#mask transformation

[21wanderer]

Seen after class

It was Friday at 15:40, end of the day – the students poured from the room into the hallways, passing by Jamie, the captain of the swimming team, who waited patiently outside.

“Hey Jamie!” “Wassup Jamie?” some of the students shouted as they passed by him, already out of earshot before Jamie could answer. He just stood and smiled, waiting for the classroom to be completely empty.

“Hello Jamie”, Mr. Larson replied, “please come in,” he gesticulated as Jamie entered the now-empty classroom.

As soon as Jamie slammed the door shut behind him, he quickly, but quietly locked the door.

“Hi Larson”, Jamie said softly with a smirk, Larson reciprocated the look. The student and professor leaned in on each other, then their lips met in a kiss. Their romance intensified, they embraced and held each other tightly, their puffer jackets creaking loudly, as they ran their hands all over each other.

Still with their arms wrapped around each other, Jamie looked insatiably into the professor’s eyes and asked: “Are you ready for our trip?”

“Absolutely,” Larson answered playfully, “the car is packed and waiting.”

”Say… before we go… Do you wanna swap?” Jamie asked with a grin, placing his hand on Larson’s stubble.

”Swap?” Larson repeated and after a moment of thought he continued, “sure.” He reached for the door making sure it was completely locked, before he unzipped the puffer jacket, he’d just put on.

Jamie did the same. They then took off their shirts, trying their best not to get carried away, as they both showcased their tight and trimmed torsos.

---

Harry had always fantasized about dating Jamie, the captain of the swimming team, whereas his boyfriend David had always found the slightly more mature Mr. Larson very attractive. And when the two had discovered a way to become someone else, they leapt at it, deciding it would be satisfying to become the people, who their partner desired the most… at least desired on a physical level.

Harry had slithered into Larson to fulfil David’s desire, and David had slithered into Jamie to fulfil his. They had taken over their lives, but had adapted to their new identities, finding it oddly easy to step into the roles of professor and elite athlete respectively. To them it was little more than a theatrical performance, but they enjoyed every bit of it.

---

Their skins stretched and contorted in unnatural ways until their upper bodies had completed separated from what was hiding beneath.

With an almost unreal *schlorp* the skins of the two men came off. Harry and David, while soaked in sweat, smiled to each other, it seemed like an eternity since, they had actually seen their true selves.

The two nobodies exchanged the lifeless torsos of Jamie and Mr. Larson, then began pulling on their new identities, pushing their heads up through the necks and forcing their arms into the vacant skins’.

Once settled with their new torsos, all the features in place. Harry ran a finger up Jamie’s muscular arm and up his neck to his face, which he now was all in possession of.

”Nice,” he said with Jamie’s voice, “very nice.”

There was definitely something thrilling about being the guy you wanted to date, rather than having someone else be him. It was obvious that David was in agreement, caressing Larson’s more mature body.

”Wanna swap bottoms too?” the new Jamie asked.

”Nah, that can wait,” said the new Larson, who were pulling on his shirt again. “Besides… isn’t it an arousing thought to be… you know… by yourself, so to speak?”

Jamie grinned, his lower half was still Mr. Larson’s, so he definitely got what David/Larson was thinking of.

“Alright then, but we’ll have to get to that, once we get to the hotel,” the new Jamie said as he pulled on Jamie’s t-shirt and jacket, zipping it up.

“See you out front in 5 minutes,” the new Jamie said with a wink and left the room.

Walking through the hallways was definitely different being a star athlete, compared to being a professor, the other jocks waving and shouting at him, passing him hi-fives and compliments as he made his way to the parking lot, where ‘Mr. Larson’ would pick him up for an unforgettable weekend. And as he walked, he began to wonder… Would people notice, that he was wearing Larson’s jeans?

[male-masking-fantasy]

Holland.

Male Masking Fantasy. Where male masking meets AI artistry.

