#bearification

[guysgetbigger]

Handsome model goes full bear mode 🐻

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[occamstfs]

Talismen II: Gamer Grows Up

One episode of toxity too many leaves Nicky forcing Rick on a journey to maturity despite his best attempts to remain an asshole

Hope you enjoy! I’m always very happy with my bear TF’s haha! Hope you all feel similarly :) Same deal as last time, I’ll throw a poll up on Sunday the 8th and we’ll keep the ball rolling! Best! -Occam

Doing his best to put down subconscious alarm bells that something amiss has happened to his boyfriend, Nicky gets back to the main event of his morning: running it down in League. It’s not intentional of course, his duo and friend Louis was trying something new and he clearly should have spent some time in the practice tool before queuing up. In call, Louis is uncharacteristically sullen, trying to salvage both the mood and game, Nicky alternates between giving gameplay tips and trying to raise his friend’s spirits, “It’s just a completely different playstyle Lew. Besides, it’s just a norm, not like anyone’s gonna flame-” 

Little did the kindly magician know, before the words even finished falling from his mouth that elsewhere in town, Rick, their less than pleasant mid-laner had begun typing up quite vehement digs directed at the struggling bot duo:

[Team] Yasuoorbust: Are you fckrs 14 or what????? Fckn L2P 

Nicky’s lips tighten into a grimace as he hears a sigh loud and clear over discord, followed promptly by the familiar in-game announcement: An Ally was Slain accompanied by his support’s portrait. This, of course, immediately incited another outburst from their needlessly aggro teammate. The game proceeds like this for a good while. After racking up a handful more deaths and a good deal more insults from the midlaner, Louis is over it and implores Nicky to just mute and move on. Jaw-clenched and blood boiling irrationally, Nicholas instead opts to fire back, 

[All] Heartstolen: Guys can you report Yas- He’s been flaming my sup all game.

[Team] Yasuoorbust: LMAOOOO fckn litttle btch

[Team] Yasuoorbust: *****

Reaching the fifteen minute mark, the ticket out arrives and Louis immediately throws up a surrender vote. Clearly he wasn’t ready to Sett support and would promptly be getting back to his pool of enchanters and mages next game. Before freedom arrives however, Rick lobs a few more clearly bannable slurs at Louis that the support doesn’t see. Nicky, before submitting the final surrender vote, sees red in more ways than one. Eyes glimmering and fingertips burning crimson as he sets to type a message directly to the asshole.

(whisper) To Yassuoorbust: Chill out dude. It’s a game. Grow Up.

Laughing at the response, as trolls are wont to do, Rick smirks and begins to lambast the perceived loser before hesitating. He’s never seen red text like that in game. Hesitating, he’s caught off-guard and hasn’t a chance to reply before he sees their nexus blowing up and the announcer finally calls it: Defeat. Still distracted from seeing the bizarre message from the ADC, Rick doesn’t make it to the lobby before the duo have left and blocked him, preventing him from flaming them any further or contacting them at all.

“Whatever-” Rick whispers to himself alone in his bedroom, illuminated only by the blue light from his computer screen. Hearing the cold wind of an empty lobby in his headset, Rick scoffs and rubs at his monitor as he sees a red smudge on the screen. If he didn’t know any better he’d swear it’s exactly the spot on the screen where that pussy’s little message was. He licks his thumb and goes to wipe it off. When his spit covered thumb makes contact he’s filled with a bizarre sensation. A shiver, rather than a shock, courses through him. Hands go numb and an uncomfortable prickly burning fills his chest. He struggles to breath and his eyes go wide as he experiences anxiety for the first time, amplified to a degree beyond overwhelming. 

Gasping, he clutches at his ratty shirt and his whole screen flashes red before, just as quickly as it began, it’s over. Catching his breath the feeling in his hands returns and he grimaces as they sting with pain from being clenched far too hard. Looking back at the league client he briefly imagines closing it and going to do something that even has the semblance of productivity. Instead, he shakes out his hands and clicks through to queue up once more, winning will make him right as rain. He’s sure of it.

Once in game it becomes more than clear that this is not to be the case. At every opportunity the shoe is on quite the other foot for the troll. The champion he hovered was banned, he was immediately first blooded, both the enemy team and his own gang up to taunt and tilt him. Worse yet, anytime he opens chat to aggress, or even just to defend himself, he’s struck with a searing headache. His hands keep cramping up and he’s fat fingered more abilities than he’s hit. Despite years of dedication to the game, Rick is playing at a level that even a CPU would struggle to lose to.

His head burns with rage and his jaw remains clenched in so much fury that it’s a wonder it won’t lock up like that. About halfway through a game where he has spent more time waiting to respawn then playing Rick finds more discomfort begin to arise each time the irksome retort from Nicky returns, Grow up. His whole torso begins to itch, almost as if he were allergic to the stained t-shirt he had been wearing for two days straight. Forcing a greasy hand under his shirt to get at his skin, he is thoroughly shocked to find it suddenly dragging through a treasure trail rising well past his belly button. The shock almost knocks him out of his gamer chair, he tugs at a hair or two and sharply exhales as he yanks a strand from the new forest slowly inching its way up towards his chest. 

Before he can examine it to discover the prodigious length he respawns and gets his head back in the game. Or at least he tries to. He has to take his headset off as the volume makes his headache worse. When the enemy jungler goes in on him, he furrows his brow in confusion as she uses abilities he can’t even discern. Rick scratches at his chin as his foggy mind struggles to even name the champion that has just killed him. Grey screened once more he puts his head in his hands and groans as playing the game any longer becomes untenable. He throws up a surrender vote and is promptly mocked for doing so. 

Punching the table in irritation he scratches at his chest through his shirt and taps his foot impatiently as he waits for the game to end on its own. Pulling at his shirt to let air into his hot, itchy chest he fans his body odor upwards and grimaces as pits seem to be harboring a stink that his axe body spray wouldn’t be able to cover. When the enemy team finally wins the game he kicks back from his chair and races to the bathroom, struggling to get his shirt off en route as it gets trapped on his sweaty back. Never could he be prepared for the sight he finds upon his arrival.

Where his pale thin chest once was barren, where it should still be hairless, there is now a contiguous line of body hair from his pubes to his collarbones. His lanky fingers and sweaty palms drag across his stomach and his lips twitch to stop from grinning in excitement at finally having any real form of masculinity to point towards. The toxic gamer immediately grabs his phone to snap a picture of his new form, performing some clearly forced, jaw-forward expression to highlight how manly he is now. 

There are butterflies in his stomach as his fingers continue to play with the hair in the center of his chest. Trailing to the lengthier and thicker forest in his pits he purses his lips as he begins to consider how this possibly could have happened on such short notice, maybe it is an allergic reaction? He closes his eyes in concentration and the words flash in his mind once more, Grow Up. Before he can react to this there is a ping on his computer and he races to find, just as Nicky had predicted, his account has been banned for the week. 

“What the fuuUUCk!” He doesn’t even blush as his voice cracks, assuming it to be from his heightened emotional state rather than the Adam's apple for the first time bobbing on his neck. The gamer rubs his face in anguish, not noticing rougher cheeks due to his sorry state as the faintest hints of facial hair begin to descend into almost noticeable sideburns. Instead, a distraction comes in the form of a painfully rumbling stomach. Rick’s dull eyes stare blankly ahead as he briefly tries to recall the last time he ate.

With a sigh he turns and heads off to grab something from his surly barren kitchen to eat. His dominant hand continues to dance across his newly hairy torso, as if he were worried that if it left, so too would his recently sprouted forest. Strangely enough though, with each ambling step it feels less out of place on his stomach. His head tilts as even his dull mind is able to notice the change. He’s- He’s always had a pretty hair chest right? It can’t have just popped up overnight? That’s not, it’s not possible. He scratches into his chest and stomach, feeling his nails catch and drag against dark strands spreading out further across his chest. Still growing and thickening as he arrives at his fridge.

Rick doesn’t know why he’s shocked to find it empty? Not like he’s ever lived any differently. He’s always ordering food delivered, the most complicated dish he’s ever cooked for himself is canned tomato soup alongside a grilled cheese. When his stomach rumbles once more, he grits his teeth and tears open his cabinet to find all one might expect in a man of his ilk’s pantry; a few packages of instant ramen and a litany of half eaten bags of chips. For the first time all day the usual ire at the world turns inward as he chews himself out for living so irresponsibly as he starts water boiling. 

Throwing a few packages of noodles into the pot as it begins to bubble, Rick starts impatiently fisting stale chips into his mouth. Struggling to satiate a hunger greater than he can understand, he grapples with the alien impulse that this is not how things should be. Something deep within him swears he is more responsible than this, that he is more mature than this. He groans and stumbles, feeling woozy from reconciling how things should be against how they clearly are, he drops the chip bag he was holding and it glides to the floor empty. 

