#mental age progression

[misctf]

For the Team: A Real Man

“I’m not going to stand here and let you belittle the team.” Brett slammed his locker shut and turned to face his coach, “We’re trying out best.” The locker room fell silent. No one talked back to coach.

Coach Andrews glared at Brett, his bushy eyebrows furrowed in anger. “You think you know better than me, boy?” he growled, his deep voice echoing off the locker room walls. “I've been coaching football for decades, and you're just some punk kid who thinks he knows it all.”

“With all due respect, Coach, your behavior towards us is unacceptable.” he replies firmly, trying to keep his voice steady. “We're here to improve our skills, not be belittled and humiliated.”

The other players watched in silence, unsure how their coach would react to their star quarterback’s bold challenge. Coach Andrews' face turned an alarming shade of red, and he took a menacing step closer to Brett.

“You think you're so special, huh?” Coach Andrews sneered, his hot breath washing over Brett's face. “Brett, you don't understand a damn thing.” He chuckled, “Throwing a ball well doesn’t make you a leader.”

“I'm just telling it like it is.” Brett snapped back, “Why would we want to dedicate ourselves to this team if you’re treating us like shit during a regular practice?”

The other men remained quiet. No one knew what to say, but they watched closely. Brett was always their leader. Sticking up for them. And while they mostly agreed with him, they weren't about to face coach's wrath.

“You wouldn't know true leadership, dedication, or what it means to be a man if it bit you in the ass.” Coach Andrews replied, crossing his large, hairy arms, “Let me show you, boy. Let me show everyone here.” he said, his voice dripping with condescension. With a swift motion, he reached out and grasped Brett's chin, forcing the younger man to meet his gaze.

Brett tried to pull away, but the coach's grip was unyielding. A shiver ran down his spine as he felt the coarse hairs on Coach Andrews' palm brush against his smooth skin, “First and foremost, these arms. You think these toned, well-groomed arms make you a man?”

As he spoke, Coach Andrews' hands began to glow with an eerie light. And he dug his hands into Brett's impressive arms. Brett gasped as he felt the coach's fingers making contact with his skin. Brett's eyes widened in shock as he felt the coach's glowing fingers sink into his muscles. A tingling sensation spread through his arms as they began to shift and contort. The definition in his biceps softened, the veins disappearing beneath a layer of new flesh. His forearms thickened, growing hairier as dark brown locks sprouted from his skin.

“Wha...what's happening?” Brett managed to choke out, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and disbelief. He tried to move his transforming arms, but they felt heavy, cumbersome. Bulking with both muscle and fat. The skin becoming tanned and weathered with age, “Coach, what the fuck are you doing to me?”

“Real men have substance, not just flash.” Brett gasped as coarse, dark hairs sprouted from his shoulders and traveled down his back.

As the coach's hands moved over Brett's chest, the young athlete felt his pecs begin to expand and contort. The lean, defined muscle mass that had once been there gave way to a softer, more rounded contour, reminiscent of Coach Andrews' own mature physique. Darker, coarser hair erupted across the changing skin, until Brett's chest was covered in a thick mat of brown fuzz, mirroring the coach's own hirsute appearance.

“What...” Brett whimpered, horror dawning in his eyes as his previously firm pecs sagged, “I...” He looked at his teammates- his friends. All just stared wide eyed, unsure what to do, “Please! Stop...”

“Keep quiet and take it like a man.” Coach Andrews commanded gruffly, squeezing Brett's newly enlarged, hairy pecs, “Maybe then you'll understand the importance of discipline and hard work, right boy?”

“I’m no boy! I’m a fuckin’ man!” Brett's eyes widened at his sudden outburst, while Coach Andrews just grinned, “No, why did I...?” Brett tried to understand where that outburst came from.

Coach Andrews leaned in close, his breath hot against Brett's ear as he whispered, “Because deep down, you crave the power and control that comes with being an alpha male. Your body is responding to its primal urges, even if your mind resists.”

As he spoke, Coach Andrews' hands continued their work, sliding down Brett's torso to grasp his hips. Brett felt a strange heat emanating from the coach's palms, seeping into his skin. His mouth opened in a silent scream as his abs started to shift.

Coach Andrews grinned, seeming to relish Brett's distress. “That's it, boy. Let it happen.” he purred, his hands sliding across Brett’s firm torso, “Feel the power surging through you. It's what separates the men from the boys.” Wiry hairs sprouted from Brett’s abdomen as coach’s hands made their way down. Each strand growing thicker and curlier.

“No...no, please!”

The young athlete tensed, expecting another painful alteration, but instead felt his stomach muscles relax and soften. The six-pack that had once been so prominent began to fade, replaced by a rounder, flabbier midsection. Still, Brett could appreciate the muscle behind the soft, hairy flesh. Brett's face contorted in anguish as he watched his own body take on a different form. 

“Don’t you want to be a real man?” Coach Andrews goaded, “Like me?” He emphasized.

Brett's gaze dropped to his reflection, his heart pounding in his ears as he took in the sight of himself. Gone were the chiseled features and athletic build he'd once possessed. In their place was a heavier, more imposing figure, with a rounded belly and broad, muscular shoulders. Thick, dark hair now covered every inch of exposed skin, from his chest to his arms to his back.

“I...I look like you.” Brett whispered, his voice shaking with a mix of fear and awe. He couldn't deny the raw power radiating from his new form, the sense of strength and dominance that seemed to pulse through his very being.

Coach Andrews nodded approvingly, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “See? This is what it means to be a real man. Not some hairless pretty boy. You’re learning what it means to be a real man. To be me.” Coach Andrews replied, admiring his work so far.

With a firm squeeze, Coach's fingers made contact with Brett's pert ass. The skin rippled and shifted, the muscle mass shifting as it grew and filled with fat. The lean, chiseled curves of his rear gave way to a broader, heavier set of cheeks, now covered in a thick, wiry mat of dark hair. The muscles softened, turning to pliant flesh that jiggled slightly with each movement. Brett winced as the process extended to his thighs, the lean, toned flesh giving way to a heavier, more bulked-out build, marred by jiggly fat.

“But I don’t want to be like you!” The transforming quarterback insisted, shifting uncomfortably as a forest of dense hairs sprouted from his new legs, “It's too much...I can't...” 

Yet, even as he spoke, he found himself admiring the new contours of his body in the mirror. The heavy, hair-covered muscles seemed to throb with power, drawing his gaze like a magnet. Coach Andrews noticed the change in Brett's demeanor and smirked knowingly. 

“You're starting to come around, aren't you boy? Admitting that maybe I know what I'm talking about after all?”

Brett swallowed hard, his mind reeling as he struggled to reconcile his conflicting desires. Part of him still longed for his old, lean physique, but another part - a darker, more primal part - reveled in the sheer masculinity of his new form. 

“N-no, I don't...I mean, yes, I guess.”

Coach Andrews simply smirked as he ran his hands through Brett’s hair, “That's it, boy. Embrace your new reality. You're no longer just a pretty face and a strong arm. You're a force to be reckoned with.”  

As the coach's glowing fingers massaged the quarterback’s scalp, his proud locks began to fall away. Brett could only watch as his styled hair fell in front of his face. Each lock making their way to the locker room floor. Finally, coach let go and Brett shivered at the cool sensation of the air on his bald head.

“N-no, I won't...” Brett protested weakly, but his voice lacked conviction, “This isn't me. I'm not...I can't be...”

But Coach Andrews shook his head and brushed his glowing hand against Brett's cheeks. Immediately, the youthful contours began to blur and shift. His angular jawline softened, rounding into a squarer, more weathered shape. All of which was quickly covered in a beautifully thick, manly beard. His high cheekbones receded slightly, and his nose lost its sharpness, taking on a more bulbous, fleshy appearance. Even his eyes seemed to alter, losing their bright, eager sparkle in favor of a duller, more world-weary gaze.

“All done.” Coach Andrews grinned, “You’re perfect. A true man.”

Brett stared at his reflection, his eyes turning to Coach Andrews. And in that moment, he realized- they were the same, down to the last strand of hair on their chest. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. His own resistance was crumbling, swept away by an unfamiliar surge of masculine pride and dominance.

"Brett!" One of his teammates called out, "Don't...!"

"Shut it, Johnson!" Brett growled, his voice low and gravelly- the same as Coach Andrews'. His former friend took a step back, clearly intimidated by the transformation in their usually affable leader.

Inside, however, Brett was reeling. How could he have spoken to his friend like that? He'd always prided himself on his kind heart and good judgment. Now, well now...

Coach Andrews placed a meaty hand on Brett's shoulder, “Now you're learning, son. Don't let weakness cloud your judgement. A real man stands tall and asserts his authority without apology.”

Brett nodded slowly, his expression hardening into a mask of stoic determination. He could feel the change coursing through him, reshaping his very essence.  

“I needed a little help coaching you pathetic excuses.” Coach Andrews says turning to his team, “And who better to assist me than me? Right, Coach Andrews?” He says, looking over at Brett.

Brett stared blankly at his reflection, his mind struggling to comprehend the enormity of the transformation. The man staring back at him was no longer the person he once was - not even remotely. Every fiber of his being had been rewoven into the image of Coach Andrews, right down to his thoughts and desires.

“I am Coach Andrews.” he muttered, the words feeling foreign yet comforting, “My team needs discipline. I'll whip them into shape, no matter the cost.” He turned to face his stunned teammates, his eyes blazing with an intensity that sent a chill down their spines, “Listen up, boys. From now on, I expect nothing less than perfection on the field. Any slacking off will be met with severe consequences. Do I make myself clear?”

Brett's teammates cowered under his intense glare, nodding quickly in fearful agreement, “Yes, Bre... er, Coach Andrews” one of them stuttered.

Brett/Coach Andrews sneered at their subservience, his chest puffing out with pride, “Good. Now get out of my sight and report to the practice field immediately. We have a lot of work to do to turn you into the champions I know you can be.”

Both coaches watched as their team scrambled to obey the orders, a twisted sense of satisfaction filling them. Coach Andrews could only grin at the sight of the new coach- his twin- a specimen of true masculinity. And without another word, together, the two Coach Andrews stepped out onto the practice field, ready to unleash their unique brand of discipline upon their team.

[occamstfs]

Talismen II: Gamer Grows Up

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Team] Yasuoorbust: LMAOOOO fckn litttle btch

[Team] Yasuoorbust: *****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Poll Results:

Sorry For The Backwash 34.1%

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

BC PD 14.6%

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

Burn Out 15%

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

Acculturation 23.6%

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

Sloppy Thirds 12.7%

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

[immortalmrwavell]

Proof of Possession

(Original story posted January 6th 2022 and January 14th 2022) This story has been mildly Updated!

This story was originally posted in two parts but I’ve decided repost both parts together for your reading convenience

(Part 1)

Danny leaned back into the couch after the bizarre secret that his roommate Jacob had just confessed to him. “So… you expect me to believe that you actually have the ability to possess people? Come on Jacob. Really??” He snorted at the idea like any sane person would.

“Well I mean… it’s more like I merge with them kinda. It’s not like I become a ghost or anything. I can push myself inside their bodies and become one with them.” Jacob explained, trying his best to describe the power he held.

“Oh of course. Now it makes total sense.” Danny rolled his eyes a little.

Jacob sighed. “Okay I get. You still don’t believe me. That’s fair. I wouldn’t believe me either so I’ll just have to prove it to ya.”

“W-what do you mean…” Danny gave his roommate a weird look. He still didn’t believe Jacob but he couldn’t help feeling a tad on edge at that moment.

Jacob held his hands up innocently. “Don’t worry I’m not gonna do it to you dude. I was thinking of Mr Reigner maybe?” He began, immediately seeing the way Danny’s eyes lit up at the mention of their dilf neighbor. “I’ve seen the way you look at him. Can’t blame you either. Absolute daddy material. So how about I head over there, use my power on him. I’ll even send you some hot pictures of him from his phone as proof.”

“You know what?” Danny began, leaning forwards. “This sounds not only impossible but completely stupid… but if you’re somehow telling the truth then my phone is always on me…”

Jacob grinned. He’d kept these powers a secret for what felt like ages now. To finally have someone to share it with was going to be fantastic!

———

It was only a few weeks back when Jacob discovered he could actually take over the bodies of other people. In fact the first time it happened was by complete accident.

He’d been admiring this guy at the gym. Jacob had seen the dude there a lot which wasn’t surprising seeing how jacked the dude was. Guy looked like a total meathead and totally Jacob’s type. Naturally Jacob found his eyes wandering towards the hunk fairly often. He couldn’t help but imagine what it must’ve been like having a huge muscled body like that.

On this particular day Jacob watched as the hunk left for the locker room after his workout. That was when he noticed the jock had forgotten his water bottle nearby one of the machines he’d been using. Seeing this as a chance to talk to the handsome hunk he’d been eyeing up for months, Jacob grabbed the water bottle in an attempt to return it to its rightful owner. Perhaps he’d even get the chance to do some subtle flirting.

The bottle even had the dude’s name written on it. ‘Sam Warren’ it said.

Upon entering the locker room, Jacob whipped his head around in search of the guy he’d been drooling over only to find him standing in nothing but a towel. Jacob managed to dig up the courage to go over and talk to Sam. Yet as he got closer, he couldn’t help but further admire the man’s incredible side profile. Sam had a hypnotic shelf of hefty muscle he called pecs along with a pair of enormous arms that were probably strong enough to lift Jacob without a thought.

All he could think about was how amazing it would be to pilot a body like that. To take up so much space with all that muscle. To flex those pecs in a mirror every morning. To have men and women alike practically throwing themselves at him for a chance to hang from one of those gorgeous biceps. Those thoughts persisted through his mind as he grabbed the hunk’s massive shoulder.

“Hey man, is this your water bottle?” Is what Jacob would’ve said had he not felt a powerful jolt of energy surge through his entire being upon touching Sam. The same energy flowed through Sam’s body causing the jock to let out a sudden grunt in shock and discomfort.

That’s when something truly unimaginable happened. Slowly but surely Jacob’s hand began sinking into Sam’s flesh. He tried to pull himself back in a blind panic by grabbing hold of Sam’s other shoulder for support without thinking. Next thing he knew, Jacob’s other hand also began sinking inside.

Sam was unable to do anything but groan and let out the occasional curse. He wanted to shout and shove this scrawny guy away somehow but his entire body felt as though it was paralysed. All he could feel was Jacob's hands and arms sinking deeper into his body. Before long Jacob’s arms had completely disappeared inside the hunk, pulling him in closer as his chest began to press against Sam’s muscular back.

Then things started to get even freakier. As Jacob tried to move his arms from inside Sam, it was actually Sam’s massive ones that began to respond. At first they just twitched a little. But the more effort Jacob tried, the more control he gained until he was moving Sam’s arms like a puppeteer from behind.

He didn’t have much time to wrap his mind around it though as Jacob felt his own legs and torso begin to stick to Sam’s back and legs. His body somehow phased through both his own clothes and Sam’s towel. This time Jacob didn’t resist though. In fact as he started to realise what was happening, he started to go along with it.

He willingingly pushed his legs into Sam’s huge trunks, allowing the process to hasten rather significantly. Within a few moments his legs had become one with Sam’s. But that wasn’t all as Jacob thrust his hips as hard as he could against Sam’s thick muscle ass, allowing his cock and balls to phase inside the hunk. The process of which caused Sam’s large jock cock to twitch.

Soon enough Jacob’s backside disappeared inside Sam as well and his torso was already halfway there. Sam’s legs stumbled a little as Jacob gained control, just about catching himself before they fell. In that time Jacob’s torso had enough time to finish merging with Sam leaving only Jacob’s head now sticking out of that muscular back.

“N-nooooo-uughhh… get outta m-aarrhh… b-bro-uughhhh…” Was all the dumb jock could say between all his moans as quickly lost control of his entire body. Slowly but surely being forced into the passenger seat as Jacob took over.

Jacob had to admit, He was a little worried. He didn’t know what was going to happen to him once his head got pulled in. Would he still be himself? Would he remember what happened? Would he just become Sam? Unfortunately it didn’t seem like he had a choice now so he put on a brave face and took a deep breath. Moments after finally allowing his head to sink inside.

Sam’s eyes rolled back as his whole body convulsed for a moment or two. For him everything faded to black as his mind was pushed deep into his own subconscious. This however allowed enough room for Jacob’s mind to move in and take over completely. After a few moments his bulky new body began to settle as Jacob was at last able to see out of a new pair of eyes.

“Holy fuckkkkkk…” Were the first words that came out of his mouth. He sounded just like Sam. He WAS Sam! Jacob looked down at himself to see he was now in full control of the massive hunky body he’d been lusting over for god knows how long. He had no idea how any of it was possible but… it was!

He certainly didn’t waste any time getting to know his buff new form. Within seconds Jacob was already playing with Sam’s pecs. Squeezing them, flexing them and bouncing them to his delight. He did everything you could imagine a guy in his position would do. Flex his biceps, marvel at his newfound size and height, play with new ass a little, admiring his new and much deeper voice. It was beyond exhilarating!

Doing so created quite the stirring in his crotch and before he knew it Jacob was dropping his towel to see Sam’s juicy cock springing to attention. Pulsing and eager to be jerked. Jacob couldn’t help but wrap a hand around his new rod while flexing a bicep. He was already loving how huge and powerful he felt.

“Fuuuuuuck Bro! This feels insane!” The way he found himself speaking took him off guard a little. Bro? That’s not something he’d usually say. It must’ve been Sam’s jock personality seeping through. “Sooooo fucking huuuge!” He continued as he took no shame in kissing his biceps.

“S-Sam?” A voice came from across the locker room.

Jacob turned to see another buff as fuck dude. He recognised the man straight away. He’d been working out with Sam earlier on in the gym. In that moment Jacob found himself subconsciously digging into Sam’s memories and found that the dude’s name was Ken.

Though the other jock clearly looked shocked to see his gym buddy standing naked and gripping his cock, Ken also looked a little flustered as well. His eyes darted towards Jacob’s crotch more than once. That certainly wasn’t the response you’d get from any straight man which could only mean…

Jacob sauntered over towards Ken, his hard cock bobbing slightly as he did. “Go on. Grab it. I know you want to bro.” Jacob grinned devilishly, glancing down at his cock then back up at Ken. He couldn’t believe what he was saying but being in this body filled him with an unprecedented amount of confidence.

After that the rest of that day went on like an orgasmic blur for Jacob. First with him and Ken worshiping each other's thick muscular bodies. Only stopping when some other guys came into the locker room prompting them to run off to the showers together. It wasn’t long before Jacob had Ken on his knees sucking him off until he nutted down Ken’s throat. And shortly after Jacob was more than happy to return the favor.

Once they were finished, the pair got dressed before heading over to Sam’s place. Jacob drew on the memories of his host once again to find the way. The moment they entered the apartment, they were already making out again. Tugging their clothes straight back off until they made it to the bedroom. What transpired after that was a long evening of hot passionate sex where Jacob made sure to get his new virgin jock hole nice and stretched.

The following morning Jacob was the first to wake. One of his huge arms was draped over Ken’s still sleeping body. So far he’d loved every second of being Sam. Having these huge muscles and getting fuck another muscle stud over and over. It was an absolute dream come true! However, now that he had some time to himself, he began to wonder if he’d be stuck in this body forever. Would he want that? As amazing as this was, did he really want to leave his old life behind forever?

