#bull transformation

[13uckaroo]

Massive and milky. 🥛 Patreon sequence for @/ProfessorWuff on Twitter.

[lovinglonerhybrid]

Just had a thought transformers prime and rescue bots take place in the same universe. Now I’ve seen some interesting takes for some interesting crossovers between the two but I just had a thought. We all know knockout resident diva who fancies himself a medic

This man. now he’s known for his red paint and his desire to keep it pristine. Well in rescue bots there is one thing that the bots could use to at least distract our beloved racer

This mechanical bull that was programmed to hate the color red. Now all I can imagine is knockout running around the island and this bull chasing after him breakdowns low key trying not to laugh and starscream has lost that battle and is on the ground in hysterics. And then you know something something the power of Cody and suddenly there all friends and the war is over. Optimus got a hold of the shrink rey and is now keeping megatron wherever he stached the Energon vampire.

[zoe-oneesama]

“I don’t want to hurt anyone...”

Ko-fi | Patreon

[disciplined-cornfed]

🐃 Bucking Bronco 🐂

Jake slouched in his office chair, eyes glazed over from hours of staring at a computer screen. The city buzzed around him, but he felt numb to it. The relentless clamor, the towering buildings, the rush of people—it was draining. The city had once been exciting, but now it just felt like a cage.

He sighed, leaning back, wondering if this was it. His life had turned into a cycle: work, home, sleep, repeat. There had to be more. He longed for something simpler, something that felt real.

That evening, he found himself at a local dive bar, his usual escape. As he nursed his drink, a figure caught his eye—a man at the other end of the bar. Broad-shouldered, dressed in a worn flannel, cowboy boots tapping lightly against the floor, and a cowboy hat perched low on his head. He looked out of place in the city but completely at ease. The man’s presence radiated confidence, something Jake hadn’t felt in a long time.

Jake couldn’t help but stare. The man caught his gaze, raised an eyebrow, and motioned for Jake to come over.

“What’s eatin’ at ya?” the man asked in a low, easy drawl. His voice was calm, steady, like he had all the time in the world.

Jake chuckled nervously. “Life, I guess. Just feels like I’m stuck.”

The cowboy grinned, flashing a bit of understanding. “You look like you’re searching for something, son. I used to be in the same boat, till I figured out what I needed.”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “What was that?”

The cowboy reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone, flipping through something until he found what he was looking for. “Here,” he said, sliding the phone across the table. “Watch this video. Changed my life, and it might just do the same for you.”

Jake hesitated, then grabbed the phone. It was a subliminal—the screen flashed with phrases like “strength,” “discipline,” “confidence,” and “cowboy.” He smirked. Subliminals? He didn’t buy into that kind of thing, but something about this man, his confidence, his calmness—it was intriguing.

“I’ll give it a shot,” Jake said, not fully convinced.

The cowboy tipped his hat. “Might be what you’re lookin’ for, son. Embrace it, and you’ll be surprised where it takes you.”

The next morning, Jake sat at his kitchen table, staring at his phone, his curiosity getting the better of him. He hit play on the video. The music was soft at first, but soon it picked up—a low hum of country tunes overlaid with affirmations. Phrases flashed on the screen: strength, discipline, focus, cowboy grit.

Jake scoffed at first but decided to let it play while he worked from home. The video rolled on in the background, and slowly, something inside him began to shift.

Over the next few days, Jake felt… different. It was subtle at first, almost like a shift in the background of his mind, but as the days went on, the change became undeniable. At work, where the constant hum of city life usually gnawed at him, something had shifted. The noise of the city—horns blaring, engines rumbling, people rushing past in a frenzy—had always felt like an attack on his senses. But now, it was like his mind had learned to filter it out. The overwhelming rush of coworkers demanding this and that suddenly felt less important, like background noise rather than a storm he had to weather. Jake wasn’t reacting to every little inconvenience like before. Instead, he felt… steady.

He couldn’t explain it, but it was as if something inside him had found its footing. Where there had been anxiety, there was now calm. Where there had been stress, there was a sense of grounded strength. It was almost as if nothing could shake him anymore, as if he had discovered a deeper part of himself that thrived on patience and discipline. The chaos of the city didn’t matter as much now, because somewhere inside him, he was becoming someone bigger, someone stronger than the noise around him.