He’s brought back to reality as he hears the water boil over onto the stovetop, which he quickly takes off the burner. Stranger still, something begins to bubble up within himself. While not quite sustenance, the few chip bags scattered at his feet seem to have been enough food to give him indigestion. Rick’s fist goes to his mouth as he struggles against an oppressive urge to burp. Trying to push it down or quiet it in any way only makes the pressure more intense as he feels more bloated with each slowly passing second. After wondering why he’s stopping himself from burping at all, he gives in and releases a burp loud enough to get noise complaints. After the first escapes more are soon to follow. And with each mind-numbing release he impossibly feels more bloated.

When at last he gets peace from his gas, Rick starts to check on his noodles before being distracted by new weight sticking out from his chest. His lips again quiver into a smile and his eyes widen in wonder as his hands move to clutch the unequivocal pecs now bulging off a chest that has never held even an ounce of weight before. Only then does he notice that his chest is not the only place where muscle has begun to pile on, underneath the same dark curls that decorate his chest biceps thicken and forearms surge with strength. Hands whose only use has been tapping on a keyboard suddenly widen as, away from his eyeline, thighs and glutes bulk with haste. 

The momentary self-flagellation at his lazy lifestyle immediately vacates as, at the miracle of transformation, he returns to his arrogant, needlessly cruel mindset. His eyes glimmer with pride as he flexes just to smirk at strength that has been bestowed unto his unworthy self. Tossing ramen sloppily into a bowl he aways back to his gamer station as he is filled with a prideful desire to show those fuckers who they messed with. 

Rick slurps noodles from his bowl as he leaves the kitchen in its sorry state, trash scattered on the floor. With each bite hair continues to spread and muscle continues to pile on. Eating like an animal, he wipes his mouth on his newly muscular shoulder and smirks wide enough to strain his face as he feels stubble outright growing into a beard. “Grow up that little fuck said- Oh I grew up alright!” His voice rumbles deep in his chest as he sits down, getting hard at how much of a man he suddenly sounds. How much of a man he suddenly is. 

Anticipation fills him as he wakes his computer back up to go be absolutely needlessly toxic to people who have not spent a second thinking about him after blocking and moving on. With his mind turning to the pathetic work of mocking his fellow man, his free hand instead turns to fondle a growing cock that has finally begun to rear its head. Heavy balls pulse beneath his dick growing at an explosive rate and his is racked with pleasure more intense and consuming than he could ever fathom before his new form. Bulging veins press into his hand as his cock struggles to harden and rise even further above a thicket of pubes.

For a moment Rick’s so lost in his reverie that he totally forgets why he has made his way over to his computer. Seeing his sneering reflection he remembers as he turns it back on to log onto the rift and show those beta-bastards a real dick- er man. Only? What was he logging into again? Perhaps it's from his lust-addled mind but he simply cannot find the game anywhere on his desktop. His eyes strain as he scans the screen and drool nearly drips from his mouth as he continues to paw at his actually dripping cock. When he sees an icon for his webcam his priorities shift as he decides to demonstrate his superiority in a far more direct manner.

Camera on, Rick begins posing in every way his hitherto camerashy mind can imagine. Through the years he’s at least consumed a fair deal of thirst traps after all- Mostly of uh, women though? Yeah. He shakes off his momentary questioning to get back to what matters. How fucking hot he is. Exhibiting a pride even greater than before, he is far too absorbed in seeing just how high his new bicep can peak, how large his new cock looks on camera, how his scratchy new hair feels in his hand, to notice a harsh crimson glow seep along the border of his monitor. His mouth falls open and hips barely stay from bucking as he continues to feel himself up, languish in his powerful warm muscle and appreciate the deep, slow moans that echo throughout his bedroom.

Only when he notices the red light accentuating his bulging veins in a new way does he see the deep red light issuing forth from the screen. Rick sucks up the drool that almost pooled out of his mouth and grunts in irritation as he sets to investigate whatever virus or program seems to be affecting his PC. Even in his distracted, embarrassingly horny, state he’s unable to quiet the fear as two words return with a vengeance to fill his screen. Grow Up. He blinks and it's written again, then again. In no time at all the words spread to blot out and cover every inch of the screen.

Rick is barely present enough to respond to the bizarre stimuli, when he aimlessly repeats it in his new plodding voice that belies not a single thought bouncing around, “g-grow, uh? Up?” his whole body jerks and he clutches at his stomach as once more it begins to bloat. The gamer groans as weight begins to pile onto his only just strengthened core. Abs are quickly hidden behind a healthy layer of fat, making up for years, decades, of unintentional malnourishment behind a computer screen. Grow up. Apparent years of hunching over a keyboard rear their head as back pain sears through him. His newly grown garden of body hair rapidly spreads to become a jungle of fur he couldn’t control or manscape if he wanted to. 

Lying there moaning and groaning, there’s suddenly a sharp inhale as his head sears with the pain of dozens of hangover’s at once. Rick’s vision blurs and goes spotty as he tries to stand and make his way to bed. Inside his mind, hidden by an echoing chorus of Grow Up, the line between what is and is not begins to blur. The gamer almost cries as things he views as vital importance are sucked from his mind. Long hours spent researching optimal build paths and thoughtlessly mimicking tricks he saw streamers do vacate as his balls grow heavy with desire. The twin bed creaks under his new weight as he continues to grow even still.

Face down, muffling his moans, Rick is unaware as the world similarly begins to shift around him. His gamer station, the epicenter of his changes, is the first to go. RGB lighting and his gamer chair fade and contort into a workstation befitting a not-so-young professional of good breeding. Wrappers and other assorted trash blow off his desk and into a trash can that sits precisely where his Ps5 once gathered dust. His pile of unwashed laundry folds itself and flies into a closet as cheap, not even comfortable, clothes expand to fit his larger body and alter into relatively expensive, and elastic, fabrics.

Still lying in bed, pain gives way to pleasure as he has no choice but to welcome the loss of identity. Thicker hands clutch his bedspread as his bed bursts into a queen size and he begins humping into it. Powerful thighs and a heavy core thrust up and down as his balls almost burn with a need for release, a compulsion to cum. His eyes cross as he becomes so set on this end that he doesn’t feel the sheets changing underneath him, see pictures appearing on the wall, hear the sound of the world changing from his abject situation into something better. He does not notice as he changes to someone more mature.

It is not long before he indeed loses control. His new silky sheets are stained and his hairy stomach splattered as his thick arms lose strength and he falls down into his mess. Having spent far more energy than he had stored on this session, Rich passes out and his snores echo deep. His expanded diaphragm pushes against the bed as he produces enough sound that it would be a wonder that anyone would sleep alongside him and yet, unbeknownst to him, reality has plans far greater than the pointedly cruel man would ever deserve had Nicky not willed him better, willed for him better. Despite himself, the hands of a greater man tuck him in as crows feet and smile lines begin to etch themselves around his sleepful eyes.

When he awakens from the most fitful slumber he has perhaps ever experienced, Rich struggles against a mind slow and foggy, as expected when one wakes to a new world. Bleary eyes look out into something impossibly unrecognizable, and yet truer than himself. Groaning and scratching at his hairy belly and itchy ass, Rich walks past a note left on his desk to instead brush his teeth and wash his face. Minty foam soon filling his mouth and falling into his beard he smiles and once more flexes in the mirror with a healthy amount of affection for himself.

Spitting into the sink and wiping his beard clean with a hand towel he sees a second toothbrush sitting in a toothbrush holder and freezes. That can’t- Who? His mind races to recall something that he knows, something, someone he should know. Does he live with someone? When did he even get a toothbrush holder, he’d never- His eyes clench as some deeply ingrained instinct of never even putting forth the smallest effort on propriety, order, or cleanliness. I mean, what is he? Gay?

He lurches forward, only just catching himself on the bathroom counter as his mind stings and his face burns. Looking back up at his reflection, one eye jammed shut from pain he forces a smirk and begins laughing, well, duh? His belly jiggles as he lets loose a deep throated laugh and pats it, winking. Flickering back to the toothbrush a misty figure in his mind begins to fill out, become more real. No time to dwell on the matter as his stomach rumbles and he is instantly aware of a hunger that he must fill like anyone else alive. 

Despite something in him trying to compel him into the kitchen to prepare food he recalls the all too real memory of making all the ramen he had left last night and instead dials up the chinese food restaurant next door- “Hey Hi- This is Alex with Wok-n-Talk! What can we do for ya!” Rich clears his throat, “Ahm- Afternoon Alex I-” before he even finishes his sentence he freezes up once more, that’s not- He must have a cold. His veins chill as he tries to reconcile the crackle of age that sounds like an alarm in his husky voice.

Fortunately for the man, Alex speaks up to save him, “Ah! Afternoon indeed Mr. Adams! Hope things are well! Y’all just getting the usual today?” Rich grunts in the affirmative to prevent speaking up and Alex simply laughs in response, the bear somehow hears a wink through the line, “I’ll toss a couple extra egg rolls in there for ya big guy! We’ll have a family meal up for y’all soon! See ya in a jiffy sir!” For the moment Rich ignores being referred to as sir to instead focus on something even stranger. His beard and brows grow thicker as reflexively makes the gay bear face in thought- Adams isn’t his last name?