As doubts began to well up inside him, a strange feeling began to rack his body. It wasn’t too dissimilar from what he felt when he first merged with Sam. Before he knew it, his eyes began to roll back as his vision went totally black.

Jacob began losing control of Sam’s body causing it to go limp as his original body was slowly ejected out. Moments later, Jacob regained his vision as his head popped out of Sam’s back followed by his torso, legs and finally arms. It was almost like pulling off a body suit he’d been wearing.

Now back to his usual scrawny self, Jacob hopped off the bed as Sam’s body laid unconscious. Since his clothes had disappeared when he originally merged with Sam, he now found himself standing completely naked as he looked over the two sleeping hunks. In a panic, he quickly but quietly grabbed some of Sam’s discarded clothes. They were far too big but they’d have to do as he snuck out of the apartment.

Once he was out, Jack couldn’t help but laugh as he thought about how the real Sam was gonna react when he woke up. Sleeping in bed next to his gym buddy with a sore asshole. As a straight man he was never gonna live that one down.

Jacob learned to better control and understand his power over the next couple weeks. He possessed so many more men. All different shapes and sizes. All with different lives and backgrounds.

And all he had to do was touch them while wishing to become them.

Pretty simple right? Then once he’d enjoyed himself enough in a guy's body for long enough, all he had to do was wish he were himself again and he’d be ejected out. Ready to move on to the next guy.

———

Now Jacob was leaving his apartment to go pay his neighbor Mr Reigner a visit. Of course his roommate Danny didn’t believe him after finally he decided to tell him about his power. But he was certain taking over Mr Reigner would be more than enough to change his mind…

���——

(Part 2)

After hearing a prompt knock at his apartment door, Mr Reigner opened up to see none other than one of the college boys from next door. “Oh Hey. What’s up Jacob? Something you need?”

“Nah nothing much Mr Reigner. I was just wondering if I could come inside to talk to you about something.” Jacob shrugged with an innocent smile.

“Of course! Come in. It’s my day off so I’ve got as much time as you need.” The man said with a genuine smile. “And call me Mike. Mr Reigner makes me sound old.” He added as he moved to the side to allow the younger man to pass.

Jacob almost began to feel bad about this as he entered the apartment. Mike was genuinely such a nice guy… but that didn’t change the fact that he looked like a total dilf. Besides, it wasn't like he was planning on stealing that sexy body forever. Just a little while so he could prove his powers to Danny that was all. And have a little fun of course. And so Jacob strolled through to the living room before seating himself on the couch, soon followed by Mike.

“So, what’s it you wanted to talk about?” Mike questioned.

“Well you see… I recently lost my job and I was wondering if you could help me look for a new one?” What he said wasn’t even a total lie. Due to multiple accounts of absence and lateness throughout the last couple weeks, Jacob had actually been fired from his retail job at one of the local shops. Of course this was all due to Jacob not being able to resist using his newfound power on hot dudes whenever he got the chance. Could you blame him for completely losing track of time?

Upon hearing that news Mike, the sweet guy that he was, jumped at the chance to help his young neighbor out. He said he’d make them both a cup of coffee then they could start discussing what Jacob wants to do and start by looking online for something. Being a carpenter himself, Mike mentioned that he may even be able to get Jacob an apprenticeship in carpentry if that’d be something he was interested in. And with that the older man headed off into the kitchen to make those coffee’s he promised.

After that Jacob decided he’d better get this done now before he loses his nerve. He waited about a minute or so before taking a deep breath. He jumped up from the couch and quietly made his way into the kitchen. There he saw Mike standing by the countertop with two cups as he began filling the coffee pot.

The young and very horny college boy couldn’t help but silently stare at his hot neighbor’s dad butt pressed tightly against those welling fitting shorts he wore. Just looking at it was giving him a boner. He wanted to have that ass sooo bad badly and in more ways than one. He still felt a little guilty but… to hell with it! Jacob let his hormones takeover as he practically pounced on Mike, wrapping his arms tightly around the older man.

“Jacob! What ar-roooo-o-o-o-oooooohhhhhaaa!” Mike’s words swiftly devolved into a powerful groan as his body tensed up. Mike found himself unable to move an inch as the super powered 20 year old held him tightly. Mike was only just able to tilt his head down enough to see the impossible happening right before his eyes. Jacob’s hands and arms phasing through his shirt and into his body!

The college boy hugged his sexy neighbor as tightly as possible, trying to push his body inside as quickly as possible. After having had some experience now, the possession merge process had become quite a pleasure for Jacob. It was written all over his face with a dumb smile as his chest and stomach phased through the clothes and entered Mike’s back. He couldn’t help himself as he thrust his hips forwards, smashing his crotch into the bigger man’s ass causing them both to groan out while Jacob’s cock, balls and pelvis sunk into Mike’s ass. His head was already about half way in by this point as he pressed his legs against his neighbor bigger, meatier and hairier ones. Mike’s eyes rolled back as Jacob’s entire being sucked itself inside his flesh. Finally ending as the college boy's clothes fell to the ground.

Mike’s, or rather now Jacob’s, eyes fluttered for a moment. Jacob’s being was getting itself settled inside the dilf body, causing it to jitter and convulse slightly. Eventually his eyes opened again once he’d gotten comfortable, now in full control of this handsome new body.

Without hesitation Jacob practically ripped off his shirt with a lust ridden look on Mike’s face. He tossed it to the floor before running his hands along the dense forest of fur covering his new chest and stomach. It felt wonderful…

“Damn this feels incredible! So fuckin’ hairy!” Out of all the men he’d merged with so far, Mike was by far the hairiest and he absolutely adored it! Not to mention the awesome beard. He felt like such a man! It was hard to even explain. Sure he’d merged with bodies that had bigger chests and bigger biceps but this was just a whole other experience. So far Jacob had only been taking over the bodies of dudes his age. So now being inside Mike’s more mature 36 year old body was truly something else.

As his hands continued to roam across his furry new torso and rub through his beard, Jacob’s new cock was quickly beginning to chub up. Not being able to resist the tent he’d made in Mike’s shorts, Jacob pulled open the waistband and the briefs Mike had been wearing to get a look at what the older man was packing. He certainly wasn’t disappointed as he was greeted by a thick, uncut cock that must’ve been a good about 7 inches or so. Reaching inside, he couldn’t help but give the pulsing rod a few strokes, sending waves of joy throughout his dilf body.

That’s when he noticed Mike’s phone sitting on the counter top and remembered what he’d promised to Danny. Digging up the self restraint to tuck his hard cock away, Jacob grabbed the phone and unlocked it with Face ID before swiping directly over to the selfie camera.

“Fuuuck… Mike is suuuuch a hot daddy.” He muttered to himself. Even the sound of Mike’s voice coming out of his mouth making his cock buck.

Once he’d finished admiring his handsome yet stolen face, he held out the phone and started taking a few photos and before picking out his favourite one. Jacob then jumped over to contacts before tying in Danny’s number. After that he selected the photo and sent it to his skeptical roommate along with a message

— Believe me now boy? —

Danny saw the message and picture moments. He must’ve been in shock because it took him a good minute to finally respond.

— Mr Reigner?? What are you talking about? —

Jacob rolled his eyes. There was no way Danny still didn’t believe this.

— Nope. It's Jacob! But can keep calling me Mr Reigner if you want 😏 —

At first he wanted to call Danny an idiot for thinking the real Mr Reigner would send something like that but…he didn’t wanna sound mean. Guess that was Mike’s kind personality slipping through.

— I told you I could take over bodies! —

Once again Danny saw the message but took a little while to respond.

— No no no this is a prank. You and Jacob are pranking me. People can’t just take over other people’s bodies. That’s all stupid sci-fi shit —

— Fine. If you still don’t believe me then I’ll just have to prove it in person. I’ll be over in 2 minutes 😘 —

With that Jacob set down the phone before heading out of Mike's apartment in nothing but his blue shorts and trainers. As he walked down the apartment complex hallway, he saw one of the other neighbors, Mr Davis, who Mike was good friends with. He couldn’t help but give the man a kind smile. Saying hello just as Mike would. Mr Davis gave him an odd look likely due to his bare chested ness but gave a friendly hello back regardless.

Danny’s heart jumped when he heard a knock at the door. After getting those messages, and especially that photo, from Mr Reigner he didn’t know what to think. There was no way Jacob had actually done what he said right? Possessing their dilf of a neighbor? There was no way…

He jumped up from the couch and made his way over to the door, hesitating for a moment before pushing down the handle. Opening the door, Danny was greeted by the man he’d had countless wet dreams standing shirtless before him with a devious smirk.

“Believe me now?” Mike smirked.

“J-Jacob? Is that really…you?” Danny still didn’t quite believe it but at the same time he was sure Mr Reigner wouldn't agree to go this far for a prank right?

Jacob gave Danny a soft smile as he leant down to his roommates level. Their faces were mere inches away. The hairy dad placed a gentle hand on Danny’s cheek before leaning in and sealing their lips with a soft kiss. Jacob’s beard felt incredible as it rubbed against Danny’s skin. This moment was everything the latter had ever wanted since he first laid eyes on Mr Reigner. Those ten seconds felt as though they lasted an eternity until the older man finally pulled away. Danny almost melted into a puddle as he looked deeply into those kind, soft brown eyes.

“Would the real Mr Reigner do that? Of course it’s me!” Jacob laughed.

He was right. The real Mr Reigner was straight and that kiss felt way too real for it to be part of a joke still. Which could only mean that it wasn’t a joke at all. This really was the real deal!

With that Danny offered the man inside, closing the door behind them. They sat down in the living room as Jacob re-explained his powers to Danny who this time around had a far more open mind about it.

“Sooo ummm… what should I call you now? Jacob or Mr Reigner?” Danny wondered.

“Oh just call me Mike. I hardly look like Jacob anymore and saying Mr Reigner makes me sound old.” Jacob chuckled. He didn’t even realise how he’d said almost the exact same thing that Mike had earlier.

“Well then Mike…” Danny began as he stood back up. “How’s about I help you break that new body of yours in a little.” He outstretched an arm to Jacob, pulling him up from his chair.

“I’d say that sounds like a wonderful idea.” Jacob leaned in for another kiss, this one far deeper than the last one as he felt Danny’s hands start to explore his hairy chest, squeezing his pecs as if he’d waited his whole life for it. “You know I got a good feel for my new dick earlier. I think you’re gonna love it boy. Nice and thick. And balls full of cum just for you.” He growled, trying to play into a more daddy-like persona as he glanced down at the growing hard on in his shorts.

Danny reached down and grasped Jacob’s cock through the fabric, earning a grunt from the man. “Holy fuck… you weren’t kidding. That thing is thick!” He stated, giving Jacob a rush of pride.

However Danny’s other hand drifted down the ridges of Mike’s back until he reached the waistband of those tight blue shorts. “However I was wondering…” His hand pushed down past the waistband into the shorts, causing Jacob to grunt again as he squeezed one of those hairy globes he called ass cheeks. “…If I could take that furry bubble butt of yours out for a spin first?”

With a chuckle Jacob agreed before the two locked lips once again. They continued making out with a fiery passion while slowly making their way over to Danny’s bedroom, discarding their clothing as they went. Danny wasted no time pushing Jacob down onto the bed, Mike’s furry ass presented in all its glory. After devouring that hairy hole for a good few minutes, he lubed up and slipped his cock inside. Jacob cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure as Mike’s virgin dad hole was suddenly stretched by a young college boy cock. Luckily for him though Mike’s body seemed to be quite the natural when it came to anal. Before long his ass was already adjusting to the feeling of a cock stretching it and before long he was groaning out in that deep baritone voice while Danny jackhammered that ass relentlessly. It wasn’t long before Danny could feel himself getting close.

“Come on boy! Daddy wants you to breed his hole with that delicious cum!”

Hearing his hot neighbor say those words sent Danny over the edge. He couldn’t hold back any longer as his cock exploded with cum inside the older man’s hairy ass. Filling that once never before used hole with a healthy load it so desperately needed. Afterwards they both looked at each-over, happy and exhausted as Danny pulled his cock from Jacob’s ass.

“Alright two minute break then it’s my turn to breed your ass!” Jacob stated with a grin.

———

And so the rest of that afternoon was spent exactly how you’d imagine. The two taking turns fucking one another until they finally wore themselves out. Now they laid in bed, Danny snuggling his head against Jacob’s hairy chest.

“So how long do you think you’re gonna stay as Mike?” Danny asked curiously

“I haven’t really decided yet… the longest I’ve stayed inside a guy was just over a day. Always feel like I need to get back to my life you know?” Jacob responded truthfully.

“…”

Jacob turned and looked at his roommate. “You want me to stay inside Mike don’t ya?”

“…Yeah.” Danny admitted with a blush.

“Well…I suppose I could stay for a while. And who knows if I like this body enough and it likes me then… I might see if I can make it a permanent arrangement.” Jacob grinned.

Danny looked up at Jacob in surprise. “No way… would you actually consider doing that?” He asked, trying not to sound too excited.

Jacob looked down at his bigger, hairier body before rubbing a hand through his hair and beard. Mike’s body was everything he’d ever wished he could be and now he had it. Why not keep it? Of course it wouldn’t be easy with the sudden disappearance of his old body and what not but he was sure they’d get through it. Besides, being inside Mike just felt so good. His kind and loving nature was having an incredible effect on him so far.

“Of course. How could I resist wanting to be your daddy?” He teased.

With that the new Mike kissed Danny on the forehead as they went back to an evening full of cuddling and kissing. Talking endlessly about how they were gonna spend the rest of their lives.

[redpill-tfs]

A Perfect Morning (Wood)

With @maletf32

You had nothing going on this morning.

It was the weekend and you'd just woken up. Your morning wood was throbbing and you needed release. You decided to look at Tumblr and scroll through endless pictures of hot men, eager to jerk off to whoever spoke to you this morning.

It didn't take long for you to find some good pics and stories, but one stood out in particular: a conservative macho cop. You knew exactly what he was like. Straight, red pilled, muscular, raising his children RIGHT. Everything you weren't. You just found the idea of him so hot. Maybe deep down, you wanted to be like him. The crisp and tight uniform around your well-earned muscles, a woman to come home too every night, and little versions of yourself to watch grow up.

You closed your eyes, imagining his hand in place of yours as you continued stroking, starting off slow but going faster and faster by the second. His deep, gruff voice whispering in your ear.

"You like this, Boy? You want me to keep going?"

It was almost too much. You were so close, but you'd just started. You wanted to savor the moment before the inevitable climax. You kept your eyes closed as you kept stroking. Faster and faster. Pumping harder and harder.

You didn't notice the world shifting around you, your muscles becoming bigger and stronger than you'd ever thought possible for your scrawny body. Your moans becoming deeper and being echoed by a feminine voice. Your hand was no longer around your tool. Instead, it was deep inside a hole, wrapping perfectly around it. You thrusted more and more, savoring the feeling as you edged closer and closer to release.

"Baby, I'm so close."

"Let it all out, honey. Fill me with your seed!"

You weren't one to turn down a request from the love of your life. You may be the MAN of the house, but you knew when to make your woman feel special. You finally reached your orgasm, summing your huge load deep inside her pussy. You collapsed onto her, feeling her body beneath your big muscles.

"Fuck, Rory. That was great."

"You know it, babe. Can't wait for baby number 5 to come out in 9 months."

That's right. You were Rory Sampson. Alpha cop and doting husband to your wife Lori.

You didn't have much time to savor the thought, though. Your wife needed to get the kids ready for their homeschooling lessons soon and you had work in an hour. You wouldn't trade this life for the world, riding around in your car, activating the sirens and chasing down the perps when needed. Taking them down to the station to be processed, your uniform crisp and hugging your body in just the right places. The ladies loved the uniform, even if they acted like they didn't.

But you were faithful to your wife, of course. The two of you had gotten married soon after you'd finished the police academy. The babies started coming out not long after. Your pastor had always said to be fruitful and multiply, and of course you'd never defy God's will. That's why you were raising your children in the church, getting them started at a young age. Raising them the right way. The RIGHT way, as you often joked.

No son or daughter of yours would live a sinful lifestyle. You voted red in every election, Republican up and down the ballot, to make sure your children would be free from the wokeness of society. The Democrats just wanted communism and to force their beliefs on everyone. Not on your watch! Those gays could live their own lives away from you and your children, thank you very much.

Yep, life was good for a Republican cop like you. A darling wife, four (soon to be five) beautiful children raised on the same values as you, and a fulfilling career as an officer. As you got dressed for your shift, you thought about how the morning was perfect. You wouldn't change a thing.

[bricky-brikson]

Thinking about the "trilion and 12 years old" joke about Bill and thinking about his psychological development after the Euclydia massacre

In the show, we see that while he can plan ahead and manipulate people, he's often foiled by his own impulsiveness/anger/emotions. His ultimate goal is to escape the Nightmare Realm/Dimension 0. And sure, he says this is because he promised the Henchmaniacs he'd help them, but ultimately as others have pointed out, Bill is terrified of death. He wants to live forever - have "a party that never ends with a host who never dies". All he cares about is himself, his own survival and hedonism

All this to say, Bill has the emotional development of a teen. He hasn't gotten past the self-centredness nor the reward/adrenaline seeking behaviour, but has emotionally evolved enough to be able to manipulate people and such (and be able to feel guilt, even if it's just a picogram). Though his immaturity shows when he doesn't get his way.

One might think that, being a trillion years old, he would've developed a bit, but here's the thing - major traumas can "freeze" people at certain developmental stages. We don't know how old Bill was when Euclydia was destroyed - though considering his behaviour I would bet he was a teen.

(Or whatever the equivalent of that stage is for his species. They have exoskeletons- do they have instars then? Whatever, that's not on the topic of this post)

Seeing his entire dimension destroyed after (what was probably) a well-intentioned attempt to show them what he saw ("They'll see. They'll all see.") permanently emotionally stunted him. However it was he got his powers, he was a teen/young adult with powerful abilities who had just erased an entire dimension from existence and was now accountable to no one but himself while also being deeply traumatized. His constant partying and implied substance use were probably the only coping mechanisms he could think of, dissociating because he has no idea how to actually confront what happened. The way he talks about the massacre - he detaches himself from it yet still admits guilt ("A monster."). Only post-divorce does he implicate himself in the event, though still obscuring its true nature ("I liberated them.").

Being surrounded by individuals who are similarly maladjusted for most of his trillion-year lifespan certainly didn't help things. The Henchmaniacs are likely somewhat stunted as well, or at the very least don't offer much in the way of mature/emotionally adult conversation, especially since Bill reacts so poorly (read: homocidally) to any sense of malcontent.

Which is to say, I think part of why Ford was important to Bill was because, compared to him, Ford was more emotionally developed (Ford is emotionally stunted in his own ways, but not as severely as Bill IMO). Subconsciously, their relationship was reaching a hand out to the scared teenager in the centre of Bill's psyche and offering him someone to lean on- someone who had their shit a little bit more figured out. A kind of figure Bill hadn't had since he killed his parents.

