#locker room odor

[k12academics]

Whiff! was specifically designed as an answer to most encountered odors. Whiff! uses an unmatched selective oxidation power to physically change the chemistry of odor-causing culprits.

100% safe

Kills odors on contact

Easy to use

No mixing

[hotmentransformed]

Discarded Gym Clothes

Jared slumped on the cold bench in the locker room, staring despondently at the floor. It was his fourth time here, and he still felt so out of place. He was comfortable with the cardio machines, but the weightlifting area? That was an entirely different world—a world of animalistic grunting, clanging metal, and guys twice his size throwing weights around like toys. He had hovered near them earlier, feeling like an intruder in a foreign land, before retreating to the safety of the locker room. He desperately wanted to be like them but had no idea where to even start.

As he sat there, stewing in his frustrations, something in the corner of his eye caught his attention: a dirty black tank top lay crumpled on the bench across from him, stained with sweat and reeking of body odor. Next to it was a damp, oversized pair of gray sweatpants that similarly reeked. They looked as though they had been left behind by one of those jacked gym regulars that he was too intimidated to approach.

He reached out hesitantly, hoping to bring them to the lost and found. His fingers brushed against the damp fabric. “Gross,” he muttered, wrinkling his nose at the sensation. Yet, despite the dampness and rankness of the clothes, he couldn’t bring himself to leave them for someone else to deal with. His gaze lingered on the worn material, imagining the kind of person who had worn it: strong, confident, sexy. Everything he wasn’t.

Maybe the person was coming back? After all, there are showers in the locker room, perhaps they had simply forgotten to put their dirty gym clothes in their locker. But his body refused to listen to his brain. His arms began moving with a mind of their own. Before he could realize what he was doing and second-guess himself, he had stripped off his shorts, picked up the sweatpants, and slid them over his slim legs. The pair was still warm from the person's previous workout, and the front crotch area felt... crusty..? Jared was bewildered by the betrayal of his body. He hadn't meant to do any of this... why did he put on these gross sweatpants? In response, his arms ripped off his shirt and brought the filthy tank top over his torso, seemingly without him even intending to do so. The tank top was loose, hanging awkwardly off his skinny frame. It was almost disturbingly damp, as though the person who had worn it before him had taken a shower with it... and had never worn deodorant before. Before he had a chance to question what had happened, the tank top settled over his shoulders, and a strange, euphoric warmth spread through him, clouding his mind and releasing his inhibitions. He felt... different.

His eyes flicked over to the mirror on the wall. The clothes still looked oversized, but they didn’t seem ridiculous anymore. They looked... right. He looked at the door leading back to the gym floor, and for the first time, he felt the urge to head to the weight rack.

Walking through the gym floor, his eyes looked past the judgemental stares in his direction for wearing the oversized set of clothes. He didn't notice people fixate on the stains on the crotch or the fact that the tank top was still dripping with sweat. His ears tuned out the gags at the stench they exuded. Jared simply made a beeline for the squat rack. Using his minimal knowledge from observing the gymbros, Jared loaded the barbell with weights and placed himself underneath the barbell, the modest weight balanced awkwardly on his shoulders. He’d never been here before—mentally or physically. This was uncharted territory, but somehow it felt like he knew what he was doing and always had. As he squatted down and pushed back up, he felt a flicker of something he hadn’t felt before.

He racked the bar, stepped back, and froze. A faint tingling sensation rippled across his chest and shoulders. It started subtly—like an itch, he couldn’t quite place—but soon intensified into a deep, pulsing, orgasmic warmth. Jared glanced at the mirror and his jaw dropped.

The first change he noticed was his hair. It puffed slightly, the dark brown lightening ever so slightly slightly. Strands began to coil and curl, framing his face as if they were growing right before his eyes. The curls bounced slightly with every breath, thick and untamed as if he’d spent years cultivating the perfect gym-bro mane.

Then he felt his chest suddenly tighten. Jared gasped, grabbing at his pecs instinctively. They felt heavier, denser—like a pump from a workout that wouldn’t fade. His fingers sank into firm muscle, his once-flat chest expanding outward into two solid slabs. He rubbed his chest, in awe of just how much there was to grab. The damp fabric of the tank top, which had hung limply before, now clung to his pecs. His firm nipples were visible through the tank top, which was now skin-tight. The weight of his chest pulled his shoulders back, giving him an imposing, confident posture.

The heat spread to his arms. Jared watched, transfixed, as his biceps began to swell. They grew rounder, and thicker, the veins snaking across them like rivers on a map. His forearms followed suit, the muscles twisting and bulging with newfound definition. His hands, once narrow and delicate, grew rough and calloused, his fingers thicker and more powerful. When he curled his fingers into a fist, it felt like he could crush steel.

Next came his shoulders and back. His shoulders rounded out like firm cannonballs, broadening his frame and making the tank top look as though it was going to burst from his frame. His traps rose like mountains on either side of his neck, which thickened and became more pronounced. Turning to the side, Jared caught a glimpse of his back in the mirror—it was wide, a tapestry of ridges and grooves that looked like they’d been carved by years of hard work.

The sensation moved down to his core. His stomach tightened and hardened, his abs popping into view one by one. A deep V-shaped groove appeared, leading down from his chiseled obliques to his hips. He ran a hand over his stomach, marveling at how solid it felt, the faint sheen of sweat highlighting every ridge.

Then his legs began to change. Jared stumbled, grabbing the squat rack for balance as his thighs expanded, the muscles growing so fast they pushed against the fabric of the once-too-large sweatpants. His quads and calves flared out with each stumble for balance, now thick and powerful, while his ass ballooned to gargantuan proportions, tightening his sweatpants even further and taking up valuable space for his swelling cock, which grew longer and thicker. A soft moan escaped his lips before he could stifle it as his now massive cock began to leak.

Through his orgasmic bliss while leaning against the squat rack, caught a glimpse of his reflection. His face had changed, too—his jawline was sharper, his cheekbones more pronounced. His once-boyish features now carried a rugged, masculine edge. His neck was thick and corded with muscle, tying the whole look together.

He couldn't take it anymore. He let out an animalistic grunt–just like the men who weightlift in the gym always do–as he cummed intensely into his too-tight sweatpants. His vision blurred with the orgasmic pleasure induced by his sudden shift in physique. Drool escaped from his lips as he was consumed by the unadulterated euphoria he now felt. Finally, with one last buck of his wide, muscular hips, he finished, and he began to try and compose himself.

He breathed deeply, his chest rising and falling with power. The tank top clung to his body now, soaked with sweat and reeking of effort. His scent filled the air—raw, earthy, and undeniably potent. Jared would have been embarrassed by it before, but now it felt like part of who he was.

He reached up to adjust the tank top, marveling at how his fingers grazed against the boulder-like mounds of his pecs. Turning back to the squat rack, he loaded more plates onto the bar. This time, when he lifted it, it felt like nothing.

Jared racked the barbell with a satisfying clang, stepping back to catch his breath. The weight he’d just squatted was something he wouldn’t have dared to attempt in his wildest dreams. Now, it felt like he could’ve added double the plates. His chest heaved as he inhaled deeply, the air heavy with the scent of sweat and cum.

He turned toward the mirror again, marveling at the sheer size of his new physique. Every inch of him seemed sculpted as if chiseled from stone. His tank top clung to his massive chest, the sweat-soaked fabric outlining every groove of his pecs and abs. His biceps bulged with each subtle movement, and his shoulders looked broad enough to fill the entire mirror.

“Damn…” Jared muttered, his voice low and resonant now. He grinned, unable to resist flexing his arms for the mirror. The peak of his bicep rose like a mountain, veins snaking across the surface. He turned slightly, watching how his back flared out like wings, tapering down to his impossibly tight waist.

Jared glanced around, then pulled his phone out from his gym bag. This body wasn’t something he could keep to himself. Standing in front of the mirror, he adjusted his stance, planting his legs wide to show off his tree-trunk legs. He flexed his arms again. The lighting in the gym was perfect. He snapped a photo, making sure to catch the curve of his biceps, the sharp cut of his jawline, and the unapologetic confidence in his smirk.

Satisfied, he tossed his phone back into his bag, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. For the first time in his life, Jared felt not just strong—but unstoppable.

Jared slung his gym bag over his shoulder, his massive arm flexing with the motion. The straps dug slightly into his broad, muscular shoulders, but he barely noticed. His chest still glistened with sweat, the tank top clinging to him like a second skin. Each step he took toward the exit felt heavy with purpose, his powerful thighs threatening to burst from his sweatpants and his calves popping with every stride.

As he pushed open the gym doors, the cool air hit his sweat-drenched skin, refreshing and invigorating. Jared took a moment to breathe deeply, his massive chest rising and falling. He grinned to himself as he strode across the parking lot

His car was, dwarfed by his hulking presence. Jared swaggered toward it, moving with an effortless macho bravado. His biceps brushed against his sides as he walked, forcing his arms to swing slightly outward. The scent of his workout still hung around him—sweaty, musky, and undeniably masculine.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, he felt the car groan slightly under his new weight. The steering wheel felt smaller in his powerful hands, and the seatbelt stretched tight across his chest, barely able to contain the bulk of his pecs. He caught a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror and smirked. The jacked, curly-haired bodybuilder staring back at him was a far cry from the skinny kid who had driven here earlier.

He adjusted the mirror to take in more of his reflection. His jawline looked razor-sharp, his hair wild and tousled from the workout, and his shoulders seemed to crowd the frame. Jared couldn’t help but flex a little as he reached for the ignition, veins popping along his forearm.

The car roared to life, and Jared revved the engine, enjoying the vibrations running through his chest. He shifted into gear, peeling out of the parking lot. His smirk widened as he turned onto the main road, his car rumbling like a predator on the prowl.

Jared didn’t know exactly where he was going, but it didn’t matter one bit. His new life wasn’t about the destination—it was about the ride. And, man was he ready to take his body for one hell of a ride.

[hairyjocktf]

Dude hot as hell blog and all that hair on the jocks..im a jock too but love to see what it be like as a hairy jock please?

You’ve been a jock for years, star of the soccer team, but you always saw these older guys walking around with hair poking out of their shirt collars and wondered, what if that was me? Well no more. After practice one day you stayed around the locker room after everyone left. The musky stench of sweat hung in the air as you eyed a leftover jockstrap on the bench across from you. In a moment of fervor, you grabbed it. It was crusty with cum stains and stunk of who knows what. You brought it up to your face and took a big inhale; I’m talking a huge whiff of jock stench. Your head was overwhelmed, a cloudy fog overtaking you as you fell back against the lockers. You feel an itch flare up in your armpits, upon raising your arm you see what was a modest tuft of light hairs thickening up. Your follicles mature as they begin pumping out thick, dark hairs that quickly begin to tangle together into a proper bush to catch all that sweat. Within moments you can smell your own odor growing more pungent. You lift your other arm to see the same sight, the dark curls of hair popping up and expanding outward, escaping the bounds of your pit. 

Fuck, thats hot. You reach in and grab at the blossoming coils, wiry hairs gliding between your fingers as you feel how thick they’ve gotten. Your mind and body are in agreement as your cock quickly stands to attention, leaving a growing wet stain on your shorts. You look down at your bulge and see the beginnings of a treasure trail poking up above your waistband. Your cock lurches, pulling the elastic band out enough for you to see into your underpants. Underneath, your trimmed bush was growing wild, tendrils of thick black hair expanding from the base of your thickening cock. The curls spread like wildfire, coating your entire groin in a thick musky jungle before climbing up your stomach. Your chiseled abs began to disappear beneath a growing layer of hair, strands shooting out and tangling together. 

The growth made its way up to your pecs, where in between the muscled mounds thick hairs began to crop up like weeds. They grew dense in the center of your chest as a shadow of stubble slowly graced your pecs. From those dark spots emerged a field of growth, thick curly hairs that sprouted across the open expanse of muscle and wove into a masculine rug. The hairs continued to spread, reaching out to connect with the bushes under your arms, and crawling up slowly to your collarbone. A thick tuft sprouted just in the center, always sure to poke out of your jersey.

Your body ached as muscles expanded. Your pecs puffed out more, traps and delts pushing out as your arms swelled with size. Your quads felt like they were on fire as they doubled in size, and your torso took on the shredded v-cut look. Atop those new muscular limbs, hairs began to pop out of formerly smooth skin. Your thighs grew a thick coat connecting up to your pubes, with calves pushing out a wiry rug too. Your feet popped as they grew larger with hairs popping up across your toes; you’re gonna need some new cleats now. Your ass feels sore as it tightens, a dense mat of hair coating both cheeks.

The hair on your collarbone continues its march, spreading out over your traps and shoulders. Your delts erupt with a thick coating of fur that races down your arms, biceps and triceps vanishing underneath. Your forearms tingle as an incredibly thick forest sprouts across them, climbing up the backs of your hands and fingers as you rub them through your fur. You feel an itch across your back and can only assume it’s been given the same coat as your front side. 

You look back up into the mirror to see your babyface shifting, jaw squaring up and hardening as stubble begins to crawl up your neck. Your cheeks itch as the shadow crests your jawline and climbs up towards your eyes. The dark specks quickly begin to gush hairs, follicles pumping out dark thick strands that bury your face beneath. Within moments a luscious wiry beard has uncased your jaw, and you look closely to see your upper lip is still bare. In your reflection you can see a solitary hair push out, lone and dark. Soon, another joins it, followed by several more. Your mustache fills as hairs flow like a waterfall, connecting to the rest of your beard and sealing your fate as the hairiest jock on the team.

[occamstfs]

Chauffeur Swap

Another epistolary TF ! Cocky office worker to an equally cocky gym bro, trait swap + IQ Drain aplenty -Occam

Monday May 6th

Morning 

I’m beyond thrilled that I’m finally being looked at for a promotion. I’ve worked my ass off for this company ever since I graduated and I am not going to let this chance slip through my fingers. It’s such a good gig, in the week leading up to them filling the position they’re letting us use the company’s chauffeurs as just one little hint of the luxury this promotion will afford us.

At least, that’s what I thought before my driver arrived to pick me up and I saw what a slob of a man my driver was! I mean my word! I thought it was a prank or something else untoward! I’m sure he could tell too, I could not muster even a shy smile, nothing to do but grimace. God and that was before I got in! He must have just been an Uber hired or something because it smelled like a locker room in there! Truly vile!

God willing this is a one off occurrence, hate to get the oaf in trouble. Though judging by the state of his hygiene though he clearly needs to be taught a lesson somehow! I mean even with this job I couldn't afford to buy cologne enough to hide that stink- perhaps some dog-strength febreze- Ha!

Evening

Godddd fuck! The last thing I needed after such a stressful day was to be greeted by that animal’s face- worse yet, his SCENT! I underestimated just how grueling this interview charade would be. It is just one final hurdle to the big leagues though. I will leave petty contrivances like suffering through this unpleasant car ride behind.

Just to make the time pass with greater speed I put forth some small talk. Not like I could hold my breath near long enough to make a difference, and it couldn’t hurt to vent about what a hassle the day had been hm? After this though he started talking about himself and fwoh- could I not care less about whatever surely protein-fart based drivel or beer-brained diatribe he launched into. 

