Hotel Korea: Chapter Three
Hotel Korea: Chapter Three
--- Originally posted on 2019-11-18 by dumb-and-jocked. ---
The Ignorant Passersby
Lee Hae-Jin looked at his watch anxiously, his bicep unintentionally flexing as he did. His workout gear stretched over his tight body as the seconds ticked away, counting down slowly. It had been almost a month since the first Hotel Korea had opened, and nearly a hundred more had been built since then, with even more being proposed in other cities. Lee’s idea had been a huge success, with more and more of the world’s population becoming Korean, but he still had more work to do.
One of his newest ideas for faster conversion was about to launch, and he had no idea how successful it would be. Lee had made sure that if it faltered, only he would be able to notice. Not everyone stayed at a hotel, so he had to find a way to change the everyday civilians. As the last second clicked away, his plan came to life. Lee looked out the window, hoping to see some sort of changes. His anxiousness quickly turned to glee.
— —
“I’ll be back in a second, bro!” Chandler said as he stomped his way to the restroom. He was lifting weights with another guy from his fraternity, Nathan, but had suddenly felt an urge to take a piss. Nathan waved him off as he ran into the men’s locker room. He looked in the mirror and was greeted by a fairly built white male, his blond hair slicked back with sweat. Although his face looked red, his Under Armour wife beater looked rather dry. Chandler grabbed his phone from his gym shorts and took a mirror selfie, the white wall behind him accenting his tanned skin.
Suddenly, Chandler felt a stirring in his bladder, a reminder to why he had come here in the first place. He rushed to a urinal and took out a heavy dick, one that was almost 6 inches and still soft. He began to piss and looked up towards posters on the wall, mindlessly reading about some concert from an unheard American band. He smirked, believing the Top 40 playlist he was listening to was much better.
As Chandler pissed away, he began to hear music playing through the vents. He focused his hearing in on the music and, after a few moments of thinking, determined that it wasn’t in English. He quickly figured out it was some K-pop boy band. It wasn’t his kind of music, or the gym’s for that matter, but he assumed there must have been some big party from the new Korean hotel down the street.
Chandler focused back on the posters, reading about the new boy band that was touring all the way from Korea. He suddenly became overjoyed as he remembered that they were his favorite band. As he finished, he tucked a smaller, yellow cock back into his gym shorts and walked back into the main area of the locker room. Each step he took slowly brought him lower until the 6’2 male was only about 175 centimeters. His arms and legs inflated and he suddenly rushed back into the stall, his dick now wanting to do more than just piss in the bathroom.
Chandler quickly closed the stall door behind him and sat on the ridge of the toilet, taking out his much smaller dick. Chandler didn’t notice the difference in length as he got hard, his cock much shorter than what it used to be hard. He moaned as he began to stroke, his once rough hands becoming small and soft with a lemony sheen. As he edged, his pecs began to fill out more, his pre-defined abs sharpening. He groaned as his shrunken balls began to churn, his hair growing out into black bangs on his head.
“신 이시여!” Chung-Hee shouted as he burst a load in the stall, the white cum sticking out on the black wall. He cleaned himself and walked out, his small, yellow feet moving quickly across the floor. He walked over to the sink and looked in the mirror, the K-pop still playing from the vents overhead and in his earbud. Chung-Hee was glad that Nam-Kyu had convinced him to come to the local Korean gym today. He was a little timid that it wasn’t going to be authentic, but the place seemed to be as if it had come straight out of his own South Korea itself. He smirked as he walked up to the mirror, his sexy Korean body looked incredible against the black wall. He brought up his phone and took a mirror selfie, making sure to hold a straight face. He was looking as 멋진 ever. He sent the picture to his boyfriend before running back into the gym.
— —
Officer Charleston sat in his car, surveying the land around him for any sort of disturbance. Right across the street from him was the Hotel Korea, a newer building that had been the center of multiple documented disappearances, as well as numerous other complaints. He had been dispatched there to see if there was any reason the department should be concerned, but as he lazily ate a bag of potato chips that rested on his large stomach, he couldn’t find anything that seemed out of place.
Officer Charleston watched strangers as he sat there, his floating eyes hiding behind a thick pair of sunglasses. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, just lots of random people around the busy street. He noticed the large Korean population that seemed to be spilling out of the hotel across the street, but he assumed that what the typical crowd for a chain targeted at a certain population. Officer Charleston scratched his bushy beard and placed the bag of chips next to him. He lined his large foot up to the brake and started the car.
Right as the car spurred to life, a blast of music began pounding from the building. Officer Charleston twitched from the sheer volume before turning off his car–this was obviously some sort of noise disturbance. He opened his door and shuffled out of the car, his large frame struggling slightly. The policeman strolled to a crosswalk and waited patiently, not realizing that as he stood there his foot tapped to the beat. He also didn’t realize that he was translating the Korean in his own head, beginning to understand every word.
A stoplight flashed red and the officer crossed with his fellow pedestrians. Each step brought the policeman closer to the earth, until he was barely 172 centimeters tall. His torso began to shrink as his stomach fell in on itself, the skin turning to a soft golden. His arms and legs plumped with definition, years of age being replaced with pounds of muscle. His shorter calves and forearms became solid as he made it to the other side of the street.
The policeman hummed along to the music as his thighs expanded inside of his pants. His hands became smaller as he adjusted his name badge, his name switching from the English phonetic system to Hangul. His feet also shrunk, now being able to slip comfortably into a pair of 250 mm boots.The yellowly tone overtook the rest of the officer’s body as his hair magically began to shed, all of it disappearing from the neck below. Even his beard fell away, revealing a sturdy jaw and the most flawless skin.
As a brown bob began to grow out on his head, the officer suddenly felt a sharp pain in his crotch. He rushed out to the side of the hotel behind a dumpster, pulling down pants to reveal a stubby, lemony cock begging for attention. He grabbed his cock and stroked it carefully, his whole hand not entirely fitting. He moaned quietly, its pitch rising as his Adam’s apple sunk in. He felt his balls tremble as he took in a harsh breath.
“커밍 해요!” Security Guard Choi howled as a small load poured into his hand. He sighed before wiping it on the side of his uniform. He was glad that he was able to sneak a session in during his shift at the Hotel Korea. They were fairly lenient on breaks, but sometimes a Korean man in his youth had to get in some extra time. The watchman turned the corner back around to the front of the building and noticed a car was abnormally parked on the street. It probably was just an accident, but he had to make sure that everything was perfect at the hotel. He strode over confidently: there was nothing a fine, young Korean like himself couldn’t deal with.
— —
John just needed a break. He wasn’t supposed to have his kid for the day, but his ex dropped him off a few days early. John hadn’t been able to take off work, so now he had to drag the 9-year-old around with him everywhere he went. It was completely agonizing. As they walked downtown, the kid had to see everything, point at everything, want everything. It was the worst when they passed the new hotel a few buildings back; there was way too much to look at. John eventually gave up, telling him to sit down outside and wait as he went into a brewery to get a drink. He knew it wasn’t the best idea, but he was about to explode.
