#Indian tf

[fredwkong]

Lotto Ticket Wish

You had been on a bit of a dry spell when I appeared before you. Your small town didn’t have a lot of dating options for a pretty average young gay guy like you—basic white boys are a dime a dozen. You had gone out with every guy you liked on Tinder, been catcalled more than you could count on Grindr, and Scruff wasn’t even in the cards as long as you couldn’t grow a beard. You were bumming around the bowling alley—it was the only place in town open after 8—when you spotted me.

For you, I took the form of an arcade lotto machine. Insert a coin, receive a random ticket with a prize printed on it. You were confused, since you’d never seen me before, but you were bored and horny and nothing interested was happening. You inserted your coin, and I printed out your prize:

FAME. GLORY. PLEASURE. SPEAK YOUR WISH NOW AND SEE IT GRANTED. SATISFACTION GUARANTEED.

You chuckled. Typical arcade shit, you thought. “I wish I was a hunk!” you said aloud, and laughed to yourself again. Well, maybe it was worth the coin for the laugh. You pocketed your ticket and headed home.

That night, while you slept, your wish came true. First, a dark spot appeared on your fingertip where you had held your wish ticket. The darkened skin raced over your hand, leaving your small pale hand larger, thicker, and dark, a rich brown shade. Thick, black hairs grew on the back of your hand and fingers. The change continued up your arm, which began to bulge with muscle and veins. You flexed your hand in your sleep, and new strong tendons shifted under brown, hairy skin as your bicep peaked into a mound like a baseball.

Your shoulder rounded out into a thick, capped delt, and a forest of thick hair grew in your armpit. You wrinkled your nose at the musky, spicy scent that started to emerge, but your sleep quickly calmed into a sexy dream of sniffing a musky, dark-skinned armpit. Meanwhile, your chest thickened into a set of huge, rounded pecs with dark, pert nipples. Dark, curly hairs grew in and immediately became soaked with sweat, adding to the spicy stench in the air. The transformation proceeded down your other arm, until it was the perfect match. You shifted in your sleep, sending your nose into your other rank armpit.

As the skin of your belly darkened, fat evaporated away and six thick abs swelled out of your midsection. Your whole torso thickened with sturdy back muscles. All this extra mass made you sweat even more in your sleep.

A thick treasure trail grew from your belly down to your pubes, which darkened and thickened, as the skin tautened and turned black. Your balls swelled, causing you to shift your legs in your sleep and let your new bulging sac rest lower. Your cock thickened and grew, quickly slipping out of your boxers to reach down toward your knee. As your cockflesh darkened, you grew a thick, well-stretched foreskin, which released a cheesy smell into the air as you dreamed of tongue-washing an Indian hunk’s balls.

Your ass grew as well, rounding out as a thick, muscular cushion rather than a flat pad. Your boxers became so tight they might as well be briefs, the fabric stretched thin enough that the thick hairs swirling over your ass became visible. As the transformation continued down your legs, quads, hamstrings and calves grew, darkened, and became covered in sweaty hair. Your feet stretched and the soles thickened.

Finally, the transformation proceeded up your neck. Your neck and Adam’s apple thickened, causing you to release a deep grunt in your sleep. Your hair darkened to shiny black and became wavy, falling perfectly into a slick, masculine style. Your skin cleared and became brown, and your brows thickened and lowered, giving your now dark eyes a hooded, mysterious look. Finally, your nose widened slightly as your jawline sharpened, becoming coated in dark stubble that would grow back in minutes if you ever shaved.

The musky smell of your new Indian body swirled around your bedroom, subtly changing the space. In place of your desk appeared a set of adjustable weights. Your bookshelf became a full length mirror. A Hindi self-help poster appeared over your now-simple, masculine bed. Your closet filled with gym gear, with some formal kurta for when you visited your family in Chandigarh.

You woke at sunrise and wrinkled your nose at the smell permeating your nose. “Bro, what the fuck,” you muttered, in a deep, Hindi-accented voice. You made to hop out of bed, but as soon as your thick legs moved apart, your overstretched boxers tore at the groin, letting your oversized cock and balls spill out.