Perhaps this is unfair, I did not deign to listen to him. So perhaps he’s better than he seems. But who could blame me, sitting in that car was punishment enough to earn me tuning him out. And! And! For him to have the benefit of the doubt surely he could at least wear deodorant! Hm. Unless he is trying? God that would be depressing, to be so, ugh- I continue to hold out hope I never see him again

Tuesday May 7th

Morning

Mm, I simply must develop a better poker face if I am to continue to suffer in this odor for the week, god forbid even longer- I have prepared accordingly however, yesterday no one mentioned it at work but I swear I kept smelling it, him, all day? Same when I got home, just everytime I calmed down from work bam! I smelled this horrid car ride. I am bringing my cologne to work with me, I plan to put it at lest once more when I arrive at work.

It’s just, Why is this my problem right! I don’t know what his problem is, but I don’t see why I have to suffer because of it right? I should not have to deal with someone like this, he’s supposed to be working for me. I uh, it’s not like I think I’m better than him I just, well I am better than him. Hm, I lost my train of thought. 

Ugh, I keep spacing out today- I’m sure it has to do with my twice-daily rides with, hm. I don’t even know his name. It’s? You know I don’t care. I just need to take it easy, I’m not letting this fucking dude-bro pitstain of a man bother me this much! I’m getting my bag and he is not worth a second further of my, uh, attention.

Evening

I have a headache and I don’t know how it is his fault but it has to be. This whole thing is setting me on edge, I need to chill about Ben. That’s right Ben! I got his name, I actually told him about my headache and he told me that he usually meditates to clear his mind- which crazy that someone so, despite all appearances, mindful treats his body like a sty but- Well not a sty I suppose, or at the very least a well built one- 

Ah, that’s not quite appropriate is it. God he is hot though. Honestly sitting there just breathing in his, uh, scent, helped with the headache. Wait no, it was the meditation, God, why can I not stop thinking of his fucking B.o. My headache was gone but now I feel I’m beginning to run a fever, or at the very least I need to turn down the AC or something-

Better not affect my work tomorrow.

Wednesday May 8th

Morning 

Not gonna be a good one. I fucking woke up late which ive literally never done before! I barely got myself up and ready in time and didn’t realize until the car but I didn’t bring my cologne with me. It turned out to be the least of my problems however as when I got in his car I fully spilled my coffee all over the backseat. Hopefully this will mask his putridity because I now have to sit in the front with him for the ride.

He must know. He has to know it has to be some kinda sick, uh, fetish or something. Its untendable untenable. god get your shit together Jacob. Its so hard to focus on anything else now that Im sitting right by him. I need to talk to someone about this, fuck its like hes exposing his pits on purpose. He wants me to stare at him, i bet. Bet he gets some sort of sick rise out of me. Im sure him and all the other chauffeurs probably get together and jack off about how repulsive and, uh, strong they all are.

God Fuck! Get me out of this car im losing my mind! Need to, ill just get some work done on the commute, should help i think. God its getting hot in here again or something, so help me if this fucker starts actively sweating im gonna lose it

Evening

i just couldnt get anything done today i dont know what was fucking up dude? it was just so hot in there and i mustve forgotten to put deodorant on this morning, people kept complaining but i didnt even notice? i guess i was sweating more than usual, but like, it was so hot in that office and my clothes felt weird, tight almost. As if tho, lol im sure no one even really noticed that i was off.

OH speaking of, Ben really put himself together on the ride home today. He was wearing a button up and everything, must have seen how nice im living and got his shit together! Maybe ive been to hard on the douche? nah car still smelled like shit haha! Or i think it did? didnt really notice it until like halfway thru?

Fuck my clothes are so tight all of a sudden, godd its so hot actually. I look fucking huge in this tiny little monkey suit- almost like Benjamin ha- as if id stoop so low, even if i started getting massive not like id be dum enough to be on his level lol

Thursday May 9th

Morning

Fuckin couldnt find ANYTHING this morning dude! it was like someone came in and took or hid everything i need for work today. ended up having to just fuckin leave for the car without a suit jacket- pretty sure ive got an extra in my office tho so were chill there. mm probably shouldve shaved tho lol

Oh yeah the files! i had some reports that i needed to bring in but totally couldnt find them! Turns out benjamin had them the whole time it was weird, guess i left them last night. but he was like such an ass about it, like he knows anything though the uh, jock, jerk uh. hes actually dressed better than me rn isnt he. Finally threw on a dress shirt, surely inspired by me haha- pulling it off quite well too, his chest hair peaking up through mm-

Fuckkk dude my cocks kinda getting hard looking at him, starting to smell musty in the car too, wait oh shit i didnt even notice that it didnt reek when i got in! weird that its starting to stink now tho whats up with that, looks like hes finally noticing tho ha! its nice to see him finally react to how bad my uh, no how I GOD, how bad fuckin’ he stinks obviously. whatever, ive got more important stuff to think about.

Evening 

okay work was like, not fuckin chill today. idk what was up but like, every little thing i did today just wasnt good enough apparently like okay?? you know me, if something seems off clearly, fucking OBVIOUSLY it uh, i? god my head just keeps going blank i dont get it, im just. Huh, kinda smells like Ben all of a sudden, oh fuck lol my pits have completely sweat through my shirt-

None of this matters anyway though bro! Because i just had the BEST sesh with Ben after work!! honestly the work shit doesnt even bother me, shouldve seen me its like i am a natural at this shit i was getting a pump like ive done it a hundred times. im sure it smelled like a locker room on the ride home lol

OH! I didnt even say, it was all ben’s idea!!! he said the gym always helps him when uh, things get too hard to think about and fuckk bro hes so right. hes so, lol i almost said hes so smart- he definitely knows how to work out though, he kept helping me with my technique but im prety sure he just wanted an excuse to touch me- 

not that im complaining LMAO- every time he did it was like i felt myself getting stronger, and less worried about all those yes-man suit fuckers! hed adjust my arms and i would feel my biceps just suddenly pump larger, hed bump his hands into my pecs while spotting me and theyd just force the bar up even faster, wish hed just go ahead and grab my cock lol

theres time yet too- gonna crash at his place tonight! hopefully ill get to see him put his magic fingers and tight body to use cause fuck bro idk if it was the pump or what but i dont think my balls have ever been this blue, like any time i try to think about, oh ughh, work i just. mm everything in my body just begs me to fucking blow a load- 

Friday May 10th

Morning

fucker just went to bed early- got me all riled up and then i had to jack off alone. felt way better than usual tho, my cock seems bigger to lol, dk whats up with that. wanted to try again this morning but ben was just on my fucking ass trying to get me out the door 

i didnt have any of my clothes, duh, so i just threw on some of his, crazy how much they fit me? they even kinda already smell like me lol. he actually put a suit on which seems wild, funny that i look like a slob and he looks like some uh, fancy guy. Like i should right? uhh is my headache coming back? lol idk but looking at him in that fucking suit sure is making it hard to focus-

ben said i can just change n stuff when we got to the office, its why hes dressed up. ill go ahead and drive us and then hell just run up and get my clothes, idk if theyll fit tho? feel like im larger than i was for some reason- oh yeah my massive fucking pump lol- 

mh speaking of pump, maybe while hes up there ill have time to jack another one out, not like anyonell see or care ya? like its a problem im about to be the fuckin alpha of this company or uh, something. itll be done before hes back, only evidence will be cum stains on his clothes lol. ugh it smells so fucking dank in here i might just cum without touching it lol

Evening

shit man, dont know what i was doing? i feel like i was supposed to go into work today but ben says from now on im just his driver. which easy gig right lol? doesnt even care that i dont shower huhuh-

he got his big promotion today!!! he looked so smug and hot when he came down to tell me, and he promised wed have some fun about it when he got home tonight- just gotta drop him off at some stupid fancy dinner ill probably hit the gym while hes there. gotta keep it up or ill look like some fucking dweeb

plus that means ill get the car totaly filled with my bo- hell fuckin love that, after he gets a good whiff no way wil he not want to fuck then and there huhuh fuck, kinda needs to get that exercise in now that hes doing whatever bitchass shit they do all they day up there needs to give in and just fuck me finally its been so, ugh long and my balls feel so full, and im sweating so much god im fogging up the windows loli better be careful i need to keep it together until then urgh- 

god i just smell so fucken hot

[tidetfs]

Drip.

Wade peered through his large glasses at the murky white-ish liquid falling from his ceiling into the bucket.

Drip

He gave a sigh of annoyance as his expensive gaming laptop whirred to life, grumbling about having to call maintenance and however much he was paying for this place.

Drip.

Wade’s nose wrinkled as a slight whiff of BO reached his nose. “Ugh” he shivered, reaching his arm up to check his pit. Dry. Huh. Wade turned back to his laptop, typing the first line of his email before—

Drip.

The sound echoed off the bare walls as the smell assaulted him again. “What the hell?” Wade turned around again and set his laptop on the desk, peering into the bucket.

Drip.

Wade gagged as another wave of that god awful BO stench hit him in the face, but then he paused, staring down at the murky off-white liquid slowly filling the bucket.

Drip.

He sniffed again, breathing a little deeper. The smell had become more intense as the bucket began to fill up and—

Drip.

His brow furrowed as he let a little more of the smell in, the bucket beginning to smell like a locker room or a runner’s pit on a hot summer day. "W-Wait" Wade stammered. How did he know what that would smell like?

Drip.

The odor made his eyes flutter slightly as he stared down at the bucket, his tongue darting out to lick his lips.

Drip.

“Mmmm” Wade breathed deeply, his mind blurring at the edges. It was becoming harder to think the more of the manly musk he let in. He blinked, feeling the front of his jeans tent slightly, his vision going dark…

Drip. Drip. Drip….

“Ahh! Wade shot awake. How long had he been here? His mind darted, it was dark outside now.

Drip.

His eyes peered back at the bucket, now half full, gagging again at the smell, posters now peeling off the walls, the surfaces slick with some sort of liquid.

“Agh!” Wade brought his hand to his mouth, suppressing the urge to vomit as he raced to the door, jiggling the slick handle only to find it locked.

“W-what…” Wade started to panic as the fuzziness began to return to his mind, turning slowly to face the leak.

Drip.

Wade breathed deeply, letting the scent of a hundred sweaty jockstraps enter him, the wave of stench sending him to his knees. His vision blurred as his mouth hung open, his tongue hanging out of his mouth as the fumes sent a shock through his body, causing his member to tent his pants, straining against the denim.

Drip. Drip.

He moaned as he unzipped his jeans, letting his throbbing erection spring free as he shucked his shirt and jacket, throwing them across the room.

Drip.

As the stench of stale sweat washed over him, his mind melted into the puddle of musk. His eyes rolled involuntarily as his head lolled back, his dick already dripping with precum.

Compelled by some force, the nerd began to pull his pale, thin body across the floor towards the bucket, with each breath feeling like he was inhaling a locker room’s worth of ripe, cheesy musk.

His hand gripped the bucket, bringing the rim to his nose and inhaling the fumes, moaning into the rim as his body shook. His eyes fluttered again as his hand gripped his cock as he began to stroke.

It was impossible for him to think, the only thing he could feel was the smell, his mind becoming mush.

He couldn't stop his hand, his strokes speeding up as the scent of musk filled his mind, his hand moving faster and faster, the scent filling him with a primal urge, his body writhing on the floor, his mind a blurry mess as he stroked himself faster, his mind lost to the musky aroma.

Despite the small part of his brain telling me not to, Wade knew what to do, reaching out his tongue to catch one of the drops.

Drip.

Instantly, his body was wracked with heat. Wade fell back onto the floor as sweat began to pour out of his pores as if he had just finished a long, grueling game in the heat. His glasses were quickly coated in a layer of steam, making the world around him blurry.

He didn't care.

Wade continued to stroke himself, his body tensing as his hands moved faster and faster, the sensation building up in his abdomen.

Drip.

More. He needed more. More of that intoxicating smell. Wade pulled himself across the floor towards the bucket, lifting himself so his lips could lap up the sweaty droplets.

The taste was incredible.

Wade's eyes rolled into the back of his head once more as the taste of the pure, unadulterated musk exploded across his tongue. His hand pumped his cock faster and faster as he lapped at the bucket. He could barely think, the taste sending him over the edge.

Wade let out a loud moan as his body began to shake, the smell sending his body into overdrive. He could barely hear his own screams of pleasure over the sound of his blood pumping in his ears, as he started to feel his body change.

His arms were the first to feel the effects. The skinny limbs started to bulge, his muscles growing larger, thicker, and stronger. Wade could barely notice, his mind lost in the smell. His body was shaking, his back arching as his torso expanded, his stomach becoming rock hard, his pecs becoming two firm mounds, his shoulders becoming broader.

Drip.

Wade continued to moan as he felt his chest grow heavier, his pecs growing into large, round melons. He could barely think, the sensation was so overwhelming. He couldn't stop stroking, his cock continuing to grow, his balls becoming two large, swollen orbs. His hair was plastered to his head, the sweat dripping from his body.

He could feel his body changing, his muscles growing, his ass becoming rounder, his hips becoming wider. His cock continued to grow, his balls becoming larger and larger, until they were obscene and drooping.

Drip.

Wade was a sweaty, writhing mass on the floor, his body shaking, his cock leaking precum. His hair was plastered to his face, growing longer and unkempt as the sweat poured down his cheeks, his mouth hanging open, his tongue lolling out.

Drip.

Wade groaned and whimpered as more drops began to fall from the ceiling, landing on his chest and causing his muscles to clench, his back arching. The sweat dripped down his face, his neck, his chest, his back, his arms, his legs, his feet, his toes, his fingers.

Drip.

Every drop caused his muscles to spasm, his body convulsing, his cock leaking more precum. His pecs were so large, he could barely see over them. His ass was so round, he couldn't even sit properly.

Drip.

His entire body was covered in sweat, his entire body dripping with it. He could feel his balls tightening, his cock twitching.

Drip.

He moaned and whimpered as his face cracked and changed, becoming model-like, his glasses breaking and falling to the floor.

Drip.

He groaned, the scent sending his mind into overdrive, his body twitching and convulsing. His muscles were so large, they were bursting through his clothes.

Drip.

Every muscle in his body was on fire, his body drenched in sweat. He could barely think, his mind overwhelmed by the scent.

Drip.

He gasped as he felt his mind go blank, his body shaking as he came. His orgasm was so powerful, his balls contracted, forcing the cum to spurt out of his cock. The force was so great, the stream of cum flew through the air, covering the room.

Drip.

"Ah!" Wade gasped as the drops fell onto his skin, sending waves of pleasure through his body, his cock spraying his seed all over the room.

Drip.

The drops kept falling, causing Wade's orgasm to continue, his body shaking. He could barely think, his mind was swimming as all paths of higher thought were permanently wiped away, replaced by an unending desire to bury himself in the pits and crotches of sweaty men. His hair grew out, becoming blonde and shaggy, signifying his permanent change.

Drip.

It was not for hours that he finally left the house; but the Wade who walked in would never return.

[gayghostgrimoire]

The Frat House: Duke

The rain hammered down on the sidewalk like a thousand tiny fists, each drop echoing its own desperate plea to be heard over the sound of the storm. Alex, drenched and shivering, huddled under the flimsy shelter of his sodden hoodie. The wind whipped through the quiet streets, carrying with it the scent of wet earth and the promise of a long, cold night. He had been out for hours, searching for a place to crash before the weather turned from bad to worse.