The massive man stands frozen in thought for some time as he tries to unpack that, unaware that he has begun to fidget with a new silicon ring hugging his left hand ring finger. When Alex arrives with the food he unconsciously returns to his apparent usual self as if he had met the young man hundreds of times. Receiving an impressive bounty of food, Rich sees the young man off with a pat on the shoulder and a cash tip that the once-gamer can’t quite recall having in his wallet before now. In fact, when did he even get a leather wallet- no matter. 

His mouth waters as he may as well float over to the pile of take-out containers that cover his kitchen counter. Family meal huh, is this really what he orders for himself? I mean it’s not like he has other mouths to feed. His head twitches as behind him photos on the wall show three faces and a door appears in his den to a bedroom that has never and always been there. Pushing down the buzzing headache, his still rumbling stomach takes precedence as he begins tearing into food meant for three.

The meal is evaporated with a haste that is inhuman, compelled to fuel the final aspects of a transformation he is unaware of, Rich simply eats until something within him says he is finished. The elastic waistline of his pants strains as his new gut will evermore push out from his hips, just like he likes it. Just like his- partner likes it. His hairline begins to recede and grey hairs speckle his beard as his new lived reality begins to take hold. Just like his husband likes it. He smiles kindly as warmth fills him and dense curls begin their crusade over his shoulders and up his wide back.

His husband, Ben Adams. Rich feels a hole that has existed longer than Rick had been alive fill itself. Whatever palty dregs of a man who delighted in being needlessly mean, frivolously cruel, pointlessly hateful in and out of game totally evaporate. From his mind, from his sense of self, from reality. Burping as he finishes a chinese meal meant for three the new bear sits on a cozy couch and pats his stomach, groaning as far too much food struggles to digest. In the meantime the cracks left from Rick begin to fill in as he becomes kindly Rich Adams. Not a gamer, not a horny chauvinistic asshole, but a husband, a father, who has matured to the utmost.

Retroactively, Nicky’s unintentional spell is so effective that it was never even cast. Rich met Ben so long ago and fell in love that he never even had the desire to play league, nor the toxicity to troll in any game. Instead the pair hit it off at university and married soon after. Once settling they adopted and have lived lives happier than either man could have expected for themselves. Every so often some beyond repressed alien instinct of his old self cries out and tries to take hold of the man. To compel him to spew vitriol with less strength or coherence than an intrusive thought. Rich treats them with the respect they deserve, laughing them off and redoubling his efforts to a brighter world.

After resting for digestion for some time, sleep once more finds the bear and he conks out on the couch, snoring loud enough to be heard in the hall of their apartment complex. When Ben returns from work he promptly chastises his partner for gorging himself and sleeping away his day off. He then forces the bloated man to get up and the pair head off together into the cool autumn day to pick their not-so-little one up from high school. There’s a chill in the air so Ben sidles up far closer to the bear to get some mileage out of the man’s usually oppressive body heat. All in all Rich Adams can think of no better life than the one he shall now enjoy evermore.

Thanks to all who had suggestions for the next chapter, here are a few of them alongside a couple new ideas of my own! If you've got anything for the next poll feel free to comment or DM :)

Poll Results:

Sorry For The Backwash 34.1%

Back at the gym Simon finds himself quite the personal trainer due to his jockification being contagious (Combined both jock Tfs from previous poll)

BC PD 14.6%

Harassed while out and about Nicky turns a authority obsessed officer into just the primal masculine ideal he’s so obsessed with (Devolution)

Burn Out 15%

Self-important business man forced into a sabbatical to chill out after stepping all over Nicky  (Stoner/general dirtbag TF)

Acculturation 23.6%

Nerdy academic yearns to be closer to anthropological subjects (cultural/racial TF) - might not make the cut for this poll TBD

Sloppy Thirds 12.7%

Nicky and Simon pitched on bringing a third into the relationship whom Nicky accidentally molds to be the perfect brutish third (Dom TF?)

[abstractvanity32]

Season 3

Random TF Blurb - Adjustment Period

“This just feels disgusting” Mia said as she rubbed the hairs on his now hairy chest. He got clothes that kinda fit his new body now as he was mortified what just happened to his petite womanly body he had only moments ago.

He was this buff and dumb looking bodybuilder now. He just touched this weird ass dumbbell that was in his garage and poof. He’s this giant guy who looks like he has roids for breakfast.

It was only seconds but it seemed like hours. His hands got larger and calloused. His chest heaved and shrank and developed three hairy pecs he now has. His feet bursted out of his socks and widened.

Mia grunted thinking about the cock that grew between his legs, as he adjusted the boxers he found in his boyfriend’s laundry. Mia just was having a hard time wondering how this happened. He just felt heavy and large and moved so differently. He felt the cock between his legs and winced.

Mia hated this. He was gonna be home soon. He lifted his tank top and saw the hairy bloated abs he had and just sighed. “What if this was meant for him?” Mia asked as he saw the dumbbells and began to lift them.

Each time, Mia touched them it just seemed right and he did it again. “Maybe this has its perks” he smirked, as he just decided to embrace it.

3 hours later, a man walked into his garage to see a sweaty behemoth of a man working out in his garage.

“Hey man. Names Logan. Wanna lift with me” Logan said as he smirked. Mia’s mind went comprise blank in the hours he decided to work out and what was left was a beefy himbo Logan who only cared about pumping iron and growing his body.

[ftmhog]

So like should I just go ahead and do the heavy cream version?? 🐷

[hairymaletf]

[littleandlard]

[unusualtfs]

Mr. Entwistle

truly blown away by the incredible response to my first story! hope you enjoy this one as well — it's the first of many age progressions to come!

A little voice in Daniel’s head whispered that he really shouldn’t be doing this, but he ignored it as he lifted his twinkish frame over the fence into Mr. Entwistle’s backyard. So what if this was technically breaking and entering? Really, Mr. Entwistle had started it.

The situation was this: Growing up, Daniel had been neighbors with a sweet old lady named Mrs. Owens. She made the best cookies and instantly charmed everyone she met, but most importantly, she had a pool in her backyard — and everyone was invited to use it. The neighborhood children eagerly took advantage of this arrangement, Daniel most of all. He took to it like a duck to water, spending hours perfecting his form, and his hard work paid off when he was offered a scholarship to compete for his university’s swim team. Suffice it to say, the property may have been Mrs Owens’, but everybody knew the pool really belonged to Daniel.

So imagine his dismay when he returned home from his first year in college only to find the pool had been walled off, sealed away in plastic and plexiglass. Apparently, Mrs. Owens had moved to be closer to her grandkids — and her replacement was her polar opposite in every way. 

Mr. Entwistle was a middle-aged man who never seemed to smile. He was tall and broad, but not notably so, and in any case his dad bod was invariably obscured by his business-casual uniform of a dumpy dress shirt and drab khakis. Combined with his rapidly thinning auburn hair and his just-starting-to-gray beard, it all added up to make him the epitome of middle-aged male mediocrity. The only noteworthy thing about his appearance was that Daniel could have sworn he had spotted a wedding ring on his finger. But if the man had a wife, Daniel had never seen her.

In terms of Mr Entwistle’s personality, there wasn’t much to speak of. He was cold and taciturn, gazing at everyone with a vaguely disapproving look in his eyes. This was reflected in his daily routine, which consisted of him exiting the house at 8 on the dot, driving to wherever it was he worked, returning at 6, and disappearing until the cycle repeated itself the next morning. Insultingly, at no point in this schedule did he even use the pool — it just sat there in its cage, its chlorinated waters placid and lonely. But on the flip side, Mr. Entwistle’s rigid routine made it trivial for Daniel to plan his little heist.

It was currently 10 in the morning, which meant Mr. Entwistle was at work and wouldn’t be home for hours. And Daniel planned to spend each and every one of those hours swimming in the pool that was rightfully his. Not wanting to delay, he stripped down to his baggy green swim trunks, revealing his pasty, lanky, and hairless body. He quickly snapped a cheeky selfie to commemorate his audacity.

He could already feel his pale skin beginning to burn in the sweltering summer sun, so without further ado, he dove into the pool with perfect form, leaving behind only the faintest ripple.

The water was cool and refreshing, and for a moment, Daniel allowed himself to just tread water as he basked in the sensation. But it wasn’t just the feeling of the pool water lapping against his skin that excited him — it was also the thought that he was reclaiming his property, his territory, from that interloper Mr. Entwistle. His cock briefly rose to its underwhelming length of 4 inches at that rebellious idea, but his swim trunks were so baggy that they entirely concealed his boner. Well, it didn’t matter — he had better things to do in this pool.

Once his erection had receded, Daniel got started on his training regimen, doing laps around the pool until his entire body tired. At that point, he allowed himself to mindlessly float on the surface until he felt rejuvenated enough to continue. But even when he was exhausted, his face displayed a wide, genuine grin — it felt good to be back in this pool. It was somewhere he truly felt at home. 

