans, and ball caps. Just like him now. It still felt so natural, even if some part of him couldn’t quite put his finger on what exactly seemed…off about the whole situation.

“Why do I feel like I’m just actin’ a part?“ he wondered to himself, frowning slightly, "Like I’m wearing someone else’s skin." 

Shaking his head, he tried to push the strange thoughts aside. Where were these thoughts coming from? Where else would he want to be? He was just a good ol’ boy enjoying a cold one with the boys after a kick-ass country concert. His thoughts were interrupted as a new song started playing in the bar. Rick knew this song… knew this band… a small smile gracing his lips.

"North Side.” He muttered, his foot tapping to the beat of the music, “Well I’ll be…”

He felt a wave of nostalgia wash over him- a yearning for something he couldn’t quite understand in his slower mind. And as the music continued to strum at some past memory, the redneck couldn’t help but notice the striking Latino man with soulful eyes and a captivating smile, clearly enjoying the song as much as he was. 

“Well, would ya look at that.” Rick muttered under his breath, “Seems like that fella’s got good taste in tunes, at least.”

Compelled by a force he couldn’t explain, Rick walked over to the man. His thoughts, once focused on music, instead shifted as he drank in the sight of the handsome Latino. The way he smiled, the way his dark hair was styled, the way his shirt hugged his muscles. Rick felt his dick stir.

“Howdy there, friend,” Rick drawled, tipping his hat politely, “Name’s Rick. Can’t help but notice you seem mighty fond of this here tune, same as me.”

Alvaro looks up at the man, “Buenas noches. The name’s Alvaro.”

Rick’s eyes flash with recognition, “You mean the Alvaro? Like Alvaro Altuve? I reckon I recognized you from somewhere!”

Alvaro grinned, “Always happy to meet a fan.”

Rick paused for a second, captivated by the singer’s smile. The two stared at one another before Alvaro beckoned him to take a seat at the bar. Rick happily accepted the two chatting it up, their conversation flowing naturally- like two old friends. Their knowledge about North Side and their interest in the band not fitting with their outward appearance.

“I would’ve never expected you to like North Side.” Alvaro laughed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He chuckled, throwing an arm around the man’s shoulder. They both blushed at the mere touch, and Rick pulled his arm away, “Well, I reckon I was always a fan, I think.” Rick shrugged and Alvaro grinned.

“Makes sense! You were the one who introduced me to them after all.” Those words hung in the air, the two became silent and stared at one another- their expressions shifting, their eyes conveying a faint recognition.

Rick, Alvaro knows Rick. He doesn’t know how he does but something deep within him pangs with familiarity or deja vu. Judging by the expression on the cowboy’s face it seems as if there’s some pang of memory behind his eyes as well. Alvaro stares at the fan wondering if he just saw the man at his concert or something but knows that dressed like he is, that cannot be the case, and then he sees his lips struggle to say, “C- Calv- Calvin?”

At once both men flash back. They were having lunch together, as they have done countless times throughout the years. Eric sees his friend who could scarcely put two Spanish words together, Calvin sees his bestie that would never be caught dead in a cowboy hat. They’re just talking shit as friends do when Eric gasps at a notification on his phone, “Dude- North Side is back!”

Before they left the table, the pair had bought tickets to the CYT festival and had begun planning what they were going to wear. Not for a moment wondering what else they’d care to see at the festival, why should they? They were going to see their favorite band of all time and they were going to do so together. 

Together. 

Back in the present as they look at each other in their new forms. Alvaro sees the sweaty, hairy chest of the good old southern man in front of him. Rick sees the effortlessly alluring manicured body of a latin rock star staring back at him. Together has a different spot in both their minds as they hear a grindr notification go off somewhere in the distance. Might as well see what their new bodies can do.

As quick as their feet can travel they’re in Alvaro’s trailer. Attempts to trawl out memories from who they were are fruitless or painful, so instead they delight in the present. The artist cannot believe how enticed he is by the smell of cheap whiskey and cheaper beer on the man’s breath. Rick is less discerning as he hungrily delights in the sweaty musk of the man who was on stage not all that long ago. 

Rick’s rough beard scratches against Alvaro’s neck as he takes a deep breath, he hears a deep whisper from the performer, “volve loco, vaquero.” He growls and his arms shake as he sees no reason to not obey man. Music playing in the background rapidly shifts from Alvaro’s own album, to the b-sides of the Blue Sky Dreamers, to the music that brought them into these new lives, North Side. Before fading altogether and leaving them alone with the sound of their bodies.

With each passing moment in the heady enjoyment of their new selves they feel their identities cemented. Rick’s clean-pressed closet wiped away for life on a farm, his pen-pushing 9-to-5 is nothing compared to the outdoor lifestyle he far prefers. Alvaro’s whole country of origin irrevocably changed, while he loves the life he’s found in the states they will never be where he’s from.

With each thrust they bury their past lives. Rick is and always has been a rough and tumble, rugged man. The rockstar life may be new to Alvaro, but he has always been a musician, even when he was just a small-town artist playing in cantinas. Despite their pasts being erased and their new lives becoming the only reality they know, they remain together. 

Sweatily making out in a trailer as Alvaro struggles to stop the cowboy from leaving cum stains on his stage outfit, when they are together something just feels right. While everything in the world around them may point otherwise, when they are in each other’s arms, everything just seems to make more sense. Even after they’re done having their fun, something remains between them, pulling them together. 

Sheepishly eying the cowboy as he pulls up his Levi’s, Alvaro doesn’t want to let him go, “Oi, vaquero?” The cowboy looks up thankfully, he’d never say as much but even life on the ranch doesn’t hold a match to the past hour with Alvaro, “Queiro- Do you wanna have lunch?” 

