#bull transformation

[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.

[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.

[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.

[sorcerer-felix]

I hear you can help me. I want to be older to be out of my college years. I'm nerdy, so beefing up wouldn't hurt either. I'm just tired of the jocks always messing with me.

The salty breeze whipped around you as you perched on the stone wall overlooking the Mediterranean. The boat ride earlier had been unbearable, the jocks tossing around crude jokes like beach balls while you fiddled with your engineering gear, feeling like a fish out of water. The raucous laughter of the jocks echoed in the distance, each burst of sound like a sharp jab to your chest. You closed your eyes, allowing the rhythmic crashing of waves below to wash away the day's frustration. You were 21, but every time you glanced in the mirror, the reflection of your slender frame and youthful face felt like a cruel joke.

With a heavy sigh, you leaned back, staring up at the fading sunset, the brilliant oranges and pinks bleeding into the deepening blue of the sea. You were lost in thought when a figure caught your eye. Strolling along the path, a young man dressed in white silk shorts and a matching gilet glided into view. His blonde fade cut shimmered in the light, and those piercing blue eyes seemed to sparkle with mischief. You blinked, half-expecting him to disappear like a mirage.

He walked with an effortless grace, and you can’t help but stare. Could he be…? “Hey!” you called out, your voice rising above the sound of the sea. “Are you… Felix?” He paused, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before he smiled, revealing a row of perfect teeth. “I am. And you are…?” “Just a confused engineering student,” you said, waving a hand dismissively. “Mind if I join you?” he replied, plopping down beside you. “What’s got you looking so glum?” You chuckled bitterly, your heart racing just being near him. “It’s these oceanography students. They’re all surfers and jocks, and they think it’s funny to pick on me. I can’t wait for this study trip to end.” “Jocks?” Felix raised an eyebrow, curiosity dancing in his eyes. “Sounds like a rough crowd.” “Rough doesn’t begin to cover it,” you sighed, your shoulders slumping. Felix laughed, a rich, musical sound. “Well, I have my struggles too. Helping a friend with his new hotel resort, and now I’m stuck doing his gardener’s work because the guy quit unexpectedly.” You couldn’t help but smile, “You? In a garden?” “Hey!” he laughed again, his eyes bright. “I’m more than just a pretty face! It’s exhausting work, though. I’m covered in dirt half the time.” He brushed a hand through his hair, and you caught a glimpse of something different in his expression. “But it’s nice to get away from the usual.” “Yeah, I could do with a break,” you said, leaning back and gazing at the sunset. “I wish I could just skip campus forever. I’d give anything to be older—maybe a bit more…beefy, too.” You laughed at the absurdity of it, but Felix tilted his head, considering your words. “That is manageable, but there’s no free lunch!” His grin widened, and you felt a shiver of excitement mixed with apprehension. “What do you mean?” you asked, half-expecting him to suggest something ridiculous—like some creepy ritual involving animal sacrifices. He leaned closer, his blue eyes glinting with mischief. “You could help me with the garden work for a week. In return, I can help you out with that… beefiness and age you’re longing for.” Relief washed over you. “Seriously? That’s it? I thought you were going to ask for something insane.” Felix shrugged, unfazed. “Nah. Just some hard work. What do you say?” “I’m in!” you replied, eager to escape the jocks for a while.

Felix raised his hands, and a blue sphere of shimmering magic coalesced between them. Your awe quickly turned to thrill. “Wait, I don’t have to work first?” “Not at all,” he replied, a grin spreading across his face. “You wanted to bulk up, right? Well, this is how we start.” As the sphere pulsed in the air, you felt warmth radiate through your body. Your muscles began to swell, filling out your limbs until they felt taut and powerful. A grin spread across your face; it was exhilarating. Then, without warning, a deep rumble erupted from your throat. “Moo?” you responded, bewildered at the sound that escaped your lips. Felix chuckled, his laughter ringing like the distant bells of a coastal town. “Don’t worry! It’s all part of the process. First, we bring a bit of meat to your bones.” He paused, waving the sphere again, and the energy swirled around you, engulfing you in its light. “Later on, you’ll become a little older.” You tried to speak, to voice your concerns, but instead, another discontented “Moo!” tumbled out. Panic began to claw at your insides as you looked down at your body, realizing the transformation was more than just muscle. “Why am I turning into a bull?” you thought, your heart racing.