John quickly ordered a strong scotch and took a seat. Getting closer to 50 everyday, he still couldn’t believe that he had a child so young. Wasn’t his sperm supposed to stop working at one point? The kid had put so much stress on his body, helping him gain weight and lose hair. The balding man sat there quietly as a glass was carefully placed in front of him. He grumbled before grabbing it, knowing he’d have to chug it. Why couldn’t the kid just grow up?
He grabbed the glass right as new song began. It wasn’t coming from the brewery, but instead from a distance away. John didn’t notice it at first, but he slowly began subconsciously focusing more and more on the music. It wasn’t in English, but John could feel himself slowly get more and more involved in the music. His gulping turned to sipping as he started fully investing his attention in the boy-band music.
As John casually drank his whiskey, he didn’t notice his clothes slowly becoming looser on his frame. His stomach was coated in a light tan as pounds shed themselves away, the hair falling with them. While abs and pecs appeared on his frame, round biceps and triceps also began to pop up around his thickening arms. While his body became more muscular, years of age began to disappear. His shoulders and hips were coated in a lemony shade as they widened and shrunk respectively.
As more of the beer disappeared from the cup, so did John’s height. He slowly diminished in his chair, losing 16 centimeters to his height. Although his legs had contracted, his thighs and quads had become enormous. His calves had also becoming thicker, but they had lost their body hair along with the rest of John’s body. The only hair that grew in was on his head, which now was a soft, full stark-black part. John’s feet compressed as the rest of the golden shade covered his body.
Putting his root beer glass down, John began palming his groin. It had become increasingly agitated as time went on. John knew he was in public, but he had to relieve his dick right now. He dug his hands into his pants and began furiously stroking; his cock became more sensitive from its decreasing length. Suddenly, John felt his pouch scrunch up in his hands, ready for action.
“달콤한 방출!” Joon-ho squealed in a high tone as a small wet patch appeared on the front of his shirt. Joon-ho groaned in delight as he resituated himself in the chair. He picked up the Korean coffee and took a sip, smiling at its deliciousness. He knew it was dumb to come to a brewery and not get alcohol, but he didn’t care for it that much. He was still basically a kid in his early twenties, so it never appealed to him.
Speaking of feeling like a kid, he had to go find his boyfriend. He didn’t have a daddy kink, but it was clear who was in charge and who wasn’t between the two of them. Before he’d run off to find his boyfriend, he’d have to finish off this drink first.
— —
Timothy hated the hotel that had opened near his apartment. He had been living there for almost ten years, and all that time he had assumed that nothing would ever be built in the hideous lot a little less than a block away. Then, out of nowhere, a giant hotel was built, with people flowing in and out everyday. The strange thing though, Timothy noticed that people of every size, race, and age went into the hotel, but only young, attractive Koreans came out. The 40-year-old man could sense something was wrong.
Luckily for Timothy, he had just come home from work early, his boss feeling extra kind today. He rushed home and ran upstairs to his bathroom to take a hot, long bath. He prepared all the materials necessary before stripping his suit down slowly, his furry chest and legs becoming exposed to the world. Timothy knew he wasn’t the most attractive of people, with his beer gut and clunky height, but at least was fairly average. Once he was naked, the middle-aged man got into the tub, laying down so his feet stuck out the other side. Timothy rubbed a wet hand onto his head, the short, graying hair meeting him. He laid there in silence for a couple of minutes.
Timothy’s eyes jerked open as he began to hear music bouncing around his bathroom walls. He focused his ears to figure out that it was coming from the hotel, realizing it was in some kind of Asian language. At first, he was completely annoyed, but as he listened to it more, he began to like it. What the boys were singing about became enticing to him, relaxing him once more into the tub before he fell asleep.
Tae-won squinted as he woke up, his nap being a little longer than intended. He slowly pulled himself up, his small body wholely underwater. He looked over his lemony, muscled body, his proudest features all displayed finely under the bubbles. He looked over himself as he felt his small cock rise, with the absence of hair making it look even more miniscule. In fact, Tae-won was completely hairless from the armpits down–and he completely loved it.
Tae-won brought a small hand to his dick, carefully bringing it to full mast with three fingers. He whimpered as he jerked away, his cock sensitive. The boy band played in the background as he kept pushing, his short but powerful legs scrunching up to his defined torso. Tae-won pushed his brown locks to the side as he began to stroke faster. As he got to the edge, he felt his balls scrunch up to push out a load.
“여기 온다!” Tae-won yelled as his shot a miniscule load into the tub. Once he took a few deep breaths, he regained himself and slowly got out of the tub. He grabbed his red jockstrap and tight shorts, placing both on as he dried himself off. Tae-won restyled his hair into the classic chestnut bob before running downstairs. He picked up his phone and saw that he had a little less than an hour before he began his shift at the Hotel Korea. He also noticed that he had received a text from his boyfriend a few minutes ago. He opened the message, finding a picture of the other incredibly attractive Korean at the gym. Tae-won smiled, noticing his boyfriend was wearing one of the wife beaters he had given him at their last anniversary.
“Looking good, Chung-Hee,” Tae-won muttered in Korean, responding back to the picture. He guided himself back to the staircase, his tight, yellowy abs glistened under the sunlight from a nearby window. He pulled up his phone and brought it to the mirror, going from the same straight face that his partner had. His lemony features looked delicious after his long wash. He shot the picture and sent it to his boyfriend before running back upstairs to his room to get his uniform on. He had a long shift ahead of him, but, luckily for him, he loved his workplace.
— —
Milo had been waiting for his friend for almost an hour. He was parked outside of his hotel, the new one that had just opened, and he still hadn’t gotten any word from Kayler. He should’ve been worried, but for as long as he could remember, Kayler was never really one to be prompt; however, this was getting absurd.
Both Kayler and Milo had been friends since kindergarten, and the two of them would graduate in a few months from the highschool a little ways out of the city. Kayler was at the hotel for an assignment, one in which the student would observe a different culture. Of course, the Hotel Korea was the perfect choice, but Milo hadn’t heard any word from Kayler. He was supposed to pick him up after three days at the front door, but as Milo fiddled with his large shirt over his lithe body, no one ever approached his car.
Out of the blue, loud music exploded from the building Milo was parked in front of. Milo ducked for cover, taking a few moments to realize that it was not some sort of explosion, but instead K-pop. Milo didn’t know what to think of it at first, but what the boy band was singing about was strangely alluring. Milo concentrated on the noise, grooming his bright red hair as he followed along. The longer he listened to it, the more he began to enjoy it.