For a moment, you gaped at your thick new uncut cock and swollen, churning balls, then you jumped to your feet. Using your new strong hands you ripped the tattered boxers off and caught a glimpse of your magnificent body in the mirror.

You had certainly become a hunk! The sight of your bulging muscles and Indian good looks brought your cock to full attention, and you instinctively started to jerk off. The smell of your unwashed, weeping cock mixed with the spicy musk your body gave off, and before long you were close. You watched in the mirror as you bounced your sweaty, hirsute muscles and licked your musky armpit. Finally, you exploded, coating the mirror with a huge load.

In an instant, you felt a burst of knowledge flood into your head. You suddenly began to think in Hindi, and translating your thoughts into English became more difficult. You realised that you were the hottest stud in town, especially with your hunky Indian looks and deep, Hindi-accented voice. You knew how to make a perfect homemade Indian meal, and also how to totally dominate any white boy you wanted. You were about to be king of the town.

You grabbed some of the clothes scattered on the floor. A jock, gym shorts, and yesterday’s tank top should be fine. You gave yourself a quick sniff test: the perfect level of unadulterated sweaty musk for a morning gym session. After all, there would probably be some jockboy there who couldn’t wait to get a taste of Raj, the musky Indian stud, and the hottest commodity in town.

Just as you were about to leave your room, you noticed your wish ticket lying on the floor. You picked it up, and wondered if the wish-granting lotto machine was still at the bowling alley…

Idea with assistance from the genie-bot by @mystrangetfs.

[abdullahbroshairif]

💚💚💚

[roller6262]

Harvey Gives Fashion Advice

< Previous Part | Next Part >

Harvey still had time before his next class, so he headed straight for his dorm. Harry's bed was topped with cardboard boxes, and Harry himself was rummaging through his wardrobe. He would evaluate individual items before deeming they were no good and tossing them behind him. "Dude, I've been gone for a few hours, are you still trying to find something to wear?" Harvey asked his room mate.

"Oh, Honey, I already picked out a casual outfit for the day" Harry replied without taking his eyes off his clothes. "That's what I wore to pick up all those boxes."

"By the way, what is all this stuff?" Harvey sat on Harry's bed and peeked inside the boxes. It was a mix of decorations, papers, and small items that looked like they could be used for games.

"Those are the supplies for tomorrow's Queer Student Union meeting. As secretary it was my job to pick them up from storage."

"So why are you changing again?"

"And repeat an outfit on the same day? Hell no. There's an executive meeting with all the Queer Student Union's leaders tonight, so I need to look my best."

"Sheesh, I'm glad I'm not a member of your gay club" Harvey sighed, "If I spent as much time on clothes as you did, I'd never get out of this dorm."

"Oh shut up" Harry said, tossing a shirt he was looking at onto his bed, "I bet I spend less time on clothes than you do styling that ridiculous pompadour" Harry ran his fingers through his own curly hair, then turned around to face his room mate, finally seeing that Harvey was wearing a patka, "Or at least, how much time you usually spend on it. That thing on your head is new. Is it some kind of fashion statement?"

"Huh?" Harvey placed his hands on top of his head, feeling cloth where he expected to feel gelled hair. "I thought I took this thing of last night. Did I tie it back on this morning?"

"What are you mumbling about?" Harry turned back to his wardrobe, "instead of making fashion statements like that, I wish you were a fashion guru. I could use some advice." Harry grabbed a pink scarf and wrapped it around his neck. He considered it for a moment before tossing it towards the bed like all the rest. This time, it landed on Harvey's head.

The scarf wrapped itself around Harvey's patka, forming a pink UK-style turban. "Wait… this is just like with Gurpreet's table cloth. Was- was that real? It is happening again!?" While Harvey was expressing a great deal of panic, the texture of his face became smoother, and his cheek bones were more pronounced. All of his hair once again darkened to a shade of black. His mustache thickened, covering his upper lip, and his beard grew to his collar in a squared off shape. To maintain this shape it was not cut, but rather well maintained. Harvey winced, expecting to bloat into a fat man like before. Instead, he grew a bit taller and slimmed into a model physique. He got that warm feeling again as his skin turned an Indian hue, a bit darker than Harvey's normal time, but a good amount lighter than previously. His features changed slightly to be more telling of a Punjabi man, but it was unmistakably Harvey's face.