Of course, such vulnerability probably felt so alien that Bill tried to distance himself. I always wondered - why didn't Bill just lie to Ford about his plan to take over Dimension 49'\ ? Ford would've believed him, finished the portal, and Bill's plan would've been fulfilled. Well, I think it was Bill trying to burn the emotional bridge. In his own impulsivity, his own desire to dissociate instead of confront, he would rather make sure that he would never be able to be vulnerable to Ford than fulfill his grand plan.

...

I don't remember where I was going with this. There's no conclusion. I'm spinning this triangular multidimensional tyrant at physically impossible speeds in my mind and if I didn't write something about him my skull was going to turn into a fine powder. It's almost 2 AM, so it's entirely possible this post makes 0 sense, in which case feel free to inform me of that in the notes.

[warping-realities]

Alright, folks, I promised a break but the images for this story were almost all ready. The main idea came from a request from @innermostthoughtsartappreciation . Hope you’re into it! Oh, and there’s a little surprise at the end for those who’ve checked out my other stuff. Now, I’m really gonna take that promised break (I think? But I still have a couple of videos to turn into written stories, so who knows???).

Desire is the Devil’s Dwelling

Andrew sat in the front row of the classroom, a place he chose not only because he found the subject of the lecture extremely interesting, but also to get a privileged view of the man who was teaching it. Professor Dr. Williams spoke in a nearly hypnotic manner about the importance of cultural diversity in contemporary literature. His words were eloquent, and Andrew truly wanted to pay attention to what the man was saying, but in reality, his speech became a distant backdrop. What really mattered were the defined muscles that stood out under the professor's tight shirt and the way he smiled, as if each laugh was a promise of something unattainable.

Andrew’s thoughts floated between admiration and guilt. How could he feel this way? In his mind, the image of his family and hometown overlapped with Dr. Williams’s figure. He remembered family talks about morality and values, the disapproving looks he’d get if anyone knew about his feelings. The weight of those expectations seemed to grow heavier every day as his internal struggle intensified.

As the professor continued discussing how literature can reflect society, Andrew wondered if he’d ever be honest with himself. He wished he had the courage to present himself as he truly was, but the fear of disdain and rejection still kept him trapped in a life of secrets that felt like a weight on his chest. The class went on, but Andrew barely noticed time passing. He jotted down a few quotes here and there, but most of his notes turned into doodles and sketches depicting the professor in different scenarios. Dr. Williams, with his captivating confidence, became an inspiring muse for Andrew, who would give anything to express his own truths without fear and captivate everyone like the professor did.

When class finally ended, Andrew hesitated to stand up. He watched the professor walk away, chatting animatedly with other students. A sudden impulse made him want to approach, but he quickly pulled back. With a deep sigh, he grabbed his backpack and headed for the exit, his mind still dominated by conflicting thoughts.

On his way home, his heart raced at the thought of possibilities. What would happen if he allowed himself to be who he really was? What if, for just a moment, he could set aside expectation and pressure? These questions echoed in his mind as the city blurred around him.

Andrew opened the door to the apartment and was greeted by a wave of comfort and familiarity. The smell of home-cooked food filled his nostrils, and he smiled upon seeing Lucas, his roommate and best friend, sitting on the couch. Lucas was skinny and pale, with messy brownish honey hair and bright eyes that sparkled with an almost hypnotic intensity. From day one in college, they had formed an instant connection, and even though Andrew hid his deep feelings for Lucas, their friendship flourished.

“Hey, Andrew! How was class?” Lucas asked with genuine interest. The way he spoke always made Andrew’s heart race, and he felt a mix of joy and anguish at the same time.

“It was good, interesting, you know how Dr. Williams is,” Andrew replied, trying to keep the conversation light. He sat down next to his friend, but to hum the tension in the air was palpable, even though Lucas didn’t seem to share that feeling. On the contrary, he was sitting closer than usual, and his presence made Andrew feel like the space between them was charged with unspoken meanings.

As they chatted about class and other trivial matters, Andrew couldn’t help but steal glances at Lucas’s hands. It was as if every gesture was an invitation, a subtle touch that could open the doors to something more. When Lucas accidentally brushed against Andrew’s leg while leaning to grab the remote, a shiver ran down Andrew’s spine. He looked at Lucas, and for a brief moment, he felt there might be something there, something that could be more than friendship.

But fear quickly set in. What did he really know about Lucas's feelings? What if he was just projecting his own hopes onto an innocent moment? His heart raced, and the courage he felt moments before drained away. With a sudden impulse, he averted his gaze and said, “Sorry, I... need to use the bathroom.”

He stood up hastily, trying to hide the flush on his cheeks. As he walked toward the bathroom, his mind spun in a whirlwind of confusion and repressed desire. He locked himself in the small space and pressed his palms against the edges of the sink, staring at his reflection in the mirror. The image he saw was of a young man torn apart, consumed by a desire he didn’t dare to name.

“Why is it so hard?” he murmured to himself, his voice echoing in the empty bathroom. Andrew knew he needed to open up, but the idea of being rejected by Lucas was unbearable. What if revealing his feelings broke their friendship? The thought was agonizing. Sighing and composing himself, he made his way back to the living area, pausing to look at his friend’s back, wishing he could be like Dr. Williams, a man who carried himself with confidence and who knew how to command the space around him, and maybe then he could live the way he truly desired.

The problem with desires is that you never know who might be listening.

….

Lucas watched Andrew walk away, feeling a pang of worry. He knew those moments when his friend shut down, diving into his own thoughts all too well. The truth was, Lucas was also grappling with his own feelings, and what haunted him the most was knowing that behind Andrew's facade of confidence, there was a young man feeling trapped between his convictions and the burning desire growing inside him.

“Why can’t you see what’s right in front of you?” Lucas thought as he sat on the edge of the couch, staring at the remote in his hands but unable to focus on the channel options. The idea that Andrew might like him back in the same way he liked Andrew was a thought that wouldn’t let him rest. Lucas knew there was something special between them, but the fear of ruining their friendship kept them distant. He wondered how he could make Andrew realize that feelings like theirs weren’t wrong, that there was space for love and acceptance between them.

Lost in his thoughts, a knock on the door made him jump off the couch. The knock was firm but not too loud, and for a moment, Lucas wondered if it could be someone bringing good news or something completely unexpected. Andrew, hearing the sound, said he would answer, and Lucas seized the opportunity to try to push his dilemmas aside.

In the silence that followed, he tried to focus on the TV, but an overwhelming sense of unease took over him. Why was Andrew taking so long? What could be happening? He looked at the door and saw his friend standing there, staring at what seemed to be emptiness.

“Andrew, is everything alright? Who was it?”

“Yeah, just the new neighbor wanting to introduce himself,” Andrew replied without turning around. Something felt off in his voice, and Lucas decided to get up to check, but just then, the remote control shocked him in his hand.

“Ouch!” he exclaimed at same time as he heard the door slam. Shaking his hand, he stood up and looked towards the kitchen, only to find Andrew taking a drink straight from the bottle. He couldn’t help but admire his friend’s lean, muscular body, his dark skin reflecting the soft light of the room. Andrew was wearing just shorts, and Lucas felt a mix of excitement and confusion at the sight before him.

“Why are you staring at me?” Andrew asked, breaking the silence.

“I... I wasn’t staring at you,” Lucas replied quickly, trying to look away. “I was just... wondering if you’ve been hitting the gym. You look different.”

Andrew smiled, a smile that lit up his face and made Lucas feel butterflies in his stomach. “Well, of course! I’m focused on gaining mass. Every rep counts.”

Lucas forced a smile, but the conversation was starting to feel stranger than he’d like. “Oh, cool. But... do you want to watch something on TV? We could chill for a bit before bed.”

“No, actually, I’ve missed my bedtime. It’s during sleep that muscles grow,” Andrew replied, with that confident demeanor he always had. He turned and walked toward his room, his stride confident and almost casual, but Lucas couldn’t help but notice how distant he seemed.

“Wait,” Lucas called, his voice a bit weaker than he intended. “Just... is everything okay? You seem off.”

Andrew paused for a moment, looking back. His gaze was intense and full of restraint. “What would be wrong, dude?” he replied with a smile before entering the room and shutting the door, leaving a thoughtful Lucas staring at the TV screen without really seeing what was in front of him.

….

The next morning, the sun’s rays filtered through the curtains, and Lucas woke up with the feeling that something was different. He stretched and quickly realized he urgently needed to use the bathroom. Getting up from bed, he walked through the house toward the bathroom, still groggy and with his mind filled with confused thoughts about the night before.

When he opened the bathroom door, Lucas froze. Andrew was there, standing in front of the mirror, recording a video for his followers. The soft light reflected off his muscular body, which was almost on display, and his captivating smile lit up the space. He seemed completely at ease, as if he were on stage, and Lucas couldn’t help but admire the confidence radiating from his friend.

However, Andrew didn’t seem too happy when he noticed Lucas’s presence. “Hey! You can’t just walk in like that, man!” he exclaimed, clearly irritated as he turned off the camera. “I’m trying to film here!”

Apologies started spilling from Lucas’s mouth in a whirlwind. “Sorry! I didn’t know you were recording. I just... needed to use the bathroom.” He felt his face heat up, a mix of embarrassment and confusion.

Andrew took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. “It’s fine. Just give me a heads-up next time, okay? I don’t want to be interrupted in the middle of a recording.”

As Lucas stepped back, his thoughts began to swirl. He looked at Andrew, who was now adjusting the camera again. “He's so muscular... Has he always been like this?” Lucas questioned himself, as he felt a bit guilty for interrupting his friend. “Of course, he’s always been like this. Nobody changes overnight.” He thought as he watched his friend record a new video.

After their brief and tense interaction in the bathroom, Lucas took a quick shower and decided to sit at the table for breakfast. When he arrived in the kitchen, he found Andrew already sitting there, an enormous amount of food in front of him. The plate was piled high with scrambled eggs, grilled chicken breast, and a generous portion of oatmeal. Lucas watched, a bit impressed, as Andrew methodically stacked food on his plate.

“Are you really gonna eat all that?” Lucas asked, trying to break the ice while serving himself a bit of cereal.

“Of course. I need to make sure I’m hitting my macros. Every meal counts,” Andrew replied, focused on his food. “You know, and protein is essential for gaining mass.” He looked at Lucas, who just nodded, not really knowing much about the topic.

The conversation didn’t seem to flow well. Lucas talked about the latest news from a game he’d played, while Andrew seemed more interested in his workout routine and diet. The connection that once felt so natural now seemed strange and distant. Lucas realized that despite being friends for so long, their lives were taking different paths.

“Don’t you ever get tired of just thinking about workouts and food?” Lucas asked, trying to understand what was going through Andrew’s mind.

“It’s not just that. It’s a passion, a lifestyle. You must get that, right? Everyone has their priorities,” Andrew replied, his expression serious. “And I don’t have time for distractions.”

Lucas felt a tightness in his chest. He looked at Andrew, who seemed so focused on his food, and wondered why he felt that mix of longing and frustration. “Sure, everyone has their priorities,” Lucas murmured, trying not to let his disappointment show.

When Andrew finished eating, he quickly stood up, grabbing his backpack and getting ready to leave. “I gotta go, I have a workout now. We’ll talk later, alright?” He said, not waiting for a response, and rushed out.

Lucas was left alone in the kitchen, staring at Andrew’s empty plate. A feeling of loss washed over him. He questioned what was happening between them. Why did it affect him so much? Their relationship had always been like this. What had changed now? Why care now?

He leaned against the table, lost in thought. “Why do I feel like there’s something different?” Lucas asked himself, looking out the window. The sun was shining bright, but his mind was shrouded in clouds.

With his thoughts still swirling, Lucas decided it was time to head to college. He threw on a game t-shirt he loved and some worn jeans, trying to feel more comfortable. On the way, he couldn’t shake off thoughts of Andrew, how their relationship seemed to have changed in a way he didn’t understand. Classes started, but Lucas’s focus was nowhere to be found. He could barely pay attention to the professor’s lecture on programming, a subject that used to fascinate him. His thoughts kept drifting back to his friend, to what had happened that morning and the frustration he felt.

During a break, Lucas sat alone in a corner of the cafeteria, distracted, scrolling through his phone. He opened Instagram and began to browse through Andrew’s profile, searching for any clues that could explain the change. The photos were always vibrant and energetic, showing his friend in intense workouts, posing with other athletes, and even some images from events he had attended. Everything seemed just as he remembered. Andrew’s bright smile, the confidence radiating from every picture... But there was something Lucas couldn’t pinpoint, something that left him uneasy.

He spent the day like that, scrolling through social media but finding no concrete answers. The clock ticked on, and when afternoon finally rolled around, Lucas decided to take a look at Andrew's Stories. His heart raced when he saw there was a new update. Andrew appeared with a cap over his wet hair, his muscular body on display, and a smile that seemed radiant. He held a protein shake while talking about the benefits of post-workout nutrition. Drops of sweat trickled down his sculpted muscles, and that dazzling smile seemed like an invitation to get lost in that incredibly fit body. But everything flashed through Lucas's mind without registering because this time, something was really wrong, and he was sure of it—he had just seen picture after picture of Andrew and knew that something impossible had happened: he looked like he had aged at least ten years. Even though his face was cheerful and youthful, it was undeniable that this couldn’t be a 21-year-old man.

Lucas tried to rationalize it; maybe it wasn’t Andrew but rather someone else. Quickly returning to the Instagram feed, he got a second shock—all the photos he had seen earlier looked exactly the same, with just one difference: the Andrew of 21, with toned muscles, had been replaced by this man with larger muscles in his late twenties or early thirties. Lucas left campus with his mind in a frenzy, each step toward the apartment feeling heavier than the last. What the hell was happening to Andrew?

Upon entering the house, Lucas took a deep breath and headed straight for Andrew’s room, determined to confront him. He knocked on the door, feeling his heart race. “Andrew, we need to talk!” he shouted, anxiety bleeding into his voice.

After a few seconds of silence, the door opened slightly, and Lucas found Andrew lying on the bed, phone in hand, completely oblivious to his friend’s presence. He barely lifted his eyes. “What’s up? I’m busy,” Andrew said, distraction evident in his dismissive tone.

Lucas hesitated but knew he had to be firm. “Don’t you see that something’s wrong? You… you’ve changed, Andrew. It’s like you aged overnight and… I think there’s more to it than that!” Frustration erupted in his voice as he moved closer to the bed, trying to grab his friend’s attention.

Andrew let out a sarcastic laugh. “What kind of nonsense is this?”

“I’m serious; I’m worried!”

“Didn’t know you cared so much about me. I thought a nerd like you only cared about games and coding.” He shook his head as if he found the situation amusing.

“That’s not it! Look, I’m not saying you can’t work out or take care of yourself, but you’re different.” Lucas felt anger mixed with sadness, and his words came out more intense. “What’s going on with you?”

Andrew finally lifted his eyes, but the expression he wore wasn’t one of concern; it was disdain. “I don’t have time for your nonsense, Lucas. I’m focused on my life, on things that actually matter. And you should do the same instead of wasting time here.” He turned away, completely ignoring Lucas’s insistence.

“Andrew, please!” Lucas said, his voice almost pleading. “I just want to understand. What’s happening?”

Andrew suddenly stood up, his imposing posture making Lucas take a step back. “Look, kid. I never thought living with someone younger would be a problem. But if you keep acting like this, one of us is gonna have to move out. Got it? Now get lost. I have a date soon, and I don’t have time for crazy talk.” He slammed the door in Lucas’s face, leaving him alone in the hallway, pain and confusion consuming him.

Lucas leaned against the wall, feeling a wave of despair. The nagging voice in his head tried to convince him that everything was fine, that he was just overreacting. But he knew it wasn’t just that. Something was very wrong, and he couldn’t just ignore it. He was going to do something… He… He felt the world spin around him before everything went dark as his consciousness slipped away.

…..

Lucas woke up to sunlight filtering through the curtains in his room. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled his nose, but there was something unsettling in the air. He rubbed his eyes and tried to recall how he got to bed the night before. The last memory he had was a heated argument with Andre, his roommate. Lucas had always admired and desired Andre, an attractive and charismatic personal trainer, but he’d never had the courage to admit it.

He slowly got up, feeling a bit dizzy, and walked toward the living room. He paused at the door, hesitating. What if Andre was there? He shook his head, brushing off the confusing thoughts, and decided it was time to face the situation.

When he opened the living room door, a chill in his stomach made him stop. Andre was there, deep in thought, looking out the window. The sea stretched before him, its waves dancing under the sunlight. Lucas frowned. “This has always been the view from the apartment, right?” he thought to himself. Of course. The view doesn’t change just like that.

“Hey,” Andre said, pulling his gaze from the horizon. He looked surprised but also a bit lost. “Sorry, I’m just in my underwear. I... went to get a glass of water and got distracted by the view.”

Lucas swallowed hard, trying to ignore the image of Andre in minimal clothing. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice a bit louder than he intended.

Andre smiled, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Why wouldn’t I be, kid?”

Something in his tone made Lucas’s heart race. He knew there was something wrong, but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was. They weren’t friends, just two strangers sharing a space. Lucas felt foolish for worrying. “Right,” he murmured, forcing a smile.

“I’m running late,” Andrew said, turning back to the bedroom. “I’ll get dressed.”

As Andre disappeared down the hallway, Lucas approached the window, sitting on the couch. The sea was beautiful, but his mind was elsewhere. He wondered what could be happening. Why had he and Andre fought? He couldn’t remember. The silence in the room was palpable, and Lucas found himself wishing they could be more than just roommates.

“Hey, Lucas!” Andrew called from the bedroom, interrupting his thoughts. “Have you seen my black sneakers? The ones I like?”

“Uh, no. Maybe they’re on the balcony,” Lucas replied, trying to hide the worry in his voice. They didn’t have a balcony, did they?

“Thanks! I’ll check.”

Lucas stood there, gazing at the sea. The beauty of the moment contrasted sharply with the growing unease inside him. They were just strangers sharing the same roof, but the connection he felt was undeniable. What if the argument had been more than just words? What if something was really wrong?

When Andre returned, dressed, Lucas decided he needed to ask. “Andre, are you sure everything’s okay? I... feel like something isn’t right.”

Andre hesitated, his expression shifting for a brief moment. “Kid, look, thanks for worrying about me, I really appreciate it, but just stop, please. I’m fine. Try living your life, and I’ll live mine!” replied the muscular black man as he walked out of the apartment.

Lucas left the house, still feeling restless. The walk to campus felt longer than usual, and with each step, he felt the weight of thoughts about Andre pressing down on him. He sat in his chair in the classroom but couldn’t focus on the professor’s explanations. The only thing filling his mind was the image of Andre looking out at the sea, his enigmatic smile, and the tension that lingered between them.

After a few hours of class, he decided he needed a distraction. He grabbed his phone and, without thinking too much, opened Instagram. Andre’s photos popped up on the screen, one after another. They varied; in some, he was in a workout session, showing off impressive muscles, and in others, he was smiling next to friends at parties or the beach. Lucas felt a chill in his stomach as he saw all this, as if he were reliving moments he hadn’t experienced. The sensation of déjà vu washed over him, like he had seen those images before, but he couldn’t remember when or where.