As the song started its first refrain, Milo hadn’t noticed how his feet were no longer tapping the brake pedal. He subconsciously pulled his chair a few inches forward as his shirt began to fill out. The once loose shirt began to tighten around the pecs and abs that were popping up by the beat. His once miniscule arms bloated, becoming muscular and dense. His calves and thighs also expanded while an amber color began to blotch out the pale white.
By the second refrain, Milo’s shirt was now strained, his large torso and biceps making it seem like the seams would rip any moment. Milo’s pants were also threatening to tear, with a large bubble butt and tree-trunk legs pushing at the silky boundaries. Hair dwindled away all around Milo’s body except for on his head, which shortened into a black sports cut. A few years packed onto to Milo as he shifted into his early twenties, while his feet shrunk into a softer size of 245 mm.
As the rest of the golden tan covered his body, Milo grabbed his average size cock and began to stroke. It got hard instantly, but didn’t lengthen at all. His hard length was now the same as what he was as soft previously. Milo didn’t notice however, for he was too focused on how incredible the bridge of the song was. As the last refrain came around the corner, Milo felt his testicles tense quickly.
“너무 좋아!” Min-kyu cried as a spray of white cum covered his shirt. He sat there for a second, breathing irregularly before regaining consciousness. He hadn’t even realized he had an audience at the passenger door.
“여보세요?” The stranger asked, causing Min-kyu to jump. He turned to the window to see his boyfriend standing at the window, still on his shift as a security guard at the hotel.
“Choissi, you scared me!” Min-kyu said in Korean as the watchman entered the car.
“Well, I didn’t know I was late to the party,” he replied back before leaning over for a kiss. As the two embraced, Min-kyu suddenly felt a buzzing in his pocket. He took out his phone to see that he had a text from his friend Kun-woo. He put his phone down and continued with the security guard. If Min-kyu had waited this long, Kun-woo could too.
— —
Gunnar sat on the uncomfortable chair extremely bored. He couldn’t believe that his lousy father had just left him at the front of a furniture store while he went off to get a drink. He didn’t even like his father. The two never connected because Gunnar had spent most of his time with his mom. They never really spent time together, and when they did, it was just awkward and always ended in some sort of argument. It was like he wasn’t even related to the man, but he knew that he had to try to stay friendly.
Gunnar brought a small bag into his lap, looking through all the things that his father did let him get. It wasn’t much, the reusable bag was just as ordinary as they things they had purchased. There were some water bottles, gloves, and a new game for his console back at his other home, but otherwise the day had proved uneventful. His father wouldn’t let him go into any of the buildings he wanted to see, especially the new hotel that had just opened down the street. Gunnar took out the water bottle to take a drink, not knowing what else to do.
Without warning, music began blasting from down the street. Gunnar choked for a second on the water he had just opened, surprised. He took the plastic bottle out of his mouth and looked towards the hotel. He could almost see the soundwaves emitting from the building, the K-pop becoming strangely alluring.
Gunnar brought the juice bottle back to his mouth, beginning to enjoy the music as it played on. As he drank, his legs began to extend themselves, the new meaty thighs and calves pushing him to a staggering 178 centimeters. Gunnar subconsciously began to manspread as his body became wider, his torso filling in with strong abs and pecs. An amber tone flooded his pale skin while his eyes became a deep brown.
While Gunnar continued guzzling pop from the bottle, his arms and shoulders began to fill out. Years of time in the gym became evident as pounds of meat were added to the boys frame. Veins became visible while his hand became round and hard, the results of numerous callouses. His expanding quads caused his shorts to pull up, now looking more like short-shorts than their previous knee-length.
As Gunnar topped off the beer bottle, he began to feel a rumbling in his balls. He had no idea what was happening, but something was telling him in the back of his mind that he should stroke his small cock. He grabbed it, and, with a sudden feeling of elation, began pumping furiously. As he did, he didn’t notice his grunts slowly becoming deeper, or how he now had to blow black bangs out of his face. Right as the yellow color covered the last of the pale skin, Gunnar felt a final push in his groin.
“달콤한 서울!” Gun-woo grunted as his jizz landed on his Corona shirt. He quickly rubbed it in before grabbing the matching bag and looking through it for a back-up outfit. All he had was an empty glass bottle, a beer koozie, and a Korean porn film for his date tonight. His date! He had completely forgotten about it, and where his partner had walked off to.
As if on cue, his boyfriend walked out of a nearby coffee shop. A grin plastered itself on Gun-woo’s face.
You look adorable, boy,” Gun-woo remarked in Korean as his boyfriend walked over.
“You aren’t too bad either, old man,” the man replied back.
“Joon-ho, you know I’m only five years older than you,” Gun-woo snarked.
“You’re talent in bed says otherwise.” Joon-ho replied, licking his lips. Gun-woo smirked as he got up to leave with his boyfriend, knowing he had a fun night ahead of him.
— —
Lee Hae-jin sat at his desk, the new information charts flooding in from every other Hotel Korea. His plan had been a huge success, as apparent by the massive spikes of local Korean populations in each location. The music was an easy choice for conversion while still being untrackable, but the problem was how he would transfer the Korean genetic code through the melodies. He had to write a song that would transform its listeners.
After tedious research, he finally came to an idea: Don’t create music, create a band. He designed his own K-pop boy band, which he cleverly named KOREABOO. They would seem like any other boy band from South Korea, but they’d only produce Lee’s music. Their voices would make the melodies that would become hypnotic to new listeners. Their words would help produce the new Korean population faster.
Lee closed the laptop and chuckled to himself. It would only be so long before the entire world would be Korean, and, more importantly, under his control.
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Uber Frat
Tom had driven this route a hundred times before. The streets near the university were alive with students barhopping, loud music booming from nearby frat houses. His Uber beeped as a new ride request came in from Delta Sigma Gamma, one of the more notorious frats, known for their cocky jocks and constant partying. He sighed, not particularly excited about the prospect of dealing with another drunk frat boy.
The rider’s name popped up on his phone: Ryan.
"Another one of these guys," Tom muttered to himself, already dreading the ride. At thirty-five, Tom was happy with his life. He was engaged to Sarah, his high school sweet heart, and they were planning their wedding. Driving Uber was just a way to save up a little extra for the wedding. He was a simple guy; routine, stability, and a future with Sarah. He had no interest in wild parties or the frat life he’d never had.
When he pulled up to the massive Delta Sigma house, a shirtless, muscular figure stumbled out, carrying the telltale swagger of someone who had downed far too many beers. Ryan was massive, broad-shouldered, thick arms, chest bursting out of his soaked tank top. His feet dragged a little as he approached the car, and when he opened the door, the powerful stench of sweat and musk hit Tom like a truck.
Ryan collapsed into the backseat, reeking of alcohol, but worse than that, his scent was overpowering, the smell of sweat-soaked skin and dirty gym socks filling the car immediately. Tom gagged but tried to keep it under control.