Finally the rest of his clothes were altered. He was wearing a light blue silk button up with grey wool trousers and brown leather shoes. A tricolor, diagonally striped long tie appeared around his collar. A pink scarf, matching his new turban, hung from his neck, and a dark navy suit jacket topped his shoulders. Harvey looked at his arms in disbelief, his wrists were decorated with a gold watch on the left and an iron Kara bracelet on the right. "Am I imagining things again? Why is it so different this time?"

"So Harpinder" Harry started, as if Harvey hadn't said anything just now. He was holding up two shirts, one in each hand, "Which do you think would look better on me tonight?"

"What are you talking about, Harry?" Harvey realized this was just like with Gurpreet. Harvey, or Harpinder as he was now, seemed completely normal to Harry. "You never ask me for advice about clothes."

"I just didn't want to bug you with my day to day stuff" Harry admitted, a bit embarrassed "you're such a famous fashion influencer after all. I'm sure you have more important things to do." Just then Harvey got a notification on his phone, actually he was receiving several. He unlocked it and the phone opened to a photo-sharing social media app. Instead of his usual profile, he was logged into @sikhstyleguru under the name Harpinder Singh. The page looked like it was regularly updated with photos of Harvey as he appeared now, wearing a variety of fashionable suits and street wear. Scrolling down, Harvey figured this page had to have been active for a few years, which should have been impossible because he only transformed a few weeks ago. Was reality changing? Is that why no one thought his sudden changes were odd? Either way, Harvey took this as proof that he wasn't imagining things, he really had become a Sikh man.

He tapped on his most recent photo, the one he was getting notifications for. The like count was already well above three thousand and still ticking up. Comments included phrases like "waheguru" followed by praying hands emoji and "Att" with the fire emoji. "I really am a fashion influencer" Harvey said to himself.

"That's why I'm asking you, you know better than anyone" Harry said. Harvey was confident he'd be able to return to normal, as he had before. For now he decided he would play along with Harry's vision of him, as it would be useless to try and convince Harry that he was someone else. Still, Harvey's idea of a good outfit was a white tee and black jeans, hardly the wisdom that Harry was expecting. He decided he should just answer truthfully. "Honestly, Harry, I don't think either of those shirts would work." Harpinder stroked his hairy chin while thinking, "If you're going to meet with other leaders of your organization, you yourself should look like a leader. I think I can lend you something." He turned to his own wardrobe and saw that it was replaced by a pop-up closet. Due to the dorm's restricted space, it was smaller than any proper closet would be, but it still had enough rack space to hold Harprinder's many suits, with drawers at the bottom for the rest of his clothes. He picked out a deep blue dress shirt, a vibrant yellow dress tie, brown slacks, and matching black leather belt and dress shoes. Harry quickly changed and the items fit surprisingly well on him, despite belonging to someone else.

"This is awesome, I've never had a suit I liked this much" Harry was checking himself out from a few different angles.

"It's all about finding the right fit. Now you look ready for business" Harprinder grinned. Harry threw his arms up and gave Harpinder a big hug. He chuckled and hugged back, "Easy there, try not to wrinkle my shirt too much." Harpinder impressed even himself with his wisdom. Maybe this fashion influencer thing wouldn't be too hard. Once Harry had let go, apologizing for any wrinkles he might have caused, Harpinder turned back to his closet and considered his next move. He thought Harry's outfit could use a little something more to truly stand out. He grabbed two cloths from his closet. "Hold still Harry, I just need to add one last touch." Harpinder first tied the blue cloth around Harry's head into a patka. Harry did as he was told and didn't stop Harpinder, but he was still visibly uncomfortable.

"You know, Harp, these turbans look really good on you. I'm just think this is weird on a white guy like me."