AI-Generated Imagery by @male-masking-fantasy.

[the-daily-body]

Hippy Cartoonist

[maxlevlstudio]

The Warrior silicone mask. Be part of the Horde and become The Warrior! Our unique Orc silicone mask! Available to order at MaxLevL Studio!

https://www.maxlevlstudio.com/product-page/the-warrior-silicone-full-mask-male-fit

[mirensiart]

pain sharing curse au feat wolfie :)

< PREV | NEXT>

I hc that every time he transforms into wolfie (and back to a hylian) he feels the same pain he felt during that one cutscene in twilight princess when he first transforms, but he’s so used to it and also he’s built his pain tolerance a lot because of it, that he doesn’t mind it anymore

anyway, wolfie is banned

also I know four shrinks and splits in canon but like, he doesn’t look to be in pain during it… TIME THOUGH…TIME RELATES

[cyber-skeletons]

The differences between TFP and Earthspark Optimuses are sooooooo fucking funny. TFP OP is burdened with "I've never seen Prime laugh, cry, or lose his cool," he responds to "Hey Optimus you wanna see something funny?!" with the numbest dead-eyed Eeyore "No," he's just generally Haunted and Stoic every waking moment

Then we have Chuckles McGee with his looney toons ass face winking and making finger guns and giggling nervously and spamming the group chat with emojis and cracking jokes and making "graphic design is my passion" self-help pamphlets

[thethunderthedragonfruit]

i was REALLY surprised i hadnt seen anyone animate over anything from the prevenge script reading yet, so i took matters into my own hands. i thought this bit was hilarious

audio from here

[lucern7]

Sketch Commission: Filbert Mask TF

A sketch commission from @Randomperindeed on Twitter of themselves into Filbert a squirrel from animal crossing via a magical mask.  Sketch Commissions are available for as low as $20. Message me or check out my com forms for more info~

[soildweller]

would YOU pick a fight with him in the ring

(drew brent in a boxing fit ft. him as a masked wrestler like king from tekken and a full human pic... people seem to like brent with a bear build tho HAHA)

[sfde8871]

It’s no matter if you choose to fight…it always finds a way in. You will be one of us.

[lockbot]

a lightbulb exploded when I thought to make his head a welders mask

[21wanderer]

Dirty laundry

Body a day - #8: Wash

Part of the 'Body a day' writing challenge hosted by @max-the-many

“Wait, are you going out? I thought you were washing the bodysuit today.” I said, seeing my friend on his way out the front door with a big backpack in his hand. He closed the door again, letting a final gust of late-autumn wind inside, and then turned towards me, sending me an innocent smile.

“I am, the suit is in the washer-” he began, whilst pulling slightly at his neck. “What?! You are only wearing the mask?” I exclaimed. He nodded, then shook his beautiful head, slightly adjusting the mask's curly hair.

“Yeah, I’m just going out for a couple of errands… that’s all, and look – I am all covered up,” he said as he showed me his hands, covered in tight leather gloves, he also pulled his woolen scarf a little bit more upwards, “I’m wearing a scarf, gloves and even two sweaters underneath, just for bulk. As long as I keep it all on, nobody is going to notice anything.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong about it, if I didn’t know him, I wouldn’t have guessed, he was wearing a mask at all. As long as his entire body was clothed, except the head and neck, then it should be alright. “Seems unnecessarily risky, you really have to promise, that all the clothes stays on – no matter what happens.” I said unable to hide my concern.

“Yeah, yeah, I promise,” he said with a boyish smirk, then headed out the door.

I went to check on the washing machine, it was running… but the timer didn’t seem to match at all, the setup was completely wrong. I looked inside it, and to my horror I discovered, it was empty. Nothing in there, but soap and water spiraling around pointlessly. I ran to my friend’s room, and more or less kicked down the door. There was my friend, unmasked, tied to his bedpost and a gag in his mouth.