Then there was the gym.

Jake had always been someone who dabbled in working out. He’d go for a jog every now and then, maybe hit the weights when he felt guilty about skipping too many days, but it had never been serious. Now, though, something inside him had woken up. There was an urge that hadn’t been there before, a desire to push himself that felt raw and real.

One evening after work, instead of heading straight home like usual, Jake found himself walking into the gym with a sense of purpose. Without even thinking about it, he made his way to the free weights, eyeing the barbell in front of him. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt compelled to load more weight than he ever had before. Maybe it was the subliminal taking effect, or maybe it was something deeper within him that had finally stirred awake.

He gripped the bar, feeling the strain as he hoisted it up. The weight was heavy—heavier than anything he’d lifted in a long time—but instead of stopping when his muscles began to ache, he pushed through it. There was a strange kind of satisfaction in the burn, in knowing that he was going beyond his limits. Strength and discipline became his mantras as he lifted, each rep feeling like a step toward something bigger, something stronger. It was no longer just about the physical challenge; it was about mastering himself.

By the time he left the gym, drenched in sweat, he felt something he hadn’t felt in years—pride. Not just in the effort he’d put in, but in the realization that he could be more. That night, as he showered and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, something else caught his attention. His shoulders—they looked broader. His arms seemed fuller, his chest tighter. He brushed it off as the post-workout pump, but the next morning, when he looked again, the change was still there.

As the days passed, the transformation continued. Jake’s body wasn’t just changing—it was growing. His shirts started to fit differently, snug across his chest and arms. He found himself flexing in front of the mirror after every gym session, admiring the way his muscles swelled under his skin. The pleasure he took from seeing his growing physiquewas undeniable, and with each flex, he felt a surge of confidence he hadn’t known he needed.

It was satisfying in a way he never anticipated. The bulky cowboy build he had admired on the man in the bar—the cowboy who had given him the video—was now becoming his own. He felt powerful in a way that was more than just physical. It was as if the strength he was building in the gym was seeping into his mind, reinforcing that calm, grounded feeling he’d been experiencing.

But it wasn’t just his body that was transforming—his mind was changing too.

Jake’s tastes began to shift in ways he hadn’t anticipated. He found himself taking an interest in things that had once seemed distant, even irrelevant. At first, it was subtle—a feeling, a slight tug when he passed a country station on the radio. He couldn’t quite place it, but there was something about the twang of the guitar and the way the lyrics captured a sense of simplicity, of life lived at a slower, more meaningful pace.

He resisted it at first, brushing it off as a fluke, but as the days passed, country music started to sneak its way into his playlists. It wasn’t long before he found himself actively seeking it out, drawn to the stories being told in the songs—the honesty, the grit, the appreciation for the small things. Lyrics about long dirt roads, endless skies, and working with your hands spoke to something deep within him, something that felt almost forgotten.

The more he listened, the more it felt like home—a place he had never been but somehow knew. The noise of the city, once his soundtrack, began to feel hollow, like it was missing something real. The lyrics in the songs reminded him of a life that was stripped down, pure, and authentic, and as he absorbed more, he felt a pull inside, something that whispered that this was the life he had been missing. It was as though the music was gently coaxing him to remember who he was meant to be.

It wasn’t just the music. Images of open fields, horses galloping, the simple joy of watching the sunset from a porch—all of it stirred something in him. It was like a veil had lifted, and he began to see the appeal of the cowboy lifestyle. The rush of city life, the constant pressure to move, to climb, to consume—it all started to feel like a distant memory, something that had once held meaning but now seemed meaningless.

One weekend, without much thought, Jake wandered into a western wear store. The smell of leather hit him as soon as he walked through the door, earthy and rich, filling the air with a sense of tradition and strength. For a moment, he hesitated, glancing around the store with a bit of uncertainty. This wasn’t him, he thought, or at least, not the version of himself he’d always known. The Jake who wore button-down shirts and polished shoes didn’t belong in a place like this.