“Yo, driver!” Ryan slurred, kicking off his sneakers without a care and slapping his socked feet right between the two front seats on the arm rest “Take me to the next bar, bro.”
“Uh, can you put your feet down?” Tom asked, his voice tight with irritation.
Ryan didn’t even glance at him, wiggling his toes lazily. “Nah, man, you’ll get used to it. Just like everyone else. This is how it is when you’re part of the brotherhood.” His voice was thick with drunken confidence, a cocky grin spreading across his face.
“Look, man, I’m just trying to do my job,” Tom said, irritation rising as the smell intensified, like sour sweat and musk combining to form something nearly tangible.
Ryan chuckled, the sound low and mocking. “You think you’re better than us, huh? Driving your Uber, going back to your little pathetic, boring life, playing it all straight and safe. You don’t even know what you’re missing, bro.”
Tom glanced in the rearview mirror, trying to keep his temper in check. “I’m just trying to get you where you need to go.”
Ryan leaned forward; his eyes gleaming. “Yeah, well, maybe where you need to go isn’t where you think. You ever think about that? You’re just waiting for someone to show you the way.”
Before Tom could respond, Ryan started to laugh under his breath, a weird sound emitting from his mouth. The air in the car shifted, growing thick, almost suffocating. Tom felt his heart rate spike as a sudden, intense heat spread through his body, followed by a strange tingling sensation.
“What the hell are you doing?” Tom snapped, panic rising as his muscles began to twitch uncontrollably.
Ryan smirked. “Don’t worry, bro. You’re about to find out what it’s like to really live.”
Tom’s breath caught in his throat as the tingling spread, intensifying into sharp, searing pain. His body felt like it was on fire from the inside out, muscles spasming and bones popping. His hands, gripping the steering wheel tightly, began to thicken before his very eyes. His fingers lengthened, widening as his palms became rough and calloused, swelling with new, brute strength.
“No… what’s happening?” Tom gasped, watching in horror as his forearms bulged, veins popping out against his skin. His arms were growing, muscle piling onto muscle, forcing his sleeves to stretch tight against his biceps and forearms.
Ryan leaned back, grinning. “It’s starting, bro. You’re just getting jacked like the rest of us.”
Tom could feel his chest expanding, pecs pushing out as his once-slender frame grew broader and wider. His shirt strained against the sheer bulk of his chest, the fabric barely able to contain the growing mass of muscle beneath it. His ribs cracked, reforming to accommodate the new size of his upper body.
With a groan of agony, Tom’s spine elongated, forcing him to hunch forward in the seat as his height shot up. His back rippled with new muscle, his shoulders broadening into massive slabs of strength. The pain was unbearable, every bone in his body felt like it was being stretched and reshaped.
“Stop! Please, stop!” Tom begged, his voice shaky with fear, but his words only made Ryan grin wider.
“Why stop, bro? You’re looking real good now. Imagine how much the boys are gonna love you.” Said Ryan as he wiggled his toes.
Tom’s legs began to throb, his thighs thickening, swelling with raw power. His jeans ripped at the seams, unable to contain the bulging muscles that pushed outward. His calves, once average, now bulged with definition, covered in a layer of thick, coarse hair that sprouted up his legs, across his thighs, and up to his groin.
He felt a strange tug in his groin, and his breath hitched as his penis twitched, growing harder, swelling in size. His balls, once normal-sized, ballooned larger, filling with an almost unbearable pressure. The musk of Ryan’s feet, the overpowering scent that had once repelled him, now seemed intoxicating, and Tom could feel a growing hunger building in his chest.
“No… this isn’t me. This can’t be happening,” Tom whispered, his voice deepening, taking on a more masculine, gruff tone.
Ryan wiggled his toes again and crossed his feet, brushing Tom’s forearm along the way “Oh, it’s happening, bro. You’re gonna be just like the rest of us. You’re gonna love being with your bros. Trust me, man, it’s what you’ve always wanted.”
Tom’s mind screamed in protest, but his body continued to betray him. The hair follicles on his chest started to burn as Tom saw in the reflection of the mirror that his faint dark brown hair was turning clearer, taking a golden hue, almost disappearing in his skin. He saw the same happening in his armpits as they grew thicker and denser there. The scent of his own sweat mixed with Ryan’s musk, creating an overwhelming cocktail of testosterone that filled the car.
His abs rippled beneath his torn shirt, each muscle growing more defined until his midsection was a solid, chiseled six-pack. His body was drenched in sweat, the salty tang of it filling the air, and to his horror, Tom realized he didn’t hate the smell. He liked it. He craved it.
His face contorted in pain as his jawline shifted, becoming squarer and more pronounced. His cheekbones sharpened, his nose slightly thickened, and his brow became more prominent. His once-neatly dark brown trimmed hair grew wilder, curlier, messier style that looked perfect for a frat bro.
But the worst was yet to come. Tom’s groin pulsed with heat, his penis swelling to an obscene size. His balls hung low, filled with a primal need, a hunger for something more. His underwear strained to contain the sheer mass of his manhood, and Tom could feel his arousal building, stronger, hotter, and more insistent than anything he had ever experienced.
“No… no…” Tom moaned, but it wasn’t just the size that scared him. It was the desire. The growing lust, not for women, but for men, his bros. The idea of being surrounded by them, feeling their bodies pressed against his, touching, tasting, servicing them, it sent waves of unwanted pleasure through him as he was trying to restraint those foreign pulsion. Tom turned his head back to throw a look of pleading to Ryan, but the only thing he saw between his locks of curly blonde hair was Ryan gripping his own groin through his jeans while licking his lips looking at him.
Inside his mind, Tom was screaming, fighting to hold onto his old self, but his body was changing too fast, too much. His cock twitched, a bead of precum forming at the tip, staining the inside of his underwear turned into a kaki speedo. His new, massive muscles tensed, and every part of him screamed for release.
Ryan watched him struggle, a grin of satisfaction on his face. “You’re almost there, bro. You feel it, don’t you? You need to let go. Just blow it in your speedo, man, and it’ll all be over. You’ll be one of us.”
Tom’s mind rebelled, but his body was beyond his control. The overwhelming musk, the power coursing through his muscles, the heat in his groin, it was too much. He could feel his balls tighten, his cock throb, and his heart race as the tension built inside him.
“Come on, bro, I gave you a chance to really enjoy this all. Way too long…” Ryan urged, his voice low and commanding. “Fuck it, you wanted this. CUM!”
With a shuddering gasp, Tom’s body obeyed. His cock spasmed, and with a grunt of pure, animalistic pleasure, he came hard, his seed spilling into his speedo in a hot, sticky mess. The sensation was overwhelming, waves of ecstasy crashing through his entire body. His muscles flexed, his heart pounded, and his new frat bro self-emerged in full force. As the orgasm was subsiding, Tom’s clothes torn clothes started to vanish into pure manly musk, evaporating straight from his body and pushing the musk in the car even further. Tom stood there, his new kaki speedo damp with his cum. The outline of his huge cock still visible in the dampness of the tissue. Tom trying to find his breath as Ryan was still boringly stroking his cock and riding the hangover of alcohol and musk.