He spent more time than he wanted scrolling through the feed, analyzing every photo and video, trying to figure out what was wrong. As if some hidden truth was buried in those pixels. But after hours of browsing, frustration took over. It didn’t make any sense. He was just fooling himself. He gave up and closed the app, convincing himself that his mind was just creating fantasies.

On the way back home, still with his head full of confusion, something caught his eye. An ad on Instagram for a gym. He stopped, eyes glued to the image. The gym was called "Elite Fitness," and right below was a video of a personal trainer known as DeAndre Williams. The guy flaunting his stuff in the video was a jacked bodybuilder, muscles bulging and a confident grin. But something didn’t add up. Lucas furrowed his brow. "No way… it can’t be… but it is! That dude is Andre. How is this possible? This guy’s at least five years older than him!" he thought, adrenaline pumping through him.

Then the déjà vu hit him hard. He had been through this before! He was sure of it. A wave of panic and confusion washed over him. Without thinking twice, he started running, feet pounding against the ground as his heart raced. Each step took him back to the apartment, determined to confront Andre and find out the truth. What was going on? He needed to know. The run felt endless, but anxiety pushed him on. The image of DeAndre Williams wouldn’t leave his mind; he was Andre, but how?

When he reached the apartment, Lucas stopped in front of the door, breathless. He hesitated for a moment, his mind swirling with questions. But the need for answers outweighed any fear. What would he find inside?

Lucas took a deep breath and opened the apartment door, his heart pounding. He felt a mix of fear and anticipation as he walked toward André's room. The living room was quiet, and the soft afternoon light streamed through the windows, creating an almost dreamlike atmosphere. Each step seemed to echo in his mind, and he couldn’t shake the thoughts of what he might encounter.

Arriving at the bedroom door, Lucas hesitated. With a surge of courage, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

To his surprise, DeAndre Williams was lying on the bed, naked, his muscular body exposed to the soft light. His dark, shiny skin glistened, and a well-groomed goatee accentuated his striking features.

He looked at Lucas with a curious expression. "Who are you? And how’d you get in here?" DeAndre asked, his deep, confident voice echoing in the room.

Lucas felt his heart race at that familiar tone. "Andre? Is that you?" He hesitated but decided to take a shot. "What’s going on? You need to explain this!"

DeAndre propped himself up on his elbows, watching Lucas with an amused look. "Only friends call me Andre," he replied, a smirk playing on his lips. "And you, kid, are not my friend. I don’t know how you got into my place, but you gotta leave."

"No, no, wait!" Lucas exclaimed, feeling frustration bubble up inside him. "We share this apartment! You can’t just forget that!"

DeAndre laughed, and Lucas realized the man’s expression was a mix of amusement and disdain. “Share an apartment with a kid like you? Never,” he said, shaking his head arrogantly. "If you don’t bounce now, I’ll throw you out myself."

Panic surged in Lucas’s chest. He tried to argue, but the words failed to express what he felt. "Please, you need to remember me! I… I care about you!" His voice was almost pleading, but DeAndre just looked at him with disinterest.

"I don’t have time for your nonsense," DeAndre replied, his expression growing impatient. "You need to leave. Now."

Lucas's heart raced. He felt dizzy, like he was in a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from. "Andrew..." he started, but the word barely left his mouth before everything around him began to spin. The room seemed to drift away, and he felt his legs give out beneath him. The sensation of falling overwhelmed him, and Lucas lost the battle against the darkness, calling out Andrew’s name one last time before everything faded to black.

…..

Lucas woke up in a room he didn’t recognize. The walls were painted a neutral shade, and the decor was minimalist, almost impersonal. He sat up on the bed, confusion flooding his mind. Soft morning light streamed through the window, but everything felt surreal. He was wearing baggy sweatpants and an oversized white shirt that didn’t seem to belong to him.

Getting up, Lucas hesitantly walked around the space. He wanted to understand where he was and how he had ended up here. Stepping out of the bedroom, he found a hallway adorned with pictures of DeAndre, the bodybuilder who had once been his roommate, Andre, and before that… Andrew! How could he have forgotten? How?

Each image showcased DeAndre at bodybuilding events, and Lucas noticed that in some of them, he looked years older than he remembered. The strength and confidence radiating from the photos were undeniable, but there was something unsettling about how time appeared to have affected the man who had once been his friend.

As Lucas moved down the hallway, his heart raced with a mix of fear and curiosity. He felt like he was in a place that belonged to someone else, a space totally disconnected from the life he knew. With every step, the opulence of the house became more apparent. The polished wooden floors gleamed in the sunlight, and the luxurious details on the walls spoke of wealth and success.

Finally, he reached the living room, a spacious and elegant area with black leather sofas and glass tables. And there he saw him. DeAndre was sprawled on the sofa, clad only in black underwear, his massive, muscular body reflecting the light. His ebony skin seemed to shimmer, and his physique was impressive, with well-defined engorged muscles that spoke of years of dedication to training. He had a commanding presence, an aura of power that made it clear he was the king of this space.

But DeAndre wasn’t alone. In a nearby armchair sat a muscular man, though not quite up to DeAndre’s level, completely relaxed and sprawled out. Lucas had the distinct impression that this guy was indeed the king of this new world. The man had bronzed skin and a well-groomed beard that shaped his attractive face. His eyes were a honey color, but in the brief moments Lucas held his gaze, they seemed to shift to yellow, like a cat's or a hawk's, giving him a sly and playful expression.

"Look who finally decided to join us," he said, his voice smooth and teasing. "Our persistent young friend. I wonder what we should do with him, DeAndre?"

Lucas’s heart raced at those words. The tension in the air was palpable, and he felt paralyzed, his mind spinning with questions. What was happening? Why was he here? And what were DeAndre and this stranger planning?

DeAndre lifted his head, a satisfied expression on his face. "Ah, the kid's awake," he said, his deep, authoritative voice filling the room. "I was wondering when you’d finally join us."

Lucas, finally recalling who this man was, felt a weight in his chest hearing that voice so distant from Andrew’s. But the worst part was the look of total domination DeAndre shot him, hitting him with a wave of panic. "What do you want from me?" he asked, his voice coming out louder than he intended.

The honey-eyed man leaned forward, a playful smile on his face. "DeAndre here just wants to move on, and you’re in the way. And as for me? I want nothing you can’t give, my young friend. I just want you to understand what it means to be part of this world, since you’ve tried so hard to stay in it." His expression was provocative, and Lucas didn’t know whether to feel intrigued or threatened. “It’s time for you to discover what happens to those who dare to enter my circle uninvited, especially those who insist on staying even when they’re not welcome. But first, let’s have a little chat about power, control, and the nature of desires."

He then leaned in closer, his eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and disdain. "You can call me Alastair," he said, his voice smooth and melodic. "And you, my young friend, are in a place where I’ve long decided who comes in and who goes out. I’ve been around longer than you can imagine, and occasionally, I like to have a little fun." He paused, watching Lucas as he tried to process his words.

"I was around when the little, pale, bland Andrew wished to become someone like Professor Williams," Alastair continued, a mischievous smile creeping onto his lips. "And, of course, I had the pleasure of making that wish come true. But why do it without a bit of fun, right?" He chuckled softly, as if reminiscing about a private joke.

Lucas felt a chill run down his spine. "You... you were the one who did this?" he asked, disbelief evident in his voice.

"Oh, my dear, you don’t understand. What I did was simply give Andrew what he wished for, a transformation that would make him everything he ever wanted to be. What I didn’t count on was your persistence." Alastair raised an eyebrow, his tone growing more serious. "You should have been taken out of the equation early on, so I could enjoy Andrew’s transformation into DeAndre. But you insisted, and that frustrated me."

Anger welled up inside Lucas. "Andrew is still in there, at least a small part of him," he said, his voice steady. "You may have changed his appearance, but the essence of who he is still exists."

Alastair laughed, but there was no joy in his laughter. "You really think that 'essence' is strong enough to resist what I’ve done? What you see before you is the result of your own insistence. I had to push him to the limit to erase you from within him. But now I've finally succeeded. DeAndre is everything Andrew wished to be, and more. You should feel honored to have been part of that process."

Lucas felt his determination grow. "Andrew didn’t ask for this; he just wanted to be accepted."

"Ah, acceptance is easier when you’re a massive, successful behemoth. Andrew didn’t know what he truly wanted until I showed him. And now you’re here, trying to prevent him from living the life I gave him," Alastair said, his voice dripping with disdain.

Lucas took a deep breath, trying to regain control. "You may have changed Andrew, but you can’t change who he is inside. And I will find him."

Alastair tilted his head, a sardonic smile on his face. "What a fighting spirit you have, kid. But that won’t change the fact that I’m in control here. And to be honest, you’re not in a position to challenge me."

DeAndre, who had remained silent until then, finally rose from the sofa, his imposing figure casting a shadow over Lucas. "Lucas," he said, his voice deep and resonant. "You need to understand. You may want me to be the boy you knew, but Andrew doesn’t exist anymore. To the rest of the world, including myself, he never existed."

Lucas looked at DeAndre, feeling a mix of pain and hope. "But you’re still him; part of him is still there. I know you can hear this. Please, don’t let this take you away."

Alastair stepped forward, his dominating presence filling the room. "Enough, kid! You have no idea what you’re dealing with. If you keep interfering, I’ll have to take measures to ensure you’re no longer a problem."

The tension in the air was palpable, and Lucas knew he had to be careful. "I won’t give up, Alastair. Andrew is still in there, and I’ll find him. No matter what you do." Then something astonishing happened. As if the threads of reality were unraveling, the corner of the opulent living room of DeAndre transformed into the simple sofa of the old apartment they had shared.

"What do you think you're doing, kid? You better stop that right now and shut that mouth of yours!" Alastair said, his eyes gleaming with a malice that made it clear he wasn’t joking. "Because I’m sure I can find a way to make you quiet for good. Let’s see what I have to work with," the man declared. Suddenly, Lucas found himself only in his underwear, standing before him. A wave of fear washed over him, but along with it came a renewed determination. "I won’t be quiet. I will fight for Andrew. I… I love Andrew… I’ve loved him for years, and I should have told him that a long time ago." The young man said, looking at the massive figure that had once been his friend. To his surprise, and even more to Alastair's shock, DeAndre responded with a voice much softer than seemed possible.

"I… I love you too…" Upon hearing that, Lucas smiled, and the old reality seemed to strengthen beside him.

"You think you’re playing with some idiot? I’ll turn you into a little manwhore, always chasing after some dude, never satisfied, and you, DeAndre, will use him and toss him aside," Alastair sneered, raising his finger. In that instant, Lucas contorted in pain. What Alastair apparently didn’t expect was that the same would happen to DeAndre. The hawk-like eyes widened in shock as he watched the bodybuilder writhe and murmur through the agony:

"I give up my wish, I give up…"

“Damn it, I just wanted to have a little fun. DeAndre, look at me; I’m not going to separate you two, but there’s no turning back now, the process has already begun. Look at me and tell me what you desire. I can make Lucas happy; I can make him happy by your side. Is that what you want?”

“Yes… I… I want Lucas… I want us to be happy.”

“Great, but it’s still going to hurt. That bastard got on my nerves too much to deserve a smooth transition. Now witness.”

Lucas stood silently in the corner, the last remnant of his reality amidst the opulent living room, appearing fragile in just his white underwear. Suddenly, a strange sensation began coursing through his limbs, as if his muscles were being stretched and twisted.

A searing pain engulfed his body, making him writhe involuntarily. His arms, once thin and undefined, began to swell, veins bulging against his skin as the muscles contracted and grew. His biceps and triceps bulged, giving him a powerful and intimidating appearance.

Agony spread through his chest, and Lucas felt his ribcage expand, the ribs becoming more pronounced as his chest hardened and defined. His pecs jutted out forcefully, creating an imposing and masculine silhouette. He gasped, struggling against the pain that seemed to consume every cell of his being.

Meanwhile, Alastair watched the transformation with delight, alongside a horrified DeAndre. In his state of agony, Lucas was oblivious to what the other two could see—his skin appeared to age rapidly. Wrinkles and spots began to form, and his once-fine blonde hair darkened and thickened. A dense beard sprouted on his face, framing his increasingly angular and mature features. As this happened, the reality of the opulent room reshaped around him, erasing all traces of the apartment and the life that Andrew and he had shared.

Finally, Lucas flexed his arms, marveling at the strength flowing through his limbs. The veins stood out on his skin, pulsating with his growing power. His expression, once soft and delicate, was now hard and determined, reflecting the radical change in his appearance. Concluding the transformation, he raised one of his powerful arms, showcasing his biceps and triceps in all their glory, a satisfied smile forming on his lips. And so he stood, watched by the perpetrators of this situation—one accidental and the other who relished every moment of what he had done.

Alastair observed Lucas’s transformation with a satisfied smile. Each second, the young man became stronger, more imposing, and he knew the final result would be a spectacle of power that few could ignore. He turned to DeAndre, who stood there, stunned but also in awe.

“Look here, DeAndre,” Alastair said, his voice smooth and teasing. “This is Louis Caron, a naturalized American Frenchman and the husband who has deeply loved you for 15 years. Soon, all of this will make sense in your minds. Until then, Louis, why don’t you come stay with your husband?”

Louis looked at DeAndre with a smile that reflected a deep connection, a camaraderie that went beyond words. He walked towards DeAndre, his steps firm and confident, his posture erect and his gaze determined. And even amidst the horror of everything that had transpired, DeAndre couldn’t help but smile.

.....

On the sunny coast of California, the beach was alive with activity, the sound of waves gently crashing on the shore and the salty scent of the sea in the air. DeAndre was enjoying the refreshing ocean water. At 43, his muscular body was a testament to his dedication and hard work in the gym. The sunlight reflecting off his powerful, well-defined ebony muscles created a visual spectacle that drew admiring glances from passersby.

On the sand, his husband, Louis, was animatedly chatting with Alastair, a long-time friend of the couple. He gestured enthusiastically, mixing in French words, while Alastair, with his bronzed skin exposed and mischievous honey-colored eyes, listened to the other man with a playful smile.

"Alastair, you have to stay longer! Malik needs to meet you!" Louis exclaimed, his voice full of hope. Malik, DeAndre’s brother, a College Professor was a staunch advocate of his singlehood, but Louis believed Alastair could be the key to opening his heart.

Alastair raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "I thought Malik was straight. Isn’t he?"

Louis laughed, shaking his head. "Yeah, he is! But I’m sure you’ll work your magie. You always do, you magnifique créature!”

As they chatted, DeAndre emerged from the sea, water cascading down his muscular body, and cast an intense gaze toward Louis and Alastair in the distance. The sun illuminated his powerful form, and Louis couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride as he looked at his husband.

"If Malik is as hot as DeAndre, maybe I’d be tempted to stick around and stir up some trouble," Alastair quipped, winking at Louis, who chuckled, imagining the encounter between the two men.

DeAndre approached, his muscles still glistening with seawater, and shot a curious glance at Louis and Alastair. "What are you two laughing about? Some inside joke I’m not aware of?" His voice was deep and captivating, and his smile was irresistible.

Alastair, with a mischievous grin on his lips, replied, "We’re just admiring the impressive sight before us." He gestured dramatically toward DeAndre, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "It’s hard not to get lost in a body like yours, isn’t it?"

Louis laughed and added, "Plus, Alastair was about to leave, and with him, we don’t know how long it’ll be until he’s back." He looked at Alastair with a playful expression. "So we need to make the most of his presence while we can."

DeAndre raised an eyebrow, a cheeky smile forming on his lips. "So, we need to do something about it?" He glanced from Alastair to Louis, a glint of malice in his eyes. "What do you guys have in mind?"

The two friends exchanged knowing looks, aware that the afternoon promised plenty of pleasure and fun. Alastair stepped forward, his dominating presence radiating confidence.

"I can think of a few devilish things."

…..

In a pulsating night in the heart of New York City, the lights of the Devil’s Den flickered in a frenetic rhythm, reflecting the vibrant energy that was about to emanate from within. Poncho, the oldest bartender there, with his piercing gaze and well-defined muscles, meticulously organized the bottles lined up behind the bar. His muscular arms told stories of an intense life, and he moved with the confidence of someone who knew he was in control.

The door swung open, and a man with Mediterranean or Middle Eastern features—hard to tell which—entered, exuding confidence. With dark hair and an enigmatic smile, he approached the bar. “A double shot of whiskey, neat,” he ordered, his voice laced with seductive charm. Poncho, on his way to the bar, turned around smiling upon hearing that voice. The boss was back.

Poncho went to the bar and grabbed the bottle of the best Scotch in the house. As he poured the drink, he couldn’t help but notice the aura surrounding him; he radiated power, like always when he had been up to something. “How was the trip, boss?” he asked, leaning in slightly to hear the response. The man took a sip and let out a low laugh. “Fun in an unexpected way. It’s not every day someone manages to come out on top against me.” He paused, his eyes glinting with a mix of satisfaction and frustration. “But true love is always a pain to deal with.”

Poncho nodded, not entirely understanding. This was a common occurrence between them. But soon, the tone of the conversation shifted. “But now that I’m back in my lair, I feel an immense urge to stir up something truly luxurious,” he said, a devilishly satisfied smile forming on his lips.

“Jerome is active and will send some groups for tonight,” Poncho informed, winking at the man. The mention of Jerome made the boss’s eyes shine even brighter. He knew the fun was about to begin.

The man smiled, his plans forming in his mind like dancing shadows under the lights of the Devil’s Den. “Perfect. The night is young and full of possibilities.” He raised his glass, toasting to the electrifying atmosphere that promised something beyond the boundaries of the human perception.

Poncho returned the smile sensing what was about to happen, the work at the Devil’s Den was like a symphony of laughter, secrets, and lust, and he loved every moment of it. Meanwhile, three reckless young men strolled toward an unexpected destination.

If you want to know where the night will lead, I suggest you click the link below.

[unusualtfs]

Mr. Entwistle

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[axeeglitter]

Sensius, Part 3: A lesson of obedience

Josh couldn't hide his excitement as he approached the sleek, futuristic pod in the center of the room. The Sensius VR system had been marketed as the next generation of immersive technology, promising experiences so vivid they would blur the lines between reality and simulation. So, when Nathan won the contest to be part of the trial to test the system and proposed to him, his twin Ethan and their friends Brad, this was one in a million chance for all of them.

The staff had been friendly but cryptic, emphasizing the importance of following the instructions. "Just relax," one of the technicians had said, smiling as they directed Josh toward the pod. "This will be like nothing you’ve ever experienced before."

Josh climbed into the pod, marveling at the high-tech interior. The seat was surprisingly comfortable, conforming to his body as he leaned back. Panels of soft, glowing lights lined the walls, giving the space an otherworldly ambiance. A calm, automated voice greeted him.

"Welcome to the Sensius VR system. Please relax and prepare for initiation."

Josh grinned. He couldn’t wait to see what the system had in store. The glass-like lid of the pod began to close, sealing him inside with a quiet hiss. For a moment, he felt a thrill of anticipation. This was the cutting-edge of technology, and he was part of something groundbreaking.

But as the lid clicked into place, a faint wave of unease crept over him. The pod’s interior lights shifted from soft blue to a pulsating red, and the calming voice returned, now with a clinical undertone.