"Nonsense, you just need to see it all together" Harpinder tied the yellow cloth into a morni pagg turban. Then he used a salai needle to smooth out the folds. "See? Isn't that better?"

Harry looked at himself in their dorm's mirror, turning his head to check a few different angles. "I guess so…" Harry saw his face turn a darker shade of brown and became delighted. "Yes! This vibrant yellow does go well with my skin tone. That was a good choice, Harpinder" Harry said in a Punjabi accent.

Harpinder nodded, "Now we must do something about your hair."

"But all of my hair is under my dastaar" then a short chinstrap of curly black hair grew on Harry's previously bare face.

"Obviously I meant your facial hair" Harpinder chuckled, using a wooden comb to remove the tangles in Harry's new beard.

"Ah, that is much better" Harry admired his Punjabi features in the mirror.

"I'm glad I could help" with this task complete, the pink turban on Harpinder's head unspooled and returned to being a simple pink scarf. Harpinder himself reverted to being Harvey, and his pop up closet disappeared, leaving behind Harvey's original wardrobe. The only thing that didn't turn back to normal was the now Sikh Harry. "Woah, who are you!?"

"Harvey you are so sweet. Pretending you don't recognize me because I look so much better in this suit? I'm flattered" Harry winked.

Harvey recognized that jokingly flirty attitude, "Harry, is that you?"

"It's pronounced Harri, you know that. Anyways, thank you for helping me pick out an outfit, I'll have to return the favor some time. But for now, I'm off to meet my felllow Queer Student Union leaders" Harri lifted the boxes from his bed and made his way to the door of the dorm.

"You can't leave, there's something wrong!"

"The only thing wrong here is that a cute guy like you is still only wearing a patka. Before the next Sikh Student Alliance meeting I am going to have to tie the most handsome dastar on you. See ya!" And with that, Harri blew a kiss and left the dorm.

"No, Harry, wait!" But it was too late, Harri was gone. "This is so freaky! First I'm changing, now Harry is too! Did I do that to him?" Harvey took a look at himself in the mirror. "It's got to be because of this patka I got from that Indian club. It's making me look like them!" Harvey tried to yank the black cloth from his head, but it wouldn't budge no matter how he pulled. "It's no use, the thing is tied on like some kind of magic." he sighed. "At least I can take care of you" Harvey said, looking at his short brown beard. Harvey went to his "hair care" drawer. He was pretty obsessed with maintaining a perfect pompadour, so he always kept a drawer stocked with hair scissors, razors, tweezers, an electric shaver, Combs, and his favorite gel. Opening the drawer, he discovered that most of these items were gone! In their place was a wooden comb, a salai needle, some kind of beard oil, and multiple patka cloths. "Where's all my stuff!? I thought I changed back" Harvey slammed the drawer, "I am not giving up that easy, you stupid beard"

Harvey grabbed a pair of office scissors from his study desk and went back to the mirror. They weren't the ideal tool for grooming his beard, but they would have to do. He brought the scissors close to his chin and attempted to cut, but the scissors wouldn't close. "Huh?" Harvey pulled the scissors away from his face and heard the satisfying "snip" of the scissors cutting the air, but as soon as they got close to his face, he couldn't bring himself to close his fingers together. "Are you kidding me? I can't cut my beard either!?"

It had become evidant that whatever magic had transformed Harvey twice today was also preventing him from removing his patka and hair, even in his white form. "I need to find a way to get 100% back to normal, and also prevent future transformations." Harvey thought the best way to do that was to write down everything he knew about his predicament. He grabbed his Religious Studies 372 notebook and started a list on a new page. 1. This all started when those people from the Sikh club tied this patka on my head. 2. I can't take the patka off, except to sleep and shower. Even then, I end up tying it back on without noticing. 3. When fabric touches this patka, I turn into one of those turbanned Indian guys. The table cloth and the scarf had very different results. Maybe the type of cloth matters? 4. When I transform, my personality changes a little bit and my memory gets a bit foggy. I should keep this notebook with me so I don't forget who I really am.