I felt my innards twist into a knot and a feeling of dread wash over me. It wasn't him, who just left the house... --- Continues in part 2 ---

[male-masking-fantasy]

Male Masking Fantasy. Where male masking meets AI artistry.

AI-Generated Imagery by @male-masking-fantasy and DALL·E.

[slyratex]

Do this to me!

Your new face

When you offhandedly expressed your fondness for rubber suits and gas masks to him, joking that you wouldn't mind living in them, he took you at your word—a little too seriously, perhaps. You couldn't have guessed that this man you'd matched with on the dating app had access to a high-tech biological lab where boundaries were pushed and ethics norms were bent.

Now, your existence has radically changed. Your skin is a self-lubed rubber that stretches over muscles that have grown surprisingly large and glossy, particularly your pecs that shine and bulge as if they were sculpted to show off. There's no hair left anywhere, and the face you once recognized in the mirror has merged with the contours of a permanent GP-5 gas mask.

You're fed a steady diet through the hose attached to what used to be your mouth — a concoction rich in proteins and brimming with hormone mixtures that make your new, huge muscles glisten and your body swell.

As for your mind, it's not quite as sharp as it used to be. The constant flow of hormones, aimed at bloating your muscles, seems to have muddled your thoughts, leaving you with a simpler outlook on this strange new life.

It’s a strange new world for you. There’s no going back, and maybe you don’t want to. The thought of regrets for a life that cannot be returned is somewhere in your shiny head, but it seems to have been pumped out, leaving behind a meaningful, simple feeling. Especially when he strokes your new huge package looking into your eyes behind the glass - the only thing that still resembles a human in you.

[lemonomelette]

Panel redraw

[hypnogold]

Maple Heights 1: The beginning

In the quiet suburban enclave of Maple Heights, everything seemed to have its place. The two-story homes, with their neatly trimmed hedges and spotless driveways, lined the streets in perfect symmetry. It was the kind of neighborhood where everyone waved hello, the lawns were always green, and the local church bells rang every Sunday without fail. Families gathered in the evenings for barbecues, the kids played soccer in the park, and the routine felt timeless.

But recently, something strange had started to creep into Maple Heights. It began with subtle changes that no one could quite put their finger on at first—little things, like men in the neighborhood who began dressing differently, speaking in more structured, rigid ways. Then, almost overnight, more and more of the men started showing up in identical black Fred Perry polos, each one with distinctive yellow details—a thin stripe running along the collar and cuffs, and the iconic laurel wreath logo embroidered on the chest. These weren't ordinary polos, though. The fabric had a glossy sheen to it, almost rubbery or latex-like, and they were always worn with the top button fastened tight.

The Evans family had been living in Maple Heights for a decade now. Paul and Greg, a married couple raising their three sons—Luke, 24; Michael, 22; and Tyler, 20—had chosen this neighborhood for its peaceful atmosphere and sense of community. Paul worked from home as a software engineer, while Greg ran the local bakery that everyone in town loved. The boys were a lively bunch, each with their own interests—Luke was the athlete, excelling in soccer; Michael spent his time writing music and drawing in his sketchbook; and Tyler, the tech whiz, could be found in his room building gadgets from parts he scavenged at local sales.

Their lives had always been filled with laughter and activity. Weekends meant cookouts in the backyard, bike rides around the block, and movie nights with popcorn on the couch. Church wasn’t a big part of their routine, but every Sunday, Greg made it a tradition to bake fresh pastries and drop them off at the church before opening the bakery. It was his way of staying connected with the community, even if they weren’t particularly religious.

But lately, both Paul and Greg had started noticing changes in the neighborhood, especially among the men. It started with Mr. Anderson, two doors down. He had always been friendly—waving to Greg every morning as he walked his dog past the bakery. But now, Mr. Anderson was different. His usual flannel shirts and casual jackets had been replaced by a sleek black Fred Perry polo with yellow details. Even stranger, the fabric seemed almost rubbery, the way it caught the light. And the way he buttoned it all the way to the top, stiffly and neatly—it made him look more formal than usual. His conversation was short, stilted, and somehow… off.