But then, something shifted. He couldn’t explain it, but there was a pull. The smell of the leather, the rows of cowboy boots, the racks of flannel shirts—it all felt right. Like he had been here before, like he belonged. He found his feet moving almost automatically, drawn toward a pair of cowboy boots that caught his eye—classic, brown leather, with a worn-in look that spoke of adventure and resilience. Without much thought, he picked them up and tried them on. They fit perfectly.

The feeling didn’t stop there. His hands moved to a pair of jeans, thick and sturdy, built for work, not just for show. Next came the flannel shirt, its weight and warmth settling over his shoulders as if it was made for him. Each item felt like it was calling to him, like they were pieces of a puzzle he hadn’t realized he needed to complete.

When he stepped into the changing room and put them all on together—the boots, the jeans, the flannel—he felt something click. As he looked at himself in the mirror, his breath caught. The man staring back at him was different. The broad shoulders, the muscular arms that strained against the fabric of the flannel, the rugged look—he didn’t just see a reflection. He saw strength, capability, a man who was connected to the earth, to something primal and real. He looked like someone who worked with his hands, who knew how to take care of himself.

He flexed, watching his biceps swell under the fabric, the seams stretching with the movement. A grin spread across his face. He felt powerful, like he was stepping into the man he was always meant to be—one who was grounded, strong, and in control. There was a pleasure in it, a satisfaction that came not just from how he looked but from how it made him feel inside. The clothes were more than just clothes. They were a symbol of the change he was undergoing, a physical manifestation of the strength he had been building—both inside and out.

It wasn’t long before hunting and fishing became his weekend routine. Jake found himself rising with the sun, craving the stillness of early mornings by the lake or in the woods, rifle slung over his shoulder, or fishing rod in hand. There was something almost meditative about it—the way the world felt calm and silent, the only sound his breath, the crunch of dirt under his boots, the rustle of leaves in the wind. The quiet of nature was the opposite of the city, and it gave him something the city never could: peace.

But it was more than just peace. The patience required in hunting, the skill needed to wait for just the right moment—it all felt right. Every time he lined up his shot or cast his line, he felt connected to something ancient, something essential. The physical strength he had built in the gym had a purpose here. It wasn’t just for looks. It made him feel capable, in control, like he could handle anything the world threw at him.

The rest of his old life started to fade away. The noisy nights at crowded bars, the constant pressure to stay on top of things that didn’t really matter—it all started to seem so… irrelevant. Instead, Jake started watching videos made by cowboy content creators, following guys who lived the life he was slowly stepping into. They talked about rodeo, horse riding, and working on trucks. He found himself nodding along, absorbing every bit of their wisdom, eager to learn.

It wasn’t just learning—it was becoming. He was becoming something more, something truer to himself. One afternoon, as he got under his pickup truck to change the oil, his hands covered in grease, he couldn’t help but smile. This was real. The feel of the tools in his hands, the satisfaction of fixing something with his own strength—it was what he had been missing all along. Each turn of the wrench, each smear of grease on his skin felt like a connection to the life he was embracing.

For the first time in his life, Jake felt truly in control. Not just of his body, but of his mind, his life. He was becoming the man he was always meant to be—a cowboy, through and through.

Finally, after weeks of change, Jake found himself back at the same bar where it all started. The city lights flickered outside, but they seemed dull compared to the quiet strength he felt within himself. He walked into the bar, boots heavy against the wooden floor, his stride confident, his presence commanding. The weight of his broad shoulders, the bulkof his arms straining against his flannel, and the calm demeanor he now carried set him apart from the crowd. He felt more than just different—he felt like he belonged somewhere else, somewhere deeper.

The cowboy was there again, sitting at the counter, his hat tipped low. It felt like a full circle, like Jake had come back not as the man he had been but as the cowboy he had become. He slid onto the stool next to the man, a quiet confidence radiating from him.

The cowboy glanced up, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Well, look at you, partner. You’ve changed.”

Jake nodded. “More than I expected. I didn’t realize how far off track I’d gotten.”

The cowboy chuckled, his voice steady and warm. “That’s life. Sometimes you lose sight of what’s real, what’s true. But it looks like you found your way back.”