Occasionally, he paused his training to swim to the deck and check the time on his phone, wanting to give himself plenty of time to leave. Right now, it was 1:33, which should have given him plenty more hours of pool time. The key phrase was should have, because at that moment, Daniel heard the telltale rumble of Mr. Entwistle’s car pulling up in the driveway.

Oh shit, Daniel thought. That’s not good. You see, there was one unexpected variable in Mr. Entwistle’s schedule. On certain days, he came home from work in the early afternoon — and when that happened, rather than entering the house through the front door, he liked to go through the gate to the backyard and relax by the poolside. These short days at work seemed to follow no rhyme or reason that Daniel could perceive, but Mr. Entwistle had just had one the previous day, so Daniel had assumed it wouldn’t be an issue. Evidently, he’d assumed wrong.

Panic set in as Daniel realized he had just seconds to escape before Mr. Entwistle arrived to witness his trespassing. That panic soon became despair as his eyes darted between his phone and his scattered clothes, forced to admit that he’d never make it out in time. As he heard the car door slam shut and Mr. Entwistle’s heavy footsteps trudge toward the backyard gate, Daniel grew desperate. And in his desperation, he did the one thing he could think of — he took a deep breath and dove underwater, praying that its turquoise hue would hide him from view.

Through the muddled underwater light, Daniel watched, terrified, as his neighbor’s silhouette walked down the pool deck. A few seconds passed, and he gave a mental sigh of relief. It seemed Mr. Entwistle somehow didn’t notice either Daniel or his belongings strewn across the patio. Of course, from his submerged vantage point, Daniel had no way of noticing his clothes and his phone fading into nothingness above him.

Mr. Entwistle remained up there for a minute, then another. Daniel was quite strong at holding his breath, but he couldn’t keep at it forever, and he was quickly reaching his limit. Just when Daniel thought he would be forced to abandon his hiding spot, a miracle happened — Mr. Entwistle got up and went inside, probably to use the bathroom.

As soon as Mr. Entwistle was out of sight, Daniel rushed to the surface, his lungs burning. But rather than emerging into the bright sunlight, he instead felt his head hit something solid with a muted thunk! Alarmed, he reached his hands out and found them unable to breach the line between the water and the air. There was some kind of invisible barrier covering the pool, preventing him from surfacing! He banged on it, pushed against it with all his might, but it was no use. He was trapped.

Now Daniel was in full panic mode. He was about to drown! Was this his punishment for breaking into his neighbor’s property? He tried to conserve his remaining air for as long as possible, but he only lasted a minute more. With his air depleted and his time up, he inhaled.

Surprisingly, he didn’t die. In fact, it was as if he could breathe underwater. Although he could feel the pool water entering his lungs, it was a rather pleasant feeling, filling his chest with pleasurable warmth. He didn’t notice that this wasn’t all that was happening to his chest. As he greedily inhaled more and more water, his torso rapidly inflated, bulging with muscle. His previously flat chest grew into two balloon-like pecs, and he developed chiseled abs far more prominent than anything his lithe swimmer’s build had previously allowed. His back grew, too, developing an immaculate triangle shape that any man would kill for.

Daniel now had the torso of an Adonis, which looked quite strange in tandem with the rest of his skinny body. But he wasn’t quite done yet. One last gulp of water caused a layer of fat to grow over his muscular middle, thickening him up while doing nothing to hide the strength that lay underneath. It was a shame that such an impressive body had no hair to accompany it, but that soon changed as Daniel felt pins and needles erupt across his torso. Black hair erupted everywhere the sensation appeared, and soon his chest, stomach, and back were covered by a carpet of the stuff — a vast improvement over his previous hairlessness.

Its work done in that region, the lovely warmth moved out to his appendages, where the process repeated. First he gained bodybuilder levels of muscle — biceps, triceps, quads — and then an additional layer of padding and hair to complete the package. As an extra perk, a tattoo appeared on his left shoulder, a simple, masculine thing that would have looked out of place on the man he had been but fit perfectly on the man he was becoming.

From there, the warmth migrated to his extremities, turning his delicate and skinny hands and feet into meaty and calloused bludgeons. His fingernails and toenails, one perfectly groomed, became cracked and weathered. His feet also grew tremendously, exploding into a monstrous size 15.

Next was his head. As the pleasant warmth traveled up his neck, Daniel’s vocal folds thickened, dropping his voice from a youthful tenor to a rumbling bass. He felt a satisfying cracking sensation as his facial features shifted. His nose became squatter, his brow became much more prominent, and his sharp chin became wider and rounder. Every part of his face did, actually, as it grew fatter, making it difficult to tell when his neck ended and his head began. 

His face sagged a little as it became weathered and slightly wrinkled, as did the rest of his body. Daniel now appeared to be well into middle age, a far cry from his former self. Adding to that impression was the fact that all the hair atop his head was beginning to fall out, floating freely in the water before vanishing entirely. Soon his head was entirely bald, proudly exposing his smooth, shiny scalp to the world forevermore. As if to counterbalance that, he rapidly grew a well-groomed goatee, surrounding his mouth with a thick circle of hair.

The warm water centralized in Daniel’s brain, rendering him in a state of total, blissful calm. At some point in the process, he noticed all that was happening to him, but it was so relaxing and so pleasurable that he couldn’t bring himself to care. So he didn’t question it as thoughts and truths started rearranging in his head. The burgeoning knowledge and potential he had gained in his first year of college drained away, permanently slowing his brain to a sluggish crawl. He was dumb, and he didn’t care. In place of intelligence, more important skills entered his head, and suddenly he was an expert at bodybuilding and auto mechanics. That’s what he was now, an auto mechanic, although he hated to get dirty. No, wait, that wasn’t right, he realized. While Daniel the young swimmer couldn’t stand dirt and grime, Daniel the middle-aged mechanic couldn’t get enough of the feeling of sweat and engine grease on his body. That was just one facet of the cockier, manlier personality he was developing. Ironically, the new him wasn’t even all that into swimming, except as a means to cool off or show off his hot bod.

At this point, anyone who looked at this burly bear of a man would have no inkling of the weak little twink he used to be. There was just one incongruity left — his cock. His previously baggy swim trunks were now skin tight against his tree trunk thighs, exposing his 4-incher to the world. But a man like Daniel wasn’t meant to have such a glaring weak point, so the warmth rushed down to his penis, bringing with it all his memories and traits from his old life. They filled his balls, inflating them twofold, and aroused him like nothing he’d felt before. In the midst of the pleasure, his cock suddenly went soft, but it remained the same length — and then it hardened again, doubling to a monumental 8 inches that strained against his trunks. The trunks themselves shrunk into a black Speedo that left nothing to the imagination, making his cock even more prominent.

The arousal was so great that Daniel immediately found himself jacking off, moaning every time his fingers brushed his sensitive manhood. However, something within Daniel prevented him from going all the way. Deep down, he knew that if he allowed himself to give in to the pleasure, he would lose everything that made him, him. So slowly, reluctantly, he separated his meaty hands from his throbbing erection.

But then a face appeared in his mind’s eye — Mr. Entwistle’s. No, his name is Scott, his mind corrected. And Daniel realized how wrong he had been to dismiss him as mediocre before, because Scott was truly the hottest man he had ever seen. Everything about him, from his receding hairline to his curly beard to his perfectly proportioned dad bod, got Daniel going like nothing else. More information about Scott entered Daniel’s head, information he should have had no way of knowing, but through his newfound adoration for the man he didn’t question any of it. It was just a fact of life that he loved Scott’s hairy body (not nearly as hairy as Daniel’s, obviously), and his work ethic, and his sharp intelligence, and the way he was really a big softie underneath that stern demeanor, and of course the hot and raunchy sex he had with him. Really, he loved everything about Scott Entwistle, his husband, and that epiphany was enough for him to climax, releasing his old self into his Speedo without even touching his prodigious cock.

The force of his orgasm physically propelled him upward, breaking the invisible barrier and allowing him to breach the surface as his new, better self — Dan Entwistle. 

Blinking to adjust to the afternoon light, Dan was faced with a welcome sight: Scott, his beautiful husband, lounging in a pool chair in nothing but trunks, his massive pouch clearly visible and ready for action.

Scott greeted him with a wry expression and a peace sign — his husband was a man of few words.

“Someone’s home early,” Dan said, relishing the sound of his sexy, masculine gravel. Not that his voice had ever been anything else.

“I wanted to surprise you,” Scott said in his sensual baritone.

“Well, Mr. Entwistle,” Dan replied, “consider me surprised.” Dan noticed Scott’s 7-inch sausage perking up at that. After all, Entwistle was Dan’s surname, which Scott had adopted after their wedding. To be called “Mr. Entwistle” was a reminder of their love — and a massive turn-on.