“Thought chu’d never ask-”

Neither would’ve guessed what their relationship would evolve into. Initially, it was the talk of the town. The Latin heartthrob and the rough-and-tumble country boy seemed like a totally unlikely couple. Some called it a publicity stunt, others whispered that it would never last. But through it all, Alvaro and Rick stood strong, their bond growing deeper with each passing day.

Alvaro strummed a guitar softly, while Rick leaned back in his chair, a contented smile on his face. The radio playing softly in the background- the familiar beat of North Side’s music playing.

“Ya know,” Rick said, breaking the comfortable silence, “I still can’t believe we went from two strangers at a bar to…”

“To this,” Alvaro finished, setting down his guitar and taking Rick’s hand in his own, “And I wouldn’t have it any other way, mi amor.”

The two held each other closely, while North Side continued to play in the background.

[misctf]

Wrong Side of Town

Kyle sighed heavily as he stepped out of the sleek high-rise building, his Italian leather shoes clicking against the pavement. Another grueling 12-hour day at the office, pouring over spreadsheets and conference calls. All he wanted was to get back to his luxury penthouse, pour himself a stiff drink, and unwind. He pulled out his phone, opening the Uber app with a practiced swipe.

“Let's see... Request ride.”

He tapped in his usual destination - the upscale neighborhood where all the wealthy elite resided. Kyle hit submit, satisfied. In just a few minutes, a shiny black luxury car would arrive to whisk him away to comfort and familiarity. He straightened his designer tie and waited impatiently.

The Uber arrived promptly, a modest sedan nothing like the luxury vehicles Kyle was accustomed to. The driver, a burly man with a thick beard, eyed Kyle suspiciously as he climbed into the backseat.

“You sure this is the right address, pal?” the driver asked gruffly, glancing at the navigation system. “This ain't exactly the part of town I usually drop off fancy types like yourself.”

“Of course I'm sure,” he replied, “I've used this app a thousand times. Just take me their, please.” The faster he got home, the better. He needed a break after another long day.

The Uber driver glanced at Kyle through the rearview mirror, eyeing his crisp dress shirt and expensive watch. A wry smile tugged at his lips as he drove through the bustling city.

“You know, I grew up in these parts.” the driver began, “Rough side of town, not like the fancy neighborhoods yuppies like you are used to.” He chuckled, shaking his head.

“Yeah, well, everyone's gotta start somewhere,” Kyle replied dismissively, shifting in his seat.

He ran a hand along his jawline, feeling the unfamiliar rasp of stubble against his fingers. Strange, he could have sworn he shaved this morning. Must be his imagination playing tricks on him after such a long day. The driver continued his tale, seemingly oblivious to Kyle's confusion. 

“It wasn't easy, let me tell ya. Fought tooth and nail for everything I got. Not like these pretty boys with their daddy's money and cushy corporate jobs.”

Kyle squirmed uncomfortably in the backseat as an intense heat began to radiate through his body. His muscles twitched and strained against the confines of his tailored suit, growing tighter by the second. He gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the strange sensations overwhelming him.

“What the hell...” he muttered under his breath, flexing his hands. They looked thicker, more calloused than before. Kyle's mind raced with confusion and a growing sense of unease.

The Uber driver droned on, still lost in his own memories of a hardscrabble youth. "...and let me tell ya, kid, there ain't no shortcuts in life.”

As the Uber crept through unfamiliar streets, Kyle's heart began to pound in his chest. The houses here were rundown, the sidewalks cracked and littered. Where the fuck was this guy taking him?

"Hey sir, I..." Kyle stopped, "What the fuck?"

Panic started to rise in his throat as he noticed his once crisp button-down shirt and slacks had been replaced by rough work pants and a stained wifebeater. His arms on full display- each muscle contracting and relaxing as they grew larger and larger.

"...We barely had enough to scrape by. No fancy clothes, just whatever we could afford..." The driver continued, ignoring Kyle's panicked voice.

Slowly, almost in disbelief, Kyle lifted his arms to examine the changes. His biceps bulged, now corded with thick muscle. Dark hair sprouted across his forearms and across his chest. He could smell the acrid scent of cigarettes clinging to the worn cloth.

“No, no, this isn't right.” He winced at the sound of his voice- rougher and with an edge more befitting of the type of people who grew up in the neighborhood.

“It ain’t easy out there and...”

The Uber driver's words faded into background noise as Kyle's muscles swelled further. A full, dark beard sprouted along his jaw and neck, itching as it grew. Coarse hair spread across his broad chest and down his newly defined abs. To his shock and growing arousal, Kyle felt his cock twitch and harden in his work pants. The rough denim rubbed deliciously against his sensitive flesh. He shifted, trying to ease the pressure even as a primal urge surged through him - the desperate need for nicotine burning in his lungs.

“Yes sir, this here's the real world,” the driver said, pulling up to a stop outside a dingy apartment complex. “Hope you're ready for it, pretty boy.”

“This...this can't be right,” he stammered, his new rough voice cracking. “I live on the North-East side, not-“ He swallowed hard, forcing himself to look up at the decrepit building looming before him. Graffiti marred the brick walls and a flickering neon sign buzzed weakly above the entrance: Sunset Studios.

The Uber driver turned to eye Kyle curiously, “You okay there, buddy? This IS the address you put in, yeah?”

Kyle looked down at his phone and gasped, “No! I... I must’ve put in the wrong address, I...”

The Uber driver scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Put in the wrong address? What kinda dumbass mistake is that?”