Through the fog of the storm, he saw the silhouette of a grand, old building looming in the distance. It was a Tudor-style mansion, a relic of a time when the university had more money than taste. The ivy-covered stones looked almost black under the ominous, bruised sky. He knew the stories about the place, whispers of wild parties and even wilder students who had once called it home. Alpha Sigma Alpha, the frat house of legend, now stood abandoned, a monument to the past.

The house had an eerie beauty about it, with its tall, pointed windows like the eyes of a creature watching over the neighborhood. The shutters were askew, and the ivy had grown thick, obscuring the crumbling brick beneath. The porch, once a place of laughter and camaraderie, now groaned under the weight of neglect. The steps leading up to the front door were cracked and overgrown with weeds that seemed to have taken root in the very essence of decay. The door itself was massive, a heavy slab of oak that looked as if it had not been opened in years. The brass knocker was shaped like a snarling wolf's head, its eyes seeming to follow Alex as he approached.

Despite his trepidation, the storm's ferocity was unrelenting. The thunder rumbled like the growl of an angry beast, and the lightning was a stark reminder of his vulnerability. With each flash, the ivy on the house seemed to writhe, as if alive and eager to pull him into the building's embrace. The wind tugged at his clothes, whispering dark secrets in his ear, urging him closer to the sanctuary that the house offered. He took a deep breath and stepped onto the porch, his heart racing as he reached out to grasp the cold, wet doorknob.

With a grunt, Alex pushed the door open. It creaked like the cry of a long-forgotten soul, revealing the foyer of the mansion. The room was vast, with splintered mahogany paneling that had once gleamed with pride now lying in ruins. The water stains on the ceiling stretched out like the veins of a tired old man, and the chandelier above his head hung precariously, droplets of water plinking into the puddle on the floor below. The scent of mildew and decay was thick, mingling with the faint odor of stale beer and memories of raucous nights. The marble floors beneath his sodden sneakers were cracked and chipped, the insignia of Alpha Sigma Alpha barely visible under the grime and detritus of years gone by.

As the storm's fury grew, a strange gust of wind, musky and potent, like the stench of a long-forgotten locker room, whipped through the house. The door slammed shut behind him with a thud that seemed to resonate through his very bones. The wind had been so forceful it felt almost sentient, as if the house itself were alive and had decided to swallow him whole. Alex's heart skipped a beat as he turned to find the door was now sealed, the wood warped from the moisture, leaving him no option but to push forward. The only light came from the occasional flash of lightning outside, painting the room in stark whites and deep shadows.

With the sound of rain as his only companion, Alex ventured down the long, gloomy corridor. The walls were lined with portraits of past fraternity members, each one seemingly more handsome and athletic than the last. Their eyes followed him, hazed over with age and secrets. The faces of the men from the 1920s were stern and stoic, their expressions etched with the gravity of their times. As he moved through the decades, the styles changed, but the arrogance remained consistent, each man's gaze seemingly challenging him to match their legend.

The corridor grew colder as he approached a portrait that was more vivid than the rest. A man with blonde hair and piercing blue eyes stared back at him, a smug smirk plastered on his lips. He was clad in the university basketball jersey from the 1990s, and his muscular frame completely filled the frame. On either side of him, two equally striking men with dark hair and intense gazes flanked him, their arms draped casually over his shoulders. The air felt particularly heavy around the dusty photograph, and a shiver ran down his spine.

The rusted brass plaque beneath the portrait confirmed his suspicion. It read: "Duke Summers, President of Alpha Sigma Alpha Fraternity, 1997." Duke had been the basketball legend of the university, a name that echoed through the halls of the school even today. His untimely death in a car crash during his senior year had left a dark stain on the frat's reputation, the tale of his drunken end in a blaze of fire inside his Camaro still used to this day to scare freshmen into sobriety.

Alex felt an inexplicable unease as Duke's handsome visage smirked at him, as if sizing him up, assessing whether he had what it took to join the pantheon of fraternity greats. The room grew colder, and the smell of musk and sweat grew stronger, as if the ghost of the former president was standing right beside him, breathing down his neck. The thunder outside seemed to grow quieter, the storm taking a momentary pause to hold its breath.

The thud echoed through the hallway like a drumbeat from a funeral march, and it was as if the house itself was summoning him to the grand pair of French doors at the end of the corridor. Each step he took down the hall felt heavier, as if the floorboards were trying to cling to his sneakers, desperate to keep him from reaching the chamber beyond. The portraits' eyes seemed to narrow, watching him with a mix of curiosity and challenge.

Finally, Alex reached the doors, their once gleaming brass handles now tarnished with a green patina that matched the moss growing along the floorboards. With a gentle push, they swung open with an eerie grace, revealing the vast, derelict ballroom that lay beyond. The chandeliers that had once showered light on the dance floor now hung in shambles, their crystals shattered and their metal skeletons twisted into grotesque shapes by time and neglect. The walls, which had once been painted in rich jewel tones, were now a canvas for the wild, crude art of the decades of fraternity members who had claimed the space as their own.

The graffiti was a testament to the house's tumultuous history, with slogans like "Duke Lives" and "ASA Forever" scrawled in paint that had faded but not lost its defiant edge. Amongst the declarations of fraternal loyalty and bravado, there were cruder messages, like "Suck My Dick," etched with a fervor that spoke of a deep-seated arrogance. The room was suffused with the scent of masculine musk, a potent mix of cologne, sweat, and stale beer. It was here that the brothers had thrown their legendary parties, where the air had been thick with the sound of laughter, the clink of bottles, and the thump of music that had shaken the very foundations of the house. It was also the sanctum for their secretive induction ceremonies, where the line between tradition and debauchery was often blurred beyond recognition.

The storm outside grew more ferocious, the wind howling like a pack of lost spirits, and the rain pummeled the windows with renewed vigor. Alex shivered, not entirely from the cold, and reached into his pocket for the joint he had brought with him for comfort. He had intended to light it up in the solace of this forgotten place, to find some semblance of peace amidst the chaos of the tempest. But as he brought the cigarette to his lips and inhaled, the sound of raucous laughter cut through the silence like a knife. It was distant, muffled, as if coming from another time, but unmistakable in its jovial malice. The air grew colder still, the smell of musk intensifying, and the hairs on the back of Alex's neck stood on end.

The laughter grew louder, swirling around him, echoing off the ruined walls and dancing around his ears. It was the laughter of young men, arrogant and unbridled, filled with the reckless abandon of those who believe themselves invincible. It grew, filling the vast ballroom until it seemed to come from every corner, from within the very fabric of the decaying house itself. Alex felt his heart race as the cackles grew closer, as if the ghosts of the fraternity brothers were closing in on him, eager to reclaim their lost territory.

Panic began to take hold of him as the doors that had once allowed him entrance now slammed shut with a finality that sent a tremor through the house. He spun around, desperation in his eyes, only to find that the once-rotting wood had transformed into gleaming mirrors, reflecting his own terrified visage back at him. He lunged at the glass, pounding on the cold, unyielding surface with his fists, but it remained steadfast, a silent sentinel that offered no escape from the horrors that now surrounded him.

The musky scent grew so intense it was almost tangible, coalescing into a thick fog that swirled around his ankles and crept up his legs, leaving a trail of clammy revulsion in its wake. It was as if the very essence of Duke Summers and his ilk had condensed into this room, a noxious stew of sweaty feet, ripe balls, and the indelible stench of unbridled male ego. The laughter grew louder, more insistent, the cacophony of gleeful cruelty bouncing off the mirrored walls and amplifying until it was all he could hear. It was as if the house itself was alive, and it was laughing at his plight.

Alex's eyes widened in horror as the air in the center of the room began to shimmer and distort. The shadows grew darker, coalescing into a shape that grew more and more defined with each heartbeat. A rubbery, translucent form took shape, the outline of a man with broad shoulders and muscular limbs, wearing the faded jersey of the university's legendary basketball team. The cheers grew to a crescendo as the form solidified into the unmistakable figure of Duke Summers, his smug grin plastered across his face as if he were in the middle of a victory celebration.

"What's up, fresh meat?" Duke's voice was a gruff, seductive purr that seemed to resonate in every corner of the room, the epitome of '90s jock charm, laced with a hint of something more sinister. His eyes, cold and piercing, raked over Alex's drenched frame, as if sizing him up for a game of one-on-one that Alex hadn't even signed up for. "Looks like you could use a little… pep in your step. Or maybe," Duke's smile grew more predatory, "a little taste of the Alpha life."

Alex stuttered, his voice failing him as he took in the spectral vision before him. "D-Duke Summers?" The words tumbled out awkwardly, tripping over his own feelings of awe and fear. In the stories, Duke had been the epitome of masculine perfection, a golden god who could dunk a basketball and charm the panties off any girl with a wink and a smirk. Now, here he was, in all his musky, muscular glory, standing in front of a mere mortal who hadn't even made the high school basketball team.

Duke chuckled, the sound deep and resonant, sending shivers down Alex's spine. "The one and only," he said, flexing his biceps, which bulged with supernatural vigor. His eyes sparkled with mischief, and the invisible audience of frat ghosts cheered him on. "So, you're looking for a place to stay, huh? Well, you've definitely come to the right place. Welcome to Alpha Sigma Alpha, the house where legends are made."

Alex's heart pounded in his chest as he took a step back, his eyes darting around the room, searching for any hint of an escape. The mirrored walls reflected his desperation back at him, mocking his fear. "I-I'm sorry," he stammered. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

Duke's grin grew wider, the shadows playing across his ghostly features making him look more demonic than divine. "Don't worry, little buddy," he said, his voice echoing in the vast space. "You're not disturbing anything. This house is mine, and I don't get many visitors anymore. Besides," his gaze raked over Alex's slender frame, "I've got a feeling we're going to get along just fine."

He sauntered closer, the squeak of his sneakers on the old floorboards sounding like the approach of a giant beast. Each step sent a fresh wave of his musky scent towards Alex, making his nose wrinkle in disgust. Duke stopped mere inches away, his spectral hand reaching out to cup Alex's chin, forcing him to look into the depths of his icy blue eyes. "You've got that look," he murmured, his breath cold against Alex's cheek. "like you want to get on your knees for me." He snickered, smugly patting him on the cheek.

The former frat president's touch was like a block of ice, and Alex could feel the ghostly chill spreading through his body, his skin crawling with revulsion. "You know, I could make you into something," Duke said, his voice dropping to a whisper that seemed to resonate in Alex's very soul. "With a little bit of me inside you, you could rule this university. Just like I did."

Alex's legs felt like jelly, his knees threatening to buckle beneath him. He could feel the power of the spirit pressing down on him, a crushing weight that seemed to seep into his very pores. "P-please," he stuttered, trying to pull away. "I don't want to be a part of this. I just need a place to stay until the storm passes."

Duke's laughter filled the room, bouncing off the mirrored walls and reverberating through Alex's very core. "Oh, you're already a part of it," he said, his voice filled with a dark amusement that sent chills down Alex's spine. "You're in my house now, and I decide who gets to stay and who gets to leave." His rubbery hand tightened on Alex's chin, holding him in place as his other hand began to trace a slick line down his body, the coldness of his touch leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. "But I can see you've got potential. You could be great, kid. Just like me."

The ghostly jock leaned in, his breath cold and moist, and whispered, "Imagine it: the smell of victory, the roar of the crowd, the feel of a tight, wet pussy begging for your cock… or a nice bro hole." His eyes gleamed with a predatory hunger that made Alex's stomach turn. "All you've gotta do is let me in, and I'll show you the ropes. Make you into the King that everyone will envy. Everyone will want a taste of the Duke."

Alex's head spun, the room blurring around the edges. The storm outside seemed to mirror the chaos within him as he struggled to resist the allure of Duke's offer. The scent of musk that had once repulsed him now filled his nostrils with a strange, intoxicating warmth that made his body respond in ways he didn't quite understand. His thoughts grew clouded, his resolve wavering as he felt the beginnings of a powerful, primal urge to submit to the spirit's will.

"No," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "I don't want this. I'm not… I'm not like that."

Duke's smile grew wider, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and something darker. "Oh, come on," he said, his voice a smooth drawl. "Don't tell me you've never felt that fire burning in your balls, that hunger to be on top." He leaned in closer, his breath cold against Alex's ear. "C'mon little bro. Let Duke make you into a fuckin' man."

The room grew colder as the laughter of the spectral frat brothers grew louder, the mirrored walls coming to life as their forms began to appear. The ghosts of the past were a smorgasbord of chiseled abs, bulging biceps, and cocky grins, all echoing Duke's words of temptation. They jeered and cheered, urging Alex to give in, to let Duke show him the way. The air grew thick with the scent of musky testosterone, the pressure building until Alex felt like he was going to burst.

Summoning every ounce of courage he had left, Alex wrenched himself from Duke's iron grip and sprinted towards the mirrored doors, his heart hammering in his chest. The room seemed to tilt around him, the cheers turning into taunts as he stumbled and slipped on the slick floor. But the doors remained steadfast, unyielding in their gleaming, reflective prison.

Duke's chuckles grew louder, his smirk widening into a full-blown grin. "Looks like we're doing this the fun way, bro," he said, his voice echoing through the room as if it were filled with the laughter of a thousand ghosts.

The two other figures from the portrait emerged from the mirrored walls with a fluid grace that belied their spectral nature. Perry, the former co-captain next to Duke, had a look of devilish glee on his handsome face as his rubbery hands shot out and wrapped around Alex's wrists, his grip as cold as the grave. His dark eyes glinted from behind the strands of his long black hair with the same malicious amusement that Duke had shown moments before. Darius, the former quarterback and pledgemaster, stepped out with a swagger that was all too human, his own spectral hands grabbing Alex's shoulders and holding him firmly in place.

The room grew colder, the musky scent thickening to the point where it was almost palpable, wrapping around Alex like a wet blanket that stifled his breath. "Thanks, boys," Duke said with a wink to his ghostly companions, his voice carrying the same cocky confidence that had once filled the house with the echoes of his conquests. "This one's got spirit. I like that."

Alex's heart hammered in his chest as the two other ghosts held him fast. He could feel the strength in their spectral grips, a cold, unyielding force that seemed to be pulling the very life from his bones. "You're gonna love it," Duke whispered, his breath sending shivers down Alex's spine. "The parties, the babes, the games… all the fun you could ever want. And the best part," he leaned in closer, his eyes glinting with a predatory gleam, "is that you won't have to lift a finger. I'll be doing all the heavy lifting for you."

The room grew darker as the laughter of the spectral audience swelled, the air thickening with the musky scent of the fraternity's past. Alex felt a strange heat building in his stomach, his skin tingling as Duke's smirk grew wider. "Thanks for the ride, little bro," the ghostly jock said, his eyes gleaming with an eerie light.

Perry and Darius tightened their grips on Alex's arms, their cold, slick hands digging into his flesh as they tore his clothes from his body with an unearthly strength. The fabric ripped away like paper, leaving him naked and trembling before the trio of ghosts. The air grew colder, the laughter more sinister, as the former frat members reveled in their dominance.