Harvey sighed and closed the notebook. He didn't know much yet, but this was a start. "It goes without saying I need to avoid that Sikh club, even if it does cost me a grade" Harvey checked the time on his phone "can't let my other grades slip though, my break's almost over" Harvey packed his things and marched to his next class, believing that he was temporarily safe from Punjabification.

[octuscle]

What's up bro? After that lunar landing, India seems like the place to be! Problem is, I don't think the suitcase I brought will be enough for me to last seeing everything from the Taj Mahal to the golden temple. Can I borrow one of the DEL suitcases?

There is actually another suitcase. A fairly new aluminum suitcase from RIMOWA. Looks very expensive. And doesn't necessarily match your dusty and sweaty tourist outfit…. But since no one else has contacted me: Have fun with it!

Delhi… A really huge city. But also really challenging for a tourist who doesn't speak Hindi. But slowly you get used to the strange English they speak here. And somehow you finally find the Airbnb in the old city, a stone's throw from the Red Fort. It smells of sweat, urine and exotic spices in the stairwell. The stairs are steep and you are pretty tired. Heaving your suitcases up is really exhausting. But you have made it. You'll see what's in the big new suitcase tomorrow. You just want to sleep. It looks like the bed in the room hasn't even been made yet. You don't care about that now. Just sleep…

When you wake up the next morning, your old suitcase is gone. But also your old pajamas are gone. You lie naked in bed. And something is different… Your morning wood is hard as steel. Hehehehe, that's not bad… But it's also darker somehow. A shade like a coffee with a shot of milk. Coffee! Yes, you need it now. You get out of the silk-sheeted bed and your boner leads you like a divining rod to the coffee maker in the alcove between your dressing room and the master bath. After the first coffee, quickly take a shower and then get dressed.

And then a second coffee. Your driver will be here soon. Good thing your suitcase is already packed next to you.

You don't like Noida. But many of your friends live there because they have located their startup companies there and it is easier to find capable software developers. But that's not your world either. Your family made their money generations ago in real estate and in the textile industry. And you now head the banking and finance division in your family holding company. After all, you have financed some of your friends' startups. And today one of your friends is getting married. In Noida. You'll survive that, too.

The journey was long, as usual. Getting out of Delhi takes time. But at least you were able to make a number of phone calls while your driver navigated the car safely through the traffic chaos. Now you have moved into your suite. In the corridor hectic movements between the rooms. Bridesmaids and other guests scurry from room to room. You hate this hassle. In life, you would never think of getting married. But the bellboy who carried your suitcase upstairs was hot. You call the front desk and ask for someone to help you unpack your luggage and get dressed. The hotel is one of the most preferred locations for weddings in Noida. You are a regular guest here. They know your preferences. And the bellboys love your cock. You can already imagine that now there will be a fight again, who is allowed to blow you and gets the tip for it.

Yes, that was good… Your cock dangles relaxed between your legs. Your clothes fit perfectly. So on to the ballroom. And let's see who is your boring dinner companion this time.

[johnbrand]

Screen Froze

Podcasting had become inescapable in recent years. Everyone seemed to have an opinion on...well everything. Politics, world sports, cooking, an obscure movie from 1978 only released in a now-extinct language. If it could be covered, it would be. And one could find this content anywhere across the internet. Youtube, social media, even streaming services promoted their podcasters. Everyone was watching everyone talking. 

Of course, with so many different podcasters flying about, it was difficult to actually spot out talent. And from a sociologically micro perspective, it was even harder for individuals to find podcasters discussing the content they actually wanted to hear about. The more unique the niche, the less people one could happen upon to be talking about it during their recorded stream of consciousness. It was a simple formula, but it forced individuals to browse for hours or even days to find what they were searching for.

Sometimes though, people could not hold such patience. They would not wait for their new hero, a disciple preaching their values and morals to audiences around the globe. They would skip past one livestream discussing the economics of green villages in Switzerland to the next debating the potential existence between a minor character in two separate fandom universes. They could even perhaps land into a podcast like Sean’s.