One evening, as the family gathered around the dinner table, Paul brought it up. “Has anyone else noticed how people around here are dressing differently?”

“Yeah,” Luke said with a frown. “A bunch of guys at soccer practice started wearing those weird black polos. I mean, they look cool, but... everyone’s wearing them, like, every day now.”

“They’re Fred Perry shirts, right? But they look... shiny,” Michael added, tapping his fingers against the table in thought. “And they all button them up to the top. It’s kinda weird, like they’re in some sort of uniform.”

“It’s not just the shirts,” Greg chimed in, shaking his head. “People are acting strange, too. Customers at the bakery used to chat, laugh, but now they come in, order the same thing, and barely make eye contact. They’re so... focused.”

Tyler, the youngest, leaned forward, eyes wide with curiosity. “I saw a bunch of them after church last week. They were all wearing those black polos. I thought maybe it was some church thing.”

Paul and Greg exchanged a concerned glance. “It’s like some sort of group,” Paul said, lowering his voice. “They’re all starting to look and act the same.”

Over the next few weeks, the changes in the neighborhood became more noticeable. More men—fathers, teachers, even some of the older teens—were now dressing in the same glossy black Fred Perry polos, the yellow details standing out sharply against the dark fabric. Each man wore his polo the same way, with the buttons done all the way up to the top, giving them a sleek, almost uniformed appearance. Even their mannerisms had changed—conversations were short, their expressions calm, almost vacant.

Luke noticed it most on his soccer team. At first, it was just a couple of the players who showed up to practice wearing the polos. But soon, half the team had swapped out their jerseys for the slick, rubbery Fred Perry shirts. And once they did, their personalities shifted. They became more focused, more intense, and eerily synchronized. Luke, who still wore his usual soccer gear, felt out of place. His teammates, now all dressed in the black polos with their yellow accents, would glance at him with strange looks, as if waiting for him to join them.

“I’m not wearing one of those,” Luke said to his dads one night, slumping down on the couch. “They’re all acting weird, like they’re in some kind of club. And the coach is in on it, too. He wore one at the last game.”

“I’ve seen the same thing with my friends,” Michael added. “They’re always wearing those shirts now, and it’s like they don’t talk about anything else. It’s not like them.”

Greg sighed, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Even the customers at the bakery... I’ve noticed more of them wearing the polos. They don’t smile, they just take their coffee and leave. And today, one of them asked if I wanted to come to some gathering after church this Sunday.”

“That’s the second time we’ve heard about that,” Paul said, frowning. “Tyler, you said you saw them after church too, right?”

Tyler nodded, his eyes wide. “Yeah, they were all standing around talking after the service. But they weren’t really talking like normal. It was like they were all... rehearsed.”

Greg shivered. “I don’t like this.”

That Sunday, Paul decided to see for himself what was going on. After the church service, while Greg was delivering his pastries, Paul slipped into the side area of the church where the men were gathering. As he stood at the back of the room, he watched them closely. Every man was dressed in the same black Fred Perry polo, the yellow details gleaming under the fluorescent lights. Their shirts were perfectly buttoned up to the top, their expressions calm and focused as they listened to the man leading the meeting. His polo looked newer, glossier than the others, and his voice was firm but soothing as he talked about the “importance of unity” and “the future of Maple Heights.”

It was more than just a social group. This was something bigger, something that was spreading.

When Paul got home, he told Greg everything. “It’s not just the shirts,” he said, pacing the living room. “It’s like they’re all part of some bigger plan. They’re getting more men to join them. It’s like the whole neighborhood is changing.”