Duke stepped closer, his smirk growing into a full-blown grin as he reached down to Alex's navel. He placed a single finger into the soft indentation of his belly button and pushed. Alex gasped as he felt something unnatural happening, a pressure building from within. The ghosts around him grew more excited, their spectral forms shimmering with anticipation.

With a sickening sound, Duke's rubbery fingers began to stretch and wiggle, elongating into a tapered, serpent-like appendage that slithered into Alex's navel. The sensation was unlike anything he had ever felt—both terrifying and strangely euphoric. It was as if his body was being invaded, yet it was also opening up to accept the ghostly intrusion with a strange eagerness. The coldness of Duke's touch spread through his abdomen, sending waves of goosebumps across his skin.

The laughter grew deafening, the ghosts of the fraternity brothers chanting "Duke! Duke! Duke!" as the spirit of the legendary athlete began to squeeze himself into Alex's quivering form. The pressure was immense, the sensation of Duke's bulging muscles pushing against the confines of his skin, stretching and reshaping him from the inside out. Alex's body began to bulge and shift, his limbs thickening and his chest broadening with each new inch of the ghost's form that invaded him. The cheers grew louder, the ghosts' excitement palpable as the transformation took hold.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Duke's voice echoed through Alex's mind, his own voice lost to the cacophony of the spectral crowd. "You're gonna be a star, kid. Just you wait and see." His hand slithered up Alex's spine, the coldness spreading through him like a frostbite.

With another, sickening push, Duke's rubbery torso and legs disappeared into Alex's navel with a wet, slurping sound that sent the ghosts into a frenzy of cheers and howls. The pressure inside him was unbearable, his skin stretching to its limits as the spirit filled him to bursting. The room swirled around him, the laughter of the ghosts turning into a dizzying maelstrom that seemed to spin him around. Alex felt his body convulse as Duke's final form pushed its way through his navel, his giant, spectral sneakers sliding into his navel with a squelch that made him want to retch.

The transformation was now in full swing. Duke's muscles bulged beneath his skin, the fabric of his body stretching and distorting around the influx of the ghostly frat president's form. His limbs grew longer, the sleekness of his skin replaced with the coarseness of Duke's hairy, bulging biceps and thighs. The smell of stale sweat and old sneakers grew stronger, mingling with the cloying scent of Duke's cologne and the ever-present musk that permeated the house. It was a stench that seemed to cling to him, a constant reminder of his new, unwanted inhabitant.

Duke's arms slithered into Alex's, the skin stretching like latex over his new, bulging biceps. The ghost's hands emerged from his wrists, each knuckle popping as his fingers extended into their new home. The former athlete chuckled, his cold, ethereal breath tickling the back of Alex's neck. "Look at these guns," he murmured, flexing the new biceps before his eyes. "You're gonna love throwing hoops around the court, bro. Nothing like the feel of a ball in your hands."

Alex's legs trembled as Duke's thick, muscular thighs pushed into his own, the sensation of his skin stretching and conforming to the spirit's shape making him want to gag. He could feel the ghostly weight of Duke's cock slither into his crotch, his dick swelling as it is filled with the 10 inch python, dripping pre from the musky foreskin. The smell of sweaty sneakers grew overpowering as Duke's size 16 feet began to slide into his own, the sticky, squelching sound echoing through the room like a taunt. The spectral jock's toes wiggled against the cold floor, the wet grime of his new footsweat leaving imprints on the old wood.

The former frat president's hand reached down to grasp the thick, meaty cock that now jutted out from Alex's body, stroking it with a confidence that was alien to him. The sensation was strange, yet undeniably arousing, a potent blend of fear and excitement that made Alex's head spin. Duke's eyes gleamed with triumph as he watched his new host's body respond to his touch. "Feels good, doesn't it?" he murmured, his voice a mix of amusement and satisfaction. "That's my boy."

With a sneer, Duke began to pump the cock with a vigor that Alex had never felt before, his hand a blur of motion as he stroked the engorged flesh. The smell of stale sweat and locker room musk grew stronger, filling Alex's nose and mouth, making his eyes water. He felt himself growing taller, his spine stretching and popping as he grew to match the legend's towering height of 6'5". The laughter of the ghostly fraternity grew more raucous, their shadows cavorting around them as the transformation neared its climax.

Alex's body was now a perfect vessel for the spirit of Duke Summers, his skin stretched taut over the muscles that bulged with unearthly power. The former fraternity president's smug face pushed through his own, his eyes gleaming with a malicious joy as his spirit claimed dominion over the terrified young man. The pressure in Alex's throat grew unbearable as Duke's head pushed upwards, his skull seemingly expanding to accommodate the spirit's influx.

"Ah, it's been too long," Duke's voice echoed through Alex's own, his mouth stretching into a cocky smile that made his cheeks ache. "Feels good to be in the flesh again." He winked at his reflection in the mirrored wall, the room now a maelstrom of shadows and echoes. "You're gonna love this, buddy. Trust me, I know how to make an entrance."

Duke felt Alex's consciousness retreating, a tiny, panicked scream echoing through the recesses of his mind. He smirked, savoring the sweet taste of victory. He pushed further, filling every inch of the young man's being with his own arrogant spirit. The last vestiges of Alex's personality crumbled away like dust in a hurricane, leaving only the cocky, dominant presence of Duke Summers.

The ghosts of the frat brothers gathered around, their spectral forms crowding in close. They clapped Duke's new, bulging shoulders, their eyes gleaming with excitement. "Welcome back, brother," they shouted, their voices a symphony of approval. They tossed him his old, tattered tee shirt , the fabric sticking to his wet, muscular chest as if it had been made for him. The scent of sweat and musk filled the air as they pulled the shirt over his head, the letters 'ASA' stretching tight across his broad back.

Duke threw his head back and roared with laughter, the sound reverberating through the house. "You know what, boys?" he said, his voice echoing in the cavernous space. "I've missed this." He turned to face the mirrored walls, his new body flexing and bulging with each movement. "But we're not done yet." His eyes swept over the ghosts, his smile turning into a wicked grin. "I'm gonna give all of you a taste of the real world again. New bodies, new parties, new pledges to break in." The ghosts roared their approval, their eyes alight with the promise of new flesh to inhabit and new conquests to claim.

With a flick of his wrist, the storm outside began to abate, the rain tapering off to a gentle drizzle, the thunder fading to a distant rumble. The house grew brighter as the lightning flashes grew less frequent, the room now bathed in the cold, blue light of the moon. "Let's go," Duke said, his voice filled with the promise of adventure. "We've got a university to conquer."

[doki-doki-imagines]

You hate running. It makes you sweaty and it takes nothing for you to stink, showing to the world your sigma scent that you try so hard to hide.

“Please, come over.” It’s the message that sent you in such an anxious state that everything you hated held no value anymore.

Your relationship with Michael is peculiar. You aren’t exactly lovers, not fuckbuddies but also not romantically involved. You just help each other.

Michael Kaiser, a future football star, presented himself as an omega at a young age, and as quickly he started to take suppressants since his career is strictly for alphas and to the utmost for betas.

“Yeah, they say that anybody can aspire to this career, but it’s all bullshit-“ He spat out at the time, blonde strands covering his eyes “Omega are treated like shit, always benched and used as lockers room whores, you stand no chance.”

Michael hates alphas, he hates betas, he hates everybody that believes to be better just because their secondary gender is stronger than his.

That’s why he trusts you. A sigma, owner of a scent that can calm him down, but without the strength to overpower him. But he doesn’t trust you enough to deal with his heats, and you never dig further, more than happy to leave him his space.

That’s why the message gave you immediately a dry throat and sent your heartbeat into a frenzy. You know that this week he has a heat, you know how much he hates to look weak.

If he messaged you the situation must be desperate. And as much as you like to think you are a rational person, saying you don’t have feelings for Michael would be a plain lie. There is fondness when you caress Michael, you search for his approval, for the kind words that blossom from his throat only in his weakest moments.

But you aren’t dumb, knowing perfectly that your feelings aren’t one-sided, that his blue eyes search for your figure when he thinks you aren’t looking, and you notice the sparkles in his irises when you let him vent, confide; sky blue sparkles reserved just for you.

“Michael, where are you?“ You are finally inside the house, he gifted you a spare key not so long ago. The room is spare, but his smell is so strong you almost lose your footing. It pulls you down and makes your stomach churn. Usually, you couldn’t smell anything thanks to the suppressant Michael takes, so you weren’t used to such a strong odor.

It’s strong and unpleasant, the kind of smell you’d feel around trash bins, however, it feels so much like Michael that you can feel your heart pounding in your ears.

Your Michael needs you. Thighs squeeze, already feeling wetness pooling in your panties. You are ashamed of yourself, such a strong reaction and you aren’t even close to his body.

When you reach his bedroom you choke on your saliva, dizziness overcomes your body, therefore you lean on the door before taking the last step.

“Michael!” You open up ready to run to him, but you have to stop at the sight in front of you.

The blonde omega is on the ground, back lying on the ground, in between an old and moldy cover dripping with his sweat. There is half-eaten food around him, old and dirty clothes as an undone nest. His room is filled with trash.

“Ngh.You are-ah!” He looks at you, his pupils so dilatated you almost can’t see anymore his blue irises. Blonde and blue strands are stuck on his sweaty face, moans and sighs keep flowing from his mouth, while his naked body twitches pitifully.

“Michael, baby come here.” You kneel on the ground, and shivers start to run down your body, both because of his heat affecting you and because of disgust, a liquid from a tin can on the floor dirtying your pants.

His hands find immediately the end of your shirt, pulling it up. Whines keep flowing from his mouth, fingers frantically working to push away the clothes separating him from your bare skin.

“Ngh. Want you-“ Rough fingers push down your bra, just enough for his mouth to latch on your nipple. His tattooed hand keeps pawning at your waist, inching closer to your pants.

Your hand goes to the back of his head, supporting him in the uncomfortable position. You scratch and tug the sensitive skin, muscle memory of what you know he loves, while your other hand slides down his sweaty body, caressing his hard muscles and soon tracing the line down his abs to reach the blonde bush leading to where he really needs you.

“Please, agh-” His eyes shut close, a lonely tear runs down his porcelain skin when you start to massage his hard member. His tip is already red and leaking, so you don’t need more lube to slide up and down his shaft.

“Ngh-ah. I want more.” He mumbles into your chest, your nipple abused by his greedy mouth.

“So you remember how to speak, mh?” You twist your wrist on his tip, feeling his muscles twitch under you. “Where is your toy?” You whisper, so near his red lips, begging for your attention.

“On your righ-gh” He gasps into your neck, his hips twitching while his nose nuzzles the crook of your neck, where your sigma smell is the strongest.

You look around, your hands still caressing his cock. There is so much trash you have to stop scratching the back of his head to start rummaging around.

Luckily you found it quickly, just under a sheet full of holes totally stiff from being used that much. It’s pink, almost fuchsia, but it’s not particularly long or wide, you guess it has the standard dimensions. It’s the knot at the base that takes the spotlight: it’s engorged and you know how strong it vibrates, abusing that little bundle of nerves that makes Michael’s eyes roll in the back of his eyelids.

You are a little too lost in looking at the toy that you don’t notice how the man under you unzipped your pants, his red and swollen lips now mouthing on your cotton panties, blue irises looking at you, almost begging for a crumb of your attention.

“Want you- want” A sigh leaves his mouth, together with a shiver strong enough to make his back arch like a bow. “Feel good- you too” He moans, head brushing on your lap, making his hair even messier, between the blonde strands sticking to his forehead and the others flying freely around your lap.

“If you want it so much, show me.” You pull him away, eliciting a groan of displeasure. Your legs are now wide open, jeans already unbuttoned. You remove your cotton shirt together with the bra, feeling your body on fire.

The blonde sits on his knees now, his sweaty skin shines under the light of the small lamp, abs look like carved out of marble.

“You and your damn- agh, tight-fitting jeans.” His blonde eyebrows scrunched, focused on pulling off the blue garment.

You snicker at his comment, his smell affecting you, but not enough to make you delirious.

“Fuck you-“ He spits out, cheeks red for the little effort “Come here.” Michael’s strong hands grip your waist, pushing your torso against his naked body, his cock rubbing on your tummy, droplets flowing from his red tip, staining your skin and rolling down your legs.

Michael starts to grind on your tummy, while his tattoed hand runs to your core, simply pushing your underwear aside, already wet and sticky.

“Not as unaffected, mh?” The blonde moans into your neck, but you can feel his smirk on your skin.

“Shut up and behave, omega” You moan into his ear, making Michael buck into your pelvis. One of your hands keeps his hips close to your tummy, not a lick of air between your bodies while the other starts to finger his puckered and wet hole, welcoming your fingers with the same intensity of two long-lost lovers finally meeting.

“Mgh, ah-“ He throws his head back, exposing his throat to you, sweats run down his Adam’s apple, begging to be bitten. You can only focus on him, his long chubby fingers caressing your core, curling and pistoning into you with no finesse or thought, just desperately trying to prepare you for the next act.

His wetness rolls down your wrist, you add another finger and then another scissoring and massaging his tight hole, trying to prepare him as best as you can. His hormones hit you stronger than before; almost unbelievable since earlier you had almost choked just by entering his house.

The hand that kept his hips close left his body, finding on the ground Michael’s toy.

“W-wait-“ Words cut off by a sigh, his blue irises, almost entirely covered by the pupils, are crossed but a crumble of sanity still seems to be there “Kiss-still no” He gulps “Still haven’t kissed” He slurs, you notice the fatigue in his words.

You don’t make him wait much more. Your lips lock with his wet ones. Tongues dancing together with no style or finesse, a mere exchange of saliva between lovers missing each other taste, delirious from each other smell. You break the kiss, but leave no time for Michael to whine about the sudden emptiness, his fuchsia toy’s tip already in his mouth, getting it ready for use.

Michael moans at each stroke of the toy on his tongue, you see him sucking on it, pulling a show for you. His fingers leave your core to start groping the fat of your thighs, pulling a whine out of your lips. Out of spite, you push harder the toy into Michael’s mouth, touching the back of it eliciting a gag and right after a moan out him.

“You are ready, baby.” You state, pulling out the spit-covered toy, making the blonde’s tongue loll out. You push back his blonde and blue mane, sticky with his sweat, before pushing on his chest to make him lean back on the old cover on the ground.

There is a copious amount of pre wetting both his abs and shaft, running down his legs straight to his hole and covers. “Ngh- ah.” Michael’s whine under your body, while you push the toy into his ass with no friction. The toy sucked in like the blonde man needs it to survive, chest rising and lowing so fast you almost worry he’s getting a panic attack.

“Ah-“ Micheal throws his head back when you finally push the toy entirely in, only the knot being left out vibrating at the setting you know he loves. You move it in a circular motion to rub the glands there that you know make him reach the skies of pleasure.

You start to trust the toy into his welcoming ass, eliciting moan after moan. His hands grip again your thighs and with the little strength he has left, Michael grinds your core on his shaft, mixing your body fluids together.

Fat tears roll down his reddened cheeks, sliding down his neck, while you start to grind without his help on his shaft, trying to reach your own peak while thrusting the toy into his hole. The room is filled with the sound of skin slapping and of your whines, soon you feel your canines sharpening, but never enough to be able to mark him.