Jake looked down at his hands, calloused now from working on his truck, from hunting, fishing, and lifting at the gym. He didn’t need to say anything. He felt it in every fiber of his being. Strength, not just in his body, but in his mind and in the way he faced the world. He had become something more—grounded, disciplined, and powerful. He wasn’t just another city guy trying to fit in. He was a cowboy, inside and out.

But as Jake looked around the bar, he noticed something else. He saw others, the way they slouched in their chairs, glued to their phones, drowning their stress in drinks. It was the way he used to be, always chasing something but never feeling truly connected to anything real. Now, he could see it so clearly—the potential in them, untapped, waiting to be unleashed. They were like ponies, timid, lost, unaware of the strength they held inside, waiting to become bucking broncos—waiting for someone to show them the way.

Over the next few weeks, Jake couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed to do more, not just for himself, but for others. He had found something real, something powerful, and he wanted to share it. When he talked to his friends, his coworkers, even strangers he met at the gym, he could see it in their eyes—that same restlessness he once felt. The dissatisfaction with the grind, the search for something meaningful.

Jake started to subtly plant the seeds, talking about his transformation, about the cowboy code he had adopted, the simplicity of the country life. At first, they were skeptical—laughing off his suggestions, joking about his new flannel-and-boots look—but Jake didn’t mind. He could see beyond their reactions. He could see the potential in them, the part of them that craved the same thing he had craved—freedom, strength, and a sense of purpose.

“You’re chasing the wrong things,” he would tell them, his voice calm and confident. “You don’t need the city noise, the pressure, the constant distractions. What you need is something real. Something that makes you stronger—inside and out.”

Some brushed him off. But others… others listened. Slowly, they started to come to him for advice, curious about the changes they saw in him. Jake became a mentor, guiding them through the same steps he had taken. He showed them how to build physical strength, but more importantly, he showed them how to find mental strength. How to stay calm under pressure, how to live with honor and discipline, and how to embrace the cowboy lifestyle that had given him so much clarity.

He started taking a few of them to the gym, pushing them through workouts the way he had pushed himself, watching with pride as their bodies began to change. But it wasn’t just about the physical transformation. It was about helping them unlock that mental resilience, the calm strength that had become his foundation. He encouraged them to get out of the city, to take up hunting, fishing, and working with their hands. He knew that the more they embraced the cowboy code, the stronger they would become, not just in their bodies but in their minds and in the way they faced life.

For Jake, it was about more than just muscle or a new wardrobe. It was about turning ponies into broncos—guiding those who felt lost or weak into becoming the powerful, capable people he knew they could be. He could see the wild strength in them, the potential to break free from the chains of their old lives and ride through life with confidence, just as he had.

Each day, he watched them transform—slowly at first, then with more certainty. Their shoulders squared, their voices deepened, their confidence growing with each step they took toward the cowboy life. Jake felt a surge of pride with every person he helped, knowing he was giving them more than just advice. He was giving them the tools to become themselves, the strongest, most resilient versions of who they were meant to be.

One evening, after a long day of working with a few of his friends, Jake found himself back at the same bar where his journey had started. He leaned back against the bar, cowboy boots scuffed and dusty, his flannel rolled up to his elbows. He smiled as he glanced around the room, noticing the subtle changes in the people he’d helped. He’d started something—something bigger than himself.

The cowboy from that first night appeared again, almost like a figure of fate. He sidled up next to Jake at the bar, his familiar grin back in place. “Looks like you’ve been busy, partner.”

Jake nodded, his voice steady. “More than I thought I’d be. They’re coming around, one by one.”

The cowboy tipped his hat, looking around the bar, the room filled with people who were on the same path Jake had once walked. “That’s the thing about cowboys,” he said, voice low. “We don’t just ride for ourselves. We ride for others. Show them the way.”

Jake smiled, looking down at his hands. “Yeah,” he said. “We do.”

As he stood there, feeling the quiet satisfaction of not just his own transformation but the changes he had sparked in others, Jake realized that he had become more than just a cowboy. He had become a leader—someone who lived by the cowboy code, someone who helped others find their way back to what was real.

And as he looked around the bar, he knew he wasn’t done. There were still ponies out there—waiting to become broncos.

[wishmaster]

I wish to be a breeder. I want to be the best breeding bull and fill wombs everywhere with my potent seed. Just a a hot dumb bull who only wants to submit their manly cock into pussies. Thank you.