His words seemed to echo in Kyle's mind, the insult striking a chord deep within him. Something inside clicked, shifting...rewriting...Kyle blinked slowly, his eyes dulling. Memories of a privileged life, of penthouses and boardrooms, began to fade. In their place, fragmented images flashed - calloused hands gripping a hammer, sweat-streaked brows wiping grime from a weathered face, the bitter taste of cheap whiskey and cigarettes.

“Yeah, guess I really fucked up this time.” Kyle mumbled, his words slurring slightly as if drunk on exhaustion.

He stumbled out of the car, nearly tripping on the cracked sidewalk. The cool night air filled his nostrils, carrying the mingled scents of motor oil, stale beer, and desperation. Kyle fumbled in his pocket for keys, his movements clumsy and unpracticed- part of him questioning where these keys even came from. As he shoved open the door to the studio, he barely registered the peeling paint and rusted hinges. Inside, a single bare bulb illuminated a cramped space dominated by a sagging mattress and a rickety table strewn with empty bottles and overflowing ashtrays.

“This feels wrong...” Kyle whispered, “I...” He slowly removes his clothes, basking in the cool air of the apartment against his freed skin.

Naked, Kyle catches a glimpse of himself in a nearby mirror. Gone was the polished businessman with the toned physique and baby-smooth skin. In his place stood a rugged, almost feral-looking specimen of masculinity. Kyle's chest was a dense forest of wiry hair, a trail leading down to his navel and beyond. Powerful pectorals and biceps on full display. Between his legs hung a thick, semi-erect cock nestled in a thick patch of curls. Kyle watched in detached interest as it began to swell further- his thoughts consumed in a horny bliss.

“Fuck.”

Some primal instinct stirred deep within Kyle's core, a baser need clawing its way to the surface. He reached for a pack of cigarettes, fumbling to extract one with trembling fingers. The click of the lighter seemed obscenely loud in the small room. Falling to the bed, his free hand drifted lower, calloused palm dragging over the planes of his abdomen, eventually wrapped around his hardened dick. As Kyle lost himself in the haze of nicotine and self-gratification, the last vestiges of his former identity slipped away. With each stroke of his calloused hand, each drag of the cigarette, Kyle embraced his new reality.

Spent and sated, Kyle drifted off into a dreamless sleep, the final threads of his old life snapped, leaving only the shell of the man he'd become. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new struggles - but for tonight, Kyle rested easy in the knowledge that he was exactly where he belonged.

[misctf]

For Sale: Dad Shoes

In need of some new shoes, Robbie stumbles into a pair of sneakers abandoned behind by some strange dilf. After trying them on he grows to appreciate them in more ways than one.

Ready for some Daddification? Robbie wasn't but he seems happy enough to bulk up and grow some hair. Thanks to Fred W. Kong for helping me polish this one up! Hope all enjoy! -Occam

Robbie had just about worn through his old pair of tennis shoes. Wandering around through this shoe store surrounded by flashy boxes and exorbitant price tags, he can’t help but second guess his abandoning the old, almost holey shoes. Looking around at these piled high pairs of sneakers, he’s on the edge of just giving up and truly wearing the soles out of his old pair before this plan is interrupted by an uproar at the cash wrap.

Turning to get a glimpse of whatever the drama must be, Robbie instead finds a burly man, loudly tapping on the counter and guffawing to himself. The clerk shyly laughs along opposite him though clearly the joke didn’t land too well, not that the older man seems to mind all that much. As Robbie continues to sneakily watch from down the way, the man gives the clerk a handshake and departs leaving him staring strangely at his own hand and the pair of shoes left on the counter.

Ever the gossip, Robbie less than surreptitiously makes his way over to the cashier and asks about the bearded stranger. It takes a few seconds for the clerk, dubbed James by his nametag, to snap out of his strange reverie, “Oh! Hi there- Yeahh, I don’t really know? He said he got these shoes here but I’ve never seen them before?” Both men stare at the pair of sneakers in between them. “He apparently wanted to return them.”

Robbie, a little more interested in shopping now that he knows purchases aren’t final, follows this throughline, “I didn’t know you did returns?”

“We don’t”

“Ah.” Pausing for a few seconds he gets back to his first question, “What was he laughing so hard about?” The cashier furrows his brows for a few seconds before sighing, “Oh, it was just a dumb dad joke. Uhhh something like, What is the funniest thing about shoelaces?”

“Hm?”

“Knot-knot Jokes.” 

There’s a silence afterwards as Robbie just tilts his head, slightly disappointed that his trek over here didn’t quite satiate his curiosity. Looking at the neglected pair of tennis shoes on the counter he feels a bit melancholy thinking of his own soon-to-be abandoned pair, “What are you going to do with these then?”

James scratches the back of his head noncommittally, “Not really sure, uhhh- You wouldn’t want them would you?” The young clerk looks at him hopefully and Robbie’s heart flutters a bit at the direct eye contact. Getting the distinct impression that he’d be doing a favor for the clerk he ignores how tacky they are and acquiesces, “I mean? I guess I could. Should probably try them on first though yeah?” James shrugs with a grin and hands them over.

Now in his hands it seems obvious to Robbie that they’ll be too large but he decides to give them a go. Throwing them on he finds indeed they’re quite a bit roomier than he’d prefer. Though man- they’re also way more comfortable than he could have possibly expected. Robbie furrows his brow wondering why on Earth that strange man wanted to send them back, when his mind returns to him however, the strangest thing happens. He hears James repeat the man’s bit in his mind: knot-knot jokes, and he can’t help but laugh.