"INITIATING BODY SCAN. PLEASE REMAIN STILL."

Before Josh could respond, beams of light crisscrossed his body, creating a faint tingling sensation on his skin. The beams scanned him from head to toe, lingering on specific areas as though analyzing him in detail. He chuckled nervously, trying to shake off the growing sense of unease.

"Uh, okay. That’s a little intense," he muttered, trying to keep his calm while retaining his jock and dominant personality while watching the beams dance over his whole body.

The sensation intensified, the tingling becoming sharp and uncomfortable. He shifted slightly, and suddenly; mechanical arms emerged from hidden compartments in the walls of the pod. The metallic limbs moved with unsettling precision, clamping onto his wrists and ankles.

"Hey, what’s going on?" Josh asked, his voice wavering. He tried to pull his arms free, but the restraints tightened, holding him firmly in place. Panic started to set in as he realized he couldn’t move anymore.

"RESTRAINTS ARE NECESSARY FOR THE CALIBRATION PROCESS. PLEASE REMAIN CALM."

Josh’s breathing quickened. "Calibration? What calibration? This wasn’t part of the demo! Let me out!" he started to scream out loud in his deep voice.

The pod ignored his protests. A new beam of light appeared above him, this one far more intense than the previous scans. It swept down his body in slow, deliberate movements. Josh flinched as the light passed over his chest, feeling an odd warmth that made his skin crawl.

Then, with a sudden jolt, his clothes began to disintegrate. It started at the edges of his sleeves, where the fabric seemed to dissolve into thin air. Threads unraveled and vanished, leaving his muscled arms bare. The process spread rapidly, consuming his shirt and pants as if they were being eaten away by invisible flames.

"What the hell is this?" Josh yelled, struggling against the cuffs. The cool air of the pod brushed against his exposed skin, sending shivers down his spine. Within moments, he was completely naked, his muscled body exposed and vulnerable.

"CLOTHING REMOVAL COMPLETE. BEGINNING DETAILED ANALYSIS."

The beams of light returned, now focusing on specific parts of his body with unsettling precision. Josh felt a sharp, prickling sensation as they traced the contours of his chest, arms, and legs. Every muscle and bone seemed to be scrutinized, the beams lingering on areas as though they were being mapped out.

"Stop this! Let me out!" Josh shouted, his voice cracking. He thrashed against the restraints, but the mechanical arms held him firmly in place.

The voice remained calm and unyielding.

"PLEASE REMAIN STILL. THE PROCESS CANNOT BE INTERRUPTED."

As the beams reached his lower body, Josh’s panic deepened. The light hovered over his hips and thighs before scanning his dick and balls, the warmth intensifying until it became almost unbearable. The beams kept on scanning and flashing lights as his whole body was being analyzed. "Please, stop this!" he begged, his voice hoarse. "I don’t want to do this anymore!"

The AI’s response was devoid of emotion.

“SCAN COMPLETE. INITIALIZING TRANSFORMATION PROTOCOL.”

Josh still begging and trying to get free took a break when he heard what the AI just said. “Transformation? What the fuck is that?” It sent a shiver down his spine. He had no idea what was about to happen, but the fear gnawed at him, making his heart race. The air inside the pod grew heavy, and a faint humming sound filled the space. He felt a strange tingling sensation of anticipation and fear starting to crawl over his skin.

“BEGINNING BONE RESTRUCTURING.”

Suddenly, a sharp, searing pain exploded through Josh’s entire body, starting deep in his bones. It felt like they were being shattered from the inside out. He screamed, a raw, guttural sound as his spine contorted, each vertebra snapping and cracking into a new position. His back arched violently against the restraints, his head slamming back against the metal surface as the agony overwhelmed him.

He could feel his legs stretching, the bones lengthening and reshaping as the bonds were still holding him in place while adjusting automatically to the new proportions his body was taking. His femurs cracked and grew, sending shocks of pain up through his hips. The sensation was unbearable, like hot needles piercing his marrow. His feet twitched uncontrollably as they elongated, the arches curving higher, the toes becoming more defined. He felt the skin on his heels hardening, thick callouses forming as if he had spent years running barefoot.

“Ahhh! Please, stop!” Josh begged, tears streaming down his face, but the AI continued its work, indifferent to his suffering.

“ADJUSTING SKELETAL STRUCTURE. EXPANDING FRAME.”

His shoulders were next, dislocating with a sickening pop. Josh howled as his clavicles snapped and widened, forcing his chest to expand. He could feel his ribcage creaking, each rib shifting painfully into a broader, more defined shape. His arms were pulled taut, the bones stretching, his forearms elongating as his hands were forced into a more powerful, athletic form.

His fingers twitched as the bones thickened, becoming longer and more tapered. The nails hardened and elongated into claws before retracting back into human ones, the tips becoming square and blunt. He could feel the skin on his palms roughening, thick callouses forming, as though he had spent years gripping weights.

“INCREASING MUSCLE MASS.”

The pain shifted from his bones to his muscles. It started as a deep, throbbing ache, but quickly escalated to a tearing, burning sensation. He felt his biceps swell, the muscle fibers tearing apart before knitting back together, stronger and thicker than before. His triceps bulged, the skin stretching painfully tight over the newly formed muscles.

His pecs were next, the muscles expanding outward, filling with new mass. He could feel the skin on his chest pulling taut, the nipples shifting position as his pecs became broader and more defined. His abs clenched involuntarily, each muscle block carving itself out, forming a hard, chiseled six-pack. The sensation was like being punched repeatedly in the stomach, but he couldn’t move to curl up or protect himself.

His thighs burned as the muscles thickened, quads bulging outward, pressing against the sides of the pod. His calves swelled, the defined muscles forming a perfect curve. He could feel his hamstrings tightening, pulling his legs taut as if he were flexing, even though he couldn’t move.

“ENHANCING SKIN AND TISSUE. APPLYING OPTIMAL PIGMENTATION.”

Josh’s skin began to itch, then burn, as if it were being peeled away and replaced. He watched in horror as his pale, freckled complexion darkened. It was like a wave of warmth spreading over his body, turning his skin a golden bronze. He could see tiny beads of sweat forming, the scent of musk filling the pod, strong and masculine.

Brown hair sprouted across his chest, spreading down in a light trail over his abs and gathering thickly around his groin. He could feel the coarse, wiry hairs prickling as they grew, the sensation almost unbearable against his raw, sensitive skin. Josh hated having hair on his body and he loved the sensation of being hairless. He never skipped a day without shaving and made sure his pubes were hairless all the time. The sensation of his pubes growing thicker and denser was a nightmare for him. His legs were next, the hair growing denser, covering his shins and calves with a dark, rugged coat. Then the sensation moves to his armpits where he felt the hair sprouting and tingling his biceps and ribs. Josh then stated to smell a thick pungent manly scent, something earthy and musky. He tilted his head only to realize it was coming from his own pits.

“TRANSFORMING FACIAL FEATURES.”

Out of nowhere, Josh felt like invisible hands grabbed his head and forced it back. He tried to move but he couldn’t. His neck was locked in place and the only thing he could move was his eyes and mouth to scream for this nightmare to stop. In the middle of a scream, his jaw locked, then cracked as it was reshaped, becoming sharper, more angular. His cheekbones lifted, the little fat he still had beneath his skin melted away to reveal a more defined structure. His nose reshaped itself, becoming smaller and straighter.

His lips thinned slightly, and his eyebrows darkened, becoming thicker and more defined. He felt his scalp tingle as his hair was altered, the strands becoming softer yet thicker, styled into a messy, tousled look. Tears were rolling on Josh’s cheek before dying in his growing beard as he kept on screaming in pain and fear when suddenly no sounds were able to get out. It felt like his vocal cords were being ripped apart before reforming and attaching in a different configuration. Josh’s voice came back but it was different, more rugged, manlier, deeper. As Josh was able to talk again, a faint taste of blood invaded his mouth before disappearing quickly, but this time when he tried to scream, it came out in a deep, raspy moan, completely unfamiliar to his own ears. Josh tried again but the voice didn’t change. His eyes opened in surprise and incomprehension as he calmed down a bit to analyze and realize what just happened. The sensation started to slow down all over his body and for a brief moment, Josh thought this was all over, but unbeknown to him, the changes were still going on. Josh vision blurred out a bit before returning to normal as tears were still running down his cheeks. He thought his blurry vision was because of that, but in reality, his eyes were changing and adjusting. His eyes flashed a bright gold color before changing back to human ones, except they were not blue anymore, they were hazel now. Josh’s breathing was starting to calm down and he could finally start to think properly without this constant pain all over his transforming body. “Please let me go, I didn’t ask for this, I just wanted to pl…” His sentence was cut short as the AI resumed its protocols.

“MODIFYING PELVIC REGION.” “NO STOP! Plea… AAAAAHHHHHHH” screamed Josh as the transformations resumed. His hips felt like they were being squeezed in a vice, the bones grinding against each other as they narrowed, giving him a more general V body shape. His pelvis shifted, aligning with his new, athletic frame. He could feel the muscles in his groin tightening, the sensation both painful and strangely arousing.

The hair around his pubic area already previously thickened, became darker and curlier before retracting a bit in his skin, giving him a permanent carpet of groomed pubes. He could feel the coarse curls brushing against his thighs, the sensation sending shivers up his spine. His cock twitched, the skin stretching as it grew longer and thicker, the veins standing out prominently against the taut flesh. His balls ached as they swelled, becoming larger and heavier, the skin tightening around them.

It felt like his entire groin was on fire, a throbbing, pulsing heat that made him gasp and moan involuntarily. He could feel every inch of his new anatomy, the weight of his cock pressing heavily against his thigh, the sensation overwhelming. Josh tilted his head to see what happened only to realize that his cock had grew. A smile appeared on his newly changed face as a feeling of proudness invaded him.

“Damn, now that’s a dick!” he thought out loud “worth having such pubes if I can keep this monster down there.”

“TRANSFORMATION PROTOCOLES COMPLETED.”

Josh exhaled out of satisfaction. It was over. The happiness of finding a new enhanced cock left place to a rising anger because of what was forced on him. His body and new muscles twitching involuntarily, his skin glistening with sweat. He could feel the changes settling in, every part of him altered and enhanced. He didn’t recognize himself anymore. He was a stranger in his own body, and the fear and anger gripped him tighter than ever as his new manly and musky scent invaded the pod, he was still locked in.

“TARGET FORM COMPLETED: LIAM DUNBAR.”

Josh’s eyes widened in shock as the realization hit him. The AI had transformed him into someone else entirely, Liam Dunbar, a character he recognized from a teenager TV show that used to be on the TV a couple of years ago. He was left panting, his chest heaving as he tried to come to terms with what had been done to him.

He was no longer himself. He was trapped in the body of someone else, not even a real person but a character played by an actor in a poorly written show he wasn’t a fan of. Anger kept on rising as his muscled started to bulge with testosterone. “You better explain what you did to me and turn me back to my original self! I’m gonna sure you! You hear me? YOU ARE DONE!” he exploded in rage, but no one answered. Instead, the AI’s voice echoed inside the pod, devoid of any empathy or concern.

“BODY TRANSFORMATION COMPLETE. PREPARING FOR DIGITIZATION.” “Digitization?! What is that now? Haven’t you played enough?!”

Josh kept on screaming for someone to free him, not realizing that the new phase was about to begin.

“INITIATING DIGITIZATION PROCESS.”

The pod started to hum again as the red light in the pod flickered before settling in a bright neon blue engulfing his whole naked form and baking him in a warm hug. Josh’s heart skipped a beat. He tried to speak, to plead for mercy, but no words came out. His jaw clenched shut as the AI took control of his newly formed body. He could feel a wave of electricity surge through his veins, a tingling sensation spreading across his skin like thousands of tiny needles.

“SYNCHRONIZING NEURAL NETWORKS.”

The pressure in his head was unbearable. It felt as if his skull were being split open from the inside. He screamed silently, his voice trapped in his mind, unable to escape as his consciousness was forcibly synced with the digital systems of the pod. His thoughts became jumbled, fragmented, as if parts of his brain were being overwritten by something foreign.

His vision blurred, then went black. He couldn’t see, couldn’t move. He was suspended in a void, only able to feel the pulsing rhythm of his new heart, the steady rise and fall of his chest as his body breathed without his command. Then after a couple of agonizing senseless seconds in the void, light started to appear again and shaped started to form in front of him. Josh was no longer in the pod but instead in what looked like a locker room. His head turned left and right as the benches and lockers finished to materialize in transparent square before taking their final palpable shapes. Musk invaded his nose as the sensation started to come back to him little by little. Josh could move on his own again and was free of his movements, the restraints were gone, but he was in a place he didn’t recognize anymore, and worst, he still was trapped inside the body of this Liam something. Josh started to walk a bit and finally found a mirror where he could see his reflection for the first time. Josh didn’t even realize it but he was dressed. A light grey shirt, a tight-fitting pair of jeans, a pair of leather boots and a black leather jacket were now put on his muscled body. His eyes lighted in golden hue one more time before taking back his new icy blue color.

“ANALYZING PARTICIPANTS PARAMETERS… ANALYZE DONE. ALPHA PLAYERS ALREADY COMPLETED. ADJUSTING PARAMETERS.”

The words filled Josh with a new kind of dread. Suddenly, his body froze in front of the mirror. Josh tried to move but he couldn’t anymore, it was like he was back and restrained in the pod, except this time, he was not in the pod anymore, he was frozen in place. He didn’t understand what the AI was doing, but he could feel it inside his head, probing his thoughts, analyzing his deepest fears and desires. He tried to push back, to resist, but it was like hitting a brick wall. His mind was no longer his own; it was being dissected and reprogrammed.

“MODIFYING PARAMETERS... DECREASING ASSERTIVENESS.”

Josh felt a sharp, cold sensation deep in his chest. It was like an icy hand gripping his heart and squeezing, draining the strength from his body. Josh would have screamed if he could. There in front of him, he saw his muscles, which had been swollen and firm just moments before, began to soften and shrink. He felt the power leave his arms, his biceps deflating like balloons, the definition in his forearms fading away. The sensation was not painful this time, but more disturbing and alien.

His chest, once broad and strong, lost its bulk. His pecs became flatter, less defined, the tight skin loosening as the muscle mass was stripped away. His abs softened, the hard ridges smoothing out, leaving only a faint outline of what had once been a chiseled six-pack.

Josh could feel his height diminishing, his bones compressing as he lost inches. He felt small, insignificant, as his frame regressed. His legs, which had been thick and powerful, became slender and less imposing. His thighs no longer bulged against the fabric of his shorts, and his calves lost their curve, becoming lean and less defined.

He tried to flex, to regain control, but his body didn’t respond. It was like being trapped inside a suit he couldn’t remove, forced to watch as it changed shape against his will.

“REMOVING BODY HAIR. REDUCING TESTOSTERONE LEVELS.”

A tingling sensation spread across his skin. The coarse hair that had grown thick on his chest and stomach began to fall away, vanishing into thin air. His legs and arms, once covered in dark hair, were now smooth and bare. Even the trail of hair leading from his navel down to his groin disappeared, leaving his skin hairless and baby-soft. His hair started to grow longer and thicker, giving to his regressing face a fragile aspect.

Josh felt a deep, aching emptiness in his groin. His testicles, which had felt heavy and full seconds ago, seemed to shrink. He could feel them retracting closer to his body, the skin tightening, as if they were being drained of their potency. His cock, which had hung thick and swollen, began to soften and shrink as well, becoming smaller and less intimidating.

The musk that had clung to his body, a raw, masculine scent, faded away. He felt clean, almost sterile, like all the sweat and pheromones had been scrubbed from his pores. He tried to breathe deeply, to fill his lungs with the familiar scent of his own body, but there was nothing there. It was as if the AI had washed away every trace of his masculinity. Josh was left standing there, once again his body modified against his will as new clothes started to shimmer into existence on his smaller body. The jacket merged with the shirt before turning into a blue shirt with red stitching. His rugged jeans grew smaller and smaller until they were now a pair of red Lacrosse sport shorts hugging his thicker ass perfectly. Josh felt a foreign sensation around his smaller cock as a white jockstrap shimmered into existence, encasing his smaller penis. The boots around his feet totally disappearing to let his naked foots on the cold tiled ground.

“SUBMISSION PROTOCOL ACTIVATED. BEHAVIORAL ADJUSTMENTS IN PROGRESS.”

Josh’s mind reeled as he felt a wave of submissive thoughts flood his consciousness. He wanted to fight back, to resist, but the desire to obey, to yield, was overpowering. It wasn’t just that he couldn’t move, his body didn’t want to move unless he was told. He felt an intense need to please, to follow orders without question.

His body responded automatically as the invisible restraints released, his limbs moving with a fluid, obedient grace. He found himself standing in the center of a dimly lit locker room. He was dressed only in a tight jockstrap that cupped his now smaller package, a pair of short lacrosse shorts that clung to his hips, and a snug, long-sleeved dark blue T-shirt that emphasized his leaner, softer form. He was barefoot, his toes curling against the cold tile floor.

Josh felt exposed, vulnerable, but he couldn’t even bring himself to cover up. His body didn’t belong to him anymore, it was a puppet, and he was just a passenger.

“Welcome to the Teen Wolf Gay Fantasy VR experience. You are now an integral part of the interactive environment. Enjoy this brand-new experience from the Sensius Studios. Have a good time!”

He took a shaky breath, trying to make sense of his surroundings, when the door swung open. He turned instinctively, and his heart sank as Scott walked in. He was wearing a tight black tank top, his muscles bulging, his frame towering over Josh’s diminished form. Scott’s presence filled the room, oozing confidence and dominance as his manly musk started to invade Josh’s nostrils. Josh felt his body starting to heat up in anticipation as he felt it craving for the men in front of him. “No stop! I’m not gay!” Josh screamed in his mind but no sound came out of his mouth. He was a passenger in this gay submissive body and there was nothing he could do. He felt his small dick starting to chub up against his will as his hole twitch a couple of times. His nipples got hard as he could smell the musk of the alpha getting closer and closer to him.

“Liam,” Scott said, his voice dripping with cocky amusement. “Just the person I was looking for…”

Josh tried to respond, but his mouth wouldn’t form the words. Instead, he found himself lowering his gaze, unable to meet Scott’s eyes. He felt a blush creep up his neck, his body reacting instinctively to the alpha presence before him.

Scott stepped closer, towering over him. He reached out and cupped Josh’s face with one hand, tilting his chin up. “You look different, beta,” Scott taunted, smirking as he traced his thumb over Josh’s lower lip. “Did you miss your alpha? Don’t worry, I’m here now…”

Josh screamed in his head as he felt the rugged thumb of Scott against his lower lip, but worst he felt his body heat even more as he could feel saliva starting to pour in his mouth and a craving to taste Scott’s cock. This was not him, this had to stop.

Josh’s breath hitched as he felt a wave of submission wash over him. He wanted to fight, to push Scott away, but his body wouldn’t respond. Instead, he felt a rush of arousal, his cock twitching in the tight confines of his jockstrap.

Scott’s smirk widened as he noticed. He slid his hand down Josh’s chest, pausing to pinch one of his nipples through the thin fabric of his shirt. Josh gasped, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure straight to his groin.