Grinding is not enough now, your clit throbs in pain and you start to feel restless knowing you’ll never be able to reach your own peak like this. You finally throw your underwear away letting his cock penetrate your core, making the man under you almost howl in pleasure.

Michael’s cock twitches inside you, your tight hole hugging his shaft like a glove. Under you, his hips move confused, not able to decide if to follow the thrusts of the toy or to share with you a drop of the pleasure he is feeling now.

His hands can’t keep still, hesitant between squeezing the cover under him or your body, caressing and pinching. Each movement is a compliment, something your usual Michael wouldn’t say so easily. And then he says it, words that shake your heart, but not in a pleasant way.

“Mark me, make me-“ Words that make you gnash, teeth cracking under the pressure.

“I can’t you fucking idiot.” You show him your teeth. You are just a sigma, a glorified omega that will never be able to realize an omega's true desire.

Your words enter from one ear and exit from the other. Or just get reflected back by his thick skull. Michael cranes his neck to show you his engorged gland, exactly where one of his blue roses is tattoed, while he increases the rhythm of his hips, making you jump harder on his cock, each time making you hop closer to him.

“Please, help me. Please-“ The blonde cries under you, voice much more desperate than a simple whine.

“You really are, ah-“ ‘something else’ you wanted to add, but a delicious thrust make you lose on your tracks.

He starts to blabber your name, a confused plea to a merciful god. It sends a shiver down your spine, it makes your toe curl; the power you feel a sinful bliss.

You thrust the toy one last time, before using both your hands to pull his neck close to you. You bite, canines sinking into his warm skin. Michael twitches under you, hands now tightly gripping your legs and ass, leaving indents on your skin that will leave a mark.

“Love you-“  He moans into your ear, his thrusts into your core slowing down as he cums in you. It’s copious and you feel it already rolling down your legs. You start to tear up, so near your apex, but you never leave your hold on his neck, knowing a simple bite from your much less sharp canines won’t satisfy him.

“Say it again.” You mumble into his neck, eyes teary and with a shade of neediness in them.

Michael doesn’t stutter at your order, ‘love you’ blossoms from his throat and it illudes you that they are born from his heart. The thrusts of his hips are erratic, he keeps cumming into you, shaft sensitive and overstimulated, but not giving up ‘till you’ll reach your peak.

“Love you too.” You whine into him, biting as hard as you can before your body gives up under the intensity of your own release.

Pants echo in the room, both your smells mixed but it’s calming, a lull to your excited hearts. You lay on his chest, his tattoed hand caressing down your spine, soft fingertips brushing against your skin, no real thought behind this touch.

“Michael, I bit you.” You mumble into his chest, shame showers over you for letting yourself go so much, even if your gesture didn’t create any real damage; your teeth will never be strong enough.

You look up, Michael seems lost in thought, the heat subdued for a while. His red and plump lips are puckered, blue eyes looking at the ceiling.

The blonde leaves you hanging a bit more, his hand never stops caressing your body and you feel your body almost melting into his.

“I’m just sad-“ His voice is rough and he won’t look at you, but your heart jumps at the last word. You want to crawl out of your skin for having crossed his boundaries “The mark won’t last longer, guess you’ll have to bite me often.” Michael finally looks back at you, a smirk plastered on his face and blue irises sparkling with mirth knowing perfectly what he has done to your poor heart.

“You bastard.” You gasp out in relief, your lips locking into his like two magnets attracting each other. You feel him laugh under you, giving your tongue access to his mouth. It’s not an elegant kiss, it’s sloppy but also full of love a feeling you were both too scared to show.

“Heat will restart soon,” Michael says, pushing you away just enough to talk. “rest a little.”  You nod at him, your body is also sore, your muscles scream for a bit of rest before going all out again.

The day is still long.

[bluecollarmcandtf]

The Disappointment

AJ kept a strong face, but his palms were slick with sweat. Tonight had been the first game of the season, and he'd choked. His teammates couldn't even look his way, but the Coach kept a glaring eye fixed on him. AJ prayed that the locker room would be short and painless, but he had no idea what he was walking into...

"Not you," Coach put a firm hand on AJ's chest before he could follow the team in.

The quarterback looked to his buddies for backup, but none of them bothered. Whatever lecture Coach had planned, he would have to hear it by himself. Internally, he was already groaning in frustration, but he kept up his trademark exterior and asked, "What's up?"

"You're a disappointment, boy," he growled lowly, pushing a fat finger into AJ's chest.

"What the hell!" AJ burst, raising his voice. He may have screwed up on the field, but he didn't have to listen to this crap, "Screw you! None of that was my f-"

"Don't talk back..." the old man cut in firmly.

AJ's mouth snapped shut. It wasn't something he did consciously, but he was too occupied by the coach's hostile behavior to notice.

"...I dumped too much money into this team for you to just throw the game away!"

The quarterback scoffed. He wanted to yell 'What money?' in the coach's face, but he stayed silent instead. His throat had somehow clamped up. Talking back wasn't possible at the moment, so he just rolled his eyes. AJ didn't really care what the man was talking about. He just wanted to shower, go home, and forget about this whole night!

"Put these on!" Coach spat, throwing a set of folded clothes at him.

AJ gave the worn bundle of clothes a look of disdain. His face was boiling with contempt, but he was more confused than anything. Why had Coach just tossed him these gnarly old rags. The thick blue cotton was stained and saturated with a strong smell of body odor. Whatever nasty freak had worn these before had obviously never washed them or himself.

There was no way in hell AJ would put it on!

"Yes, sir."

It took him a couple seconds to realize those words had come from his mouth. They sounded artificially casual in his throat.

For the first time that night, Coach had a grin on his face, but it wasn't a pleasant one. The old man calmly watched as the quarterback pulled off his muddy jersey and shoulder pads. AJ was of course panicking, but it was limited to his thoughts as his body moved on its own.

"That looks much better," Coach purred with an amused glint in his eye.

The quarterback's mind ran wild, and every muscle tensed up as he tried to break out of this tight grip. From the outside, he looked like he was standing tall, arms flat at his side, feet shoulder with the part inside that crusty old jumpsuit, but that did not match how he felt on the inside! AJ was grinding his teeth in the effort to cry out; his eyes itched from an unflinching glare at the coach; and his butt cheeks repeatedly clenched and unclenched as he tried and failed to move.

Even his face has been commandeered by whatever force had taken over him. His mouth sat in an emotionless pout when all he wanted to do was scream! Even worse, his nose was resigned to taking long even breaths that sucked in the musky stench of the nasty blue coveralls he had on. He was acting as if he were the calmest man in the world, but in reality, he was fuming!

"As I was saying," Coach continued, "You're a disappointment, boy. You understand that?"

"Yes, sir," AJ's voice jumped into action once again, leaving him even more worried.

"No you don't. How could you?" the old man sneered, "I told everyone to forget everything: how I paid a hypnotist to help the team focus on the field. Of course, he really just hypnotized my players to obey me..."

AJ was at a loss for words, which didn't really matter since he couldn't control his mouth. He had a vague memory of Coach giving the team a lecture about focus, but he didn't recall anything about a hypnotist!

"...I paid that hypnotist a couple hundred bucks to give me a team I could control! Did you not notice how different everyone's been acting lately?..."

Thinking back, AJ could remember a distinct shift in the team. It was right after that weird chat from Coach! All of the sudden he and his teammates had insane urges to workout in their free time. It was like their personalities became about watching football tapes and bulking up. They had all been so eager to improve themselves for the team, for Coach, and they talked about it constantly.

All the players seemed to have found a new passion for the sport. Could that have really just been implanted by a hypnotist?

"...It was a waste of money." Coach said definitively, launching into an angry monologue, "That hypnotist was supposed to make my team go to State. The whole lot of you are at my command! I can tell you what to do in your free time! I can tell you what to think, but I can't tell you to go out there and win a game for me? It's bullshit!"

The words stung. AJ had never seen this manipulative and bitter side of the man before.

"Well, I need to get my money's worth out of you, and if all you're good for is mopping floors, then maybe I'll take you off the team and make you a full-time janitor! Maybe that'll teach you to not let me down again, boy."

"Yes, sir," was all AJ could say.

"I'm tired of looking at you!" he scowled, "Get to work!"

"Yes, sir."

AJ gladly retreated from the man. His head was pounding from the beratement and the fact that his will had apparently been broken months ago. AJ wanted nothing more than to escape the crazy football team, but his body had other ideas. His legs carried him over to an idle cleaning cart, where his hands picked up a rag and spray bottle.

The quarterback looked calm and collected on the outside as he wiped down and sterilized the gym equipment. In the well-worn uniform of a custodian, he was easy to overlook, but he was the only one still shuffling around in the gym on a Friday night. One would think he was the epitome of lonely non-achievers.

AJ wanted to yell. He wanted to kick over the bench he was wiping sweat off of and punch a wall. Hell, he'd even settle for a frown, but he knew it was useless. That hypnotist had done a number on him, and he felt he had no control over what he was doing with his body.

The defeated athlete just hoped his teammates wouldn't get a good look at him as they left the locker room. He didn't think he could handle that much humiliation in one night. They would be passing by soon, but the quarterback assured himself that his buddies wouldn't give him any grief. They had to be just as intent on leaving as he was.

"Listen up, boys!" came a loud call from Coach.

Internally, a pang of worry shot through AJ's chest. 'What the hell is he going to do, now?' he thought.

"Before you go, toss all your jerseys to the janitor over there. I want you all to see what happens to players who disappoint the team."

AJ's face burnt red hot, but he wasn't angry anymore: just utterly embarrassed. Before he knew what he was doing, his body dropped the rag and spray bottle and climbed up from his knees. Turning on his heels, he faced the entirety of his football team, and just like that, they were staring at their quarterback in the degrading garb of a janitor.

"What's going on, AJ?" one of his buddies squeaked as he recognized him and the apathetic look on his face.

"That's your star quarterback boys," Coach announced, only twisting their expressions into more disturbed looks of confusion, "Give them a smile AJ."

AJ's stomach dropped as his mouth spread into a toothy grin. It was the same charming smile he'd used on picture day. He wanted to shrivel up and disappear, but his broad shoulders stayed wide and his legs stood firm while his teammates stared at his smiling face in horror.

"He's a reminder of what will happen to you if you disappoint me like he did tonight!" Coach continued, "I'm having him spend his whole weekend scrubbing this gym from top to bottom! He's also doing our laundry, so make sure he gets those dirty football uniforms."

The football team stood, frozen in a mixture of fear and bewilderment. Half of them were still convinced this was a really bad prank.

"Get a move on!" Coach roared, "Hand over your jerseys! I want you each to give him an insult as you do. And AJ, I want you to thank each and everyone of them for it!"

A sudden wave of monotoned "Yes, sir," statements echoed through the gym. Apparently the coach really did have each and every player under his control.

It took awhile. With over forty guys on the team, AJ stood there for thirty minutes accepting their unwashed clothes, quietly muttering fake gratitute to each player that insulted him.

"You are an awful team leader," one said.

"Thank you, sir."

"You never deserved to be quarterback," said another.

"Thank you, sir."

Some insults got more personal, "You smell terrible, like really so bad."

"Thank you, sir."

"You are a pain to be around and a bully," said a freshman, which stung the most.

"Thank you, sir."

Some of the players gave him looks of bewilderment, like they didn't know why they were obeying Coach like this, but some looked at him with disgust, like they truly believed he deserved this punishment. He would have crumpled to the floor if it weren't for the stranglehold the hypnosis had over his body.

It felt like hours, but eventually his teammates had each insulted him and shoved their game clothes into his arms, leaving AJ alone with the coach and a giant hamper of smells. His body was still standing tall, but he couldn't hide the wet streaks running down his cheek.

"You better get a load started," Coach said with an amused giggle, "The waterboy told me it usually takes him a full day to finish laundry."

"Yes, sir," AJ answered, though he wished his mouth would shut up. He hated hearing his voice. He sounded more like a pussy than ever.

"Don't worry, AJ," Coach said, putting a hand on his frozen shoulder, "You might be stuck here all weekend but I won't let you drive yourself crazy. You're going to be happy. You're going to love every second of scrubbing toilets and mopping floors in this empty gym."

AJ's migraine began to lift. The weight and depression of the night was rising off his shoulders. He knew it was the god damn hypnosis, but it felt like a drug. He really was starting to feel happier.

"Sure, you'll be doing some of the nastiest crap in your life, but there's nothing you'd rather be doing, right?"

"Yes, sir," AJ was beginning to mean it.

"You know you deserve it. You are going to replay the game over and over in your head and think about what you did wrong. You aren't going to choke on that field again, boy. Right?"

"Yes, sir."

He was already thinking about the first snap, imagining how he could have been more decisive, more aggressive in that moment.

AJ barely noticed as Coach gave him a slap on the butt. He was lost in concentration, meditating on the game he'd lost a few hours earlier, and he began pushing the squeaky metal hamper in the direction of the laundry room. He no longer felt upset, degraded, or alone. He only felt grateful to Coach for pointing him in the right direction, for giving him this opportunity to think on his mistakes. He really did deserve this time as a janitor.

He might have been exhausted and uncomfortable, wearing that sticky uniform in the hot gym, but he only felt peace as Coach locked the door on his way out. He had an entire weekend of self reflection and menial labor in front of him!

AJ was finally alone and free to do Coach's bidding. His lips didn't smile and his steps didn't have any pep, but inwardly he couldn't be happier. The gym was still ripe with the smell of his jumpsuit and the team's jerseys, but he didn't mind breathing it in. Coach had made him understand that he deserved every second of this nasty punishment.

He was the disappointment after all.

[hardwriterdeluxe]

Economic Hockey Boys Part Two: The Gradual Takeover

__________________

This story has been in the making for a while, and I kind of quit in the middle of it for months. I couldn’t find an ending or the right direction. I hope you all enjoy this version; I think I started over at least two times.

part one here: https://hardwriterdeluxe.tumblr.com/post/727576341242920960/economic-hockey-boys

_______________

Alex’s plan was meticulous, calculated to usurp Max's place both on the team and in the social hierarchy. It began subtly, with Alex hanging around Max more often, always conveniently there to assist or "help" whenever Max needed it. He started emitting a new, strong smell with a musk that seemed to dominate the air around him. The scent was potent, masculine, and it slowly began to take hold in the locker room.

At first, Max didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. He was too focused on maintaining his status as captain and the team's star player. But the others started to change in their behavior. They began looking to Alex for guidance, respecting his opinions more and more, while Max found it increasingly difficult to command the same respect.

One evening, after a particularly intense practice, Alex approached Max in the locker room. The space was filled with the pungent scent of sweat and Alex’s overpowering musk. Max was exhausted, sitting on the bench, wiping his face with a towel. Alex, freshly showered but still emanating that musk, sat beside him, a smirk playing on his lips.

“You okay, Max?” Alex asked, his tone laced with a mix of concern and something else—something that made Max uneasy.

“Yeah, just tired,” Max replied, trying to muster his usual confidence.

“Maybe you should take it easy,” Alex suggested, lifting his arm to adjust his jersey, exposing his pit. The musk hit Max like a wave, making him feel dizzy and disoriented. “You’ve been pushing yourself pretty hard.”

Max nodded, unable to shake the feeling of Alex’s dominance growing stronger with each passing day. The musk seemed to cling to him, invading his senses even after he left the locker room.