Robbie tries to stifle himself, knowing he sits in front of a man that in an ideal world he would try to pull. He giggles and struggles to cover his mouth before breaking out into a hyena-adjacent fit of laughter. Mid-breakdown, Robbie sees James flinch back and look at him strangely from behind the counter but he can only continue to laugh, “HAAH! HAH- Man! Hah, ugh Jesus christ so sorry dude- I don’t know what came over me! Hah hah, huh man.” 

James smiles vaguely, clearly writing Robbie off as nothing more than a customer, “So uhh, how do they fit?” Getting to business he prepares to tell them they’re too big before wiggling his toes and gasping to himself. They’re a perfect fit. He knew they were too large, he felt the extra room, and yet, he can see how perfectly his feet fill them. He clears his throat a little louder than he intended and answers, “They’re good, real uh, snug fit…” 

“Great!” The cashier tosses over something in his head, though looking at the man confusedly staring at his feet, he reconsiders. Something strange has shifted and he thinks it best to just default to his customer service programming, “Anything else I can do for you…” without thinking he reflexively tacks on a “sir?” which causes Robbie to flinch.

“Uhh no thanks a lot, James.” Grimacing at the man using his name on his nametag the clerk rolls his eyes knowing he made the right call. Robbie smiles blankly and heads out the shop with a nod, not even thinking to grab the shoes he removed to throw on this strange man’s discarded sneakers. Why should he, he’s already wearing the only shoes one could ever need.

Exiting out to the strip center he was already reluctant to visit, Robbie groans to himself as he feels a tad bloated. Rubbing his stomach trying to recall what he ate, he looks down to find something impossibly strange on his phone. Somehow without being quite aware, he’s snapped a picture of his new shoes and captioned it to post on his story. “Got my first pair of dad shoes 😆”

Robbie balks at this and quickly goes to delete the picture without posting but in his haste he fat fingers his phone and whoosh- It’s up. Deciding that it would be more embarrassing to take it down after posting, Robbie frowns and begins to pocket his phone when he realizes something even stranger than a photo he doesn’t remember taking. Those aren’t his legs?

Zooming in on the photo in his camera roll he gasps in shock at just how hairy those legs are. Sure the shoes and shorts are the same but never has any part of his body neared such a consistent or dense coat of body hair, to say nothing of those god-awful socks! Clicking his tongue at whoever must be playing this bizarre joke on him he pans through the image, poring through every pixel to try and find evidence of photoshop.

Unaware is he that away from view, his legs are rapidly shifting to match the image he knows to be false. Forgotten already that his feet miraculously grew to fill the dad sneakers, his calves are quickly shaped and painted by waves of dark brown hair. Racing upwards from the strange shoes, his ankles itch from their new growth before the curls are matted down by his thick athletic socks. 

He scratches at the still-growing hair quickly covering his changing thighs and takes no notice as his fingers trail through the new garden. Thickening hair is not the only change either as when the rushing forest of fur reaches his thighs they begin to bulk larger, yearning to fill his shorts. On said thighs the hairs curl longer and darken further than on his exposed calves, stopping short of completely blanketing his lower body as a blank patch is left on his inner thighs, precipitating a greater change that is soon to overwhelm him.

Indeed, before he can notice his hefty hair-covered legs, he’s distracted by the strangest feeling ushering forth from his dick. Accompanied by the burning itch of his pubes thickening, Robbie quickly sets his phone down as both hands rush to adjust his growing cock. With a sharp inhale he shudders as his mind is overcome with ecstasy, with each passing moment and fluttering heartbeat he quivers as his cock pushes out further and his balls hang lower. 

In no time at all there’s a baseball sized bulge straining his pants. It’s at this point that Robbie realizes that he’s not even hard. His cock has simply grown larger. Standing in shock the young man almost falls over from vertigo as whatever nightmare he’s living in has struck him lightheaded. Trying not to draw attention to himself, Robbie struggles to keep composure as he makes his way over to his car, though each step is accompanied by a wince as his heavy balls are pinched by his boxers and his cock forces itself further down his leg.

Wrenching open his car door with little thought at all besides the burning need to get home Robbie falls into the driver’s seat. Key turned, he goes to shift to reverse when he’s almost possessed by an intrusive thought, head tilting as his mouth moves of its own accord, vocalizing for no one as he reverses, “Ahhh, that takes me back.” Immediately fearful, he feels his body course correct as his grimace curls into a grin, he giggles before letting loose free-flowing full bodied laughter at something he’d personally barely label a joke.

Panting after being released from this mania, Robbie’s only further driven to race home. The few minutes back are a blur, of which he can only recall flashes. Finally he sees the new shadow of hair covering his legs. He grunts from the pain as his shorts are suddenly far too tight. Would’ve sworn he lost weight but now his belt cuts into his waist. His eyes almost cross from pain as he tries to recall that he wasn’t even wearing a belt when he left his house. He sees his hands adjusting mirrors to a new height, slightly higher from sitting on an ass bulging larger. 

Senses overloaded by each new ticklish strand and the rising, burning need from his cock, when he finally arrives home he races to do the only thing he can think to escape this waking nightmare. Taking great care not to cum then and there as he removes his shorts, Robbie kicks off his new shoes with little affection and flops onto his bed. In a small act of indulgence, Robbie can’t help but bite his lip as he tests the waters and rubs his hands through his hairy thighs.

Looking at the jungle of hair across his legs he feels his cock begin to throb and harden. He doesn’t hate them. No, his hairy legs are more enticing than he could ever have imagined. Tracing the curls from his toes to the dense bush of pubes ushering out from his boxers he bucks slightly as it's almost too much for him. This must just be the weirdest wet dream he’s ever had.