Knowing his horny husband was like putty in his hands, Dan stepped out of the water, fully revealing his godlike body — and giving Scott a full view of his bulge within his Speedo.

“I think that you deserve a reward for surprising me,” Dan said, feeling himself begin to chub up even though he’d just come minutes prior. “And this Speedo ain’t gonna hold much longer.” He winked, causing Scott to shiver. “Why don’t you hop in the pool with me and see how else you can surprise me?”

Scott licked his lips, clearly into it. “But babe… what if the neighbors see?”

“Oh, Mr. Entwistle…” Dan said. “That’s what this fence is for.” And he fell back in the water with a mighty splash, knowing his husband would follow.

[raspalace]

Ra’s Palace

Hello, this is my very first story and I’m excited to share it with you all. I have had a lot of inspiration from past TF writers and current ones. I would like to say thank you to @bizzhideaway and two of my friends for helping me with this story. I hope y’all enjoy! :)

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It was the night of Halloween and as a 21 year old grad student, I was looking forward to having a night to escape from the stress; a simple night. When I came to the party, I noticed the amount of individuals participating in black face and immediately felt uncomfortable; without hearing a single excuse or plea, I left to explore the town.

Since moving to this university for grad school, I haven’t had time to see what this town was like or the history of it. While in my thoughts, I precariously walked to an area of the abandoned downtown. It wasn’t until lightning struck and rain started to pour that I noticed the door to an abandoned rundown hotel was opened and I decided to go in to escape the harsh weather. The lobby had an eerie aura to it with furniture that was covered in cobwebs and the floor was white from the collection of dust. How long has this place been here? I wondered and walked over to the check in desk that was also a bar, checking the rusted logbook and seeing that the last check in was 50 years ago.

I closed the book and went to explore the lobby some more, finding a picture of the hotel’s owner. It was a handsome Arabic male that went by the name Rasheem Ahmir. I pulled out my phone to see if I could look the man up but my phone lacked reception. I looked up at the picture once more and chuckled a bit, “I wish I could learn about you and what caused your hotel to end.” Lightning struck and a roar of thunder followed, causing me to look back at the entry doors before I turned back to the photo and saw that the man was no longer there.

“What the hell?” I asked aloud and started to head over to the picture until the doors to another room flew open and banged against the walls. I knew that I should have left then and there, but something was telling me to investigate and so, I cautiously walked to the doors and saw that it led into a theater room. As soon as I walked in, the doors quickly shut and the screen began counting down from three to one. I grabbed a seat in the front row in the center and was surprised at how comfortable the seats were even though they were old.

The video began and explained how Rasheem grew up in the Middle East as a child before moving to the states in hopes for a new beginning in the American Dream. Unfortunately, he was met with racism and anguish towards him and his community, but that didn’t stop him from working hard and eventually opening up his own hotel, Rasheem’s Caravanserai. A place where people of all likes can rest and network with each other to expand their businesses. Rasheem started a family with his African wife and their son and their community was growing and prospering as the buildings on the block being used for businesses from cultures around the world, but the video suddenly cuts to the hotel and other buildings being on fire with no police or firefighters in sight to help the civilians or put out the fire; the video ends.

I wiped a tear from my eye and clapped in the empty theater. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Ahmir but you created a welcoming community and I applaud you for that. I wish I could see what this block was like in action. If I could avenge your sacrifice and death, I would.” I spoke, thinking there wouldn’t be a response, but I thought wrong as a question popped onto the screen.

‘Is that so?’ It said as the screen began to flicker.

“Uh…yea, I understand being in a community that prospers, but ends in despair.” I responded and looked around the room to see if there was a person or spirit but there was no one. The screen turned off and the room was dark; I would be lying if I said I wasn’t scared. Moments sitting in a dark unfamiliar room peaked my anxiety as I began to hyperventilate in the chair with my legs numb.

The screen flashed on and I noticed that I was naked in the chair which caused an immediate panic, trying to force myself out of the chair but my body wasn’t listening to my commands. A spinning spiral appeared and my eyes fixed on to it as a thick musk smell flooded in through the vents.

You are being made anew. Relax and breathe.

Getting out of a panic attack would usually take me hours but I found my heartbeat slowed to a normal pace as I took deep breaths, inhaling more of the smelly air into my system. Moans began playing off of the speakers as the spiral continued and I blushed, feeling myself feel aroused and my pussy becoming wet.

“Fuck..” I spoke lowly as my body began grinding my pussy against the fabric in the chair, my juices soaking it. The musk in the air became thick and I tried to cover my nose from the pungent smell but I still couldn’t move on my own.

You are a man.

I raised an eyebrow at the next prompt and let out a soft laugh. “I’m not a man, I couldn’t imagine being one.” With the spiral still present, the screen showed videos of Arabian men working or playing sports while shirtless. Their muscular build covered in body hair, their sharp faces, and pronounced bulges added to my arousal as I felt a hand play with my clit and the lips to my leaking pussy. I moaned loudly as my eyes were transfixed on the screen and my mind fogged from arousal and the thick smell.

You are a man.

You have always been a man.

You spend a lot of time around other men.

I knew that I should be protesting against the suggestions, but memories of using male pronouns and others referring to me as a male flooded my mind. My small, delicate feet grew from size 6 in women’s to size 10 ½ in men’s, the once soft skin becoming calloused from days running. My thighs and calves spasmed as they grew in muscle and fat from the heavy deadlifting in the gym.

A pair of cold hands groped my breasts and teased my nipples as my breasts grew busty before forming into thick bouncy pectorals with sensitive nipples to compliment them as my shoulders broadened to help support the new weight and my back stretched causing my height to change from 5’3” to 5’10”. My stomach grew hot as defined cum gutters appeared in a six pack and my curves softened into a more defined silhouette, my hips narrowing and my waist tightening.

My arms and hands were next as muscles protruded underneath my skin; biceps and triceps growing big as footballs and my hands became larger with thicker calloused fingers, my nicely trimmed fingernails became rugged and chipped. My pussy leaking like a faucet from the new set of muscles and strength. My neck became thick with an expanding vocal cord as my moans cracked in pitch before it stayed at a baritone range. My hair shortened into a buzz cut as bones in my face cracked and shifted, developing sharper cheekbones and a more angular face yet I could grow more plump than before. ‘But what for-’

My thought was cut off as a hand rammed into my pussy and I groaned loudly as my ovaries were slowly pulled out of me, thick wet testicles now hanging between my legs. I squirmed in the seat as my clitoris adjusted its position and grew to an average 5 inches. The groping, wandering hands let go of my body as I panted heavily and looked down at my new body.

“Th-this can’t be happening!” I yell in shock before my eyes were pulled back to the screen.

This is your body. This has always been your body.

As foggy as my mind was, a pain struck and memories of going out dress shopping and getting periods were replaced with wearing suits and spending time in the gym. With a shake of my mind, I am convinced that I’ve always been a man and have known no other life.

You are your mother and father’s son.

‘Mother and father’ I think to myself as my mind couldn’t pull an image for them while my skin tone shifted subtly, taking on a lighter tone with a rich golden undertone and my eyes lightened to a soft blue. My jawline became more defined as my cheekbones elevated, freckles painted my face as tight curls grew from my scalp. My ass became thick with fat, a gift from my mother, which caused the seat to groan and dent inwards. Dark body hair covered my torso, legs, arms and pits while lightly dusting my arms and ass.

You are your father’s BOY.

This is your HOME.

‘Boy’ rang through my mind as I continued to think of my parents and images of Rasheem and his wife – no, my mother, Nakia. Memories of living in the hotel as my father worked endlessly and my mother entertained guests with her voice and song. With every memory, the hotel became alive with a clean atmosphere and lively architecture and lightning. The screen became modern and the seats became reclining armchairs; my chair reclined with my legs lifted as the theater lights dimly lit. Unfortunately, my mother died and I took on more responsibility when I was 21– wait.

“I am 21, what do I mean when I was?” I asked as I snapped out of the fog and noticed that my body was covered in a maroon suit that tightly sculpted my muscles and juicy ass; the sight caused my dick to rise.

You are my boy, my good old boy.

The words were not only popping on the screen but along with the moans, the speakers announced the words in my father’s deep voice. ‘Boy’. Once again it bounced through my mind as I thought hard to understand why.

You are DUMB.

I felt a sharp pain in my temple. I still wanted to help this ghost, my father but I didn’t want to be an airhead. “I’m not dumb I’m graduating from graduate school next week!”

You are DUMB. No university, no education outside from mother and I

You enjoy WORKING OUT

You enjoy SEX

SIMPLE LIFE.

Be a good OLD DUMB BOY.

With the freedom to move my hands and arms, I gripped my head. I had always prided myself on my sharp mind, quick wit, and deep understanding of complex topics. Yet, those qualities began to vanish as a deep fog clouded my mind once more. My once-vibrant thoughts were dulled by the heaviness that settled in and my ability to analyze and process information faded and my speech became simpler and fragmented, enjoying simplicity over deep discussion. I let out a low guffaw as my lips parted to forever stay open and eyes dulled. Recollection of sports trophies and barely understanding the teachings from my father and mother replaced academic awards and groundbreaking seminars. My ambitions to become a world shattering businessman dwindled to staying in my hometown and reopening the hotel, working out and fucking in my free time; I might even try to fuck while working. I was the owner of the hotel after all.