“You’re already leaking,” Scott observed, his voice dripping with mockery. He pressed his hand against the bulge in Josh’s jockstrap, feeling the wet spot that had formed. “Pathetic.”

Josh whimpered, a mix of humiliation and helpless arousal coursing through him. He felt his cock twitch, precum soaking through the fabric. He tried to pull away, but his body remained frozen in place, obeying Scott’s every touch.

Scott leaned in closer, his lips brushing against Josh’s ear. “You’re mine, beta. Now show me you are a good boy for your alpha.”

As he heard the words good boy, Josh felt a chain reaction in his body. His breath came short, his muscles relaxed, and against his will, his hole and cock started to spasm in sync. Josh’s entire body shuddered. His cock throbbed, and he came hands-free, his jockstrap soaking through with his release. He moaned helplessly, his legs trembling as the pleasure overtook him.

Scott pulled back, laughing as he watched the submissive display. “Look at you, cumming just because I told you to,” he sneered. “You’re nothing but a needy little toy now.”

Josh’s face burned with shame, his body sagging in defeat. He could feel the wetness clinging to his skin, the evidence of his own submission. He wanted to disappear, to hide away from the humiliation, but his body wouldn’t move unless Scott commanded it.

“Good boy,” Scott said with a smirk, patting Josh’s cheek as a new orgasm flew out of Josh’s cock. “Now get dressed. We have practice, and I want you looking your best.” Scott said as he turned around to leave “Oh, and keep your wet shorts on, I want everybody to see you belong to me!”

“Yes sir”, answered Liam in a voice full of horniness and contemplation for his master.

As Scott walked away, Josh was left standing there, trembling, his mind reeling from the intense, humiliating experience. This wasn’t who he was. He wasn’t this submissive beta that cum handsfree and following orders from a jock. He was the jock. He was the dominant one, he always had been and will always be, Ethan was the submissive twin, not him. Suddenly he realized that Ethan must have been forced into a pod too and going through a similar experience. Unbeknown to him, Josh was the third of the group to be changed, and Ethan already got digitized and went through the process a couple of hours before him.

________

In the dimly street of Beacon Hills, Theo was still enjoying himself and just released a second load out of his engorged cock when he felt his body asjusting his orange opened jacket then putting his jeans back on and starting to walk in the high school direction. Nathan couldn’t understand what was happening or why his body was moving in the high school direction as he still felt his cock spasming and releasing in his pants. He's been trapped in Theo’s masculine and muscular body full of hormones for hours and he spent that time forced to jerk himself off in the street watching his reflection in the car windows in front of him, giving himself a show. His dick was sore but thanks to the chimera ability, his healing was on the top and he had been able to go like that for hours withotu taking breaks between edging sessions and orgasms. Nathan started to walk, his sore cock brushing against his hairy thighs and the wet pants, as he heard a notification and a transparent window appear in front of him with an empty checkbox next to it: “Main Quest: Find Scott and get the game started.”

______________________________________________________________ Hey guys!

I hope you'll enjoy this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. It's been a while in the making, but I'm proud of what I’ve created. I hope you like it, and as always, don't hesitate to leave a comment, send me a message, or share any ideas you might have in my inbox. I read all of them, and if you're lucky, I might even write your idea! ;)

For now, enjoy the third chapter of the Sensius project, and I'll see you all soon with a new chapter!

Sensius Part1 Sensius Part2

[misctf]

Me and my buddy get along well but I don’t have a father and for some reason I feel like I look up to him. He’s a brunette hockey player who really cares about his body and tracks all of his cals. Any way you could spike one of his beers and give me the best exjock dad ever?

“Let’s go!” Your bro throws down his game controller and looks over at you. His confident smile adorning his handsome, angular face, “I used that same move on the ice the other day.” His clear excitement is infectious and you can’t help but smile.

It was another one of your usual game nights with your bro. The two of you sitting on the couch, controllers in hand, playing some hockey videogame. And even though he always seemed to win, you just enjoy the moment. Your friendship started out when you were younger- the two of you meeting in grade school. And as the years went on, you grew closer. You’d go to his hockey games and cheer him on. He’d fill in as that male role model you needed. When you went to college, he’d continue playing hockey, while you focused on your studies. But you continued to enjoy each other’s company. But this was your last year, and he planned to move across the country. The very thought was painful. Losing him would be tough.

“Hey, you good?” He asks, “I told you I wasn’t going easy.”

You smile, “I was wondering,” You begin, “I know you don’t like beer...”

“Gotta keep these toned.” He says, running a hand down his exposed abs.

“But it’s bro night.” You continue, “I got some special beers for us.”

He seems to consider the offer. Part of him looking a bit apprehensive. After all, he spent much of his time focusing on maintaining his body. His lean muscles and thicc hockey butt were all products of his careful diet and dedicated workouts. But he could tell it would mean a lot to you. He nods slowly.

“One won’t hurt.” He says with a grin, “Cheers to another game night.”

Part of you feels relieved. Another part of you feels somewhat apprehensive. If the man you bought this beer from was telling you the truth... well, you didn’t know what to think. It was probably some prank anyway, and you probably wasted the money. You hand him a solo cup with the beer in it.

“To bro night.” He smiles and takes a sip of the beer, “You know, I’m gonna miss this.” You feel a pang of sadness in your chest, “But we’ll always be bros.”

You nod, taking in his words. Feeling a sense of impending loss. Wishing you could just enjoy these moments forever.

“I’m gonna miss this too... dad.”

He looks over at you and raises an eyebrow, “What did you just call me?” He chuckles.

And you can see it. A few hairs starting to emerge from his once clean-shaven face. A few greys appearing in his brunette locks. Was it true? Was this stuff really going to do what the man said it would?

“Nothing, dad.”

And as the words leave your lips, your buddy groans. His youthful skin starts to lose its glow. A few wrinkles appear on his forehead. And the hair on his face sprouts into a full beard. His hands rush to scratch his new facial hair and his eyes widen.

“Bro, what the hell...” He whispers, “Something’s wrong...”

“What do you mean, dad?”

You watch as his brunette locks begin to recede and his tan vanishes. All the while, small, itchy hairs start to sprout from your buddy’s chest and abs. At this point, he stands up and runs his hands down his new body hair. There’s a look of disgust and confusion on his face, and you can’t help but feel bad for him. After all, he did pride his clean-shaven look.

“You keep calling me dad.” He says, staring at you, “And now...” He catches a glimpse of his receding hairline and aged skin in the mirror, “Bro, please. Whatever you’re doing, you gotta fuckin’ stop.”

You could tell he was getting angry. But you were still marveling over the effects of this drink. You couldn’t believe it was actually working.

“Bro, are you even listening to me?” He says, “Please! You can’t...”

“Sorry dad.” You reply, putting even more emphasis on “dad.”

The effects are more dramatic. Your buddy lets out a pained moan and falls to his knees, gripping his abs. You can see tears fall from his eyes as he realizes his firm abs are feeling softer. And in only a few moments, his abs are covered by a thick layer of fat. And another. And another. And although your buddy is too busy squeezing his new flabby stomach, you can see his pecs fill with fat and sag, resting atop his new gut.

“This can’t be...” He winces at his new, gravelly voice, “Oh god, I sound so old.” He looks up at you, tears still staining his eyes, “Dude, come on... please... I can’t be this.”

A part of you feels bad, even guilty. Your friend’s anger replaced by fear. His confidence shattered. His toned physique truly replaced by that of a middle-aged dad. Part of you wants to reverse this. But you don’t even know how.

“I...” You bite your lip, “Look, I don’t even know if I can undo this, dad.”

Your buddy shuts his eyes and shakes as the short hairs erupt into longer follicles. You watch as a forest of hairs emerge from under his shorts and travel down his legs. His new gut and soft chest are covered in a forest of gray and dark hairs. And you realize now there’s nothing left of your old buddy, at least physically. His receding hairline, gray hairs, gut, and hirsute form all scream middle-aged dad. He slowly stands up, wincing at a pain in his lower back and knees, as he becomes more familiar with his new age.

“Dude...” He whispers, “What did you do?” You can hear the anger return to his voice.

“I didn’t want to lose you, bro.” You say, “And I’ve always looked up to you. And truthfully, I’ve always wanted a dad and the beer promised it could do that. Just as long as I called whoever drank it dad.” Your friend looks shocked and picks up the solo cup.

“Good one dude.” He laughs, “Okay, okay you got me. Maybe if I drink the beer and you call me bro or something, I can return to normal.” He says hopefully, “I promise we can forget all about this.” The desperation starts to creep back into his voice, “Just... please I don’t want this.” He begs.

You’re not a bad person. You even feel a bit guilty. And part of you even wants to do as he suggests. But another thought enters your head. Would he be able to forget all about this? Would he forgive you? You bite your lip and sigh.

“I’m sorry,” You can see his eyes widen in terror, “Dad.”

He drops the beer in his hand, causing the beer inside to spray everywhere. His eyes glaze over and his jaw goes slack. A part of you worries for a moment, but slowly he smiles. There’s no evidence of concern on his face.

“Ah sorry, I spaced out there for a second.” He chuckles, “Looks like I made a mess.” He goes to bend over to pick up the cup, but winces, “Damn back’s been acting up.”

“Don’t worry dad.” You say as he sits back down on the couch, “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m good, I’m good.” He reassures, “Come on, we have to finish our game.” He says with a grin, grabbing the game controller, “You know, I was quite the hockey player back in my day. Well before this.” He chuckles, patting his beer gut.

“I know.” You reply, sitting next to him, “You tell me all the time.” The two of you start to play, and you immediately notice his videogame skills are not where they used to be. But you’re enjoying this moment- going on as if nothing changed.

“Look at that!” He cheers when he scores a goal, “I told you not to take it easy on me, son.”

You go to reply but you feel a warmth coarse through your body. You quickly shake your head and return to the game. And only a few minutes later, he scores another goal.

“You doing okay there, son?” He asks.

And again, you feel a warmth coarse through your body. You look down at the controller and can’t help but notice that your forearms look a bit thicker- your hands meatier. You shake your head and look up at your dad.

“Uh, I’m good dad.” Your voice even sounds deeper- somewhat dumb too, “I-I gotta go to my room.”

You stumble towards your room, feeling somewhat off balance. Entering your room, you’re immediately hit by the smell of intense BO. The same way your bro would smell after a hockey game. There’s gear on your bed and random posters of hockey players on your walls. You barely have time to comprehend what’s going on, when you hear your dad’s voice.

“Hey son, are you okay?”

You groan as your muscles begin to contract violently and your shirt tears from your growing musculature. You can see yourself in the mirror- abs, thicc ass, and lean muscles- the body of a hockey player. And you realize that you’re becoming your dad’s ideal son. Somehow, the beer that splashed on you had the same effects as drinking it.

“Wait dad!” You call out, wincing at the oafish jock-like tone that saturates your words, “Please...!”

“Son?” He asks opening the door.

And your eyes glaze over. Your jaw goes slack. And you feel your mind warping and changing. Any memories you had of your old life or self are being forced into the very back of your mind- all to make room for your new existence as a smelly, ripped, hockey jock. Your dad’s perfect son.

“God it reeks in here.” Your dad laughs, patting you on the back, “Must be workin’ hard out there.”

“You fuckin’ know it.” You reply, eyes dull, “It’s gonna be a good game tomorrow, pops.”

“You learned from the best, champ.” He smiles, “Now come on, we got a game to finish.” You smile, “I want to show you one of my favorite moves. Worked every time. Maybe you can try it out on the ice tomorrow.”

“For sure, pops.”

You follow your dad back to the couch. The two of you playing videogames late into the night, filling the air with boisterous cheers as you played. You couldn’t have asked for a better dad. And he couldn’t have asked for a better son.

[occamstfs]

Slice of Italy

After an accident outside a local Italian restaurant, Jonathan finds himself itching to hop in the kitchen himself.

Bear TF with all that implies! In other news I think I'm going to go down to one story a week, been spending a little too much energy here. May open commissions if there is an interest there? Who knows! At any rate, enjoy this story! -Occam

It wasn’t even Jonathan’s fault the statue was broken. His clearly too drunk friends were jacking around and not listening to his voice of reason. The poor DD was just standing closest when it was inevitably knocked over and shattered. If he had followed their lead and fled, it’s likely they’d all be off scot-free, but his need to atone for his friend’s actions in whatever paltry way he could led him to start gathering the scattered pieces.

Hearing the shattering plaster, the hostess runs outside with a gasp as she takes in the scene. She stares in shock at Jonathan before retreating inside to surely grab someone more important. Jonathan is again left with the all too desirable option of flight, staring at pieces of the stereotypical Italian chef he sighs and keeps to his principles, slowly picking up pieces.

Really he did them a favor, he’s always hated the thing. Creepy little thing. He’s been coming here all his life and it’s always seemed like the eyes have followed him. Seeing them lifeless and cracked on the ground doesn’t make them any less eerie though. Nor does the disembodied plaster smirk lying askew to their side. Before he can shudder Jonathan jumps as the door to the restaurant slams open and out comes a burly manager, “Ah c’mon kid, now why’d ya go and do that?” 

Jonathan drops the shards of the statue he still held in shock as he stammers to explain that really he’s not at fault. Never especially good at doing anything but ceding ground to authority figures he immediately folds, “I well, um it wasn’t really my fault um. It was, uh- I’ll do whatever I can to make this right. I-” Looking in the young man’s eyes the manager sighs and waves him off, “No no kid don’t you- Accident’s happen. Hmph Cavallo loved that statue though hah!” There’s a sadness in his eyes as he looks at the shattered man once more before returning his gaze to Johnathan with a squint.

“You’re the youngest Clark boy eh?” Correct, though now well an adult, there remains a tinge of irritation any time it’s brought up that he will always be the youngest, the smallest, no matter how long time treks onward. Still, not the time, “Yes sir.” The manager scratches the back of his head and motions the younger man inside, “Why don’t you come in, I’ll have one of my hosts sweep up the mess later.” Jonathan furrows his brow as he’s ushered inside, any attempts he makes at offering his hand to do the dirty work are met with hems and haws from the manager as he is instead led into an office in the back of house.

“You just sit here Jonny and I’ll uh- Hm?” He pauses and looks at Jonathan, no, past Jonathan. As if he’s staring through the young man and seeing something beyond. Something different. Seconds pass and a pit grows in Jonathan’s stomach as the manager twitches soundlessly, wanting the moment to pass he calls out to the man, “Romeo? You alright?” 

Focus returns to the manager’s eyes and he laughs, “Hah! Of course, sorry about that sir! You just let me know if you need anything Mr. Clark.” With that he does a nod and closes the door behind himself, there’s the click of a lock but Jonathan doesn’t notice as he instead hones in on the fact that he just called the manager by his name.

He racks his mind to remember if he introduced himself, the manager did recognize him after all? Perhaps they’ve met before. He chews on the idea and tries to ignore the feeling of pulling the man’s name from some place in his mind he doesn’t have access to. Maybe he was wearing a name tag. Of course, with a sigh of relief tension fades from his chest before he even realizes how tight it had become from anxiety. He has all employees wear name tags after all, helps the customers feel at home.

After a second of rest he is struck with the implications of that flitting thought. He what!? Tightness in his chest returns with a furor as memories or meetings with teams of people he doesn’t recognize flash through his mind. Planning a culture, running shifts, designing a restaurant. Clutching at his chest with one hand and his head with the other Jonathan worries he’s losing it and goes to sit down. Reflexively opting for the cushy desk chair behind the desk rather than either of the two by the door. “God it was just a tacky statue, why am I having an episode about this!?” 

Sitting in the boss’ chair Jonathan finds himself growing unreasonably warm. Sweat drips from his brow as he tries to bring to mind strategies one would use to soothe a panic attack. Looking for something solid in the room to focus on Jonathan sees a photo of the owner standing next to the gaudy statue. Grimacing, through grinding teeth he grunts out a “not helpful.” Even less helpful is the ensuing migraine, as it pangs he blinks concertedly and upon reopening his eyes he finds the image has shifted to one of himself standing next to the statue, a too large smile plastered on his face just like that of the god-awful statue. Somewhere repressed within him the phrase ‘happiest day of my life’ pings, though his conscious mind resounds with an image of his college graduation.

Clearly unable to find peace in this room he fights against his perpetually pliant instincts and stands to leave despite Romeo’s request. Now standing, he realizes something bizarre has seemingly begun to happen to his body. It’s like he’s bloated? Looking down he sees buttons on his shirt suddenly straining. His indisputably slim waist has begun to expand. The sensation of being starved and sated paradoxically rise at once within Gionathan as he feels the sudden urge, an otherworldly need to burp. He chokes it down at first but as his waist continues to strain, now revealing skin in between buttons as his chest too begins to bulge he is unable to stop the rising gas.

Polite young man he is, even as it erupts he tries to at least quiet his burp, which only causes it to burst with more force. Louder than those performative burps that blare from his less than couth cohort, his face burns with embarrassment despite being alone in the room. His body doesn’t stop at one either, he belches uncontrollably as body inches larger with each release. Quickly bursting buttons off the front of his shirt and freeing a torso that, alongside growing a healthy layer of weight, has begun to itch.

His blonde treasure trail has slowly begun to thicken as his fingers furiously scratch into his new weightier gut. Not noticing the definitive muscle hiding beneath he instead balks as he feels his light body hair spread out and upwards. Sticky sweat still covering his form as the heat has not abated in the slightest he looks down to observe the unfamiliar curves sticking out from his chest as his few nearly invisible chest hairs begin to thicken in the center of his chest, meeting the still rising furry patch on his stomach. 

The movement of his arms bring a new change to his mind as they too have not been spared from these must be imagined changes. New biceps breach the open air as they bulge large enough to tear the sleeves into tatters, not obscene but simply too large to be restrained by his usually loose fitting button-up. Gionathan has never been especially proud of his figure, but looking down and seeing something more akin to the countless forms of men he’s masturbated to throughout the years brings a new, less terryfying emotion to whatever this nightmare is.

Gionathan feels butterflies in his chest as he clutches at definitive pecs that now lie on top of it. He bites his lip as the idea that there’s now something you can grab there shoots a wave of static into his mind. Knees almost giving way as he takes time to explore his changes, Gionathan returns to sit in his chair and feel himself up. As he continues to chew on his lip to avoid moaning, his eyes remain shut to allow his imagination to flourish. 

This leaves him unaware of the tan that has begun to tint his changing body. Having not been exposed to sunlight in well over a decade, pasty is almost too generous a word to describe his pale torso. And yet, as his thickening hands trail across his meatier waist and play with a chest still growing weightier, his skin darkens to one naturally sun-kissed. 

Wider palms smearing sweat across an expanding torso, his mind begins to drift. Playing with chest hair as it grows thicker his fingertips almost accidentally come across nipples that have grown extensively as his pecs begins to bulge larger. Beginning to play with them his changes begin to accelerate. His mouth scrunches up as itches begin to burn across his face. Stubble that has been kept off his face from a once-a-week shave rapidly rears its head before it thickens en masse. Sideburns shove themselves wider to cover the whole of his cheeks before expanding under his chin as each follicle surges larger and darkens.