Felix placed a calming hand on your shoulder, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “Just trust the process, Rodrigo. After a week of helping me in the hotel park, you’ll be back to human. Think of it as a vacation from the jocks!” “Rodrigo?” The name felt strange, foreign on your tongue—or rather, in your mind, since it didn’t seem you could speak at all. You mooed again, this time in protest, shaking your head as if that could change your fate. “Exactly! A fitting name for a bull, don’t you think?” Felix grinned, clearly enjoying this. “Now, let’s get started!”

Over the next few days, you toiled in the resort's park, digging, lifting, and hauling under Felix's watchful eye. The work is exhausting, and you find yourself too tired to resist his commands.

Obedience became your default, and you accepted your fate for the week. You, now a bull named Rodrigo, had no choice but to follow his lead; the exhaustion from the hard labor has left you too weary to resist. "Good boy, Rodrigo," Felix praised, his voice carrying a hint of satisfaction. "We'll make a fine team by the end of the week." You can only moo softly in response, a mixture of acceptance and resignation. As the days passed, Felix's training became more intense. He teached you obedience, and you find yourself surprisingly compliant, rationalizing that it's only for a short while. "Just a few more days," you thoughed, "and then I'll be free."

Then, on an ordinary afternoon, your world shifted. A farmer drove his herd past the resort, and as the cows ambled by, something primal stired within you. You felt a surge of power, and your bull form responded instinctively. Your cock, thick and heavy, pushed out from its sheath, causing Felix to approach with a mixture of caution and intrigue. "Easy, Rodrigo," he whispered, his breath tickling your ear. "I suggest you restrain yourself. Breed the cow if you must, but we can't predict what that might trigger." He gestured to a phantom cow, a mechanical contraption designed for bull breeding. "Use that if you're horny," Felix instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument. "We don't want any accidents." You snorted, a defiant huff of air. But you've heard the tales of men losing their sanity after experiencing the raw, animalistic pleasure of mating in beast form. Determined not to fall victim to such a fate, you chose to endure the torment of your lust, ignoring even the phantom cow. But the following days were a constant battle. Every little stimulus—a gentle breeze, the scent of fresh grass, or the mere thought of a cow—would cause your cock, now a powerful bull's pride, to spring forth, glistening with anticipation. As the week drew to a close, you were desperate for the transformation back to human form, your lust burning like an unquenchable fire.

Finally, Felix approached you, his hands raised, the blue sphere of magic dancing between his palms. The air crackled with energy as the spell took hold, and you felt the magic course through your body. Your muscles shifted, changing, and you stood tall, no longer a bull, but a man—a muscular, rugged stud in his prime. The transformation left you breathless, and you stared at your new reflection in awe. A stubble graced your masculine face, and your body was chiseled, every inch a testament to power.

But the awe quickly turned to frustration as you realized your lust had not diminished; it had intensified. Your gaze locked onto Felix, and you lusted after him, this handsome boy, with a newfound intensity. Driven by desire, you strode towards Felix, your steps confident, almost predatory. "Felix, let's take our collaboration to the bedroom," you purred, your voice deep and commanding. Felix's eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and amusement flashing across his face. But his expression quickly turned stern, and he raised a single eyebrow, his voice firm. "Don't you dare, Rodrigo. You will address me as Master from now on." His words shocked you, but the obedience training from your time as a bull took hold. "Yes, Master," you heard yourself say, your voice hoarse with submission.

Without another word, you turned and fled to the nearest hotel room, your body throbbing with need. Inside the room, you tore at your clothes, exposing your muscular frame. Your cock, hard as steel, demanded attention. You grasped it, stroking furiously, seeking release. Moans escaped your lips as you imagined Felix, his pale skin, and those captivating eyes watching you. "Oh, Master..." you whispered, your voice hoarse as you climaxed, but the release provided only temporary solace.

Still breathless, you sought out Felix, determined to understand this persistent desire. "There's something wrong, Master," you pleaded. "I'm still so aroused, even after..." Felix's grin was mischievous, his eyes sparkling with knowledge. "I told you to use the phantom cow, Rodrigo. Your state of arousal upon transformation is key. It determines your permanent desire." Confusion mingled within you. "But I can't function like this!" you exclaimed, your voice laced with frustration. "I need my mind sharp, especially as an engineer." Felix let out a booming laugh, his eyes glinting with amusement. "An engineer? You? Look at yourself, Rodrigo. You're in your thirties now, and your wish has come true—you'll never set foot on campus again. What job did you expect?"