True sleep comes quickly, as soon as his body realizes that he’s not going to be indulging his desires, unconsciousness swiftly takes him. Though unfortunately for the man who wishes this whole situation was indeed a dream, the changes in the waking world are not going to slow down even as he rests.

For the first time in his life, Robbie snores. While he’s not gained altogether too much weight thus far, even the extra few inches on his waist as hair begins spreading onto his once tight stomach have a consequence. As his arm hangs lower off the bed, his wrists eagerly begin to match his hairy legs as forearms are thoroughly coated with a healthy coat of curls. Added length is compounded by bulkier biceps as his arms are not left free from his increasing weight either. As the hours pass his whole arms are blanketed by body hair, coated from wrists to pits

Changes to his physical form are not the only metamorphosis occurring during his slumber either. Having fallen close to his dresser, his shoes are not content to be the only changed part of his wardrobe. Radiating out from the spilled sneakers, clothes messily tossed into his dresser are folded and shift into pieces less fashionable, less haphazard, and far more fatherly.

All no-show socks elongate into tubes as his boxers adversely lose their length, their elastic bands shifting firmer. Each and every pair bleach into briefs befitting his new form, including the pair he currently has on. His sleepful face squirms as for a moment his boxers grow to a size more appropriate his new waist and massive package before both are gripped tightly, perfectly contoured and contained by the briefs he is to wear every day, ever more.

Objects of his youth are shifted and replaced. Video game OST vinyls bend and reshape as they melt and reform into jazz standards and dad rock. Video games and a large manga collection he has long been proud of are lost ever more, replaced by an impressive collection of classics and board games he adores playing with his- family? But that can’t be right. On his nightstand appears a well-worn joke book that his husband has long waged a campaign to get rid of. His eyes twitch in his sleep as his subconscious mind tries to reconcile these things fruitlessly.

Then, as the first rays of morning light blast through his cracked curtains, Robbie awakens. He scratches his slightly thicker waist and yawns loudly. His body burns as he stretches, as if each strand of muscle and slightly shifted tendon were moving for the first time ever. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and his rougher hand wades down his face, for some reason surprised to encounter stubble on his jaw.

Standing to his feet, he encounters that light-headed vertigo once more, though for the life in him he can’t remember when exactly he felt it last. Pawing at the morning wood distending the waistband of his briefs, he scratches his heavy balls and grunts, ignoring the idea that his voice sounds a tad off. He must just be hungover, or sick- yeah. That makes sense.

Wandering into the bathroom to start his day he stretches once more, exposing a couple hairy pits to the open air and causing his back to crack loudly. “Bwoah-” At this point one might expect Robbie to realize how much further he’s changed as he sees his new self in the mirror, though it takes a few moments of staring in the mirror before he even humors the idea that something is off.

He grumbles to himself for a few seconds something about his eyes playing tricks or his vision not being what it used to be. Laughing at the thought, this wakes him. Like the shock of a cold shower he opens his eyes to find himself a completely different man. Nearly hyperventilating, he stares at his changed hands. Trying to reconcile the same wrinkles they have always held with the hairy knuckles and calloused fingers he knows should not be there. Turning his gaze to his reflection he sees a few curls peeking over the collar of the shirt he distinctly didn’t fall asleep in and struggles to remove it over a chest that begins to burst larger from the nerves. Each struggled grunt is deeper than the one that came before as Robbie strains to get it off, at last there’s a tearing sound and the tank flies off, exposing a gut now decidedly hanging over his waist. Staring at his reflection another joke flies out of his mouth as he cups his new belly, “I always did need a father figure- heh”

Accompanied by laugher echoing in the tiled bathroom, exposed to the cool air his treasure trail races outward. Every swath of new, bare skin on his torso is soon enough enveloped and graced by the expansive garden of curls. Like a rolling storm his alluring V of chest hair shoots downward as his pubes continue the great work begun last night and race upward to meet it. In no time at all, and under his fearful gaze he sees his newly bulky stomach completely covered.

His hands go to yank, to pull, to tear at the blanket of fur covering him. Changing him. He must still be dreaming. With shaking hands he feels his stomach hair thickening, pushing out from pores he didn’t even know he had. Tickling his thicker palms and sticking out in between fatter fingers. Eyes racing to take in all the changes of an upper body he sees not as his stubble thickens into a true beard. In his frantic fear, he does not see as smile lines and other wrinkles begin to crinkle around his eyes.

What he does notice however is a small tan line on his left ring finger. His terrified breath catches in his chest as a lifetime of memories flashes through his head, a face, a name, a wedding- Robert clutches at his head as he tries to will them away. As he forcefully stamps his wider feet and struggles to will himself back to the way he was. The way he should be. 

Retracing his steps he tries to remember if he has gotten on the wrong side of any particularly witchy people. Delving into his mind, even the memories from yesterday seem almost too far to grasp, a lifetime away. With a good deal of effort, Robert is finally able to recall his time at the shoe shop. He remembers James behind the counter and his head burns anew with pain as the young man he sees is incongruent with reality. That’s not what James should look like. Pushing his attention elsewhere he finally remembers: the shoes.

Eyes now burning with determination, Robert stamps back towards his room, floorboards creaking slightly under his new weight as they’ve never and always done. And then he sees them, such tacky shoes something within him initially swears he would never be caught dead in them, though this is overpowered by the undeniable fact that they are his. His feet feel cold on the floor of his bedroom.

Looking at the sneakers he’s suddenly filled with affection as he remembers James giving them to him. James. Not the twink working at a shoe store though, no his James. Staring at them his heart flutters just as it did in a past life as his hair starts to thin slightly as its peppered with a few grey strands. His thumb goes to twist and play with a ring not on his hand as he sits there, lost in a daydream on his bed.