Over the next few weeks, the transformation continued to spread. Luke’s soccer team was almost fully converted, the boys showing up to practice in their glossy Fred Perry polos, barely speaking to anyone who wasn’t wearing one. Michael’s friends had stopped hanging out altogether, and whenever he saw them, they were dressed in the same shirts, their conversations short and emotionless. Even Tyler’s teachers had begun to show up to class wearing the same outfits.

One afternoon, Greg came home from the bakery with a tight look on his face. He held up a Fred Perry polo—glossy black with the yellow logo and details—and tossed it on the kitchen table.

“They gave this to me today,” Greg said quietly. “They said it’s time for me to ‘fit in.’”

Paul stared at the shirt, his stomach twisting. “We need to figure out what’s really going on, before it’s too late.”

But deep down, they knew it was already spreading faster than they could stop it. Maple Heights was changing, and it wouldn’t be long before the entire neighborhood was transformed, one slick black polo at a time.

The next week...

Luke stood on the edge of the soccer field, his cleats digging into the grass as he stared out at his teammates, all of whom were already dressed in their glossy black Fred Perry polos. Their yellow-detailed collars were buttoned up tightly to the top, and the sheen of the shirts gleamed unnaturally in the late afternoon sun. He shifted uncomfortably in his old practice jersey, the only one left who hadn’t made the switch.

Over the past few weeks, more and more of his teammates had started showing up to practice in the strange uniforms. At first, it was just a few of the guys, but now, every single one of them wore the latex-like black polo. Coach had been pushing them harder too, but in a way that was unnerving. The drills were more intense, more synchronized. The team barely spoke to each other anymore, their conversations replaced by curt instructions and short exchanges.

Luke felt the pressure mounting every time he stepped onto the field. He knew the others noticed that he was the last one holding out. His friends, or who they used to be, barely made eye contact with him anymore. They’d glance his way with strange, expectant looks, as if waiting for him to join them, to give in.

As practice started, Luke could feel the weight of their eyes on him. He jogged through the drills, but something felt wrong. The usual energy of the game was gone, replaced by an eerie, robotic efficiency. His teammates moved in perfect unison, their movements mechanical, their expressions blank but focused. And all the while, Luke couldn’t shake the feeling that they were watching him—waiting for him to fall in line.

“Luke!” Coach’s voice boomed across the field, pulling him from his thoughts. “Come here.”

Luke jogged over, his heart pounding. Coach stood on the sidelines, his own black Fred Perry polo perfectly buttoned, the yellow details gleaming in the sun. He had been wearing the shirt for a few weeks now, and ever since then, practice had felt more like a drill session than a sport. The coach’s eyes locked onto Luke’s, calm but intense.

“You’re the last one,” Coach said, not unkindly, but with a firmness that sent a chill down Luke’s spine.

Luke glanced at his teammates, all of them standing in formation, watching silently. “Coach, I’m just not sure about the mask. I don’t really feel like I need to wear it,” Luke said, trying to keep his voice steady.

Coach smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s not about the mask, Luke. It’s about unity. The team needs to be united—on and off the field. You’ve seen how well we’ve been playing lately. We’re stronger, more focused.”

Luke shifted uncomfortably, glancing back at his teammates, all eerily still, waiting. He didn’t want to admit it, but there had been something different about their games recently. They were winning, dominating even. But it didn’t feel like a team anymore—it felt like something else, something controlled.

“I just don’t think it’s for me, Coach,” Luke said, though his voice faltered. The pressure was mounting, and deep down, he knew he couldn’t hold out much longer.

Coach’s smile faded, replaced by a look of quiet authority. “It’s time, Luke. You don’t have a choice anymore.”

Before Luke could respond, one of his teammates stepped forward, holding out a neatly folded black Fred Perry polo, the yellow details catching the light. Luke stared at the shirt, his stomach turning. The fabric looked slick, shiny, almost alive, and the thought of putting it on made his skin crawl.

The teammate, a boy who had once been Luke’s best friend, met his gaze, his expression blank but somehow expectant. “Come on, man,” he said softly, his voice calm but emotionless. “It’s just a shirt.”