Bull

You suddenly felt your body begin to get bigger, your shirt disappeared as it was no longer to contain your massive muscles, however your pants continued to accept your thick legs and huge ass as your balls swelled to grapefruit size, your dick didn't lengthen as much as it thickened till you looked like some kind of freakish porn star. Your mind altered, all you could think about was sex, which was good as your body now produced massive amounts of cum and you needed to unload it, to help you also released a pheromone that instantly made any women you wanted immediately attracted to you.

You'd soon learn your cum was powerful as well as each woman you'd fuck would become instantly pregnant. Your seed spreading across the land creating a herd of bulls like you. You go through life only able to workout and fuck, your small mind unable to comprehend anything else.

[d16devotion]

rodimus with da red bull

[askvectorprime]

Dear Vector Prime, have you ever had a Headmaster partner?

Dear Aegis Agent,

I have indeed. Allow me to continue my tale of the ultimate Titan Masters, and I promise your curiosity will be satisfied.

While Arcee was tracking down the Titan Master hidden on Caminus, a separate mission was being carried out on the colony world of Biosfera—known to the locals as Eukaris. Grotusque, Twinferno and Repugnus journeyed there to find another Titan Master, this one believed to grant incredible fireblast. The Monsterbots were not Optimus Prime’s first choice for the mission, as he worried their bellicose disposition would create conflict with the native population—but with the so-called jungle planet having no roads to speak of, only Autobots with bestial alt-modes would be able to handle the terrain.

As Biosfera had been largely insulated from the Autobot-Decepticon conflict, the Monsterbots expected its inhabitants to be pushovers, who would do little to impede or expedite their search one way or the other. Instead, they arrived to find the planet on the brink of all-out war between the four major tribes. Something was terribly wrong: the kinds of weapons being amassed were beyond even those used by Cybertronians in their raw destructive potential. Still, the Monsterbots decided the brewing tensions were none of their business, and decided to focus on searching for the Titan Master.

It was at that point that I was forced to intervene. I materialized in their midst, which proved to be something of a miscalculation: they were taken by surprise, and turned on me immediately. Naturally, I am no lightweight, but I must admit the three of them had me on the ropes. I forced a time-out, separating us from physical spacetime, to allow us to communicate without violence. Once they were prepared to listen, I told them what I had seen.

In the future, Biosfera is an irradiated wasteland. Algorithmic engines crawl over the ash, feeding carbonized trees into immense furnaces, liquid metal pouring from foundries to coat the planet, constructing some kind of superstructure… to uncertain ends. The few survivors of the global devastation have shed the last vestiges of their organic biology, becoming purely robotic lifeforms in order to weather the potent radiation.

The Monsterbots refused to believe me without proof, and so I removed my head, Safeguard. Repugnus briefly swapped Dastard for Safeguard, and saw in his memory banks what we had witnessed of that apocalyptic future. Begrudgingly, the Monsterbots agreed to help us, and we separated, each to visit one of the four tribes.

High in the mountain eyries of the Cloud Walkers, Grotusque and Fengul discovered that they had forged a partnership with the Decepticon Fangry, who had given them a powerful attack jet. At the same time, Twinferno and Daburu found the Scale Walkers to be strategizing with Krok, who had armed them with an unstoppable armored tank. So too were the Wave Walkers consulting with the crab-like Squeezeplay, and as I discovered, the Fur Walkers had welcomed amongst them the ferocious Horri-Bull. It was obvious to us that the Decepticons had completely infiltrated the planet’s tribes, and were deliberately stirring conflict between them. Unfortunately, stirring conflict was the Monsterbots’ specialty, and they each started fights with the Decepticons on sight, leading to them quickly being ousted from the other tribes. Safeguard and I had the most luck, managing to convince the chieftain of the Fur Walkers that they were better off without the “guidance” of Cybertronians—though unfortunately, this included ourselves.