Green eyes flicker brown as Gionovan’s suddenly dark stubble quickly leaks upward, staining his pert blonde coif dirty, then brown, before finally turning as black as the curls that have begun to overtake his chest. Each strand changes as his hands continue to dance and delight in his bulkier body. His mouth scrunches as a mustache he’s never dreamed of growing begins to bulge out of his upper lip. Thicker than the hair on his head as memories of his hairline retreating over the years begin to assert themselves into his memory. Coffee dark eyes twitch while remaining closed, his hands trail up to his neck and come across scratchy stubble as he realizes that something is happening beyond skin deep changes. 

Pausing his reverie, the young man no longer’s eyes open to see a name plate on his desk, Gionovan Clarvallo. “No, tha’s not-” He clutches at his throat as his voice rumbles deeper. Gionovan stands with a start and the sound of the seat of his pants tearing open resounds in the room. He groans and leans on the table as thighs grow wide and his ass expands into quite a powerful cushion. Clenching his stubble hidden jaw he can barely even realize that he lost something when he languished in his changing form. The label young man doesn’t quite apply anymore as smile crinkles crack around his eyes. His mind races once more to find things to hold onto.

He’s Gionovan Clarvallo. He’s lived in this town for most of his life, or no he lived in the city for a while didn’t he? The man groans as two lifetimes crash into each other like a fusion reaction. His studies evaporate to be replaced by prodigious years at culinary school. His gap year fades as recollections of traveling New York City to find hidden gems and expand his palette grow increasingly vivid, and unknowingly vital to who he is. Once more Gionovan feels a rising need to burp. Hand curling into a fist he covers his mouth and he sees dark curls bathe down his fore arm.

The forest of hair that had only just begun to decorate his chest and stomach rapidly begins to thicken to cover every inch of his form as he struggles once more against pressure rising up his throat. Gionovan launches into a fit of belching once more. With each release his body changes further, jungle of chest hair spreading further, expanding and thickening, growing dark enough to completely hide tanned skin beneath it. His whole body grows wider, taller, heavier. Sweat trails down the side of his torso as his wildly increasing haven of pit hair drips with his new heady musk. Pants burst to shreds as his thighs grow to a size that can scarcely be covered while newly hairy shoulders grow bulkier to match his thickening neck and the weighty arms they are charged to maneuver. 

Clutching at his stomach as it expands and grows fluffier with both darkening hair and comfortable weight, Gionovan realizes something. He tastes food more delicious than he’s ever experienced before dancing across his tongue. Flavors unfathomable and unfamiliar make their home in his mouth as his body continues to morph with every heaving release. Pesto sears his sinuses as the waistband of his underwear begins to struggle against his expanding ass and the suddenly monolithic testament to his masculinity bulging in his crotch. Airy gelato cleanses his palate as his stomach begins to hang over said waistband as his legs grow thick enough to send tears in the elastic and curls grow thick enough across them to be a pelt. The aftertaste of rich creamy fresh tomato pasta overwrites more and more of who he once was as memories of his time in the kitchen and traveling the world for new tastes chips away at whatever edges of Jonathan that remain.

As he sits in the office, his office, rubbing at a torso that is rapidly becoming a hairy musclegut, he scratches at his thickening beard as a strange instinct rises as the aftertastes, or memories rather, continue to ephemerally rise. He could cook better than that. It’s why he opened his restaurant after all. To offer nothing but the best to this little town. To help ensure that every inch of the world has to experience the heavenly flavors he’s been so fortunate to enjoy. It’s why he opened his Slice of Italy. Standing with a grunt, there’s a knock on the office door and he realizes that he is almost completely nude. With a gasp, Giovanni clears his throat and calls out, “One minute Romeo!” 

He goes to a cabinet in the corner and pulls out a change of clothes, well-suited to his massive form. He’s learned that a man of his size, and passion, should always keep an outfit on standby, after all it’s impossible to predict what any odd day will hold. Quickly struggling into the clothes he figures it’s about time to go up a size as gets the snug clothes on. Smiling at a picture of himself with the statue out front, Giovanni Cavallo goes to unlock his office door and greet his manager. Romeo smirks knowingly at the restaurant’s owner and executive chef before directing the massive man’s attention to a couple of younger men standing uncomfortably near the entrance.

“Evening Hon. Those two over there are the ones that uh, broke the display.” Giovanni puts his meaty hand on Romeo’s shoulder and with a wink rumbles out, “Thanks Rome. Know I can always count on you.” Matching silver bands appear on the fingers of both men and Romeo rolls his eyes before heading off to manage the front of house before the dinner rush is to begin. Giovanni then turns his attention to the hellions awaiting his reprimanding. Sizing them up he imagines what retribution they are to undergo. They could just pay for damages but where’s the fun in that. After all he was always quite fond of that little guy, almost a spitting image of himself he thinks with a smirk, not nearly as hot though. Flexing involuntarily he meets the pair and they immediately squeal.

The pair toss each other under the bus before Giovanni even has a chance to open his mouth and the massive chef scowls. No, these two need to be taught a lesson. At the clearing of his throat the bickering rats are struck mute and stare up at the owner. The kitchen could use a couple new junior chefs. Imagining the two men before him shaping up to fine young professionals under his tutelage, he has no recourse but to offer they work off the damages, “You boys any good in the kitchen?” Shiftily looking at each other the idea seems easy enough and in no time at all Romeo’s tossed them aprons and they’re in the back of house working up a sweat.

They find themselves more at home prepping vegetables and decorating dishes than they do in their actual homes. Quickly do they become acclimated enough to the kitchen that doing anything else is anathema to them. Their light hair rapidly shades darker and their outfits adapt to become suitable to the jobs they enjoy so much. The pair of once ruffians shift and stretch as their physiques become impressive as Giovanni’s was way back when he was their age. Wandering about his restaurant, the executive greets guests and compliments his staff, driving them to strive even harder to make him proud. 

When he gets to his two newest hires, Alessio and Angelo, Giovanni watches them sprout taller as beards race to thicken and hide their shy smirks from his praise. Patting them on the back both men struggle to focus on their tasks at hand as his attention brings them more satisfaction than they could imagine. Commenting on their impressive figures he offers to show them the ropes at the gym in their free time and the junior chefs make eye contact as their biceps bulge larger. Giovanni laughs heartily, bringing a smile to everyone within earshot as they continue to craft the perfect slice of Italy in this small town. “You boys remind me of when I was younger heh, Keep up the good work!”

With that Giovanni goes to stand sentinel at the entrance and welcome guests in. In lieu of his little standee someone’s gotta be the first smiling face that guests see, and given how smooth nights at Giovanni’s Slice of Italy always are, his presence is superfluous. He’s just happy to be here and every day the titan strives to make sure that every guest and employee is as well.

[transformation4life]

Back in Prime

Requested by: @mannykinlove

Simon wish he could be anything more interesting than he currently was just browsing through social media on his summer vacation. He had just finished his first year of college and he wasn't sure he wanted to continue it, but that's not something he wants to think about right now. Simon is more focused on looking through posts of an account he recently followed. It posted pictures of old bodybuilders in their prime and Simon was obsessed with it. He always did enjoy the aesthetic of those times alas he was born way after the 90's.

"Man, I would kill to be a bodybuilder back then..." Simon retorts. He looks down at his skinny arms and sighs.

He looks back up on his screen and keeps scrolling, only to find a peculiar post after a while. It look to be an old sponsored post from a couple months back posted by the account.

"Today's post is sponsored by Back in Prime! This service allows you to take an extensive look into what Bodybuilding was like back in the day! Exclusive Content awaits! Use promocode: OldBodybuilders at the link below for a free trial!"

The associated picture definitely looked good. This site seemed like a dream come true for Simon. The words were a bit vague on what exactly it meant by "extensive look" but the promise was too good and Simon needed more content FAST. Simon quickly clicked the link and the site definitely looked professional. There still wasn't any details but Simon found the Sign up button as fast as humanly possible. "Do you have a promo code? If so, please enter it now."

Simon typed in the code and thankfully it still worked. "Thank you, please enjoy the trial!"

Simon was expecting some sort of account creation process but the site just loaded back to the main page. It said he signed in... but what now? Does he just look around the site for other pages. Simon tried to move his cursor except it was frozen. "What the- Aw come on not now I need my-" Suddenly without prompting, Simon's computer screen started glowing a bright light. Simon could barely see and then... nothing. "What the fuck was that? My computer shouldn't do that. Ugh. stupid machine." He punched the computer with some force as it took the hit.

Just then, Simon noticed something about his hand. Did it look... bigger to him? That can't be right. Simon looked at his hand again. Okay he must just be seeing things but then an excruciating amount of pain was registered by Simon as he fell to the floor groaning. It was time to experience bodybuilding back in the day. Simon's body starting surging in growth. His flat chest inflated giving him two strong muscled pecs. His once flat abdomen popped in beautiful abs. The sticks Simon had for arms grew grew now being more like large beef trunks. His thighs widened and filled with beef. The two drumsticks forever fated to touch another. Simon's height went from a average 5'5" to a hot as hell 6ft. With that a miscellaneous set of changes happened to Simon such as his hands and feet growing and his body becoming becoming more tan as well as his face physically aging and finally his hair becoming a much more 90's hairstyle. With the transformation over Simon got back up from the floor, his muscles on full display as his clothes completely evaporated leaving him in blue and black shorts.

"W-What happened? Why am I-"

Amidst the confusion, Simon's room also went through its own changes. His flatscreen computer became a much older and sturdier one. All modern devices becoming 90's counterparts. Books and other reading materials having more time approriate material and finally a shelf of bodybuilding trophies appeared on a new shelf. Simon look at the computer once again. Despite the change in computer a new pop up showed up on the site. "Integration complete! Your trial experience begins now!"

Simon realized that it was the website that did this to him. He flexed his left bicep in pure awe.

"I can't believe..." He looked down at himself.

"Oh.... yeah."

Simon's new muscles caused new memories in him. Memories of simpler times of the 90's. Working out, flexing, the bodybuilding works. And a new name entered his mind. Jean. He had no time to walk around on his dingy computer. He needs to WORK OUT. So Jean grabbed some clothes and made his way to the gym. Ready to workout with his friends.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At the gym, Jean was talking with his friends and flexed to them.

"Like what ya see boys. Well I'm just getting started!" He flexed again.

Jean stripped and flexed again. He was living the dream. Simon definitely got what he wanted. I wonder when that trial will end...

[caffeinatedopossum]

I actually find it really bizarre and counter intuitive that clinically speaking, you cannot legally be diagnosed with a personality disorder until you're at least 18. The reason given for this is because "the personality has not fully developed before this age" like ???

Ah yes, my favorite strategy. Not diagnosing the problem until it's already been virtually cemented into your brain for life! Wouldn't it be easier (and more painless) to address the problem before it's fully developed?

[furrytalebeard]

Fatboy American

Mason was a very fit british man. On a business trip to America he had noticed the men here were a lot larger than at home. He thought maybe they could use to do with a few workouts. Regardless he made his way to the corporate building wearing his very prideful British shirt.

"hello I’m Chris, I’m here to assist you while you’re staying here in America." Said a man in a formal suit. Mason noticed how he was more fit than the average American. He seemed to trust Chris.

"Nice to meet you Chris I’m man- sorry Mason." He stumbled over his words at the smell of fried food in the air. "Well Manson it’s nice to meet you as well. You’re going to fit in great. Are you ready for your photo shoot?" "photoshoot? I thought I was here to talk business?" Manson replied.

“Oh no no no the only business you’re going to be dealing with is pictures come come we must not be long. And you’ll need to change out of….that"

Manson pondered what was going on but he was quickly turned to the dressing room. He was face to face with a very large American shirt which he refused to wear.

“sorry I’d rather not wear that if we’re doing photos. I’m not even American."

Chris didn’t seem to like that. "Typical you’ll need a bit of an adjustment. No worries just focus on the smell" Chris said turning around and blasting him in the face with a fart. Manson blinked before the effects began to really hit him. His face began to grow as his beard grew longer. His body began to pack on calories and his well behaved demeanor began to sheink. Manny blinked again and looked around before ripping a fat one and laughing.

"you ready manny?" Chris asked.

"HELL YEAH" he said and flexed in his new shirt. "MERICA"

"Good flex for me fat boy" Chris said taking the photo.

[unusualtfs]

Marvelous Corruption: Captain America

heads up, this story contains lib to con tf as its main focus, so you might want to skip this one if that's not your thing. as a disclaimer, this story is in no way intended as a glorification or endorsement of conservatism or the republican party! that being said, i hope you enjoy the ride...

Crazed cultists weren’t the types of enemies the Avengers typically fought, Steve Rogers mused as he battled his way through waves of hooded henchmen, but he supposed there was a first time for everything. Apparently this particular cult was worryingly close to summoning an actual demon, so it fell on Captain America to put an end to their plans. Not just Captain America, too — Iron Man, the Hulk, and Thor himself were there as well, racing to the center of the complex to stop the ritual before it was too late.

Sometimes Steve missed the relative simplicity of his original time. Sure, the 21st century had smartphones and polio vaccines, but it also had alien invasions and, apparently, demon summonings. But he didn’t let those thoughts distract him as he threw his shield out in front of him, clearing the path forward.

Eventually, the four superheroes reached the central chamber, where numerous cultists chanted in front of a glowing red pentagram.

“Hey Cap, look at that — a star inside a circle. I think these guys are trying to steal your style,” Tony quipped before leaping into battle, the rest of them following suit.

Steve had thought the battle was going well, but just before he slammed his shield into the last cultist standing, the circle on the floor flared with blinding light, forcing the Avengers to avert their eyes. When they were able to look again, they were faced with the sight of a muscular man with ruby-red skin and hair vaguely shaped like devil horns. Steve’s first thought was that the hair was a little on the nose. His second was that they had failed to stop the ritual.

“Mephisto,” Thor growled. Evidently, the Norse god recognized this demon. Still, he made no move against him, instead idly swinging his hammer in his hand — perhaps he was waiting to see what Mephisto would do.

“Indeed, it is I,” Mephisto said with a flourish. “And you foolish Avengers have fallen right into my trap!”

Steve tensed, ready to leap back into action, but the demon just continued standing there.

“Uh, is anyone else not seeing the trap?” Iron Man said. “Because gonna be honest, I’m not feeling too trapped right now.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw Thor slightly shaking his head. The four heroes stood there, wary of what the demon was planning, but it wasn’t long before the Hulk apparently had enough. With a mighty roar, he charged at Mephisto, aiming a green fist directly at his red face.

Moments before impact, Mephisto did something, and Hulk’s clenched fist stopped inches away from its target, surrounded by a faint crimson aura. Steve moved to assist his teammate, but found to his chagrin that he too was frozen in place — as were Iron Man and Thor. He struggled and strained, but it was no use. Despite the super strength granted to him by the serum, he was powerless against the demon’s occult magic.

“My, such anger! Such violence!” Mephisto taunted. “For all that you claim to fight for good, there is evil in your hearts, Avengers. Such beautiful darkness…”

Fear slowly crept into the back of Steve’s mind. Whatever this guy’s deal was, he might be too much for the four of them to handle, he realized.

Mephisto continued his monologue. “Why not embrace the dark? If you let the corruption take hold, you’ll be rewarded with pleasures unimaginable. In fact…” An eerie smile spread across the demon’s face. “…By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be positively eager to cast aside all that useless morality.”

Steve couldn’t abide by this. “You’re wrong!” he growled, struggling to overcome the immobilizing enchantment. “We’ll never give in to you!”

Mephisto turned to look directly at him, and Steve felt those demonic eyes boring into him. “Ah, Steve Rogers. Captain America himself. You’ll enjoy this process the most, in the end.” Steve felt a renewed sense of foreboding as Mephisto’s sickly smile grew wider. “After all, the brighter the light… the darker the shadow. As you’re about to find out.”

Quickly, the demon muttered an incantation as he aimed a burst of crackling red energy directly at Steve. He only got a brief glimpse of the horrified faces of his friends before his surroundings shifted impossibly around him. Although he remained stuck in place, he felt himself falling faster and faster, until eventually the world around him stabilized. Suddenly released from the spell, he stumbled forward and warily examined his new surroundings.

It looked like he was in an office, and a fancy one at that. In the center was an ornate mahogany desk neatly outfitted with stationary and all manner of documents, accompanied by an expensive-looking leather chair behind it. It was flanked on both sides by large bookshelves filled with books and binders of varying thickness. The office was decorated in a way that clearly indicated the owner’s immense wealth, from the exquisite rug on the floor to the opulent paintings placed tastefully on the walls. Currently, the far side of the room was covered by velvet curtains, which Steve opened to reveal a large floor-to-ceiling window. Through it, the Capitol Building could be seen, and much further in the distance, the Washington Monument.

“I’m in Washington?” Steve muttered. “Why would he bring me here?”

It didn’t matter, he decided. He’d simply exit the office and navigate to one of the Avengers’ safehouses. Hopefully his teammates could handle themselves without him. But that plan quickly ran into a fatal error: the door was locked. It refused to budge no matter how hard Steve jiggled the doorknob, much to his consternation. What kind of door couldn’t be unlocked from the inside?

Well, it was no matter. He’d tried doing things the easy way, so it was time for the slightly less easy way. Holding his shield in front of him, he braced himself, sent a mental apology to whoever owned this office, and then charged full steam ahead at the locked door. He expected it to fly right off its hinges, no match for his super soldier strength. Instead, it stayed stubbornly put, sending waves of pain through his arm as his shield crashed futilely into it.

Befuddled, Steve looked down and clenched his fists. How had that not worked? How had he met his match in a simple door? But that was when he noticed something odd. His gloves had disappeared, fully exposing his hands. And his hands…

Steve gasped. Before his very eyes, his hands seemed to be aging, piling on years of wear and tear every second. As if he was watching a timelapse, he could only stand there in horror as a patchwork of veins and arteries became visible over newly wrinkled skin. Before he knew it, his hands had become gnarled and leathery. These weren’t the hands of a superhero in the prime of his life. These were the hands of an old man.

Shocked, he stumbled over to the window, dreading what he’d see reflected back at him. He tore off his helmet and threw it aside, not noticing that it faded into nonexistence before ever touching the ground. Sure enough, the face he was greeted with was vastly different from the one he’d woken up with. Oh, his facial features were all the same, but they were now accompanied by a wide array of forehead creases, crow’s feet, frown lines, and more. Every type of wrinkle one could imagine was now present on Steve’s face. Making matters worse, as he gazed into the window, he could see his hairline rapidly thinning and receding like an ebbing tide. Concurrently, his blond hair was being shot through with gray; soon enough, it had become entirely silver.

That was enough for Steve to start panicking. What had that demon, Mephisto, done to him? Had he extracted the super soldier serum from his body, made it so that the years spent under the ice were finally catching up to him? Would he soon be nothing but a frail old man? He felt his legs beginning to quake from the stress, so he quickly collapsed into the nearest thing he could find: that leather office chair.