“Most people just don’t understand the Soviet Union’s impact on architecture,” the measly, pale nerd innocently commented. A little shy in front of the camera, he was only able to relax a bit when discussing his favorite topics. Sean dressed in theme too, wearing a brutalist-like business casual outfit, a trait his small but dedicated fanbase adored.

“There were a lot of architects that really shaped this movement from all around the world,” Sean continued. “But today, we are just going to focus on those from the USSR.”

So what happened when one’s patience dried up? Well, everything was brought to a halt.

DragonHeart49: anyone else’s screen freeze? superduperloverboy: mine too <3bitsandmore: sean, I think ur glitching out

With the screen frozen, our impatient soul could now get to work. If one could not find the podcast they were looking for, then why not just create their own? Obviously, this did not mean constructing a podcast themselves, but rather alter the fabric of reality and completely realign another’s being to their preferred state. That was much easier.

Physical modifications were made first. A much larger body was necessary, something that demanded confidence and respect from others. Juicy pecs, rippling abs, sturdy legs. There was always something unreasonably fun in bloating the podcaster’s feet up a few sizes. An imposing frame to be craved by others, even when hidden underneath clothes, was priority. And speaking of clothes, those were quickly stripped down to less formal articles. Expensive branded tee, athletic shorts so small that boxer-briefs were visible, classic white Nike socks, all of it much more respectable than a button-up and tie.

This was not the impatient soul’s first time altering a podcaster to their liking, nor would it be their last. Physically at least, each of the end products were a little different. All alpha males, but just enough variation to not warrant any unnecessary rumors. This particular podcaster had his pre-American heritage redirected from France to India, the features in the screenshot tanning accordingly as a dark stubble acquainted itself along the sharper jawline. Of course, the bulge was accurately enlarged for geographical standards too.

Mentally however, all the podcasters could be considered copies. They each spoke of the same rhetoric, theories, and ideologies that our impatient soul wanted to hear. No matter how “backwards” or “hateful” their discussions were deemed as, nearly anything could be said by hulking bodies with undeniable charisma.

“These homos have no idea what they’re talking about!” Sanjay raged as the podcast restarted, his deep voice cocky and assertive. "Sure bro, I was just thinkin’ about a girl’s rack I saw earlier today but there's more to a girl than big tits. There's a tight pussy too!”

The chat section lit off with encouragement, their fates too having been altered.

MassiveFART69: you tell them fags bro! LOL XD crassmassschlongnator: we want to BREED THEM TOO!!!! <3TITSGALORE: JUST TALKIN ABOUT IT ALREADY GOT SANJAY GRABBIN HIMSELF AGAIN

Sanjay vacantly looked down, finding himself already subconsciously scratching at the thick bush within his shorts. He let out a hot protein fart followed by a laugh, his scratching slowly extending into groping his fat 8 inch babymaker.

“God, that was WET bros!” Sanjay applauded himself, his free massive hand swallowing the mic. “Anyway, I’ll catch you on the flip side dudes, gotta go hit the gym. Bros for life!”

There was a reason the traditional masculine movement was becoming stronger. Maybe it was because men were slowly aspiring to become the alphas’ equals, or because fags were beginning to submit to their nature. Or possibly, it could have been because each time a screen froze, reality was altered one click closer to traditional, normal masculinity.

[alternate-real-ities]

Which versions of this guy could I find in the multiverse?

Ohhh, let's see what's in store for this guy! I've got some juicy news - there are other universes where he's taken on quite the change!

In a reality very close to ours, he's a confident ass-kicker with a 6-pack and an even bigger ego to match. This sexy Indian stud is always down for a good time, whether it's working out or getting worked up in the bedroom.

Meanwhile, in another universe, he's bulked up into an impressive muscle god!

His sculpted abs are just begging to be licked while his chiseled arms flex with every rep. I bet this Arab Adonis could make you forget all about the gym and focus on more...personal workouts.

But wait, there's more! In a reality where he's traded in his flab for lean muscle mass, this Asian hunk is the epitome of masculine perfection.