Over the next few weeks, the transformation began in earnest. Max started to lose weight, his muscular frame slowly wasting away. His once-bulging biceps shrank, his pecs flattened, and his six-pack abs softened into a smooth, slender torso. His legs, once powerful and thick, became thin and frail. His skin lost its healthy tan, turning pale and almost translucent. His face softened, his jawline losing its sharpness and becoming more delicate and androgynous.

The changes weren’t just physical. Max’s confidence waned as he found it harder to assert himself. The team, too, started to notice but couldn’t quite put their finger on what was happening. Alex, on the other hand, grew more robust. His muscles became more defined, his presence more commanding. He had started taking Max's place not just in performance but in the hearts and minds of their teammates.

Max’s clothes began to change as well. His gear, once snug and highlighting his athletic build, became loose and baggy. His jersey, bearing the captain's insignia, was replaced with a simple tracksuit labeled "WATER BOY" on the back. His locker, once prominently positioned among the team's stars, vanished, leaving him with a small, inconspicuous cubby near the entrance.

“Hey, Maxie, can you grab us some water?” one of the players called out one day. Max looked up, realizing with a start that he had been demoted to a mere water boy. The name "Maxie" stuck, a cruel reminder of his new position. His memories of leading the team, of scoring goals and celebrating victories, began to blur, replaced by feelings of awe towards Alex and secret crushes on the more manly players.

The team quickly took advantage of Maxie's new role. They would make fun of him, teasing him mercilessly. "Hey, Maxie the Service Boy, clean out my locker!" they'd jeer, throwing smelly gear at him, the odor overwhelming his senses. The once-proud captain was now an easy target for their taunts, his weakened state making him unable to fight back.

One evening, after a particularly grueling practice, the team decided to play a prank on Maxie. At Alex's suggestion, they locked him into a locker filled with reeking gear, the pungent smell of sweat and musk suffocating him. Maxie banged on the door, pleading to be let out, but the boys just laughed and walked away.

Finally, Alex came to "rescue" him. He opened the locker, a look of mock concern on his face. "Having fun, Maxie?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Maxie stumbled out, his eyes watering from the stench. "Please, Alex, I can't take this anymore," he begged, his voice trembling.

Alex's smirk widened as he grabbed Maxie by the collar and pulled him close. "You'll do whatever I say, won't you, Maxie?" he whispered, his breath hot against Maxie's ear.

Maxie nodded, unable to resist the overpowering musk emanating from Alex's body. Alex pushed him down to the floor, standing over him in nothing but his musky socks, jockstrap, and pits reeking from practice. "Show me how much you appreciate your new role," he commanded.

Maxie, his mind clouded by the intoxicating scent, obeyed without question. He serviced Alex, his actions driven by a mix of submission and a strange, overwhelming desire. Alex watched with satisfaction, knowing that he had completely dominated and owned Maxie, at least within the confines of the locker room.

From that night on, Maxie was Alex’s toy, a secret shared between the two of them. The team continued to win, celebrating their new captain and hero, Alex, while Maxie's presence faded into the background. In the quiet moments, away from prying eyes, Maxie and Alex found solace in each other, their bond growing stronger with each passing day. Alex had successfully stolen Max’s life, and in doing so, they had found an unexpected connection that neither had anticipated.

Hope you all liked it, comment down below!

[anon-sect]

Can you do one where I piss off a fraternity/sports team so they transform me into a toilet bowl in the frat house/locker room?

Tim was hoping to join fraternity on campus, but since it was his first year, he couldn't join. But he would be allowed during his sophomore year. Just as promised, he was able to pledge during his second year of college. He was so glad to be pledging. During one of the rituals, all the new pledges had to get really plastered at one of the frat parties. He didn't like getting that drunk, so he refused to participate in the ritual with the others. The frat brothers picked on him for not participating.

Tim got so upset over how much they bullied him for not getting plasteredly drunk that he complained about it to one of the professors. As a result of the complaint, the frat was investigated and found in violation. Their activities were suspended for two years on campus.

The frat brothers were highly pissed off at Tim for snitching on them. They wanted to punish Tim for his actions in ruining their fun on campus. They came up with the perfect punishment.

Tim was invited by one of the frat brothers to come into the restroom. He had wanted to show him something. When he got there he found a stall in the bathroom with no toilet or urinal. He was curious as to why he was being shown this. He was suddenly shoved into the empty stall. He saw the frat brother holding up his phone. There was a quick flash.

Things suddenly felt weird for him. Tim found himself unable to move or speak. He began to panic as his mouth felt wide open. He saw the frat brother standing before him laughing. He wanted to protest but couldn't even speak a single thought he was thinking.

"You ruined our good fun, so we all decided to punish you for that. I turned you into a toilet. For the next two years, at least, this will be your purpose." The frat brother paused, with a smirk on his face. "If anyone asked about your whereabouts, we all decided we would deny knowing where you had gone. Yet secretly, we all know you are this toilet. And I promise you, no one will breathe a single word, text, or call about what you are on, punish of suffering the same fate." He paused again as he unzipped his pants and pulled out his dick. "Let my piss be the first you drink up." He laughed as he pissed in the new toilet. He flushed it and walked out, still laughing at his fate without a single care on who came next to use him.

Tim was mortified at his fate. He tried to scream for help, but his thoughts couldn't escape his mind or be vocalize. This was a horrible fate, one he would never want. The guy's piss tasted nasty as he was forced to swallow all of it. He thought it couldn't get worse. Tim soon found that to be wrong.

Tim saw one of the pledges approach him. He seemed to be smiling at him as though he knew what he was. "Sorry, but not sorry about this." He said as he sat down on his mouth. At first, he pissed, but then came the rest. Plop after plop fell into his mouth from the guy's naked butt. Tim mentally pleaded for him not to flush, but he was too late as it was pushed down. He was forced to swallow all of it. He also tasted all of it as well. He wanted to gag from the taste and foul odor as the guy left him there, just laughing at him. He realized this was his fate. He just hoped they would turn him back to normal after two years.

FIVE YEARS LATER......

Tim's mind was completely gone. They had forgotten that he was a toilet after one year. He had swallowed so much that all he was now was a dumb submissive toilet whose only purpose is to serve the frat house in getting rid of waste.

[artificial-transmutations]

11:48

Martin was frustrated. It was a late Thursday morning and since some of his classes had been cancelled, he had used the opportunity to throw in an extra training at the gym.

He was really trying to bulk up some muscles and get into bodybuilding, but it was no use. His 21 year old body was thin and athletic, but didn't show any signs of bulking up. He had tried everything, like different training programs, dieting, protein shakes, even some shady hypno files he found on the net, but his muscle mass just wouldn't increase.

He sighed and was about to get dressed, when he noticed discarded piece of clothing under the locker room bench. It was a pair of gym shorts, soaked with sweat, obviously left behind by someone who had worked out before him. Curious, he took them in hand and looked at them more closely. The shorts were light gray and made of cotton-like material, but they seemed very wide, probably belonging to a very fat or very muscular man. They were smelling strongly of man sweat, which made Martin's head swim. He could only think of one thing...

He slowly pulled down his pants and underwear and then started to pull the shorts over his legs. As soon as the first leg was inside, he felt the wet fabric cling to his skin. Part of him felt disgusted by it, but another part was somehow turned on by the experience. He pulled the shorts up further, until his dick touched the wet material of the shorts. They were way too big, just hanging barely from his hips, perhaps only because they were damp and stuck to his skin. The smell was intense and mixed with his own body odor from his workout - although Martin didn't really tend to smell much.

However, it was just turning him on to wear another man's gym shorts, and so, he fished out his stiff cock through one of the leg holes of the shorts and started jerking. Intoxicated by the smell, he pumped like a mad man, his hand slick from pre and the wetness of the pair of shorts. It didn't take long until he erupted in a wide arc over the locker room bench.

Post-Nut-Clarity set in, and Martin finally felt a bit disgusted about him wearing the foreign piece of clothing. He wanted to get out of it quickly and take another shower, just to be sure.

However, as he tried to pull down the shorts, he found himself unable to. It felt stuck, like it was glued to his body. He tried again, this time with more force, but it didn't move. He pushed harder and faster, but the shorts remained firmly attached to his body. After several attempts, he gave up. Perhaps if it had dried up, it would be easier to remove.

So, Martin left the gym, still wearing the foreign shorts and quickly made his way back to his dorm and tried to calm down there. However, even after two more hours, as the shorts had dried down somewhat, he just couldn't remove them. The intense smell had infiltrated his dorm room by now, and, not thinking too clearly, Martin didn't mind the situation all that much. The shorts were comfortable enough and there was no reason to take them off just yet, right? They would come off eventually!

Thinking about it, perhaps he should just go back to the gym. He felt energetic and had nothing more to do for the day, so a quick second session certainly wouldn't hurt.

The training was nice. Martin got into a routine quickly and forgot about time. Only as it was getting dark outside, he realized he should be heading home.

However, there was still the problem with the unremovable shorts. He could take a shower with them on, but then, he would have some soaking wet gym shorts on him that he couldn't get dry very well. The other option was skipping the shower and staying sweaty.

Martin didn't like any of these options very much, but he opted for the latter one. Skipping one shower would probably not hurt too much, and tomorrow he would be able to remove the shorts, he was sure of it.

When Martin woke up the next morning, he was almost late for classes. His bed, no his whole dorm room smelled like him, but he had hardly time to do anything about that. He tugged on his shorts, but they still wouldn't move. So, Martin took his morning piss by pulling his cock through one of the leg holes. It worked, but it was hardly a permanent solution. Still, it was something he could care about this afternoon, now he had to go to class.

In his third course for the day, in the late morning, Martin suddenly felt a churn in his stomach, which rose through his throat quickly. Before Martin could do anything about it, he let loose a loud burp, right in the middle of the lecture hall. Everyone stared at him, even the professor made a short pause before droning on. God, how embarrassing! However, Martin couldn't focus on that, since all of a sudden, his body started growing. His legs and arms suddenly felt much more powerful, as muscles grew in all over them. The t-shirt he was wearing suddenly felt rather constricting and Martin could feel that his biceps were bulging under the sleeves. He looked down and saw that his shorts were way better fitting now as well, with a visible cock print in them. Apparently, his dick had grown as well. However, the worst part were his shoes. The confines of his shoes quickly grew extremely painful, and it felt like his feet were about to burst out of them at any second.

Martin quickly excused himself and ran outside, where he went ahead to peel his shoes and socks off of him. Such a relief. Now his feet could breathe freely again.

He noticed that there were several people staring at him, but he ignored them and walked away quickly towards the gym. Perhaps he'd find some answers there.

However, when he arrived, he changed into a tank top without thinking about it. He was then drawn directly to the weights, starting a workout routine almost automatically. He could see himself in the mirror. He did look impressive! Finally, he could see some progress.

Martin blinked. Was it evening already? He was sweating like crazy, and his muscles felt like they were full of pump. He briefly considered working out some more, but no, something wasn't right here. He returned to his dorm room, not even thinking about taking a shower. He needed to get back on track! This evening, he would repeat the material he missed at his courses today, and tomorrow he would buy new clothes, as his old ones didn't fit him very well now. Luckily, his classes started at noon tomorrow, which gave him plenty of time to go shopping.

The plan sounded good in theory, but it was way harder in practice. Martin tried to concentrate on his studies, but he was distracted easily. Drops of sweat from his brow dropped to his books and wiping away at his forehead only helped momentarily. He needed to remember to drink a lot, if he was still that sweaty after his workout.

To make matters worse, he was constantly aroused. His larger cock leaked precum into his gym shorts constantly, and Martin found himself struggling with the concepts he had to learn. At some point he sighed. It was no use, he needed to let off some steam. He had stroked his cock through his short subconsciously for a while now. Perhaps after release, he would be capable of concentrating better. He fished out his cock through the leg and started thrusting into his hand again. The smell of his arousal mixed with the already strong aroma in his room and brought him over the edge quickly, coming all over his books.

Martin looked at the mess and shrugged mentally. Well, he might as well hit the bed and clean that up tomorrow. No use in trying to study any more today.

The next morning came, but Martin did not think about cleaning up any mess. His bed was slightly damp from his sweat that had continued to transpire out of him during the night.

Still, Martin felt good about himself. His new body was impressive, albeit a bit sweaty. If he had some new clothes, he would look really hot with it!

He briefly considered going to the gym for a quick morning session but decided that had time until the afternoon.

Martin spent the morning shopping for clothes, and he had almost gotten everything, when the clock showed 11:48, the exact same time he put on the pair of shorts for the first time the day before yesterday. Suddenly, Martin let out a really loud burp, even worse than the one yesterday. He had thought that this had been a one-time thing, but again, his body was expanding in all directions. He could see his pecs strain the tank top he was wearing until he heard a ripping sound, as the sheer mass from his body had started ripping the seams. He quickly got out of his large new sneakers that he just bought before his feet started growing again, saving him from a new painful experience.

The new size of his feet was almost comical. Martin was sure he wouldn't find any shoes for them so easily. Looking down on him, he sighed. He looked really good, but most of the stuff he just bought wouldn't fit him anymore. For some reason, this didn't bother Martin much, however. He thought for a moment, before coming to the most obvious conclusion. He should go to the gym.

Exiting the store, he noticed the store clerk opening a window after he was out of the door, but Martin couldn't draw a connection. Finally, he arrived at the gym. He needed to work out shirtless and with bare feet, emitting his more-than-strong stink through the whole gym. He just couldn't stop sweating. Liquid ran over his body, as he was running on the treadmill, soaking the equipment he was using. He also used the weight machines, pumping iron like crazy, and soon enough, his muscles were bulging everywhere.

When he finally stopped, it was late in the night. It was not that he was tired, but he was too hungry to go on. So, Martin decided to visit a fast food restaurant to get something to eat. After ordering a dozen hamburgers, Martin started to stuff himself full. He needed the energy, that much was sure. However, as he was halfway through his meal, a waiter stepped up to him and asked him if it were too much trouble to finish his meal outside. There were other guests, as he put it, that were complaining about his strong odor.

At first, Martin was offended, but then again, as he thought about it, he was kind of proud. It was like his smell was a statement! So, he finished the second six hamburgers on his way home. His bed groaned under his weight, as he drifted to sleep happily.

Martin began the next day by going to the gym, after jerking off into his shorts. Nobody would notice the added bit of moisture anyway, as his shorts were constantly damp with sweat. He started working out early and got into a nice rhythm, until, finally, the clock hit 11:48.

A massive belch roared through the gym, as Martin got even bigger. It was getting ridiculous now. He probably would have to turn sideways to go through doors now, and scratching his back was impossible. His gym shorts were the only piece of clothing fitting him now, and there was little hope of finding shoes or other clothes that could cover his body anymore. Not that he wanted to, anyway. A dumb grin covered his square face. He just loved working on his body and showing it off to anyone strong-willed enough to brave his stench. Even though his size was the very definition of impracticality now, Martin couldn't wait for 11:48 tomorrow.