Tom’s conversion was complete, his body now entirely foreign to him, yet every part of it felt strong, powerful, and, worst of all, desperately needy. His new muscular frame was drenched in sweat, his speedo sticky and soaked with his release. His broad chest heaved, the musky scent of his own sweat mingled with the fresh cum soaking his crotch, the stench filling the car.
Tom opened his eyes after a while when his brain could connect the information around him. He tried to move to take a look but to his surprise he couldn’t do anything. IT was like he was frozen on his car seat. As he started to panic, Tom heard Ryan’s voice from behind him as he felt hands on his muscled sweaty shoulders. “I told you you should have let it go and accept it. But no, you had to fight… I’m sorry bro, but if you had accepted the changes, your soul would have been assimilated. Now you’ll have to live your life from the passenger seat. Too bad for a driver to be a passenger of his own life.” Inside, Tom was screaming in pure, abject horror. He could still feel everything, the slick wetness in his shorts, the stench of his own musk, and the weight of his massive muscles. But it was like he had been shoved into a tiny corner of his own brain, trapped as a mere observer while his new frat bro body had taken full control. He could see, hear, and feel, but he was no longer in command. “See? You should have accepted way earlier Tom, or should I call you Carter!”
Ryan leaned forward, inspecting his handiwork, and laughed. “Oh yeah, bro. You’re one of us now. Look at you—fucking perfect. Just wait until the other guys get a load of you.”
Tom wanted to scream, to shout at Ryan, but his body refused to respond. Instead, his lips parted into a cocky grin, and his voice, deep and full of arrogance, spoke words that Tom didn’t want to say. “Hell yeah, man. I’m ready. Let’s fucking go.”
Inside, Tom’s soul wept. He tried to fight, to claw his way back to control, but the frat bro instincts that now filled his brain were stronger, overpowering his old self. He couldn’t stop the way his muscles flexed instinctively, couldn’t stop the pulse of desire that rushed through him at the thought of being with his bros, couldn’t stop the way his cock throbbed with excitement at the idea of being used by them.
Ryan clapped him on the back, his grin wide. “That’s the spirit, bro. Let’s head back to the house, just got a text from Cassidy and she cancelled our date. That’s okay though, looks like our brand-new slut just arrived. The guys are gonna fucking love you.”
Carter shifted in the seat, his large, muscular frame barely fitting in the compact space now. His legs stretched out, thick thighs brushing against the dash as he shifted, adjusting his still-hard cock in his shorts. His skin felt tight over his new muscles, the hair on his chest and legs sticking to his sweaty skin, adding to the overpowering scent that filled the car. His body, now perfect for the frat life, responded instinctively, craving the approval and attention of the bros waiting for him at the house.
After a while, they were both back at the frat house, every step sent a fresh wave of musk into the air, the smell clinging to his skin, marking him as one of them. Tom hated it, despised the way his new body seemed to revel in the scent, in the sheer masculinity of it all.
The door swung open, and the other Delta Sig brothers were already lounging on the couches, drinking and laughing. As soon as Carter walked in, all eyes were on him, and the room erupted into cheers.
“Damn, Ryan, you did a fucking good job on this one!” one of the bros called out, eyeing Carter with a mix of approval and lust.
Ryan grinned, clapping Carter on the shoulder. “Told you guys I’d bring us a new hole to fuck to replace the last one. He’s fucking perfect, right?”
Carter’s frat bro instincts kicked in, and he flexed his arms, showing off his massive biceps with a cocky grin. His body responded to their approval with an almost addictive high, a deep, primal desire to be wanted by them, to be used by them.
Inside, Tom was screaming, but his body was lost in the moment, his cock already twitching in anticipation as the bros crowded around him, patting him on the back, feeling his muscles, and welcoming him into their ranks.
Ryan leaned in close, his voice low and teasing. “You feel that, bro? You’re one of us now. Doesn’t it feel fucking amazing?”
Carter’s mouth opened, and his voice, deep, confident, and undeniably turned on answered, “Yeah, bro. Feels fucking incredible.”
Ryan smirked, satisfied. “Welcome to the brotherhood, man. Now, let’s get you upstairs and really show you what it means to be a Delta Sig.”
As the group led Tom toward the stairs, the weight of his new life fully settled in. Inside, his old self screamed and fought, desperate to break free. But his body, now a slave to the desires of the frat, couldn’t wait to submit to his bros, to be used by them in every way. ______________________________________________________________ Hey guys! Hope you'll enjoy this story based on this prompt from an anonymous: "An Uber driver picks up a drunk guy with smelly feet who taunts him with his scent and tfs him into a bro to go out drinking with." Hope you like it! As always feel free to message me in dms or ask if you want me to write prompts or just talk. Have a good day! :)
Cop Out
--- Originally posted on 2021-06-25 by newyoutf ---
Nick, a young, headstrong journalist, had been investigating strange goings-on at the police department for months. Odd reports of trainees at the police academy disappearing while the number of senior cops seemed to increase, and without any known source of extra funding. But his only informant, a trainee at the academy himself, soon mysteriously vanished as well. Convinced the police were covering something up, Nick felt compelled to investigate.
Before they fell off the grid, Nick's informants mentioned a company that seemed to be tied up with the disappearances - New You Industries. But despite his best efforts, the intrepid investigator couldn't find any reference to such a business ever having existed. The last he heard from his mole was that a shipment was due to arrive at the police training academy in a week.
And so, seven days later, Nick found himself staking out the storage garage of the academy in the dead of night. From a long distance in the safety of his car, he snapped pictures of a man getting out of an unmarked car and handing three small boxes to someone Nick recognized the city's police chief, Chief Barrow. But this evidence was meaningless without knowing what the shipment contained.
He waited patiently for all parties to depart and snuck up on the garage, snapping the lock with bolt cutters and using his camera's flash to illuminate the pitch-black room. Nick was dismayed to find two police badges sitting on the shelf, along with three boxes, now empty.
"Did I just stake out a shipment of police badges?" Nick muttered to himself. He jumped back in fright as the lights were suddenly switched on.
"C-Chief Barrow?" Nick stammered as he turned to see the police chief standing next to the light switch.
"You think we didn't know you'd been following us?" he growled as he stepped toward Nick.
"What happened to the students?! Did you kill them?!" Nick yelled as if to try and bolster himself against the fear he was currently experiencing.
The police chief stopped in his tracks and made a sly expression, "They're not dead. They're in the station, working."
"W-what?" Nick replied with the same look of bewilderment, "I-I was told students were vanishing from the academy?"
"They got - how should I say this - fast-tracked through the program," Barrow responded with a smirk, "You're about to find how. Catch!"