His luscious hair and dreamy eyes will make you weak in the knees - before he even starts stripping down to reveal that rock-hard physique.

Last but certainly not least, I present to you…the complete opposite end of the spectrum!

In this alternate reality, our chubby gym buddy has always been a youthful, effeminate cutie with an insatiable thirst for attention and affection. His plump lips are made for sucking, and his tight tattooed body is begging to be explored and devoured.

So which version of our friend here gets you most excited? Or, do you wish all of them were real? Let me know, and who knows - maybe we can make it happen... in the multiverse, at least!

[musclejedi-tameem]

Teddy was surprised when he got an invitation to come work as a model at this new company. He was a small skinny guy so not generally what modeling agents were looking for but he decided to go and see how it went. When he arrived he was greeted warmly and shown where to wait until they were ready for him and he was given a cup of tea to drink while he waited. Teddy didn’t usually drink tea but he didn’t want to upset his hosts and possible employers so he drank it to be polite. The tea was warm and had many slices in it, making him feel warm inside. Teddy soon started to sweat and as he wiped his brow noticed that his skin looked darker, as if he had a sun tan. It spread from his arms and his body began to shake as he began to grow! His muscles grew and grew becoming thick and strong like a bodybuilder as his skin turned a deep tan color. His bones clicked and popped as he shrank a little from his 6’1’ to a new 5’5 but as he grew shorter the muscles grew more and he widened out. His clothes easily tore off and he groaned in a new deep voice as his neck thickened up. His stomach became etched with beautifully formed abs and then began to bloat out into a thick roid gut. He rubbed it with his new thick hands. Fuck it felt good. His face changed and became very angular and handsome as his hair turned dark black. He stood there panting and sweating in just the underwear he was supposed to model as there was a knock on the door. “Mr Patel are you all ready to go?” The voice spoke in Hindi but Teddy, now Vivek Patel the famous Indian bodybuilder and model knew that language fluently. “Yes I’m good to go.” He responded in the same language and winked and flexed in the mirror. He was now a bodybuilder and underwear model in India and loved every minute of his life. Especially when he could walk around in just his underwear and show his massive body.

[star-snips]

i think this is the first thing you (reg) would see after waking up from nap in your brothers best friends dorm but in a super platonic way haha no homo you know type of way

ref: that one pic of reiky de valk that i saw on my pintrest and never saved. took photos with my mind cause i'm just cool like that

[orgasming-caterpillar]

Desh ka to lauda lassan hoga hi na jab jo population control government ko karna chahiye wo education system kar raha hai

[ebethtumbls]

the mood tonight

[fredwkong]

Hey himbo maker, I'd really like to be made into a Tamil South Indian guy, the hairier the better. I would really just love to immerse myself into their culture.. can you help me with that?

You’re… occupied when the first Himbo Maker notification arrives, busy stroking your cock to pics of beefy, hirsute Tamil guys. The notifications appear on your phone’s lock screen, and even though you don’t turn to look, each chime causes changes.

Himbo_mkr: Bro, how’s India been treating you? I swear you’re going native over there.

The room around you shifts and changes. You came to Chennai for a study abroad semester a few years ago, and you loved it so much that you stayed. Your Tamil is so good now that people sometimes assume you’re a native speaker, and you feel out of place when you visit home. The downside is that now, every day, you see, smell, touch, practically taste sexy Tamil men, so you’re pretty much always boned up.

Himbo_mkr: You pretty much went through a second puberty when you returned to the Tamil homeland, right?

Your cock jumps in your hand, the skin darkening as a stream of Tamil precum runs down the shaft. The darkened skin rushes over your body, followed by a thick growth of long, curly body hair. A well groomed beard, moustache, and thick eyebrows compliment your dark, heavyset features. You bury your face in your sweaty armpit, inhaling the stench of sweat and cooking spices. You always loved men of your race, so you turn yourself on all the time.

Himbo_mkr: Man, I bet you go to all sorts of cultivated events and enjoy all kinds of bros.