Totally distracted, he doesn’t hear the frame creak, from his weight nor from its expansion as it surges larger. The apartment around him slowly changes to fit his new partnered life as he zeroes in on the pair of shoes in front of him. His James. Under his thick beard his tight lips curl into a coy grin as his hands slowly reach down to pick up the shoes, and with little ado at all he tosses them on.

And then Rob is totally overcome. Morning wood that has yet had a chance to dissipate creates a need that simply must be addressed. Thicker palms struggle to sneak under the strained waistband of his briefs and in doing so finally free his heavier cock to the open air. Seeing the stream of pre running down its veiny length he is also made aware of the stain that has slowly been growing in said briefs before discarding them altogether to focus on sating this all-encompassing hunger.

His eyes almost cross as his hands hesitantly begin to rub the length of his rod, and then he gasps as he feels a wedding band get tangled in his pubes. In between heady sensuous gasps as he tries to not cum prematurely he moans out with a grin he utterly wishes not to have painted on his face, “Man, I’ve heard of a hair-trigger but this is ridiculous!” And before he can laugh at this not even a joke, he loses control. 

His wider hips thrust into his meaty palms as he shoots load after load flying. With each involuntary heave, as his cock bobs in the air, he is cemented into his new life. Changed into his new self. He is molded into a father, into Rob. Piece by piece every aspect of who he once was is untethered and replaced by brilliant memories of his new life.

His coat finishes its march as curls launch over his shoulders and he remembers meeting James when they were younger. He remembers falling in love and tying the knot after years of dating. Family pictures dot the room around him and clink against the hallway wall as he remembers growing older alongside his love. With a final thrust, Rob’s exuberant first orgasm finishes and he falls backwards onto the bed, lying on a comforter he clearly remembers his husband convincing him to buy. And then, from the stress of becoming a new man, he falls back asleep.

Impossible to say how long he sleeps, though he is awakened by impatient shouting elsewhere in the house, “Rob! You had better be up! We’re not going to be late to Kay’s concert!” Blearily sitting up, Rob feels his bones settle into their new age as his weight finishes its redistribution. Scratching at his decidedly larger belly, his rougher hands tussle and toy with the curls on a gut that filled him with fear not moments ago. Now it only feels right, cupping his warm hairy stomach, he knows this is who he is and who he should be. He sits for a few moments bathing in acceptance, though quickly there’s a fog as he’s confused on what exactly he’s accepting?

Scratching his thinned hairline, he can’t quite put a finger on it. Before he can investigate the strange sensation, this man, his husband shouts again, “You’d better be ready to go in 30!”

“Oop!” The bear of a man quickly hops off the bed and kicks off the shoes to head into the shower. Gotta look his best for his little angel!

James’ll tear him a new one if he’s not going to be ready on time, hah! But he’ll charm his way out of it just like he always does. Despite the rush he takes time to appreciate his reflection, posing and flexing, observing his curves before nodding with a wink, “Old man’s still got it- heh!” Spending as long as reasonably can basking in his reflection, Rob sprints as fast as his back lets him to get ready for the concert. 

Sifting through a wardrobe as familiar as the back of his hairy hand he throws on suspenders and well-fitted polo. Rushing into the living room he shouts, “And Time!” His new bass resonating deep in his chest. Standing at the door holding a bouquet of flowers for their Kay, the love of his life rolls his eyes and crosses his own burly arms, “Are you about done there Honey? I’m ready to go.” Rob smirks as he’s been laid up now for the joke of a lifetime, “Hi ready to go, I’m dad.” He winks as his husband scoffs before wryly smiling and pulling him over by his unbuttoned collar.

Both men laugh before their mouths find each other as they kiss for the first and thousandth time, each one before flashing through their minds. During the act, James furtively buttons up the top few buttons of his husband’s collar before pulling away. Looking at his husband lovingly over glasses, “You know Kay asked us not to embarrass her in front of her friends Hon.” Rob employs a haughty gasp and puts a hand over his forehead, slightly exposing the hair stretching down his inner forearm. Peeking to see if his husband laughs at his dramatics he gives up the ghost and agrees with a still performative sigh.

“Ahh, I suppose I'll do my best. Anything for our little princess!” Ushered out the door by his husband, the pair at last leave their shared home and hop in Rob’s car, now shifted into an family SUV. Adjusting his mirrors to his final height when he puts the car into reverse James looks at him expectantly. Rob just smiles, holding back the joke and resting his hairy hand on his husband’s thigh, more than content at this life he lives. James overlays his own hand and the men simply sit in each other's silence as long-married couples are wont to do, overjoyed to continue onward in their shared slice of heaven.

[misctf]

Couples Counseled: Care

Kyle, or rather Ky, endures his own session with Dr. Lucien. Safe to say he'll be coming out the perfect bottom for the top he led his boyfriend to be.

And here's part two! Seems Sean has little need for a masc boyfriend, fortunately turnabout is fair play as Ky becomes the twink he oh so desperately craves. Enjoy this rare twinkification! -Occam

One second Kyle watches the most polished man he’s ever seen escort his boyfriend away. He turns to look at the receptionist whose unwavering smile continues to shine under the harsh light of the waiting room. And then he blinks, and he’s in a small office. He flinches back as he sees the man who led his boyfriend away seconds ago inspecting paperwork in his hands. 