We regrouped, and the Monsterbots decided to resume their search for the mythical Titan Master hidden on the planet. I hoped that in the course of our hunt, we would stumble across a centralized base of operations for the Decepticons, which might produce the evidence we needed to sway the tribes. As it turned out, we were being followed: one of Twinferno’s heads spotted a bird flying overhead, and recognised it not as one of the Cloud Walkers, but as the Decepticon Wingspan. Twinferno almost flew up to take out the snooping Decepticon, but I was able to convince him to hold. We waited until nightfall, and when Wingspan left to make his report, we quietly followed.

He led us to a foreboding tower of steel, a weapons factory hidden in a barren valley. Inside, ensconced within the topmost chamber, we found the true mastermind behind the hostilities: the lost Titan Master, Scorponok. Once, he had commanded one of the Titans of myth, but he had been usurped by the alien Lord Zarak. Driven to madness by this defeat, he had begun traveling the galaxy in search of new evolutionary pathways. On this remote and primeval colony, he found them: and now, his machinations had brought him to the precipice of his return to power. In the fallout, once the biomechanical natives evolved into a purely mechanical existence to survive the nuclear winter that followed, he would use a planetwide relay to reach out and upload his consciousness simultaneously into thousands of bodies—becoming a gestalt lifeform on a scale that would surpass even the Titans.

Well, we certainly weren’t going to stand around and wait for that to happen! The Monsterbots made short work of Wingspan and Horri-Bull, but Scorponok was far from finished: he recalled the jet and the tank from the tribes, and they joined together to form the almighty Overlord. One Titan Master formed his head, while another plugged into his chest, right alongside Scorponok himself—giving the combined giant three times the power.

As it happened, deploying Overlord turned out to be a miscalculation: unbeknownst to us all, skillful trackers from the four tribes had followed us to Scorponok’s lair, and when they saw that the Cloud Walkers’ and Scale Walkers’ new weapons were in fact one and the same, they finally had proof that they’d been deceived. They raced back to their homes, to urge their leaders to begin peace talks. Unable to take down Overlord, we beat a hasty retreat, and he split into his individual components once more to menace the tribes.

Unfortunately, the nuclear submarine Scorponok had built for the Wave Walkers remained in play—and once he gave the command, it launched its payload, sending a dozen missiles up into the atmosphere. Converting to starship mode, I flew after them, and began an arduous process to disarm the bombs. First, I froze the missiles in time, halting their trajectories but maintaining their velocity relative to the planet’s rotation in space. Then, with a boost of power from Safeguard, I isolated each individual warhead, accelerating time to allow billions of years to pass in what was, from our perspective, mere cycles. During that time, the fissile material experienced many half-lives’ worth of radioactive decay… until finally, the payloads were rendered inert. Although I had saved the planet from nuclear fallout, the missiles still had enough raw explosive power to cause untold destruction—and I was powerless to stop them. The radiation from the warheads needed to go somewhere—and although spread over a short period, it was still a strong enough burst of gamma rays to cause a chain reaction, unleashing an electromagnetic pulse which knocked me offline and sent me plummeting into the ocean.

The rest, I heard after-the-fact, once the Wave Walkers dredged me up and brought me to shore. The Fur Walkers and Scale Walkers united, ambushing Overlord’s tank half, while the Monsterbots waylaid the jet—just long enough for the Cloud Walkers to intercept and destroy the missiles in midair, before they reached their targets.

As for Scorponok, he was able to slip away in the confusion. The Monsterbots were frustrated to have failed their mission, but after seeing the sheer destructive potential of his fireblast, they knew it was for the best that Cybertron would have to do without his power. They resolved that when Scorponok next appeared, they would be ready and waiting to settle the score.

Back on Cybertron, the situation had gone from bad to worse: Powerhouse’s seismic forces disturbed Trypticon from his hibernation, and he awoke very hungry indeed. After consuming several Titan Masters, including Powerhouse, and gaining their abilities, Trypticon lay waste to the Autobot defenses, felling Fortress Maximus. Just in time, Iron Apex arrived from Caminus, merging with Magnus Prime to form Omega Prime, who was able to drive the beast back to the Praetorus Wharf.

During the battle, I had been impressed by the bravery of Metalhawk, and so before returning to the Realm of the Primes, I entrusted with him the power of my spark—much as my father, Primus, had done long ago to create the Titan Masters in the first place.