There’s a knock at your door. “Come in,” you call, in your native Tamil. The door creaks open, and you immediately smell the spicy musk of a Tamil man who’s been out in the Chennai heat, sweating and basking in his own stench. You can't wait for your fantasy man to join you in bed for a perfect main event.

Want to chat with the Himbo Maker? He loves to twist your words, so be careful what you're asking for.

[abdullahbroshairif]

[roller6262]

Hey! Skinny white guy here wishing I was something more exciting!

I can sense you've been touched by the power of many transformations before, perhaps you are a master of transformation as well? Usually I'd be wary of using my power on those like you, in case it rebounded on me, but this request is too tempting to pass. Fine, I'll make you more interesting. You're sitting at home when to hear loud rock coming from outside. You open your front door to find yourself in a suburban neighborhood with a young South Asian man sitting on your doorstep with a speaker.

You want to ask him what he's doing here, but after noticing some angry glares from your neighbors, you think it's best to tell him to turn the music down first. "Turn it down?" He scoffs, "Man, you're the one always saying to turn it up. Listen to this!" He grabs you by the ear and pulls you closer to the speaker, as if standing across the street wouldn't still be a fine distance to hear the track. You curse when you feel a sharp pain where he grabbed your earlobe, but as the sound reverberates through your skull you find that pain turning to pleasure.

You nod your head to the booming drums as your ear lobes grow, craving more of that sound, then filling with large gauges. You tell him he's right, shit this good deserves to be played at max volume. "Hell yeah, especially when it speaks to taking down a broken system. That's what it's like for brown men in a white man's world." You're confused, is brown men referring to you too? You feel your body electrified like a guitar, your body warming up and your skin darkening in turn. Your hair stands on end until the blackened strands curl into a mess much like the man's, though you like your streaked red and sides shaved. You grin, looking at your fellow south asian with your deep brown eyes in newfound familiarity. You can't help but agree that there's nothing more punk than an immigrant.

After a few minutes of listening, your neighbor's annoyed stares become more obvious to both of you. "Man let's ditch these posers. Is it cool if I take this to Zayne's house?" You get excited, recognizing the name of another punk who lives a few blocks down. You agree, noting you're excited to listen there too. "What?" he chuckles, "no offense Man, but I don't think Zayne invites anyone your age to rock out." You wonder what he means by age before looking down at your arms, ever hairier than before. You think you're seeing things, adjusting your glasses out of habit without realizing you weren't wearing any before. Your facial scruff becoming a thick beard. Your clothes turning into a brown polo tucked into white khakis, baggy at first but stretched tighter as your time as a slim youth grows distant from years in a sedentary desk job. Your adjust your polo, trying to give your moobs more room while they jiggle along with your gut to the speaker. Despite your new clothes, you're still a punk in spirit, but a man needs to dress a certain way to work when he's got bills to pay.

you look at the man, now recognizing him as your son. You're a bit sad he keeps calling you "Man" instead of Dad, but a part of you swells with pride as a sign he's inherited some of the anti-authority spirit you grew up with. You sigh, allowing him to go rock out with his friend, but reminding him to come home before dinner and hoping you can jam with him after too.

"Ah kids" I say, stepping out of the house next to yours, looking like a typical suburban man "no matter how cool you are, they always choose their friends." You laugh deeply, clutching on to the bouncing polo that threatens to untuck from your khakis and reveal the furry carpet below. You say your son is probably just going through a rebellious phase. I laugh in kind, "With a rebel dad like you, I'm sure 'rebellious phase' is an understatement!" I'm unsure if you recognize me, or the request you made to me, but I am sure that this life is at the very least more exciting!

[yourcomputerr]

[ID: a black and white ink painting of Zelda from Skyward Sword. she is wearing the white dress and clutching the goddess harp to her chest, with her head turned to the side and her eyes closed. End ID.]

trying to make more art that looks a little bit shit bc i'm sure someone will find it beautiful <3 (as a treat you can get the sketches)

[ID: three loose sketches of the above painting. the first is done with pencil in the corner of a page. the second is in pink and blue pen, and the third is done with ink. End ID.]

[petrov88]

[tennisarchives]

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