With this acceptance, a rush of tingling coursed through my body as my smooth skin gradually developed fine lines, crow’s feet forming at the corners of my eyes. My vibrant complexion gave way to a more weathered texture as my jawline grew stronger yet softer with age as a luscious beard covered them and my hairline receded. My posture shifted as my back straightened from experience and wisdom yet my muscles grew in size and definition, instead of sagging, gasping for freedom against my clothes; my skin grew thicker as veins stood out more prominently on my hands and arms. My body hair grew wild and thick, dusting a salt and pepper color.

I wasn’t currently 21 aiming for a degree in business, I was 43 reopening the hotel from the insurance money that my parents saved and some of my life savings as well.

That’s my good BOY.

It finally hit me. When my mother passed while I was 21, I took on responsibilities that were my mother’s then some more. My father introduced a brothel as part of the hotel and it was mine to oversee. It was there that I flourished. It was there I became my father’s Baba’s boy. My dick grew to full mast while leaking precum into my trousers. Memories of Baba teaching me how to suck, fuck and be fucked as I became everyone’s first choice when they came to the brothel and I pleasured them all, some lasting a few minutes, others lasting hours. I palmed my erection while grinding my ass against the seat as my hole loosened from years of pounding.

You are now the man of the Ahmir family. You have the power to CHANGE others.

I groaned loudly as I arched my back from my throbbing dick pressed against the crotch of my trousers before I pulled it out. The screen played videos of group sex of men and women and I stroked my dick roughly, it grew to a girthy 11 inch and my balls hung low, becoming the size of oranges; thick bushy hair covered my balls and the base of my dick. A wave of electricity ran through my veins and a new sense of undiscovered power overwhelmed me.

The spiral quickened and the moans from the video grew louder.

You are DUMB.

Drool pours from the corner of my lips. My mind free from stress and real responsibility.

You like SEX.

Fucking men and women alike brought me pure pleasure. I wore only jockstraps as underwear.

You WORK OUT.

I had to stay in the gym to keep my body strong.

You are AFRO-ARAB.

Teachings from my parents about the similarities and differences of their cultures brought a deep connection and pride to my race and ethnicity, gaining knowledge of Arabic and Swahili languages while my English diminished to the basics and my American accent swept away with a guttural one.

You are RAFI AHMIR.

Ropes of cum decorated my suit and the chair as I let out a deep moan, panting from the best jerk off I’ve had in awhile. I chuckled to myself as I stood up and new foreskin grew from the shaft, the extra skin covering the head of my dick as it started to soften before placing it into my cum soaked jockstrap before cleaning myself up. I left the theater to find the hotel vibrant with up to date furniture and a mix of African and Arabic architecture, the thick musk scent filled the hotel yet I was used to it. I went behind the check in desk and bar and looked at the old logbook, waiting for the first guest victim to walk through the doors.

The bell rang as the door opened and I smiled.

“Welcome to Ra’s Palace!”

[dante2045]

Holiday Spirit

Luke looked up from his desk at the sound of knocking, seeing his husband standing in the doorway. Other than a brief greeting when he'd come back from work, Luke had barely seen Parker that night; he'd had to stay late for a big meeting with a prospective client and had retired to his office immediately upon coming home. Luke was up for a big promotion, and closing this deal would be a huge boon in his favour. Unfortunately that had translated into a lot of late nights, which Luke knew was starting to get on Parker's nerves.

"Are you ready to head out soon?" Parker asked, wrapping a scarf around his neck. He was dressed in an ugly Christmas sweater that Luke found cringeworthy. Parker loved Christmas and the festive season; Luke personally thought the whole thing was overrated, but did his best to tolerate the holidays on Parker's behalf.

"Oh shoot, I forgot about tonight," Luke lied. He'd remembered their plans, but had no intention of fulfilling them. He hoped that playing dumb would buy him some leniency.

Parker tried to hide his irritation, and was only partially successful. "You forgot about Christmas Eve?" He asked through gritted teeth, crossing his arms.

"Babe, you know how busy I've been at work lately. I need to get this proposal down ASAP if I want a chance at getting that manager position in January," Luke reasoned, rising from his desk and approaching Parker.

"So what? You're bailing on tonight?" Parker shook his head in disapproval. It was evident that Luke's attempts at charming his husband were falling on deaf ears.

"It's not that I want to! Believe me, I would love nothing more than to spend Christmas Eve with you and everyone else. But this proposal-" Luke started.

"Your proposal can't wait a few hours? What the hell am I going to tell everyone when I show up by myself?" Parker took a step back as Luke reached out for him.

"You could say I'm not feeling well?" Luke suggested.

"You're unbelievable sometimes, Lucas," Parker spat, turning to leave. Luke winced; Parker only used his full name when he was really pissed.

"Once I get through this week, things will be different," Luke promised, following Parker out into the hallway. "When I get this job, I'll be able to cut down on my hours."

"Funny, I remember hearing a similar promise at Halloween. And Thanksgiving. And countless other times," Parker muttered, sliding his boots on and grabbing his coat from the hall closet.

"What do you want me to say, Parker? Would it make you happy if I threw my career away for you?" Luke knew this argument wouldn't help things, but he felt his anger getting the best of him. How could Parker be so selfish to make everything about him? Didn't he realize that Luke wanted this promotion for the both of them?

"Always so melodramatic, Lucas," Parker rolled his eyes. He opened the front door but then paused at the barrier, turning over his shoulder to look Luke in his eyes. "I know this job is important to you, Luke. And I love you and support you. But I should also be important to you. I wish you'd at least make an effort to be a bit more festive at Christmas. If not for yourself, than for me." Before Luke could respond, Parker left their apartment and firmly shut the door behind him.

Luke groaned. He was going to be in the doghouse for all of tomorrow. He knew that this was important to Parker, but if Luke was honest he didn't really know why. Christmas was just another day of the year; the only difference is that it had been marketed as a special day for commercial purposes. The true meaning of Christmas, as far as Luke was concerned, was for the braindead population to spend their rent money on something they didn't need or couldn't afford, and in turn give CEOs a nice bonus to end out the year. Parker thought Luke's viewpoint was overly cynical, but Luke just saw it as reality.

Luke returned to his office to continue working away at his project. As rude as it was, he was kind of grateful to have the place to himself for the night; it was much easier to get things done without Parker's constant interruptions.

A text popped up on his phone from Parker. Made it to the party. Everyone's asking where you're at. Luke swiped the message away without responding. He knew that Parker was trying to make him feel guilty, and he had too much to do to deal with juvenal antics.

A few hours later, Luke's eyes burned from staring at his laptop screen for so long. He got up to grab a glass of water from the kitchen, staring at the living room couch in envy. He glanced at his watch; he'd made good progress on his work and still had a few hours before Parker would be home, and decided a quick break wouldn't hurt.

Luke let himself sink into the sofa, pressing his head against the padded cushion. He'd take a 5 minute recharge, then get back to work. He struggled to keep his eyes open, fighting the urge to sleep...

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A loud knock at the door woke Luke up from his sleep. He sat up on the couch, checking the time and cursing when he realized that he'd slept for nearly two hours. It was just after midnight; Parker would be home soon. It was probably him at the door now, locked out from forgetting his keys during his tantrum earlier on. With a big stretch, Luke reluctantly stood from the couch and went to the front door.

He unlocked and pulled it open, expecting to see an impatient Parker on the other side. Instead of Parker, a stranger stood at the door. Luke was surprised but not immediately alarmed; they lived near the downtown core, and from time to time a drunkard who was lost knocked on their door for directions.

The man standing in front of him appeared to be in his mid-fifties, with short white hair and a neat, closely trimmed beard. He was dressed as Santa, with red pants and jacket. The jacket was undone and the man was shirtless underneath, showing his beer belly and thick pecs. Luke wasn't really into older guys, though he did feel an immediate attraction towards this stranger; he was handsome and rocked his dad bod.

"Merry Christmas, young man," The stranger greeted in a booming voice, a big dumb grin on his face.

"Do you need help, sir?" Luke asked. He crossed his arms, shivering from the cold wind blowing in through the open door. How was this man not wearing a shirt in the freezing cold?

"No, no, I'm quite alright, though thank you for asking. I'm actually here on business," The man answered.

Luke arched an eyebrow. "Oh really? And what business might that be?"

"Why, don't you recognize me?" The man asked, astonished as he gestured downwards at his outfit. "I'm Santa!"

Luke had half a mind to slam the door shut in this man's face. He was not in a mood to deal with this nonsense and had work he needed to get back to. At the same time, the man was clearly inebriated and Luke didn't feel comfortable leaving him to brave the cold weather in his delirious state. Luke gave the man a quick once over; he seemed harmless enough, nonsensical ramblings notwithstanding.