The realization hit you like a wave, and you felt your world tilt. You are no longer a student; you are an adult, magically barred from your studies. Panic rose within you, and you struggled to find your footing. You're trapped, not just in this new body but in a future you never imagined. "But... but I..." Your words trailed off, unable to form a coherent protest. "Don't fret, my friend," Felix said, his voice softening. "I know, and I've taken care of it. With your engineering knowledge and new physique, you'll be an excellent addition to the resort staff. The guests will be more than happy to have your... personal services, all without charging them a penny extra." "Personal services?" You repeated, your voice cracking. The idea of becoming a servant, let alone a sexual servant, was never part of your plan. You glanced around, noticing the hungry stares of a mature woman and a young man, their eyes locked on you with unspoken desires. Your cock twitched, responding to their gaze, and you understood what Felix meant. "But I..." Your protest died on your lips as Felix placed a hand on your shoulder, his touch firm yet reassuring. "Go on, Rodrigo. It's time to embrace your new life. The guests are waiting."

And so, your journey took an unexpected turn. By day, you tended to the hotel's needs, fixing leaks, and repairing broken furniture. But as the sun set, you transformed into the hotel's secret weapon, satisfying the guests' desires with your insatiable lust. Farewells were brief as Felix departed, leaving you to your new life. The guests' moans and whispered thanks became the soundtrack to your nights, and you found yourself embracing the pleasure you gave and received. Little did you know, this was just the beginning of your journey as the hotel's resident stud, and the Mediterranean nights would forever be marked by your passionate encounters.

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Something something about the cursed mummy working at a rodeo and the connection to lassos and wrangling bulls and foreshadowing. Something something about buck wearing a moustache when he dresses up as billy boils which connects things to Eddie.

How rodeos are connected to Texas in the general psyche. The idea that Eddie needs to go and wrangle with his bull in the next episode - Helena.

That she has been constantly trying to Buck him off but he needs to hold on in order to break the curse she has been on his life - the play on Buck being a massive support to Eddie - that gives him the strength to stay on and win the fight and pen the bull.

That he needs to break free of that curse in order to transform into his true self and how the werewolf is a representation of that happening and also a foreshadowing for the shaving off of the stache

[iridescent-serpent]

Been on a transformers kick lately and for some reason it’s been primarily focused on the bayverse version of them (aka the really bad live action movies). Anyways I decided to redraw some of the decepticons (the movie did them mad dirty) and it Immediately got out of hand and now I have an AU version that’s basically a mashup of G1 and bayverse. Enjoy my insanity.

(Also third image is just g1 I just decided to put it in here too) (also enjoy how you can see how quickly I went from “semi-accurate to source” to “my design now” via shockwave and soundwave)

Also here’s some shitty phone doodle comics bc those are quick and free and fun to make

This one in particular is from the Netflix exclusive transformers game (think Marvel Contest of Champions type of game, aka 1v1 beat-em up). Specifically in the fact as Optimus Prime I ran Circles around an enemy Ratchet (didn’t get hit once) and killed him with a single gun shot before he could actually hit me

Anyways, here’s some extra Yautja related stuff I have just free floating, specifically in that I made a lil dumb what-if AU of if we were still playing as a Yautja in the Marine campaign of Aliens v Predator (plus a funny happenstance)

[they-hermes]

orion and friends

[evergreen292]

Ok, now real poison, proceed with caution.

Just to say, after the vengeance saga, Poseidon could totally repeat this. And not only with Penelope; Odysseus is just as good, if not better. Aphrodite isn't his fan, you know, so it isn't a problem for her.

Feel free to use this idea if you wish 🐱

[idlenight-art]

Collection of comic cover pages i've done for the characters in the Masks: a new generation game I play. Most of these were done for birthdays.

Tried a little exercise of changing the style up a little for every cover, to give the feel of it being different comic runs. Though this is mostly in how I did shading, its hard to change your whole artstyle ha.

Still need to make one for a returning player and their new character, and maybe update Saber because he changed playbooks and is now known as 'Echo Knight'. Oh and Carry was retired to a new character... Not to mention I blew my own character, Starbright, up and am also playing a new character...... man I have a lot to catch up to actually.

[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 :

[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.

[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