Nick flinched as the chief tossed a small metallic object at him. Reacting instinctively, Nick caught it in his hands. It was a badge, just like the two behind him. He shuddered and his hand tensed around the badge. Incredible energy surged up his arm and spread through him. He desperately wanted to let go of the enchanted badge, but he couldn't.
"Sorry, but we can't have you reporting on this," Barrow chuckled as he exited and slammed the garage closed behind him. As the door crashed down Nick's legs gave out and he fell to his knees, his fingers still firmly grasping the badge. The young journalist was terrified, but at the same time engrossed in the power bubbling through his body. Finally, his fingers unclenched and dropped the badge to the floor, but the damage had been done. Nick pushed onto all fours and let out a long moan as his body began to change.
His legs stretched out from his slacks, exposing more and more of his shins. Likewise, his arms extended from his sleeves while his entire torso was pulled longer and longer. "What's ah... happening to me?!" Nick groaned as his cock hardened to full mast.
Muscles fluttered and twitched all over his body. They grew across his arms, bulging from his biceps and triceps as his shoulders grew wider, tearing at his shirt. Pecs slowly protruded from his bony chest, growing large and dense. Abs rippled out along his stomach, leading down to a sharper, V-shaped set of cum gutters. His legs surged with strength, copious amounts of muscle growing and forming in his thighs and calves, stretching his fly apart and revealing the wet, hard, bulging underwear underneath. Behind him, his flat butt began to press outward, bigger and rounder, matching his thick, muscular thighs.
He couldn't help himself, clasping at the exposed muscle as hairs darted across the surface. Soon he found himself grabbing fabric, much to his surprise. He opened his eyes to see his tattered clothes repairing and reshaping into the uniform of the local precinct. His bulging arms still strained the new shirt. A bulky, heavy vest replete with a radio and utilities formed over the top.
"Ngh! Fuck!" he grunted, bucking his hips involuntarily as his feet stretched and pressed against his tight leather brogues just as they too morphed to accommodate his changing body. The pressure lowered as his size nine dress shoes rapidly bloated outward into heavy, size fourteen boots. Long toes shredded through his socks, clutching at the insole as they stretched along with his extending soles.
Nick clambered to his feet, clutching his head, only to feel his hair pulling inward, short and tidy. Not only that, but he could feel some hair vanishing completely from his temples, leaving him with the slightly receded hairline of a man maybe five or more years older than he was. His fingers cracked as they began to slide longer across his scalp, pushing through the neat, handsome cut of hair. He held the stretching, trembling hands in front of him, gasping as he watched them swell huge and powerful.
He slammed his massive fists into the wall with a deepening roar, feeling his head creak and reshape. His features broadened and enlarged. A strong chin and jaw pressed out of his face and light stubble sprouted from the skin. "Must be... some way to s-stop this..." Nick groaned, his eyes widening at the sound of his new and completely unfamiliar voice. Nick frantically reached for the police badge on the floor that had started all of this, hoping, praying for some way to revert his changes. His eyes scanned the metallic chest piece, but there was no sign of any method to stall or revert what was happening. Rather, he caught a glimmer of his new reflection in the shiny metal. Nick's wide, handsome jaw fell open at the sight. Not only did he look easily seven or more years older, but he looked completely different; he couldn't help but think he looked much manlier and sexier.
Meanwhile, downstairs, his hard cock ached for touch as it stretched down the leg of his pants. "Oh, god!" Nick gasped. His balls swelled larger while his python thickened and lengthened against his muscular leg. He couldn't contain himself anymore, pulling the fly on his new pants down and fishing his swelling cock out, allowing it to stretch into the open. He couldn't believe how big it had already gotten, easily inches larger than what he was used to. Reluctant but unable to resist, he gripped it in his hand and pumped, growling loudly with every stroke. Nick was too busy relishing his increased size and virility to realize his mind was filling with policing skills and years of experience. Before he knew it he had an eight-inch weapon in his hand. He couldn't take it anymore; his height, his muscles, his size. He felt so virile, so masculine, so powerful. Screaming in ecstasy, Nick blew load after load against the concrete wall.
Once the post-orgasmic fog lifted, Nick quickly tidied himself and brushed a large hand through his shorter hair, dazed and confused. His memory was intact, but they competed for attention with new skills, desires, and traits. The muscular sergeant lifted the garage door with ease, spotting Chief Barrow waiting for him in the car park just in the distance.
"Ready, Sergeant?" Barrow asked.
"I... I...", Nick stuttered as he looked down at his muscular frame, suddenly noticing how much taller he was now. His huge cock twitched in response, causing Nick to moan just a little. "Y-Yes, sir!" he parroted as he proceeded toward the car, eagerly accepting his new life as Officer Nick Collins.
Hey are you still taking transformation applications? Just found this blog and it's great. I was wonder if you could turn my into a dumb himbo surfer? I'm white, 5'9 and a little on the fat nerdy side, but I'd love to be a tall tanned lean surfer dude!
“Alright dude, welcome to the Amalia Aquatics Center. We have been looking for more surf instructors and you are the man for the job. The name’s Kellan and I’ll be your boss.”
You look at the tall surfer guessing he had to be about 6′7″, almost a foot taller than you. His muscles are lean and his skin is tan. He looks like a stereotypical, but tall and slightly more built, surfer. He even spoke like one. Hardly the professional you were expecting from what you saw at the front desk.
“I’m just here to help you get used to your job. I’m sure it won’t take long for you to fit in, brah.” He chuckled, “Now why are you wearing a shirt?”
You look down, a little embarrassed for even trying this. You look back up at Kellan and he his simply looking back at you with a smirk on his face. Your eyes look down at the beginnings of moobs and gut pushing at your shirt.
“You want to be a surfer or what?”
You grip the hem of your shirt in frustration. Struggling to pull it off, you finally do, red in the face. Kellan is just chuckling, “See that wasn’t so hard.”
A blush fills your cheeks again. You look down at your lean, tanned torso wondering why you wouldn’t want your shirt off. You love going shirtless.
“And we like our surfers to be blonde. Longer hair is preferred.”
You run a hand through your hair, remembering you got it died a few weeks ago.
“Oh and the clients usually like a big cock. From your swimsuit I see no problem there.”
You smirk, thinking of the 7-inch soft torpedo in your swimsuit.
“And our surfers always love getting fucked as a tip instead of cash.”
Your ass suddenly feels very hungry and your cock grows to a full 9 inches at the idea at your prospects for sex. Not that your brain even knows what a word like “prospects” means anymore.
“So dude I think your ready to start.”
You smile dumbly, not even realizing you had changed, “Awesome dude.”