"Well, why don't you come in, Santa, and I'll call you a cab to get you back to workshop?" Luke offered, standing aside to let the man enter. The stranger seemed affable to this suggestion, stepping inside.

"I think I left my phone in my office. I'll just go grab it," Luke said as he shut the front door. "I'll be back in a second."

"Yes, yes, working all night on Christmas Eve. Not very festive of you, Lucas," The man admonished him.

Luke froze, turning to look at the stranger with a newfound wariness. How had he known his name?

"Do I know you?" Luke asked, taking an apprehensive step away from the stranger. Maybe inviting him into his home wasn't the smartest idea after all.

"I'm Santa, I know everybody." The stranger let out a deep chuckle.

"Did Parker put you up to this? Is this some kind of prank?" Luke took another apprehensive step away from the stranger. If he needed to defend himself, could he get a weapon from the kitchen before the man reached him?

"There's no need for that. I have no plans to physically harm you," The stranger said. Luke felt a chill wash over him; this man had heard his inner thoughts. Who the hell was this guy?

"I think it's best you leave," Luke said firmly, gesturing towards the door. This was getting too weird for him; let the old man fend for himself, he decided.

"I can't leave yet. Like I said, I'm here on work," The man replied calmly, still smiling at Luke.

"Listen, dude. I'm not going to ask a second time. Either you leave or I make you leave." Luke eyed the table lamp beside him. It would make for a decent weapon, worst case scenario.

"You are thinking very naughty thoughts right now, Luke," The man scolded. He raised his hand and snapped his fingers, bright sparks shooting from his fingertips. Luke tried to grab the lamp to defend himself, but his body wouldn't move. It was like he'd been frozen from the neck down.

"What the hell, man? What the fuck is going on?" Luke cried out in fear. He could still move his neck and head to look around the room, but otherwise he'd been paralyzed in place.

"You need to listen better, Luke. I've already told you who I am; you should know what I am capable of."

As impossible as it was to believe, Luke could find no other logical explanation for what was happening. Maybe the man standing in front of him really was Santa?

"Santa? Why are you doing this to me?" Luke hated hearing the shakiness of his voice, but couldn't control the fear surging through him.

"Like I said, I am here on business. Your husband Parker, he's been a very good boy this year. And for Christmas he wished you would be in the festive Christmas spirit." Santa snapped his fingers again, sparks flying through the air. Luke's clothes began to shift; his black sweatpants brightened to red as the loose material tightened around his lower body. His t-shirt dematerialized, leaving him shirtless and revealing his chiseled upper body.

"Very nice body, Lucas. I can see that you definitely didn't miss out on your workout regimen this year," Santa commented, admiring Luke's bare chest.

"Please, man, stop whatever it is you're doing," Luke pleaded. He was still unable to move, at the mercy of Santa's powers.

"It's not up to me. I'm just fulfilling Parker's wish," Santa explained, snapping his fingers again.

At first, Luke wasn't sure what Santa had done. It didn't seem anything was different, until he looked down and saw his legs widening in his pants. A padding of fat grew in along Luke's calves and thighs, leaving them muscled but with much less definition. Luke looked at his butt to watch his tight ass expand with fat as well, growing round and juicy in his pants.

"What the hell are you doing to me, man? My body!" Luke cried out in protest.

"Parker wished for you to be more festive during Christmas," Santa laughed, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Can you think of anyone jollier than me?"

Santa snapped his fingers again, and Luke could feel his cock start to harden in his pants. He looked down at his erection, the bulge clearly visible through the tight pants he was wearing. Luke had always thought he'd been of average size; not particularly big but packing enough not to be embarrassed about it. His erection started to retract, shrinking in length but growing in girth. His dick was now a short, thick chode.

"Fuck, man, please stop!" Luke shouted, despairing at his reduced manhood. "I learnt my lesson, I need to be a better husband."

Santa didn't say anything, instead just snapping his fingers yet again. Luke wanted to cry as he watched his abs fade away, softening as his stomach ballooned outwards into a round belly. His pecs swelled outwards, staying firm with muscle whilst also growing rounder and drooping. Luke's broad shoulders slimmed down as his entire frame was compressed, reducing his height. His arms remained muscular and toned, their definition softening under a padding of fat.

"Santa, please! This is not what Parker meant when he wished I was more festive," Luke tried one last time to get Santa to stop his magic.

"He should've been more specific, then," Santa shrugged nonchalantly with one last snap of his fingers.

Luke's dark brown hair lightened to a snowy white as a beard sprouted along his chin and lips. His face softened, his defined cheekbones fading from view as laughter lines were etched on his rounded face. His eyes lightened to a warm welcoming blue while his eyebrows grew thick and bushy. A thin layer of dark grey hairs sprouted along his pecs and stomach, a treasure trail forming from his belly button down towards his crotch.

With the transformation complete, Luke found himself able to move again. He quickly ran to the hallway mirror, shocked at his own reflection. He looked just like Santa! Though initially filled with horror, Luke quickly found himself appreciating his new bod. He was still hot; if anything, his belly and man tits actually made him sexier! And the white hair and beard really gave him a sophisticated look.

Luke spun around to face the original Santa, who was still smiling at his handiwork. Santa reached out a hand and gently gripped Luke's dick through his pants, which was still rock hard.

"Mind if I take a quick inspection down there?" Santa asked with a wink, "I like to give all my presents a final check before delivering."

Luke was so horny he could barely speak, instead just nodding in agreement. Santa got down on his knees and unbuckled Luke's pants, sliding them down to reveal Luke's hardon. Santa gently stroked Luke's cock before opening his mouth and swallowing it whole. Gripping Luke's fat ass for support, Santa hungrily sucked on Luke's cock. The pleasure from Santa's blowjob was overwhelming, and Luke's panting increased as he neared orgasm. It was so much better being Santa, Luke thought, moaning as he blew his load down Santa's throat. He couldn't wait to spread the Christmas joy far and wide.

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Luke sat up from his desk, wakened by the knocking at the door. Panting heavily, Luke quickly looked down at his body, relieved to see his muscular, fit body back to normal. He opened his phone and looked at himself in the camera, relaxing at seeing his own reflection rather than Santa's. The whole encounter with Santa must have been some crazy dream.

Luke looked up to see Parker standing in the doorway, frowning in concern. He was still wearing that stupid Christmas sweater, but Luke had never been so happy to see his husband before.

"Are you alright?" Parker asked warily. "You're drenched in sweat."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good," Luke nodded. He jumped up from his desk and embraced Parker in a tight hug, much to his husband's surprise. "I just had a bad dream, that's all."

"Well, I was just getting ready for tonight. Are you ready to go soon?" Parker asked.

Luke glanced over his shoulder at his laptop. The project was still waiting; Luke knew taking the night off would put him behind. Luke returned to his desk, grabbed the lid of his laptop and slammed it shut before grinning at his husband.

"Yeah, let's head out."

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Hey everyone, just wanted to thank you all for giving my blog your support over the past couple of months. This will be my last post for 2024, so wishing everyone Happy Holidays and a great start to 2025!

[ultram0th]

You woke up and sat up in your bed, hearing the mattress squeak more than usual. Cocking your eyebrow, you hopped out and hurried over to your bathroom. As you ran, you felt a cumbersome weight whenever you lifted your legs and an unknown bouncing sensation coming from behind you. When you entered your bathroom and flipped on the light, you gasped at your new reflection.

Standing in the mirror before you was the hottest muscle bear you’d ever laid your eyes on. He had thick pecs that were capped with large nipples that stood at attention. Biceps bulged and rested on large lats. Thighs were thick and pressed together, supporting the weight of the massive bubblebutt that was attached to the backside. Plus, the reflection displayed a large, nine-inch cock that dangled wildly with every movement. Best of all was that every large muscle was covered in sexy body hair.

It took you a few moments to register that the reflection in the mirror really was your own. Whenever you moved, the reflection followed suit. You flexed both of your now massive, hairy biceps, grinning widely when the man in the mirror did so too.

“Holy crap!” you exclaimed, feeling so turned on by your deeper voice. You had no idea how you’d managed to get your dream body, but you figured that it was best not to question fate. You happily got ready for work, finding that your clothes had even managed to change as well to fit over your new physique. You opted for the usual button-down shirt and khakis that you wore everyday to the office, however, this time you were pleased to see that your bulk strained the fabric to bursting. Your pecs stressed the buttons of your shirt to the limit and your nipples poked noticeably against the fabric. Your large cock was clearly outlined in your pants and your bubblebutt pressed against the back so much that you wondered if it’d rip to shreds the moment you took a step.

Even when you drove to work, you were giddy with the fact that your massive biceps kept brushing up against your plump pecs the entire drive, making you rock hard.

When you got to work, everybody acted as if you’ve always been a sexy, hairy musclestud. You puff out your chest with pride and strut around the office with your head held high. When it comes time for your big presentation, you enter into the conference room that has all of the higher ups, including your immediate supervisors.