While Sean’s response at being found in this unfamiliar place was one of fear and almost immediate attempts to flee, Kyle’s blood is already burning with rage at the surreal situation. “Where the fuck am I!?” Lucien opens his mouth but Kyle shouts once more before the therapist can speak, “You better explain whatever the hell is going on dude- where’s Sean!?”

The doctor gestures for Kyle to sit down and despite his still flowing anger he feels some out of body compulsion dragging him back to the couch. Unwillingly pacified for now, he stares daggers at the therapist and crosses his arms, flexing them to try and burn some of the still coursing energy.

Satisfied that Kyle will give him a moment to speak, Lucien addresses his question, “Sean and I just finished our time together for the day, it was exceedingly productive in fact. In no small part thanks to your splendid answers on the survey Ky.” Kyle pulls at the hair on his arm as he scowls at the doctor, obviously that can’t be right. He went out of his way to make sure Sean would blow a gasket.

Sensing his client’s confusion, Lucien’s smile grows wider as he aims another wrench to throw into Kyle’s mind, “Well now Ky, surely you remember passing him in the hall don’t you?” Kyle’s brow furrows and he prepares to shout that he can’t remember anything from before getting in this room, arms burning with the desire to swing. But then Lucien waves his fingers and in his mind Kyle sees a man. 

He feels the heat radiating off the sweaty man’s body, sees his cock bulging through his sweatpants. In the memory he’s pulled close, into the chest of the man with bulging arms and held against hard hairy pecs as a hand is stuffed into his own pants to caress his ass. The beast of a man speaks but Kyle can’t make out what he says, distracted by the deep rumble of his voice resonating through his chest as the man’s massive hand squeezes his barely defined ass even harder.

Uncomfortable at being so close to a man he can’t reconcile as his boyfriend, Kyle shakes off the memory and finds himself back in the office. Only now does he notice that he can still feel where the man gripped his ass. He remembers doing so countless times to twinks he found on the dance floor, he remembers doing just that to Sean even! Though as he tries to remember feeling his perky ass bulging in between his fingers he sees his memory change. He feels his boyfriend’s waxed glutes grow hairy as curls lengthen to brush against his fingers as the ass hardens, as his back widens, as he turns around to show Kyle what a real top can do.

Kyle clutches at his head as it stings with a migraine, the therapist ready to move on speaks up, "Everything alright Ky?” he frowns at Lucien’s question, “Can you stop calling me that?” 

Lucien feigns shock, “Oh? Is that not what you want to be called? Do forgive me! It’s just what Sean wrote on your form you see.” Kyle just sighs, I guess that’s little bite back at all compared to what Kyle wrote on his form, he grunts in annoyance and motions for Lucien to begin.

Straightening his papers he smirks and proceeds as planned, “Off to the races then! I’m sure you remember question one from filling out the form yourself eh?” He pauses though interrupts Kyle before he can respond, “What is your favorite quality of your partner? Oof your dear there does have quite poorly handwriting, but he says: ‘how much Ky cares’, well isn’t that sweet?”

Kyl continues staring at the therapist who stares back, unblinking. He’s kicking himself for signing them up for the lowest rated couples counselor he could find. Though given that Sean seems to have played along and not promptly come out and harangued him for his answers, maybe he’s not in the dog house after all? It’s just three questions, Kyl figures if he rushes through them they’ll be out of there spick and span and he can apologize for being such an ass to Sean.

Sean… He feels his heart flutter as he thinks of his boyfriend, eyes drifting around the room he rubs his arm as he’s suddenly distracted by how full he is of affection for a man he cannot quite picture. Turning his attention back to the therapist, “Can you repeat that?” Smirking with half-lidded eyes, “Of course! Sean loves how much Ky cares.”

Ky’s tight-lipped grimace twitches as he cannot help but smile, something in his foggy mind shifts mushy with care for a man he wasn’t even willing to go to a single therapy session for. His chest quivers with the intensity of how much he feels. Clenching his jaw he chokes back a sob as his eyes water with guilt. Struck with feeling so intense he can’t understand. As the wall of stoicism he has long defended begins to crumble, he knows something unnatural is happening.

Through gritted teeth, pushing down emotions greater than he’s ever felt he cries out at Lucien, “What are you doing to me.” Lucien just tilts his head with a curious grin, “Why now Kyle, what do you possibly mean?” His pupils shake in his eyes as he’s called Kyle, that’s? That’s not his name? Behind emotion so strong that he can scarcely feel anything, Ky feels some now alien part of himself sealed away. His gruff, emotionally stunted self sealed away as Lucien clears his throat to move onto the next question.

“Perhaps if Sean’s first answer was a little overwhelming we should move on then Ky, hm? What do you hope to achieve from your couples counseling sessions? Decidedly less flattering an answer- ‘wish Ky would lose some weight and clean up a bit’ hrm, ‘bitchs too hairy’ Well a little disjointed but there you have it. What do you think about that, Ky?”

And so Ky learns that his overflowing emotion is not limited to affection and bliss. Too Hairy!? Sean’s always loved his body hair! His hand flies to his chest in indignance as he is shocked by how much Sean’s words hurt him. Looking down at his hairy arm gracing even hairier pecs, he tears up anew staring at fur coverage that now fills him with embarrassment. 

As he sits there stewing in discomfort as he has to hold himself back from tearing strands of hair from his skin. Then his mind is awash with a numb fog as the miraculous begins to happen. Hairs covering his chest begin slowly retracting. At first they seem shorn away, as if a razor blade was sweeping through the forest of hair like scythe. But as they continue to retract and disappear, the pale skin underneath is revealed to be smoothing and softening as if he never grew body hair to begin with.