[meazalykov]

watch my heart break

danielle van de donk x exarsenal!reader

summary: all good things must come to an end

warnings: angst

the fluorescent lights in the locker room flicker softly, casting a pale glow over the space that begins to feel more like a confinement than a sanctuary. 

you sit on the edge of a wooden bench, the cold surface pressing against you. the familiar scent of sweat and worn leather fills the air, mixed with the faint aroma of the laundry detergent used for your jerseys. 

yet, those odors that once brought you comfort now feel oppressive and heavy, much like the anguish building inside.

you stare at a small bottle of water resting in front of you, unable to bring yourself to drink from it. your heart feels like it’s encased in ice, a chasm of emotions swirling around your thoughts. your mind keeps flashing back to the whirlwind of emotions you shared with danielle—the laughter that echoed through the corridors of arsenal, the late-night conversations that stretched into dawn, the passion both on the field and behind closed doors. 

danielle was supposed to be your forever.

the news that ingrid gave you earlier in training sent you into a panic. at first, you thought you covered it up well. however, as you were doing drills, everything from the past hit you. you told the team that you had to use the restroom inside, but you just sat down and thought about everything.

the memories hits you with piercing clarity—the moment everything changed. you can see it as if it were happening again, the night in your shared apartment filled with the laughter and warmth that usually suffused your lives but now felt hauntingly distant.

“y/n, we need to talk,” danielle had said, her voice unusually serious, the shadows dancing across her face as the sunlight faded outside.

you immediately felt dread coil in your stomach. 

“what’s wrong…?” 

danielle doesn’t speak right away. 

“you’re scaring me,” you say, your heart racing as you brace for bad news.

“i got an offer from lyon,” danielle began, her words trembling in the air. 

“and… they want me to join.i’m going to take it.”

“thats amazing dani!!” 

“yeah but you’re going to wolfsburg, i’m not sure if this is going to work..” 

your heart sank. “what do you mean? what about us? we can make it work, danielle. wolfsburg and lyon is not that far; it’s just a three-hour flight.”

“y/n, it’s not just about the distance,” she explained. 

“long distance is hard emotionally. i don’t think i can do it. i’m sorry, but… i think we should break up.”

the words felt like a knife twisting into your heart. 

“what? you can’t just throw everything away because of a three hour distance! you’re the love of my life, danielle.”

“sometimes love isn’t enough,” she said softly, her eyes filled with unshed tears. 

“i can’t do this if we’re not at the same club. i don’t want to hurt either of us more.”

you stared at her, bewildered, trying to comprehend the sudden finality in her voice, the way she avoided your gaze as if afraid of what lay within. 

some of your national teammates can handle long distance relationships in different continents!! what does danielle mean she can't handle the distance between lyon and wolfsburg!

“i thought we were going to build a life together. dani i-i-i thought you were the one!”

“i thought so too,” she said, her eyes glistening. 

“but i have to think of my career. i can’t do long distance. i need to focus.”

“focus?” you echoed, disbelief washing over you. 

“how is it easier to date someone else at a different club than to fight for us?”

the room felt heavy with unsaid words as you both fell silent, each wrapped in your own swirling storm of thoughts. you wanted to scream, to shake some sense into her, to plead for clarity, for truth but all you could do was nod numbly, accepting what felt like a devastating betrayal while desperately holding on to the last threads of your love.

“if this is what you really want…” you finally whispered, tears blurring your vision, 

“i guess there’s nothing i can do… it hurts, danielle. it really hurts.”

“i’m sorry,” she said.

for a moment, you believed her—believed that the decision was about you, about them, and not the seeds of something new already taking root in her heart.

with that, you walked out of the door of your shared apartment for one last time, the echoes of your laughter still trapped between the walls, your heart crushed under the weight of goodbye.

now, the memory lingers in the air, sharp and painful. your heart twists as you recollect how danielle had never once expressed doubt about your love during that conversation—how could she? 

you blink away tears as you sit in the locker room, trying to gather yourself amidst the chaos of your emotions. 

footsteps echo down the hall, breaking the silence. 

lena enters, her vibrant presence immediately lighting up the somber atmosphere, but as she takes a step closer, her bright smile falters upon seeing your tear-streaked face.

“y/n! everyone is—--oh– uh, everything okay?”

you turn away, a lump forming in your throat. 

“i’m fine.”

lena knows better than to take that at face value. she can see the outline of your face, shimmering with unshed tears.

“you don’t look fine,” she says gently, stepping further into the room.

“do you want to talk about it?”

“not really,” you mutter, attempting to sound dismissive but failing miserably.

lena shifts awkwardly, but before she can respond, she glances toward the door, spotting ewa, ingrid, and pernille walking in. 

“guys! come here!” she calls, urgency lacing her tone. 

as they naturally gather around, you can feel their concern radiating off them, even though you wish to shield yourself from it. 

“what’s wrong?” ingrid asks, her accent unmistakably sweet and soothing.

you shake your head, unable to control the tears that form again. 

“nothing.”

“you’re crying, y/n,” ewa replies, a gentle probing beneath her tough demeanor. 

“talk to us.”

“you can’t fix this, trust me,” you say, bitterness creeping into your tone.

“who says we can’t?” pernille steps closer, an aura of strength emanating from her. 

“we’re here for you, remember?”

you let out a laugh, but it’s hollow. 

“what happened?” lena presses, her brow furrowing.

you take a deep breath, and with it comes a surge of emotions.

“it was danielle… she left for lyon. she didn’t want to do long distance, and i thought we could make it work. but then, just a few weeks later…” your voice trails off as the bite of fresh pain blooms in your chest.

“oh.” ingrid mumbles, remembering what she told you.

“what? what happened?” ewa asks, eyebrows knitting together in concern as she looks between you and ingrid.

“she started dating someone else. ellie, ellie carpenter from australia” you whisper, the name spilling from your lips like venom. 

“just a few months after our breakup. we were together for years!! was that why she was so adamant about ending things?”

silence fills the air, a heavy blanket that suffocates your spirit. you can see the realization flicker in your friends' eyes.

“what a coward,” ingrid murmurs, fury substituting soft sympathy. 

“she should have just talked to you.” pernille says. 

you feel that fury stir within you, heart pounding with a mix of anger and sorrow. 

“right? like it wouldn’t have been that hard to face me and tell me that! how could she not care enough to be honest?”

“some people are afraid of confrontation,” lena replies softly. 

“that doesn’t mean they care any less, though.”

you meet lena’s gaze, your eyes brimming once more. 

“but she didn’t fight for us, did she? if you love someone, you fight for them. i would’ve done everything in my power to make it work. we had plans… i thought she was the one.”

“this was all her loss,” pernille states firmly, a reassuring hand on your back. 

“you’re amazing, y/n! the way you play, the way you care about others—she doesn’t deserve a second of your thoughts! you need to let go of this weight.”

you can’t shake it off, no matter how much you try. the memories flood your mind, filling the gaps left by danielle’s absence. the laughter echoing through your apartment, the late-night matches played out on your console with hastily made snacks scattered around, the moments when danielle would lean in a little closer, making your heart race. 

“i don’t know how to do that,” you admit, your voice breaking.

“then we’ll help you,” ewa states firmly, a reassuring hand on your back. 

“we’re here, and we won’t let you carry this alone.”

“danielle made her choice,” ingrid adds, crossing her arms. 

“it was her loss. you’re incredible, y/n. don’t let her actions define your worth. you’re more than just someone who loved her. you’re a fantastic player, and you have a whole future ahead of you.”

in the comforting arms of your teammates, you whisper, 

“thank you, guys. i really don’t know what i’d do without you.”

“just remember, we are here for you y/n,” ewa promises, brushing a tear away from your cheek.

taking a deep breath, your heart begins to settle at last. maybe this is the turning point you need. 

“you think we should get back to training before coach asks what happened?” lena asks, pulling back slowly, gauging your reaction.

“yeah,” you say, the glimmer of determination beginning to replace the emptiness in your chest. 

“i promise i won’t let a relationship get in the way of my football again.”

“that’s the spirit!” ingrid cheers, throwing her arm around your shoulder.

masterlist

[hairyjocktf]

First Workout of the Year

Aidan was just starting his second semester at university, and after a long winter break of being a bum he was ready to get back to his goal of finally getting in some semblance of shape.Despite his efforts during the fall he was still practically a twig, something the studs on grindr were keen to let him know. This was finally going to be when he packed on some size, he told himself as he headed into the campus gym. It was packed with people his size, trying for those new year's resolutions, with the regular jocks standing out amongst the crowd. He squeezed in between the hoards of people, getting in a basic circuit on the resistance machines. After about 40 measly minutes he was sweaty, out of breath, and decided to call it a day for his first workout back.

He headed to the locker room to rinse off before getting on his way. Letting the warm water pour over him for a few minutes, he let his thoughts drift to the hunks he saw in the free weight area. Damn they looked good, he thought, I hope I can pull off a tank top like that eventually. Eventually he came back to reality, turned off the water and reached for his towel. Or at least, where his towel was supposed to be. Shit! I must’ve forgotten it and not even noticed, he lamented. Soaking wet and low on options, he peeked out from the stall to see if anyone was around. Shockingly, the place was empty. On a nearby bench he spotted a leftover towel. Not that he wanted to use a dirty towel, but there weren’t many alternatives. Embarrassed about his actions, he darted over and snagged the towel before hiding back in the shower. 

Eager to put this whole situation behind him, he used the towel to dry off his body, followed by his face. But while wiping his face he noticed a stench that had been missed earlier. The towel absolutely reeked of sweat and body odor. Upon opening his eyes at the eye watering smell he saw an even more disgusting problem: the towel was coated in thick dark hairs! How did I not see that? He cursed at himself. He spit one out of his mouth. Disgusted, he threw the towel down to the floor and quickly changed back into his clothes before storming out of the gym.

On his walk back to his dorm he was pissed, Who would leave a filthy towel like that? He angrily thought, and why did I not pay closer attention? The afternoon was warm, and he felt himself sweating. Guess I’ll have to shower again, he thought to himself. As he kept walking he felt increasingly sore in his muscles, maybe that workout was better than he had thought. He caught himself scratching at his pit, which was odd behavior for him, but he brushed it off as just being sweaty and sore. He brought his finger back up to his nose and sniffed them. Phew I stink! He said to himself. A moment later that action registered in his brain, Why the hell did I just scratch and sniff my pit? He began to worry. His shirt began to feel a little tighter than normal, restricting his arm movements as he walked. His shoes also felt smaller than usual. He continued making his way home, nearly there, as worry truly set in.

By the time he reached his dorm his back was drenched with sweat, he was feeling sore and itchy and all around uncomfortable. As he reached his hand to the door to put his key in his eyes widened. His hand was much larger than normal, as was his forearm, and they were both coated in thick dark hairs. As he stared, the hairs seemed to grow denser as they spread up his forearm to his bicep, which was also inflating to ridiculous size. Aidan quickly threw open the door and ran inside straight to his bathroom mirror. 

What he saw made his jaw drop. His frame had grown substantially since leaving the gym just a while before, pushing against his now tight clothing. He could see his biceps and shoulders bulging under the fabric, stretching his t-shirt to its limit. As he stared agape in the mirror his pecs also began to grow, inflating his shirt even more. He groaned in discomfort as everything felt so sore as his muscles packed on years worth of mass in seconds. With a final grunt, his shirt split open, unable to contain his hulking body in a size small any longer.

His shirt in tatters, Aidan’s bulked up body was now clearly visible. Muscle mass was not the only thing growing on him. As he stared at his mountainous pecs, tiny dark spots began to appear across them. Dark pinpricks spread across his chest before erupting into dark brown hairs. Thin at first, they quickly darkened and thickened into respectable chest fur as his skin disappeared beneath the growing coat. It spread out from the center, swirling across his pecs and thickening around his nipples as thicker, longer hairs sprouted around them. The hairs crawled up to his collarbone, making sure that plenty of dark hairs would be visible above any shirt. He moaned from the feeling of the hair spreading, filling his new body with ecstasy.

Aidan felt his previously flat stomach contort, with pronounced abs growing in and giving him that sought after V shape he admired in other jocks. That definition was quickly buried under his spreading body hair, however, as it raced down from his chest. Thick, dark hairs grew down in waves across his stomach, burying his abs under a coat of dense fur just like his chest. But that was just the beginning of it. He felt a strong itch below the waist of his paints as pressure increased substantially there. Pulling out his waistband he watched in horror as thick hairs erupted across his groin, engulfing the wisps that had been there before. The hairs were thick, dark, and grew curlier by the second as they spread. They grew up above his waistband, connecting to the forest that had covered his stomach, and then down to his thighs. His balls were not spared that fate either, with his sack becoming overrun with fur. With a densely hairy crotch that only continued to grow, Aidan groaned and put his hands up to his face, revealing a flash of dark under his arm. 

He lifted his arm just in time to see thick, wiry hairs erupting from his armpit. They grew longer and thicker as they spread out, and he could see the sweat getting trapped in the bushes already. He scratched at the growing tuft of hair with his other hand, feeling the hairs grow and curl as they filled his armpit to the brim, sticking out even when he put his arm down. Those hairy pits already smelled to match the jock he was becoming, it was eye watering. The hairs even filled out to the point of connecting with his chest hair, giving his upper body a full coat. Or so he thought, at least, before the hairs began crawling up his boulder shoulders, the fur wrapping all the way to his back. The itchiness growing on his other side told him all he needed to know. Thick hairs were worming their way out across his shoulder blades, dusting his entire back with dark fur. The hairs climbed down, thickening as they approached his ass, which itself had grown quite a bit without him noticing. The itchy feeling reached a zenith as dark brown hairs began pushing out of his plump ass, giving him a nice thick fur coat even there. He reached around to scratch at his hole, feeling intense pleasure as thick curly hairs burst out around it, filling his crack with dark hairs.

It was at this point, half lost in pleasure, that Aidan noticed his pants becoming incredibly tight. To avoid what happened with his shirt he quickly stripped them off, watching his quads grow to three times the size they had been, and the rest of his legs packing on impressive size. The thick hair in his groin and on his ass spread downwards, coating his thighs in an absolute rug of curly hairs. They of course did not stop there, shooting up across his calves and stretching down towards his feet, which began to grow quickly. After kicking off his shoes he watched as his feet grew longer, toes getting thicker as the same thick dark hairs popped up across his toes and the top of his foot. He was now stuck with huge hairy jock feet! Aidan looked back up at the mirror, seeing a hulking and incredibly hairy jocked up body that looked nothing like he had just an hour before. The only thing out of place was his babyface, though something told him that was soon to change.

As if waiting for that moment, the hairs on his face began to sprout. Follicles pushed out hair after hair as his chin darkened. His hands scratched at the growing stubble as it covered his face, wiry hairs exploding across his upper lip. The thick hairs continued growing and spreading, giving him full coverage, reaching high up on his cheeks and connecting down to his chest hair. The fur crawled out of him, leaving barely any of his skin visible by the end. His body continued to explode with muscle, his frame getting heavier and bulkier. The hair hid most of the definition but anyone would still be able to tell how absolutely built he was now. The changes had taken a lot out of him as well, he was drenched in sweat and out of breath looking at his new form in the mirror. He absolutely reeked as well, all the new hair catching sweat and musk. 

Somehow though, he didn’t seem to mind that much. He had always been a real hairy and stinky guy, ever since puberty hit him hard in middle school. Kids had made fun of him then but now they admired and lusted after him. He was a real stud, and he was late for his second workout of the day.