You set up your slide show and stand in front of the board room, and begin to go over your topic, loving having all eyes on you. Again, you puff out your chest with pride, loving how one of the board member’s eyes widened with want at the sight of your hard nipples creating nubs on your shirt.

“…as you can see by the data presented,” you continued, using a laser pointer to direct attention to a graph, “we can clearly indicate that I have the biggest muscletits in this damn office.” You bounced both of your massive pecs, your eyes widening with shock at the words that left your mouth.

One of the board members leaned onto the conference table, cocking his eyebrow at you. “What was that?” he asked in a low voice.

You could feel blush forming on your bearded face and you wanted to walk out of the room to compose yourself. However, your new body apparently had other ideas as you felt your hands grab at your shirt, ripping it open to expose your hairy chest. “I said that I have the biggest muscletits in this office!” you bellowed loudly. To punctuate your obscure point, you reached up and gripped both of your larger nipples and gave them a rough tug, making your cock twitch to life. As if you were witnessing a movie, you saw and heard everything you were doing, but were unable to control any of it. 

A few of the board members left the room, weirded out expressions written over their faces, however a few of them (all men) remained, displaying hunger and lust.

You felt yourself toss your shirt to the floor as you started flexing, licking your larger biceps seductively in front of your bosses. You pleaded with yourself to stop as your fingers began to fumble with the button on your pants. However those pleas were useless as you smiled and dropped your khakis to the floor, exposing your widened thighs and large bulge to the room.

“Have you ever seen a bod this sexy?” you asked the men in the room, cringing at the cocky words that you were saying. You even wiggled your hips and made your bulge in your jockstrap bounce, continuing to show off.

You were screaming internally as you felt yourself turn around, slowly bending forward to show off your bubblebutt to the small group of higher ups. Both of your beefy hands slapped down onto your larger cheeks and you wanted to run and hide when you felt them part as you flashed your tight hole to your bosses.

The men cheered and some even clapped at your impromptu show.

“Hmm, looks like it still kills inhibitions,” one of them muttered to the other.

The one to his right nodded. “Yeah, but you can’t deny that they give subjects such a fuckin’ sexy body. I say it’s worth it.”

“Yeah, we’ll be able to market this as some sort of himbo pill: big muscles, zero brains.”

You began to panic at what you heard. Somehow, you’d been a guinea pig for your bosses, testing out some new supplement that had given you your dream body, but had turned you into a major muscleslut at the same time. You cringed at the thought of yourself showing off constantly in public: flashing your hole at the grocery store, playing with your bubblebutt at the movies, tugging on your large nipples at the coffee shop. No matter what, your new body would be on display and you’d be showing off how sexy you thought it was all the time.

“Ughh!” you grunted as you came in front of the men, a large wet spot forming on your jockstrap. As soon as you caught your breath, you felt yourself drop onto all fours and wag your massive cheeks at the men. “Who wants a turn?”

One of them stood up, followed by another, and then another, and soon a line was forming…

[derekhighwaytf]

InstaCub

I loved the Cha Cha Room.  It was as exclusive as it was expensive, but hey that’s the price you pay when you’re a social media sensation.  Being Trey, the sexy instagram model wasn’t without its downsides, however.  The worst thing was when guys who should’ve known that someone of my caliber wouldn’t be interested in them tried to hit on me.  Sure, I fucked my fans regularly, but only the ones that shared my dedication to beauty.  I couldn’t help that I was born gorgeous.

My entourage, an aesthetically curated group of other models (all only slightly less attractive than myself) walked into the Cha Cha Room, ready to be gawked at, each of us oozing beauty and charisma. The crowd parted like the Red Sea, their eyes filled with awe, desire, and, my favorite, envy.

But amongst that sea, there was one guy that forced me to do a double take.  Doug, rounder and balder than anyone else, didn't fit the usual demographic that came to Cha Cha. It was a mystery how he must’ve slipped his way in when security wasn’t looking, because there was no chance they’d ever willingly allow someone who looked like that to enter such exclusive premises.  And, to make matters worse, when he caught me staring at his odd appearance, he began to make his way toward me, a small, devious smile playing on his lips.

"Can I buy you a drink?," he asked.  I raised an eyebrow, my lips curling into a smirk.  Sure, he was far beneath my standards, but I loved teasing my inferiors, especially when it comes with a free drink.  "Well, aren't you a sweetheart," I replied, trying to hide my disdain for his smelly, musky demeanor.

As we talked and I pretended to listen, he must’ve farted at least three times, but I wanted to be nice, so I held my breath and counted the seconds till I could rejoin my way cooler group of friends.  However, when Doug began flirting, I couldn’t help it.  A chuckle bubbled up from my chest and I shook my head, saying "Doug, was it?  No amount of drinks in this club could make me think you're anything but fat, smelly, and bald."

“And what’s wrong with that?” he said earnestly.  “This is a bar for fat, smelly, bald guys after all.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked.  Just as the words escaped my lips, I noticed something strange. As my eyes scanned the crowd, I realized that everyone, even my formerly flawless friends, looked just like Doug. They’d grown beards, their hair on their head was gone, and they all had guts the size of bowling balls.  I felt a chill run down my spine as I started to walk away.

“I must be in the wrong place.  I don’t belong here,” I said, just barely missing the door.  But before I could free myself from this hellhole, Doug stopped me and said, “Yes you do.  I think you fit in perfectly.”

Suddenly, my Gucci shirt felt tight around my midsection, and my once firm arms now felt doughy. As I turned to leave, a full-length mirror on the wall revealed a shocking transformation.   I reached up and where once were lush and thick chestnut locks, was now greeted the cold, bare skin of a rapidly receding hairline, retreating with alarming speed, creating an expanding dome of skin I’d never seen before.

Clumps of my hair began to detach themselves from my scalp, falling gently to the club floor. Each strand felt like a piece of my identity, a piece of Trey, falling away to reveal the bald truth underneath. I watched in frozen terror, feeling each follicle detach until all that remained was nothing but a smooth, shiny surface. I was as bald as an egg.

And then I farted.

Pffffffft.

I was disgusted with myself for only a moment, until I started to let a hearty chuckle much deeper than my old voice.

I looked in the mirror again, my face so much more different than it was ten minutes ago—familiar, but not the one I had painstakingly maintained for the world to admire. Suddenly, the world seemed to shift as a flood of memories washed over me. I wasn't Trey, the Instagram sensation. I was Tom, a twenty-something, bald, overweight man who didn’t shower, farted every five minutes, and fucked anyone who’d have me.  This was my bar and I was gonna make sure all my fellow cubs had a good time

As the rock music blared and the crowd at Tommy’s Den started to become increasingly alluring to me, I was suddenly hit with a wave of unfulfilled desire, a need for cock.  So I pulled Doug aside to the bathroom and…well you can guess what happened next.

I was Tom now, and, honestly, my life was so much better…

Pffffffffft.

[ftmhog]

Going from being a tiny shy sweet girl in high school to a big fat hairy slob of a man a decade later is so fucking hot

[hairymaletf]

[onbearfeet]

I love making custom bears. LOVE it.

This bear was particularly special: she's my first-ever Halloween Horror Nights character! I can't do HHN in person due to my PTSD (short version: I am very likely to punch a scare actor in the throat, and no one wants that), but I enjoy watching walkthroughs and reading the lore, so this was a particular treat.

The character is Saskia van Helsing from the 2024 Eternal Bloodlines house in Hollywood and Orlando:

Saskia is the last descendant of Abraham van Helsing, and in her house, she teams up with the Bride of Frankenstein (aka Eve) to fight Dracula's daughter Marya and the She-Wolf of London. That's right, it's an all-female monster fest.

The night does not go well for Saskia, but a little thing like decapitation doesn't stop a fandom and Eve is a dab hand with a needle, so the brief on this bear was "Saskia, after Eve finished her work". Her outfit is a blend of the Orlando and Hollywood costumes, with the addition of Eve's stitching around her neck. Her human specifically requested a non-smiley face, so I think she's got a bit of a Rilakkuma-meets-Grumpy-Cst vibe.

She's a ragdoll bear, so she can sit or stand as she likes.

And of course there's a back vent in her coat so her tail can wiggle freely. (It's hiding in this shot, but it matches her hair.)

And yes, as always, I will bearify almost any blorbo upon request.

[chocolatechubby]

The Bearification of Henry.

[wishmaster]

I've been balding lately and thinking of shaving my head. I wish I could pull off a hairy muscle bear look but not nearly bulky enough for that!

Bearly remembers

Suddenly you sneeze next thing you know your body's enlarged and you're covered in hair everywhere but your head. shocked at first especially since you no longer fit in your clothes you stand there.

You smile realizing all you were before had disappeared from the world. Suddenly you're transported to a club in new sexy clothes,

You are indeed a hairy muscle bear out on the prowl for some cubs to take home and nurture!!