Looking at his smooth chest in wonder he covers his face with a hand and is shocked to find that it is not simply his carpeted chest that has been struck hairless. Under his clumsy fingertips he feels his scratchy beard fading away, teardrops coursing down smooth skin onto a jawline that has not been free from stubble since high school. His free hand goes to his crotch as he feels his pubes retract into a pruned garden and the hair tickling his legs is waxed away. The quivering anxiety in Ky’s chest sinks lower as he feels butterflies in his stomach. Suddenly a strange idea flickers through his mind, ‘Sean will be so proud of me! When he sees how smooth I am-’ and then he shakes it off. The alien thought reminds him of the man watching, of the man who must be changing him, he feels the waning urge to fight back return. Though as he looks at his hands, as he feels his buttery, sensitive skin, he can’t even remember what just changed. Did something change?

His voice cracks and, beneath his notice, he speaks with a tone worlds away from the gruff domineering voice he once knew as his own, “Doctor LucIEN- Ugh- Are you doing something to me? I, I can’t remember,” The doctor scratches his beard, forcing some deja vu through Ky. The memory of him playing with a beard on his own face is clearer than anything. And then his head burns with pain as it changes. Clutching at his own head he grunts as he realizes he was misremembering! That was Sean’s beard, obviously. 

Ky fights back a giggle as he quickly recontextualizes the man in the hallway was his boyfriend all along! Seeing a look of reverie on Ky’s new hairless face, Lucien’s grin almost twists into a grimace as he demands the envelope be pushed further, “Did you miss the first part of his answer, do you not think yourself too bulky?” Lucien’s eyes burn into Ky as he shakes his head in disagreement, “Oh? Well Sean certainly seemed to think so.” Turning around the sheet for Ky to read the answer, the once DL man pauses.

Mouth falling ajar, he quietly moans as he watches a hand that he swears has spent countless hours lifting weights suddenly loses its callouses. He sees his palm thin as his bicep almost atrophies. Over a decade of hard work keeping himself strong, broing out at the gym, showing off his strength and dominating other men quickly begins to fade from his mind. After a moment the idea that he would dominate anything becomes laughable, how could he possibly dominate anyone? 

Smaller hands fondle his chest as pecs that he was once incredibly proud of follow the route of his thinning arms and body hair and retract. Perky nipples remain as his weighty pecs shrink into nothing, leaving behind something flat, little at all remaining to grasp but skin and the barest hint of a feminine figure that he knows would drive Sean wild. That always has driven him almost mindless with hunger, he can almost feel the man’s grasp on his hips as his waist thins. Moaning at the memory a smile returns to Lucien’s face as he prepares to finish this new couple.

“Lastly, what is something you wish your partner did? Any guesses as to what he wrote?” Caught off guard by being addressed, Ky shakes his head and unconsciously poses. Head tilted and slightly downturned as he awaits what Sean is going to ask of him, already knowing he is more than happy to fulfill whatever it may be. 

Even sitting there before Lucien finally seals his fate, he continues to change. Lips grow plumper as he pushes down an urge to flirtily bite them. His jawline smooths and his back arches. The cock that was once his pride and joy shrinks as it is no longer the primary tool of his satisfaction. While just about every inch of his form compacts inward his ass puts on mass, becoming the perfect bubble butt for Sean to do what he will.

“Succinct, your partner simply answered, ‘for him to admit he was mine.’” There’s a tickle in his chest as he finds the statement absurd, Ky is his? Letting loose, the new twink giggles to his heart's content, swaying back and forth as every breath and break between shrill laughter his arms perfectly frame his new thin form, “I mean girl! What are we doing here!?” Limp-wristed hand covering his face as he leans back to laugh, “Sean was so right this is just a waste of time!”

Removing his glasses and performing placation, Lucien raises his hands in mimesis of defeat, “By all means Ky I think you’re right, you and Sean are clearly perfect for each other and have no further need of my services.” Ky stands and stumbles forward, tripping with vertigo from his lower vantage, he starts to spill onto the floor before, from out of nowhere, his waist is yanked by a man towering over him. Lightheaded from the fall, and in general, Ky turns with a grin to see his Sean haloed by the office light pulling him up.

The twink is pulled to Sean’s chest with ease, feet lifted off the floor as the behemoth raises him into a sloppy kiss. Ky giggles as his lover’s beard tickles his face before bending back and winking at the therapist upside down, “Thanks for reminding us we don’t need anyone but each other Doc!” Sean grunts in turn and starts carrying his bottom out the door, the twink waves farewell as the Doctor watches in repose, “Ta ta~” 

Ky throws his arms around Sean’s neck as the pair make their way outside of the office. The brute sneers at the receptionist he still doesn’t trust as the lovers the place never to return. Wistfully Ky tries to remember why they came in to begin with, “Do you know why went in there babe?” Sean shrugs and grunts as he feels Ky bounces with his shoulders, bumping a thigh against his crotch, igniting his hunger.

Exhaling like a bull when they make it to the car he throws Ky into the backseat and quickly falls over him. “Babe don’t forget to close the door! We’re in public!” Sneering out at the empty parking lot, Sean obeys and slams it shut before returning his attention to one of the only things that matter to him, stuffing this twink with his massive cock.

The door to Lucien’s office closes by itself as he folds up the surveys and puts them into a file cabinet near his desk. Another couple successfully helped. It shouldn’t be long at all before the pair start creating content and attracting more men to seek his services. After all there’s sure to never be much on the mind of either men besides the next fuck. Surely no one who stumbles across their videos will be able to resist being drawn to changing themselves.

Lucien smirks as he can picture the car rocking in his mind as he wonders where to away to in the meantime. What lucky sod is he to help next, only time will tell.