This was my first ever tf story, let me know if you like it! Hopefully they'll only get better from here. If you have ideas for future stories also let me know, I'd love to try out more.

[gassywill]

Locker room fart torture

Jake and Ryan, were professional footballers, known for their skills on the field and their mischievous antics off it. After a thrilling match, they returned to the locker room, their adrenaline still pumping from the game.

As they entered the locker room, they spotted their teammate, Matt, sitting on the bench, lost in thought. With a mischievous grin, Jake and Ryan exchanged knowing glances, silently agreeing to execute their latest prank.

Quickly, they retrieved a gas mask they had hidden in their lockers, along with a length of hose. With practiced ease, they attached the gas mask to Matt's face, stifling his protests before they could even begin.

Confused and unable to see through the mask, Matt struggled against his friends' grasp, but Jake and Ryan held him firmly in place. With a smirk, they aimed the hose towards their asses, preparing to unleash their eggy payload.

As the first fart echoed through the locker room, Matt's eyes widened in horror, realizing what was about to happen. With each subsequent blast of foul odor, he was forced to inhale deeply through the gas mask, the stench overwhelming his senses.

Despite his attempts to escape, Jake and Ryan continued their relentless assault, laughing uproariously as Matt writhed in discomfort. Trapped in a cloud of eggy farts, Matt could do nothing but endure his fate, his protests drowned out by the raucous laughter of his teammates.

Finally, when they had exhausted their supply of gas, Jake and Ryan released Matt from the gas mask, their laughter echoing off the walls of the locker room. Gasping for fresh air and struggling to recover from the assault on his senses, Matt could only shake his head in disbelief at his friends' audacity.

[ultram0th]

James Ellis walked into the locker room, his blue tank top drenched with sweat from his rigorous workout. He wiped at his brow and went to his locker so that he could change out of his sweaty clothes and rinse off.

“Hey James,” one of his fellow gym goers, Adam, greeted the 40 year old fitness influencer. He was also changing out of his sweaty gym clothes, done with his workout for the day.

The older man just nodded in his direction, not too keen on being in the locker room with Adam at the same time. Adam was a nice guy, and James had no issue at all with gay people, but he didn’t like the lustful stares that the younger man would give him every so often. His hungry eyes would always find a way to travel up and down the stud’s chiseled chest or seek out his toned butt whenever he’d perform squats. Still, wanting to wash off the musky odor from his body, James wrapped his towel tightly around his waist before shucking his shorts and underwear.

James worked out and he even took pictures of his fit body to inspire others to follow his regimen, but he didn’t work out to have other men ogle him like he was a piece of meat. He hurried over to the shower room, oblivious to Adam’s devious smirk.

The shower room was one of the older, military-style ones where it was just an open room with the shower heads lining the walls. Three other men where already in there when James arrived, each one facing his respective shower head so as to offer the illusion of privacy.

James placed his towel on the rack and walked nude over to one of the shower heads and twisted it, releasing the spray of hot water that felt good on his smooth skin. He went about washing himself, following the unspoken rule of facing his own shower head. However, he bit down on the inside of his cheek in irritation when the shower head literally right next to him turned on, and he didn’t need to look over to know who it was.

Adam began to wash himself next to the fitness influencer, not even being stealth about sneaking a glance here and there, his smirk plastered onto his face. “Showtime,” he whispered.

“What?” James almost barked, incredibly aggravated that the guy would choose to shower right next to him. He shook it off and started to lather up his toned muscles with his body wash, the suds clinging to every contour of his shredded body.

There was a slight pressure in his groin, and the older man cocked his eyebrow as he looked down at himself. He suppressed a gasp so as not to bring attention to him and his hardening cock. For seemingly no reason at all, James was stunned to watch his cock inflate to its full seven and a half inches, sticking straight out in front of him as he showered in a room with other men. His hard cock bobbed in front of him and his first instinct was to immediately cover himself.

But he couldn’t do it.

James turned red with a mixture of embarrassment and horror over the fact that no matter how much he mentally told his hands to shield his erect member from view, they simply continued to lather up his muscles with soap. He strained and grit his teeth as he tried to push through whatever odd paralysis he was experiencing.

The horrified man felt his lips part and his heart fell when he let out a low moan. “Ooohhh,” he moaned, his deep voice echoing out in the tiled room.

He saw from his peripherals that Adam was now full on watching him, and for some reason, that knowledge made his heart speed up excitedly.

The older stud winced internally as he felt his body turn around on its own accord, making him face outwards and present his erect cock to the rest of the room. His beefy hands began to stroke his sudsy chest, slowly feeling up each curvature of his muscles.

“Ooohhh yeah,” he moaned again, louder this time.

The the other men in the shower, confused as to what was happening, each turned around. One of them looked weirded out and left, disgust written all over his face. However, the remaining two only nodded in approval and hungrily watched as an erect James couldn’t stop running his hands all over his soapy chest.

James was screaming inside of his mind, especially when his fingers started to pinch and tug on his nipples. The action sent jolts of electricity straight to his hard cock, making it twitch wildly as he moaned loudly, unable to stop himself. He had no idea why this was happening, but based on the hungry stares of Adam and the other men, he knew that it was definitely a sight to see.

The mortified man felt himself turn back around, but his relief was short-lived when he started to thrust his bubblebutt outwards, trying to seductively present it to the small crowd. He felt his hips wiggle as he bounced his cheeks for the cheering men, screaming the whole time in the inside, but all that came out of his mouth were the lustful moans.

“Finger yourself!” one of the one grunted.

No! No! James pleaded with himself, especially when his head turned and he winked playfully at the men.

With a smack, both of James’s hands slapped down onto his large cheeks. He kneaded them, his fingers sinking into the abundant flesh before spreading them apart to show off his tight hole to the room. The older man was convinced that his humiliation couldn’t get any worse, but then, without any warning whatsoever, one of his thick fingers shoved itself inside his hole.

“OOooooOOHhh!” James squealed wildly with pleasure. He pressed his face against the tiled wall as his knees grew weak simply from playing with his ass. After a little bit of time, the horrified man shoved in another finger, and another, pumping them in and out.

James’s pleas with himself to stop were halted as his ass brought him immense waves of pleasure. The older man had never had anything shoved up his ass before, but now his hole was bringing him pleasure unlike anything he’d ever felt before in his entire 40 years. His moans were ringing out in the shower and they were so loud that he was certain people on the gym floor could hear him— but he didn’t care at the moment. His cock was twitching like crazy and his free hand found its way back to his nipples, roughly tugging on them.

The dual sensations of having his ass played with and his chest worked left the stunned man a moaning mess of hormones. Pleasure waves suffocated him and his humiliation was momentarily forgotten when he spasmed, shooting loads of cum all over the tiled wall in from of him from his untouched cock.

The men cheered as James came before returning to washing themselves, acting almost as if nothing had happened.

It took James a good minute to recover from blowing the biggest load of his life, his muscles still twitching with orgasmic power. He rubbed at his face, not quite grasping the concept that he was in control of his body again. He was so confused as what the fuck had just happened to him. He’d been showering and then all of a sudden, he’d had absolutely no control over his actions and he’d came from just fingering himself. His face was bright red with humiliation over his actions… and shame over how much he’d liked it. His ass still tingled with want, and it took all of his self control to not shove a few fingers up there again.

“Thanks for the show, James,” Adam said as he clapped the silent man on the shoulder. “I can’t wait for tomorrow’s.”

James felt his stomach drop at the thought of replaying what had just happened. The blood drained from his face as he envisioned himself pleasuring himself in front of men again, fingering his hole while tugging on his nipples like some depraved freak. 

Worse was that James could feel a stirring in his cock at the thought, a small part of himself looking forward to it.

[stinkfacestories]

The day you found out you had won Jason Kelces Beard Challenge was the best day of your life. The challenge was simple: put together a snap or tiktok video of how to get a beard as good as Jason and the top winner would win a day with Jason. Your video was a long shot: you made a tiktok showing how if you mixed essence of dwarf, with a bit of neanderthal, and just a splash of viking inside Abraham Lincoln's hat and applied it to your face, you'd look as good as Jason. It did t get very many views but Jason loved it. The next thing you knew you were in Philadelphia meeting the man himself at the airport.

The tour of Philadelphia through Jason Kelces eyes was a lot of stops at places he loved to eat. Steak sandwich, sausage, pizza, ice cream. The man just loved to eat. As the day dragged on just as Afternoon turned to evening he took you to Lincoln Field, his home turf. There was no game and the place was locked down, but that was nothing a few signed balls couldn't handle.

He took you to the locker room, the place where he told you he feels most free to be himself. You both sat down on the bench in front of his locker. He took out a case of bud light and cracked one open. The man drank so much bud lite you swore he was sponsored by them.

He told you to be quiet. To just listen to the sound of the room. To drink it in and become one with the soul of real American football.

The only thing you heard was the bench breaking as Kelce leaned forward and let out a fart with a satisfied grunt.

"Oh, sorry," he said, not sounding very sorry.

"Really? " you said. You looked at him, almost appalled that he would do that with you right next to him.

Jason turned and gave you a wink. "Dont tell me you don't find farts funny. Your a guy. All guys love farts." 

You rolled your eyes. "Not really."

"What about this one," he said and let loose a loud bassy fart.

"God stop it, it's so gross," you said as you slid away, but suddenly found yourself pressed against the wall of the locker room. "Seriously dude. What the fuck?"

"C'mon," Jason said as he moved over towards you. “I warned you. Remember when I ate that large sausage with pickled garlic ave said ‘were in trouble later’? What do you think I meant.” and placed a hand on your chest, giving you a bit of a push. "Don't be a prude."

You were caught between a wall, and a wall of beef holding you in place. "Seriously, stop it".

"Can't stop. Won't stop," he said still pressing you in the wall. His eyes were the kind of dull that only cheap low quality beer can make the."You know I bet you never had an older brother. Between me, my dad and Travis we learned to appreciate farts. My dad told me that the best cure is exposure. So to get you up to speed I think I need to gas you more"

He  pressed into you and lifted up his keg and let loose with a fart so powerful it echied through the empty locker room.. You struggled to get away from the horrible stench, but couldn't escape.

"No, don't do this," you said as it overwhelmed you.

He turned around and pressed his huge soft center lineman ass in your face, the soft fabric of his shorts spreading across your face like warm dough. It was too much, and you were powerless to stop it. His asshole flexed and relaxed as it sent out a long drawn out series of wet sounding farts. You gagged as the air around you filled with the horrid odor.

"Fuck that was a good one," he said, not budging an inch. “Three point stance just rips these farts out of me.”

"I think I'm going to puke," you said, trying not to vomit.

"If your gonna puke, aim that way, I like these shorts." he said pointing. "Do you think it's funny yet?"

"No!" You coughed.

"Alright you asked for it" he presses his ass harder, wedging your nose on his cheeks. He let loose with a rapid fire volley of farts that left you breathless and coughing. He backed away, chuckling at you.

"God, fuck, that's rank!" You coughed. You tried to breathe fresh air but the locker room had been total polluted by Kelces ass.

"Come on. You don't have to love them, but you gotta at least admit they are funny and manly now. How can you like football and not think farts are funny." he let you stew and come up with an answer.

"Fuck...no," you say.

He shrugged. "Ok. Your loss," he said and pressed his ass in your face again.

"No! Please. God. No. Fuck!"

"What's it going to take? Do I need to pull my shorts down and give you a bare ass stinkface?" He said, pressing even harder.

"No! No more. Fine. They're fucking funny," you cried.

"What?" He said. "I couldn't hear you"

"They're funny!"

"Now are you just saying that to make me stop?"

"No, I mean it. They are funny and they are manly."

"Well, if it's funny you won't have a problem asking me to do it a few more times so you can properly laugh. Right?"

"Uh...fine. Sure. Just, please, no more, I can't take it."

He turned and farted once. "Laugh. Laugh hard and long and deep." He was getting frustrated that you weren't laughing. "Seriously come on guy. This is just as bad for me as it is for you. It's hard to hold this position and if I keep farting I'm going to have to take a dump soon"

"Oh god no!"

"Laugh dammit!" He yelled.

"No, no, I can't."

"Fine then," he said. He pulled you down and set you face up on the bench. He loomed over you. "Ok big fucking guns time" he pulled down his shorts and hovered his raw hairy bear ass over your face.

"Oh shit, dude please don't!" His as was a beast. This close you could make out the rough skin. His ass had taken a pounding over the years and looked like a hefty bag overfilled with cottage cheese. The hair on his crack was dense and black. 

"Do you think this is funny?"

"Yes, yes, fuck, yes!" You were sobbing, your body convulsing.

“Good. Then you'll find this hilarious.” he sat down. He sat down hard. He rocked back and forth, the wiry hair of his ass crack scouring your face. He dug deep like he has an itch he was trying to scratch.

"Laugh. C'mon. Laugh, laugh like a big boy." He said, simultaneously belching and farting.

"Ahahaha!" You started crying and laughing.

"Oh fuck. What a fucking cry baby. Laughing at farts is supposed to be funny. Not sad."

"I'm sorry," you sobbed.

"Just...fucking stop," he said, standing and pulling up his shorts as he got off you. "Baby can't handle a grown man's ass. Jesus fuck"

He sat down next to you. You were still shaking a little, tears coming from your eyes. "I'm sorry," you said.

"It's fine, it's not the first time I've gassed someone like that," he said. "your not the only one who cried either "

You sniffed, still wiping tears away. "It was just so...overwhelming. The smell, and the sound, and the pressure..."

"It was a lot. It was," he said.

He drained his bud light and crushed the can. "Ok second chance to get it right." He leaves forward and farted, then looked to you to see your reaction.

You laughed. A genuine laugh. "Fuck, dude."

He smiled and farted again. You kept laughing. "It's funny, isn't it?"

"Yeah. It is," you said, laughing some more.

"Now you" he said 

You panicked. You didn't have to fart. You were to nervous.

"What the hell. Do it"

"I don't know if I can," you said.

"Come on. Do it. Do it" he chanted.

"I can't."

"You trying to make me mad? You're a guy. You should always be ready to let rip"

"But I'm not drunk like you are. And I'm not a fucking monster with an ass like yours."

"Fine, then, let's fix that." He reached down and ripped a huge one. He reached for his phone and placed a call "Trav. Yeah we got an emergency. Yeah get that chili defrosted and get some real cheap beer. Ooooh and some gas station food. Yeah he's a wimp. Didn't laugh. No he did. Fuck no she can't come to.  Alright. Love you. No homo" he hung up the phone.

"Your brother's coming over?"

"Yup. And he's gonna be pissed if you don't laugh when he cuts one. He loves farts. And he's got an ass that could kill a guy."

"Wait..."

"We're going to our man cave. It's a cabin in the woods. Just guys. Strict no pants policy. You better hope Trav remembered his boxers. You are gonna learn to love being a man like us and become the third Kelce brother, or you ain't leaving that shack."

"What's it going to be like," you said, afraid, but also excited.

"Oh, you're gonna hate every minute, and you're gonna love every minute."

"Fuck. I'm going to get wrecked, aren't I?"

"Oh definitely. We will probably fuck up your head so much. You're going to end up with a fetish for this."

You laughed.

All you could do was laugh.