This Is The Future That Liberals Want
Can u do like one with a dorky geek being forced against his will to be turned into a jock and become like the star quarterback for the team like me
“You see, the problem with modern society is that, suddenly, all the emphasis has shifted from physicality and physical endeavours to cerebral enterprises and the furtherance of technology. Societally speaking, that can only lead to a slow downfall of everything we, the human race, have ever built. We have to get back to basics!” On each word of the last sentence, the man banged the meat of his palm on the desk in front of him, emphasizing each point. His gaze, however, never wavered from the array of students sitting in front of him. His eyes swept the room, as if daring anyone to disagree with him. He held the menace in his teeth, playing the silence out, and suddenly relaxed, shifting entirely into another mode, that of easy-going, affable Coach. “But the pendulum swings, boys, the pendulum always swings. One extreme to the other, and boy, when it comes,” he chuckled, swaying his head and clicking his tongue, “it’s gonna come hard.”
The bell sang its saw-song through the air, jarring everyone from their respective trances. Matthew snorted, turning to his friend. “Are you kidding me? One logical fallacy after another. And that pseudo-social science he was spouting? Did you even hear that? Why did we even have him in class today? What was that supposed to teach us?”
Sanjay shook his head. “Which one do you want me to answer first?”
“Any. None. It doesn’t matter. Just doesn’t make any sense. Why have the coach of the football team lecture us on how intelligence and critical thought and technological know-how is actually, you know, in disguise, the downfall of human civilization! Oh, yeah, let’s prize barbarity and tout physical achievement as opposed to …”
Honestly, Sanjay tuned him out. Sure, Matthew was his friend. Yeah, he was smart. Probably one of the smartest kids in the school, but he had a demanding, needy persona that was just sometimes hard to bear. He could be arrogant, almost preening, constantly displaying his prodigious vocabulary and scorning anyone who didn’t reach his impossible standards. Still, better to have him on your side, Sanjay reasoned, than not.
“So, yeah.” Matthew tossed his hair back from his eyes. He’d been letting it grow long, some rebellion thing. “Wanna watch foreign films tonight?”
“Uh,” God, again? He had a passion for subtitles that bordered on the pathological. Sometimes, he’d even quote the French when the appropriate time arrived. “I can’t, tonight. Family … thing.”
“Oh. Okay. Well, a toût a l’heure, mon ami!”
“Seeya,” Sanjay moved off into the hallway throng. “Weirdo.”
o
The faint, overlapping sound of calls and cries, short and shouted, that echoed from the field. Some grunting. Matthew hated that, in order to walk home, he had to follow the small sidewalk around the back side of the school and around a fairly large chunk of the football field. He usually had his earbuds in, and today was no exception, with Einstürzende Neubaten playing (and only because of the name) in his ears. He tapped his hands idly against his thighs as he walked, tapping out a badly-timed beat to the song he was listening to. His eyes he kept firmly fixed ahead. He refused to look at the game in progress, or the training, or whatever. Can’t deny that his eyes did flick to the left, but he didn’t turn his head, so that doesn’t count. Or so he reasoned.
Out of all the sports, Matthew hated football the worst. He could make concessions for “real” football, or soccer, if he was pressed, but American football, the NFL, all of it, just left a bad taste in his mouth. Stupid celebrity body-glorifying inane banal moronic and, on one occasion, mentally retarded, were all words that came out of his mouth whenever confronted with the topic. Team sports on a whole repelled him: the whole notion of conforming to a set, of being reduced to a function, caused him to shiver way down deep inside his skinny body. He was furiously proud of his body, liked that he could slip in and out of places unnoticed. He wore mostly blacks and grays for the same reason.
Of course, he was bullied. What kid isn’t? Matthew is no idiot. He’s read books, seen movies, he knows. The bully does it because the bully feels like he’s inferior in some way, is over-compensating. Yeah, he knows the “why,” but the “what” keeps happening. Physical threats. He’s been tripped, kicked, spat at. He does not let himself break to the bullies. He knows that he is superior to them, and one day, they’ll be pumping his gas. The knowledge of this certain future is enough to glaze and harden the sneer on his face whenever he runs into them.
He looked up just in time, swerving to miss the outstretched hands of one of his classmates. He didn’t even have time to notice which one it was. All he saw was a wide grin and the palms of the hands, and the world yawed above him, sky to treetops to treetrunks to dead leaves on the ground, and he was falling, poorly, ungainly and akimbo, ass over teakettle, and rolling, crashing through various underbrush, skinning his palms on ill-placed rocks, the world became a splatter of color on a palette, and then turned to gray fuzz as he came to a halt.
“Whoa, kid, kid, holy fucking …” Someone had rushed to his side, but Matthew couldn’t tell who it was. His eyes were unfocused, his ears were slamming loud carillons of hiss and bells, he throbbed, nearly all over. He thought, well, nothing’s broken, and remembered relief. He cracked his mouth and a strange noise flopped out, like a broken bassoon. “Are you OK? Did you just fall?”
“Stupid … question,” Matthew said, and passed out.
o
He woke up at home. In his own bed. His posters on the wall, his strange Russian propaganda posters, his vintage movie posters. He still throbs all over. That part wasn’t a dream. This is, however, that weird murky space between waking up and really waking up. Surfacing, sort of, through the shallows. He remembered … falling. He remembered … being pushed! His head is like an anvil factory. Jabs of clanging pain twinned to his heartbeat. He groaned, and ground his hand, hard, into his left eye. The pain did not abate. He rolled over, the sheets followed, and he untangled himself, with some amount of confusion. There was a slightly heavy … slightly wet smell in the air, almost as if someone drenched in cologne had been there recently. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant, Matthew thought murkily, then shook his head violently. No! It was awful! It smelled like a locker room. How the fuck did he get home? He reached for his phone, which was where he always kept it, on the night stand next to his bed. He thumbed it open. No missed calls. No new text messages. The time was 10:30pm., on whatever day. He idly thought he might have amnesia. It was dark, and he could hear the crickets sawing feverishly away outside his window. He felt a stab of hunger, and slowly swung his legs out of bed.
The anodyne glow of the big-screen television was near-blinding as Matthew limped down the stairs. Weird, he thought. No one in this house is usually awake at this hour. He moved closer to inspect. No one on the couch. Not a sign that anyone had been there, actually. It was all very Roanoke. He half-expected to find “CROATOAN” carved into the coffee table. It gave him a little, dull chill. As he moved closer, the sound of the television grew louder, and the picture seemed to clear, resolving from white noise to figures, moving back and forth on the screen. The white noise resolved into the sound of … an audience? Matthew squinted at the screen, came even closer, outstretched a finger to prod at its surface, delicately. Then he backed up, shaking his head, chortling. “C’mon,” he said out loud, the sound of his voice flat in the living room. “Don’t be a moron.”