But it wasn’t just a shirt, and Luke knew it. It was something more. The moment he put it on, he would no longer be himself. He would become just like them—another piece of the machine.

Luke stood frozen, his mind racing. He thought of his family, of his dads and his brothers, and how hard they were trying to resist the changes sweeping through the neighborhood. He didn’t want to give in, but here, on the field, surrounded by his teammates and Coach, he realized he was alone. There was no escape.

Coach stepped forward, his hand resting heavily on Luke’s shoulder. “You’re part of this team, Luke. You need to be like the rest of us.”

Luke swallowed hard, his throat dry. He reached out, his hand shaking slightly as he took the shirt from his teammate. The fabric felt slick and cold against his fingers, heavier than he expected. His mind screamed at him to stop, to throw the shirt away and run, but his body didn’t listen.

Slowly, he pulled the black Fred Perry polo over his head. The latex-like fabric clung to his skin, tightening around him as if it had a will of its own. He adjusted the yellow-detailed collar, his fingers trembling as he buttoned it all the way to the top. The moment the last button clicked into place, a strange warmth spread through him, and his thoughts began to blur.

His mind felt foggy, distant. The resistance he had clung to for so long started to slip away. His shoulders relaxed, and for the first time, he looked at his teammates not with fear or hesitation, but with calm acceptance. The shirt fit perfectly, and for a moment, Luke wondered why he had ever resisted in the first place.

Coach smiled, patting him on the back. “Good. Now you’re part of the team, put this on.”

Luke nodded slowly, his mind quiet. He took his place among his teammates, their faces no longer strange or unsettling, but familiar—like they had always been. The game started again, and this time, Luke moved with them in perfect unison, every step, every movement synchronized.

As the sun set over the soccer field, the last of Luke’s resistance faded into the background, replaced by the quiet calm of uniformity. He was no longer an outsider. He was one of them now.

After practice, Luke walked home in silence, the cool evening air brushing against his face. His mind felt strangely still, as if the buzzing thoughts he had carried all day had finally quieted. The black Fred Perry polo with its glossy sheen and yellow details clung snugly to his body, and the weight of it no longer felt strange—it felt… right. The top button was fastened tight, and though he had been uncomfortable with it at first, now it felt natural, like it was exactly where it should be.

Luke walked home from practice, the full-face rubber gas mask still tightly fitted over his head. The dark, glossy material gleamed faintly under the streetlights as he passed through the quiet, suburban streets of Maple Heights. The once-familiar neighborhood now felt distant, his breathing slow and controlled through the mask’s filters, muffling the sounds around him.

His black Fred Perry polo, with its yellow details and buttoned-up collar, clung to him as he walked, the rubber of the mask and the shirt making him feel as though he was locked into something permanent. Each step felt heavy, yet he was calm. His mind was quiet now, his thoughts no longer his own.

As he approached his house, he saw the warm glow of the kitchen lights through the window. For a moment, something stirred inside him—an echo of the boy he used to be, the Luke who would come home to his dads, joke with his brothers, and feel like himself. But the mask pressed firmly against his face, silencing those thoughts. He reached for the door, knowing they would see him like this.

When he stepped inside, the familiar warmth of home hit him, but it felt different. His dads, Greg and Paul, turned from the kitchen counter, their faces going pale as they saw him standing there, dressed in the glossy black polo and the full-face rubber mask.

“Luke?” Greg’s voice was filled with shock and concern, but Luke didn’t respond. He simply stood there, the mask concealing any expression, the filters hissing softly with each breath.

Paul stepped forward, his voice shaky. “Take it off, son. You don’t have to wear that.”

But Luke didn’t move. The mask stayed on, its grip on him firm, the strange calm washing over him once again. He was home, but he wasn’t the same anymore. And as his dads stared at him in disbelief, Luke knew that the boy they once knew was slipping away.