[transingthoseformers]

I think that, obviously, Wildbreak should be a KOBD sparkling. But then I think they should have a pair of twins, Needlenose and Tracks.

And then Needlenose gets a boyfriend that one half of the family approves of, the other definitely doesn't.

Needlenose doesn't care, he loves Horri-Bull.

Instant sitcom episode material there, yes

[musclenikz]

Listen up guys! It's been a nice ride so far. We reached 1000 Fellas, who share a mutual in big buff guys, hot males and their way to success. So it's time to connect with my fellas. So DM me , share and like, and give me ur insights in the world of male fitness and workout.

Just wanna say hi? Feel free. Wanna fantasize about huge muscles? Go ahead the DM's are open. Or u wanna connect? U know the way.

But let's start with something of myself. I'm 24 from Europe and this is me :

[icelordofwinterandwendigos]

Ok this is something that has been bothering me

Ok so we all know MK is voiced by sokka Wukong is voiced by goku azure lion is voiced by Vegeta

But is NO ONE GONNA TALK ABOUT HOW DEMON BULL KING IS VOICED BY FUCKING STARSCREAM!?

LIKE TRANSFORMERS PRIME STARSCREAM

THE ONE WHO DID THAT FUNNY DANCE STARSCREAM

IS NO ONE GONNA TALK ABOUT THIS???????

I’m shocked no one has

[thelastgherkin]

LEGACY UNITED VS: G1 Universe Squeezeplay and Lokos

Squeeze me, squeeze me, never let me go...

More like this:

Buzzworthy Bumblebee Worlds Collide Fangry and Brisko

Titans Return Titan Master Class Terri-Bull and Crashbash

Collaborative Draculus

[kiramarien]

They did not. They. Did. Not.

I don’t know if these words were actually said in the show, but if they were I swear I’m gonna blow a circuit. (Just looked it up. They were.)

Either way this is driving me bonkers.

The reason it’s driving me crazy is that both Starscream from Transformers Prime and Heatwave from Rescue Bots were voiced by Steve Blum. Both are characters I LOVE (right now, and as a little girl) and both were played by the man, the myth, the legend himself.

Steve Blum is a real person, not a fictional character that I can gush about with no consequences, so I’ll keep this to a minimum.

but I’ve reached a point where the only thing you need to do to get me to adore a character (Evidenced with Huntsman and Mayor from Lego Monkie Kid) is to show me that they have been voiced by this man. It’s a bit of a problem. And if you watch YouTube, you’ve probably seen his ad. Imagine me perusing YouTube. Clicks on a video and moves mouse to skip the ad. Drinks water.

“Hi. I’m Steve Blum.” *Spews water all over my shirt. Lunges for the mouse to move it before it’s too late and spends the next several minutes it takes for the ad to play trying not to spontaneously combust from pure joy. …

Um… let’s just say this Transformers screenshot brought me some joy and leave it at that.

(Here is a list of characters he’s played:

Heatwave 💕

Starscream

Demon Bull King (Lego Monkie Kid)

Huntsman (Lego Monkie Kid)

Mayor [or “Not-Mayor”] (Lego Monkie Kid)

Amon (Legend of Korra)

Wolverine (pretty much every piece of animated media that includes the character)

Green Goblin (Spectacular Spider man.)

Zeb Orrelios (Star Wars Rebels)

Admiral Gable Karius (Vader Immortal)

… and on and on. The man knows how to do his job.

That picture has made my day.

And made me question all of my life choices up to this point.

[avissapiens]

Prize Bull- Bodybuilding hypnosis.

Take that bull yearning in your soul to a new level. Become more than just muscle. More than the perfect bull. Be a paragon of obsession and addiction. Strength and size. The most dedicated. The most muscular. The Ultimate expression of that lust for growth. Taking it and letting it push you to new heights. Competing and winning for the abyss. Grade-A beef cultivated through corruption. The perfect prize bull with no restrictions to the dream or the lifestyle.

Testimonials

"Listening to Prize Bull made me grunt and groan as i felt the Abyss play with my roided bull cock, making my muscles pulse with raw hunger and power.

Felt my cock drippin precum and instinctively started stroking as the file did what I knew it would: making me more of a mindless fucking monster who knows the ultimate truth that muscle is all that fuckin matters.