As if a switch had flipped within him, Steve felt himself calming the moment he came into contact with the chair. It was a heavenly feeling, the way the soft leather hugged his ass, allowing him to sink into it the perfect amount for maximum comfort. That comfort paved the way for his next changes as an insulating layer of fat rippled into being all across his body. It started with where he was sprawled in the chair, with his back sagging under its own weight and his ass becoming as soft and cushioned as the chair itself. From there, it spread to his arms and legs, which threatened to burst out of his superhero gear due to their newfound width. His hands grew meaty with fat, larger now than they’d ever been. His torso was blessed with the presence of his newfound flabby moobs and perfectly round musclegut. Finally, the fat reached his face, framing his square jaw with stately jowls. He should have been freaking out, but strangely, he found he didn’t mind the changes. Enjoyed them, actually. His muscular figure hadn’t disappeared — he could still feel its power underneath the added weight — it had just been enhanced. He may be turning into an old man, but with his physique, no one would ever think of him as frail, he thought with no small satisfaction.

Strangely, the sense of comfort was beginning to extend beyond the chair to encompass the entire room. The office felt strangely familiar to Steve, and he wondered if he’d been in here before. It certainly felt like somewhere he’d spent a lot of time in — as if it was his base of operations, his seat of power, almost. Was that weird to think? No, he didn’t think so. The more he considered it, the more he could distinctly remember fielding calls and hunching over legal text in here.

Lost in his reminiscence, he didn’t register anything abnormal when the color began to fade from his uniform, becoming monochrome — pure white above his waist, pure black below. His clothes were changing in other ways, too. His pants weren’t designed to hug his no-longer-muscular form anymore; instead, they became black slacks that hid how his fat legs jiggled whenever he moved. They were soon joined by spotless leather dress shoes and a belt with a simple, but elegant, buckle. Meanwhile, his upper half was soon covered by a perfectly ironed white dress shirt, and that was soon covered by a woolen black suit jacket. A tie in matching black whipped into existence, wrapping itself around his collar to form a perfect Windsor knot. Finally, his shirt tucked itself into his pants, beautifully framing his round belly in the most flattering way possible. Steve couldn’t help but love the sensation of his belt buckle digging into his belly. It made him feel masculine. Powerful.

Speaking of power, something shifted within him as the strength granted to him by the serum was redirected toward a different purpose. His physical capabilities were diminished to the level of an ordinary man of his musculature — which was still far greater than average, but nothing more. But he was still just as powerful as ever. It was just that now, he used his power in subtler ways. Beating up bad guys morphed in his mind into humiliating his opponents every six years. Motivating his teammates with inspiring speeches shifted into winning the support of skeptical voters with empty promises and divisive rhetoric. People looking at him in admiration transformed into people gazing upon him in fear and envy — a change that made him swell with pride. Somehow, these new memories were so much more pleasurable than his old ones, so he embraced the new ones.

Steve didn’t even stop to question where these memories had come from, as the more he thought about it, the more he realized he already knew the answers. After all, he couldn’t have served in the Senate for this long without becoming a master of the game. Coming up on the end of his seventh full term, he had seen it all, and he had thrived in this world of smoke-filled rooms and underhanded deals that weaker men recoiled from. He had rapidly climbed the ranks, going from backbencher status to national prominence in no time at all, aided by his ruthlessness and total lack of morals. His appearance was swiftly updated to match his newfound personality, as his face became capable of exactly two expressions only: a mean, unpleasant scowl, and an arrogant smirk. Meanwhile, a golden Rolex appeared on his wrist, and he fondled it lovingly — it was just one of the many “gifts” he’d been given over the years in exchange for his full-throated support for one bill or another. 

But as much as his cutthroat personality had helped him gain power, it was ultimately his ideology that endeared him to his colleagues. After all, without their support, Steve could never have become the Republican leader in the Senate. Selfish, conservative ideals rushed into Steve’s head like a tidal wave, drowning out any previous convictions he’d held beforehand. With them came even more memories, which felt more real — and more pleasurable — than ever.

He remembered voting against expanding healthcare, because he’d used the payout from the insurance lobby to buy a second summer home in the Hamptons. He remembered voting to fund increased coal mining and fracking operations, because it would be so much better for his stock portfolio that way. He remembered railing against the immigrants and the queers on the Senate floor, frothing with rage, because they weren’t real Americans, not like him.

He remembered all this, because he was no longer Steve Rogers… He was…

Wait, no!

For a brief second, his old identity reasserted itself. He wasn’t some curmudgeonly, conservative politician; he was Captain America, dammit! Desperately, he held on tight to the very pillars that formed the core of his identity as Steve Rogers: his childhood growing up in Brooklyn, his time spent fighting HYDRA in World War II, his commitment to looking out for the little guy, his loyalty to the American ideals of liberty and justice. But all of those rang increasingly hollow to the man he was becoming.

Why would he have fond memories of Brooklyn? He was a real American, born and raised in a small Missouri town — he felt nothing but contempt for that woke shithole, he thought as his hairline receded an inch farther.

How could he have fought in World War II? That was decades too late for him, and in any case HYDRA was small potatoes next to the real threat — communism. As he mentally reaffirmed his commitment to his rancid ideologies, the wrinkles on his face deepened by another year.

Why would he look out for the little guy? Unlike the so-called “little guy,” he had worked hard to reach his station in life, and he saw no problem with doing whatever it took to maintain his place at the top of the pyramid. Freed from the burden of caring for others, his greed and ego reached new heights, causing another pound of fat to be piled onto his portly frame.

And as for liberty and justice? He scoffed and cast them aside, feeling a wave of euphoria wash over him as he did so. That wasn’t the America he believed in. No, his America was one that revolved around himself, one that allowed him to line his pockets and ascend the ranks of power while closing the door on anyone who wanted to reach those same heights. Reacting to this redefined America, the shield that had served him so well in his life as Captain America floated into the air and flung itself at him. By the time it reached him, though, it was no longer a shield, but a small metal American flag pin attached to his lapel.

But still, throughout all this, a small piece of Steve remained within the new, old man, fighting desperately to hold on against the barrage of corrupt conservatism. Despite everything, he refused to give in to the alluring pleasure that tormented him. But then a familiar voice made itself known in his head.

“See Steve Rogers, didn’t I say you’d enjoy this? Like I said, the brightest lights produce the darkest shadows,” Mephisto said. “And your shadow is dark, indeed. Don’t you think it’s time to embrace it? Embrace him?” His voice lowered to a seductive purr. “You don’t have to fight it. Tell me you want it, and it will be yours.”

Steve tried to shut the demon out of his head, but his words echoed in his mind. Combining with his memories of life as an unscrupulous politician and his immaculate clothes and his fancy office and his burly old man physique, it all coalesced into a cascade of pleasurable pressure. He tried to resist. He tried to want to resist. But…

His wealth. His power. His personality. His body. The temptation was too much for Steve to bear. “Yes!” he shouted desperately. “Yes, I want this!”

And that was all Mephisto needed to hear.

Finally, his identity as Steve Rogers detached itself fully, unable to hold on in the wake of the corruption he was experiencing and embodying. He gleefully cast his old self aside. He wasn’t Steve Rogers, not anymore. No, the old man thought triumphantly as he allowed his new personality and memories to settle into their rightful places, he was someone far superior. He was Senator Roger Stephenson.

Roger breathed deeply, satisfied, as he grounded himself in his new life. Not that he had ever experienced another one, he thought as he mentally went over his biography.

Roger had been born in 1943 — ironically on the very day his former self would have received the serum if he hadn’t been deleted from reality — and many said his outdated policies hadn’t changed much since then. Consequently, he was celebrated as a hero by the American conservative movement, and equally reviled by those on the left. His approval ratings were among the lowest in the country due to his blatant corruption, and yet it was thanks to that corruption that he always won reelection comfortably. He was well-known as a slimy, cantankerous old bastard — that combined with his aggressive jingoism had earned him the moniker of “America’s Ass” — and he was proud of it. 

On a whim, he turned in his chair and gazed out upon the cityscape outside, feeling a surge of intoxicating power wash over him. Sure, the President got all the press and the credit. But up here on Capitol Hill, Roger was the one in charge. He decided which bills passed and which ones failed before ever reaching the floor. His endorsement was widely coveted, and with his mountains of cash he could swing elections however he wanted. He had all of Congress, all of the country, wrapped around his fat, wrinkled finger.

Speaking of which, he took a glance at his schedule for the day. This afternoon alone, his office would be visited by a couple of junior lawmakers, a team of auto industry lobbyists, and even a foreign dignitary or two. All of them were coming to grovel at his feet for his support, and he would give it to them… so long as it enabled him to garner more wealth, more influence, more power. To do so was his god-given right as an American.

Roger smirked. God bless America, indeed.

[misctf]

Welcome to the Crew: Home for the Holidays

Hey everyone! Here is an indirect sequel to Welcome to the Crew to celebrate American Thanksgiving. Please reach out if you ever want to borrow any concepts to include in your own stories. Always happy to collaborate.

“They’re going to love you.” Sarah reassured, “Don’t worry.”

Jack nodded and smiled warmly at his girlfriend as they approached the front door to her parent’s home. The two college juniors had been dating for a little over a year now, and Jack was still madly in love. He never met a girl quite like Sarah. They had been friends since their first year of college, and their chemistry was instantaneous. She was everything he could want- smart, funny, adventurous, and absolutely stunning. He imagined he would ask her to marry him one day.

“I’m not, honestly.” He said, adjusting his collar, “I’m just happy I get to meet your family. They sound like incredible people.” Sarah smiled, “And I brought a secret weapon.” He said nodding to the Pyrex in his hand, “No one can resist my mom’s mashed potatoes.” He flashed her a confident grin- clearly proud of himself, “I mean, I’m not sure how good they’ll be. First time I ever made ‘em.” He laughed.

“You’re such a dork.” Sarah replied, rolling her eyes.

She knocked on the door and was greeted soon by her mother, who quickly pulled them into a firm hug.

“Oh Jack, we’re so happy to finally meet you!” She said, “My little Sarah wasn’t lying, you’re so handsome.”

Jack blushed as she continued to sing him praises. Sarah was right- he didn’t need to worry. Her mother already loved him. She beckoned them indoors and they followed her into the kitchen. Jack felt himself salivating at the smell of the cooking Thanksgiving meal.

“Oh you brought a dish?” Sarah’s mom said, “What a kind thing to do.”

“Yeah of course. What kind of guest would I be if I showed up empty handed?” Jack smiled, “Do you need any...”

The sound of boisterous cheering and a cacophony of ‘let’s go!’ and ‘fuck yeahs!’ filled the air. Sarah’s mom groaned in embarrassment.

“They sure love their football.” she said, shaking her head, “And don’t you worry dear, I think we’ll be okay in here. Sarah’s aunt has been helping me out plenty.” She turned to Sarah, “You might as well introduce him to the boys.”

“It’s just down the hallway.” Sarah said, beckoning her boyfriend to follow.

“Oh Jack, you’re such a sweet young man. My Sarah is so lucky.” She gave him another hug.

Jack followed Sarah down the hall, where the sound of boisterous cheers became more audible. The young man remembered that Sarah had two older brothers, both of whom worked with their dad in some construction job. He just hoped they’d be as accepting of him as her mother.

“Don’t let them scare you.” Sarah said as they opened the door to the man cave.

“Oh shit, its Sarah!”

Her two brothers jumped up from the couch, nearly spilling their beers. Their massive beer guts jiggling as they stood, barely contained by their too tight t-shirts. They pulled Sarah into a tight hug, and Jack was afraid that these massive men might snap her in two. But when their drunken eyes landed on Jack, their smiles faded.

“Who’s this little guy?” One asked.

“This is Jack, my boyfriend.” Sarah replied.

“Looks kinda small.”

“Oh leave the boy alone.” Sarah’s dad said, still sitting on the couch, sipping his beer, “You like football?”

“I watch it from time to time.” Jack replied. He could see her brothers roll their eyes.

“Take a seat. Game is just getting good.” He continued.

Jack turned to Sarah, who rolled her eyes but gave him a nod. The young man smiled slightly and made his way over to the couch, where he was squeezed between Sarah’s dad and her two brothers.

“Tony, Al be nice.” Sarah warned, “That goes for you too, dad.”

The older man let out a deep chuckle that caused his massive gut to shake. He looked over at her and smiled, taking a sip of his beer. Jack watched as Sarah left and shut the door, leaving him trapped in the man cave. The young man shifting uncomfortably between the larger men, the smell of their B.O. and beers invading his nostrils.

“So, you’re dating our sister?” Tony asked, “You treating her well?”

“Of course.” Jack replied, “I...”

“You’re a bit smaller than her last boyfriend.” Al butted in, “God, Colin’s fuckin’ hilarious, you remember that guy?”

“Of course I do. I still go fishing with him.” Tony replied.

“Best pong player ever.” Al laughed, “Could outdrink all of us too, which is not easy.”

“He’s a hard worker.” Sarah’s dad contributed, “Glad I hired him.”

Tony nudged Jack, “You much of a drinker?”

“Not really.” Jack replied, trying his best to ignore their comments about Colin.

In fact, Jack never even tried alcohol. He never saw the appeal and Sarah seemed overjoyed to hear that he didn’t drink too. Seemed like a win-win to him. As for Colin, Sarah told him all he needed to know. He was an asshole- loud, boisterous, and immature. Someone he figured her brothers and father would enjoy.

“Not really? Aw come on, little guy.” Tony said, “Pops, grab him a beer.”

Jack tried to politely decline, but Sarah’s dad fished a beer from the cooler and tossed it to him. He caught it and inspected it closely. It was brown- the color of a football. Some guy in old football gear was on the front. But instead of holding a football, there was a can of Gridiron brew in his hands.

“I think I’m good...”

“Drink it.” Her dad said firmly.

Jack didn’t want to make a bad impression. And if drinking some stupid beer would win them over, then so be it.

“Just a sip.” He thought.

He opened the can and placed it to his lips. He could feel the cold liquid fill his stomach as he drank it. The taste nothing special, if anything, it tasted cheap.

“Oh shit dude, he just chugged it!” Tony laughed, “Let’s go!”

“Did I really?” Jack mumbled, realizing the can was empty, “I burrrppppppppppp.” Jack’s eyes widened and his face flushed with embarrassment, “Ugh I burrrrrrrrrppppppppppppp.”

“Fuck, nice one dude.” Al patted him on the back.

“Yeah, let that shit out.” Tony continued.

But Jack’s eyes were wide with terror. He felt like his entire body was heating up, sweat starting to drip down his face. His mind racing- he drank beer before and never had a reaction like this.

“I think I might be allerg... burrrppppppppppp.”

He could hear Tony and Al’s laughter fill the air. Sarah’s dad continued to stare at the game ahead of him, seemingly unbothered. Jack was hyperventilating now. And despite knowing he shouldn’t, he undid the buttons on his shirt and threw it aside, desperately hoping to cool down.

“Yeah, take it off bro!”

The button down wasn’t enough and Jack peeled off his sweat-soaked undershirt, revealing his lean, firm musculature from years of swimming. He let out a gasp as he watched his taut abs vibrating and his stomach churning, his youthful skin glistening with sweat.

“Please, I need help...” He gasped, closing his eyes tightly as his stomach churned.

He placed a hand to his abs, but instead of their normal firmness, he felt his hand sink into soft flesh. His eyes shot open and he looked down at the pudge that now hid his abs. Feeling the new softness, he let out a gasp as his stomach pushed out again. And again. And again. The growing mass that was once his hard-earned six-pack hung over his waistline, jiggling with each small movement. Jack’s eyes were wide as he pushed against it, almost as if he was willing it to retract.

“Oh my god...” He grunted, realizing as he looked over at Sarah’s brothers that his gut matched theirs, “No, no, no buurrppppppp.”

This time, his lean pecs plumped up with fat, sagging and resting comfortably on his new gut. He winced as adipose rapidly expanded in his legs, arms, and ass- covering his lean musculature in a healthy padding of thick fat proportional to his midsection. Even his once angular and handsome face puffed up with chub, rounding out his previously strong jawline.

“Lookin’ good beanpole.” Al laughed, poking at Jack’s new gut.

“Not much of a beanpole anymore.” Tony replied.

Jack looked back and forth between them, tears stinging his eyes, “Please... please stop this... I’ll do anythaaahhhhhhh.”

Jack scratched desperately at his chest and belly as a rush of testosterone was ravaged his body. His well groomed, light chest hairs darkened and sprouted into a matted, sweaty, curly bush. His dick hairs were not spared as they sprouted into an untamed, musky mess that quickly ascended his entire belly and joined his chest hairs. Jack flung his head back as hairs sprouted from his now round face, forming a messy beard. The young man groaned again as his skin sagged a bit more with age, growing more leathery with each passing second. He placed a hand on his hairy abdomen as he breathed heavily. In and out. In and out. Slowly, Jack opened his eyes, the horror of his ordeal being painfully confirmed.

“What....”

He had so many questions, so many horrifying thoughts. But then he saw it. On the TV screen. He watched as one of the players expertly maneuvered around the defense. Running down the field. The announcers freaking out, growing more excited. And when that player scored a touchdown, Jack jumped up from his seat.

“Fuck yeah, bros! Did you just fuckin’ see that!?” His boisterous yell shook the house and he fist-bumped Tony and Al, “Now that’s what I’m fuckin’ talkin’ about!” He collapsed back onto the chair and grinned, “I did the same shit in high school when I played, ya know.” He continued, “Could’ve gone pro too if I wanted.”

Memories of track and college quickly shifted to fit Jack’s new reality. His eyes dulling as years of education vanished and his IQ dropped considerably. The previously well-mannered young man vanishing into a sea of burps, sports, and lost dreams.

“Sure big guy.” Tony said, sipping his beer.

“No for real, dude. I...” His brain paused as he tried to remember details of his life, “Whatever, you’ll just have to believe me.”

The door to the man cave suddenly swung open, revealing the women of the house. Sarah in particular looked livid, her face morphing into a look of horror as she gazed upon the unfamiliar man sitting between her brothers.

“Jack?” Her eyes widened as she gazed upon her boyfriend, “Oh my god, Jack? Is that you?”

“What’s up?” Jack chuckled, “Grab me a beer, would ya babe?”

“Dad, you didn’t!” She shouted, “This is just like Colin.” She stormed away, tears stinging her eyes.

“Geez what’s wrong with her? Women, am I right?” Jack let out another burp, and fist bumped his bros as he stood and grabbed another can of his new favorite brew.  

Sarah’s mom and aunt quickly went to go comfort Sarah. Meanwhile, the boys continued shouting at the TV screen, their burps and cheers echoing through the house- Jack remaining blissfully oblivious to the life he once lived. And as the game wound down, Sarah’s dad turned to him.

“So boy, you want a job workin’ for me?”

Jack was more than happy to accept.

[eastgaysian]

returning from unplanned semi-unofficial hiatus. sincerest apologies to anyone who was trying to contact me while i was away.

my wrists are doing a lot better, but i'm still erring on the side of caution to avoid any more damage that will take a month+ to recover from. having to take a break made it clear it's unsustainable for me as one person to be consistently online/respond to everyone/offer donation commissions all at the same time.

at the moment the plan is to keep more of an eye on my mentions (mentioning me to rb something is always fine) and pick up spotlighting mohammed and farah haboub's campaign again. i cannot promise being online consistently or directly responding to everything, but i will try to at least share any campaigns that are sent my way and donate what i can.