Saying the Abyss was mindfucking me would be true for someone who isnt used to being part of it. For me, this file took that primal muscle bull connection that the Abyss has been building thanks to the other files to a whole new fucking level.

I will be full of every single fucking roid on the planet, destroy my fucking muscles so they can grow, fucking eat myself sick so i can be that fucking inhuman monsterous prize bull. If you want to truly commit to The Abyss and feel those tendrills destroy you and breed that addictive corruption into you, so you can be reborn through indescribable euphoria into a prized bull of the Abyss, this is the fucking file for you." - Beastbull (Discord) 12/07/23

"I haven't been active in the server for a bit but I just listened to Prize Bull for the third time and my response was so goddamn intense.

I felt the growth and the tendrils on an incredibly deep level. When the tendrils began going down my throat I literally began gagging and gulping it down greedily while under and felt the corruption be fed into me

I listened to it before my Pull Day and I immediately felt like I HAD to go lift. My life depended on getting a good pump in and I'm even lifting better than I did last time on an exponential level" Ansreth(Discord) 18/08/23

And If you want to support the creation of more hypnotic experiences that you know you can trust, then you can do so by subscribing to my Patreon, or to my Youtube channel. And if you want to interact more closely with me and my supportive community you can join my Discord server.

[wishmaster]

Muscled Bull

Can you make me the biggest dumbest guy you can possibly think of

It started slowly you tried on teh football gear hoping it would make you ffel like the muscle head you wanted to be. Bu alas it did nothing, or so you thought.

The next morning you discovered your muscles had grown. It made you hard, you rushed to the bathroom masturbating to your new form. which caused another change. So you jacked off again and again until you fell back in your desk chair in your room a changed man.

Thick thigh and a monster cock again made you horny as hell, but you weren't sure you could handle your new dick on your own. So you headed out to one of the gay bars in hopes of finding guys who could help you get off. You found many.

By the end of the night not only had your body changed, your wardrobe had as well.

Bigger in body and hairier you decided to go home with one of the guys you had enjoyed getting railed by all night.By the time you arrived at his place your brains had been so fucked up by your changes you couldn't even remember your name. Master called you boy so that must be it right, just Boy?

You had been fucked into tthe perfect sex slave and you were Master's now, he dressed you appropriately and tied you to a stiool while he prepared a room for you.

He overed your head so no one would have to look at your dumb jock face, the expressionlesss stare you now had as all that was on your mind was sex and have your holes filled all the time. Master would make sure his big dumb muscle bull would always be put to good use.

[chrissy-kaos]

I may or may not need some help walking🥵🤤♠️

[darksilvania]

A couple of years ago I went through a "transformers phase", and by that I mean I made a couple of transformers fanarts which is not something I usually do.

I have always been a big fan of Beast Wars and when I was looking at some beast wars era toys I found curious there were so many bat maximals, so I wanted to try and make my version of them.

First is the original Optimus Primal toy that turned into a bat, the original color scheme was gray instead of black, but I wanted him to have the same palette as the gorilla primal, also I gave him some batman features because I like batman

Then its Nightscream from Beast Machines, when I was reading about the character I found that while in the original series he was portrayed as a bit of an emo character, in the japanese dub he was turned into a very flamboyant gay character, and when the character was adapted into the legends comic he was portraid as a crossdresser that many characters mistook as female despite being male, so I went ahead and made it a "femboi" because I felt it suited his design

Next is Sonar, a transmetal 2 bat that never showed in the cartoon but did in the comics, in her toy bio she was never given any pronouns, so when she was added to the comics they made her female to have more fembots, so I made her a cute fembot, because why not

The last one is Noctorro, a Bat/Bull fuzor that also never showed in the cartoon, but did in the comics, when I read the characters bio it said noctorro is a fighter that uses no guns, thats why his toy didnt include any, and while his whole body had the same dark blue and golden color scheme, his face was particulary red, so I decided to make it look like a it is wearing a luchador mask, this paired well with its "no guns" fighting style. I also made his beast mode because the original toy was a bit of underwhelming and I knew it could look better

Also I know there is a new Maximal bat that in the comics called Nyx, maybe I will draw her later