It was a game on the television. A football game. NFL, from the looks of it. Uniforms … orange and white and orange and black. The, uh … Broncos and the Browns. Right. That’s a lot of orange. I didn’t even know we got this channel. What channel? Oh, ESPN, right. The football’s pretty fucking elusive, doesn’t seem like anyone can get a handle on - oh, there we go. That guy’s running. He’s got the ball. Feels like something’s going to happen. Oh, hey, this guy’s coming out of the, no, no, he’s gonna make it he’s - oh. Nope. That guy jumped on top of him and he wasn’t close to the end zone.
Matthew felt a strange sense of disappointment, almost deflation. He cracked his neck to one side and frowned a little. The players were reassembling. Some of them look kinda goofy. The uniforms are kinda cool. I mean, sorta. It’s like armor, or something. Representing … uh, like, houses, or … hey, they’re playing again.
He found his muscles tightening, his hands forming into fists, as the football was snapped into play. His eyes watched it as it described its arc over the field, soaring, spiralling, toward the eager and outstretched hands of – and
“INTERCEPTION!”
Matthew snapped back to himself with all the force of a comet smashing into Siberia. He blinked, blinked again, and then shook his head. Was that something rattling around up there? Jesus, he must’ve hit hard. He should get some more sleep. Was he just watching football?
And … was there a moment there, just a moment, where he … kinda enjoyed it?
o
“Day 2,” Sanjay mimed a gun at his temple, lazing back in his chair. The windows were open, and a light breeze sashayed in. “Seriously, though? Mandated physical education in the form of indoctrination? Not sure that’s what they had in mind, but … hey, it’s gettin me out of class, right?”
“Yeah,” Matthew mumbled. He was still kind of out of it, bruised up and scraped pretty badly, but with no lasting injuries. “Sorry,” he said. “I must’ve really rattled my brains in that fall. Shit…” He dropped his pencil and fumbled around under the desk for it. “I’ve been so clumsy, today, too…”
“Maybe you got a concussion or something, man. You should check in with the nurse.”
“Naw, it’s … I slept, last night, so, I don’t think it’s a, uh, you know. That. Man, this headache. I keep taking all this aspirin.” He shook out a pill from a plain white bottle. “Don’t know if it’s actually helping, or what.”
Sanjay cocked his head at his friend and shrugged. “Suit yourself. Your funeral. And I wouldn’t take so much advil, man. Five, at the most.”
The door to the room slammed shut, and the coach walked in. He never wore street clothes, or, if he did, his street clothes were the same as his regular clothes: basketball shorts and t-shirt, sneakers and socks. He was a younger man, probably in his early 30s, with a corded, muscular body and a commanding presence lightened only by an aloof affability. “Welcome back,” he said, and the room immediately quieted. His eyes swept the room again, much in the same manner as before, as if surveying a course of meats. “I - “ he stopped as his eyes fell on Matthew. “Matt,” he said. “Hope you’re feeling better.“
“It’s Matthew,” he said clearly. “And yeah, I’m fine. No thanks to the guy who shoved me. And I will find out who that is,” he added venomously. “And when I do, you can be sure I’ll be taking it to the proper author - uh - “
The coach seemed expectant, then shook his head and continued. “Well, recent drama aside. We’re here today to talk about the benefits of fitness, and how being physically fit is important in all ways, and, in some ways, how it is the most important. Your brain won’t function if your body isn’t fed, right? And we feed our bodies by giving it nutrition and exercising it just like we would a machine. Sometimes … those machines need a tune-up. I bet most of you here need a tune-up or two.”
“Not me, Coach!’ Brody piped up. Matthew’s eyes skated over to him. He was the QB. He was just over six-foot and weighed twice what Matthew did. He sat in his desk and possessed it of a gawky adolescent superiority. His voice was deep and his face was shadowed around 5 o’clock. “I’m runnin’ on all cylinders.” He lifted his arms and flexed. Most of the class groaned, some of the girls looked sideways, and a paper ball or two was tossed.
“Yeah, well, simmer down there, Bro. It is true, Brody is at his peak physical form for his body type and his age. That’s something you can all aspire to.”
Matthew felt dizzy. The top of his scalp itched. His throat itched, felt swollen. He glanced at the back of his hand. He watched it detachedly as it rose of its own accord, sleepily at first, then erect as a flagpole, fingers straight, unmoving. “Yes, uh, Matthew?”
His words sounded, to his own ears, as if they had been dredged out of him. “How do we .. uh, do that?”
The coach stared at him for a minute, inscrutably. “Good question, Matt.” Matthew let the name go, almost like a bullet in slow motion past his ear, creating auditory ripples in through his ear and passing through his brain - “Well, we can work out, we can play a sport and join a team - shameless plug, football team still needs some good bodies, signup sheet’s outside the door - but there’s lots of different ways to achieve your physical potential.
“You really don’t look so good,” Sanjay commented. “And what was that all about?”
“Nothin,” Matthew said. He felt drunk. “I, uh, it’s fine.”
The class continued, and Matthew sat there, silently, eyes fixed ahead. The buzz and pound in his head continued. It was almost as if the dream he’d had about watching football on the television was still playing, projected on the inside wall of his skull, and he was hearing it from far away.
o
The bell announced in its shrill, strident way, the end of class. Matthew filed out with the rest, past the coach as he was erasing the whiteboard. “Matt,” he heard, and he stopped. “I just wanted to … are you OK?”
“Yeah,” he heard himself say. “I’m good.”
“Well, you had a nasty spill. You said someone pushed you. You hit your head and you scraped yourself up, but nothing was broken. We used your phone and called your roommate and they came and picked you up.”
“Oh,” Matthew said. “It’s Matthew, you know.”
“What?”
“You keep, uh, callin me Matt.”
“Well, I guess it’s just easier. Just a nickname. What’s so wrong with Matt?”
“It’s, uh. It’s not my, uh. Yeah. Whatever. Look, I - “
“Want to sign up for the football team.”
“… Huh?”
“I’m joking. What’s up?”
“I, that question I asked. Maybe I should, you know. Work out. So I don’t, you know, ‘fall,’ anymore.”
“Hey, Matt, that’s a great idea! Not to mention it’ll really help build up your confidence. Who couldn’t use some of that, huh?”
“Right,” he agreed, a little uncertain why. A weird molten surge of … something, was starting to heat up in his stomach. “Yeah.”
The coach dropped his big hand on Matthew’s shoulder and grinned. “I’m so glad you want to do this, Matt. I really think it’ll do you wonders. How about I take you down to the gym for your free period and show you the ropes?”
“My - how did you know I have a, next? I didn’t -”
“I get all your schedules. C’mon, I’ll show you and I promise, you won’t be able to stop once you start. It really is addicting.”
“Yeah, right,” Matthew mumbled, but was already being ushered to follow by the coach’s arm and hand. Before he knew it, they were walking down the hallway, out through into the dazzling sunlight, and then back inside via two metal doors with arrowslit-like windows, metal wiring. The gym. The echoes began almost immediately. Basketball sneakers against the floor with their skreek skreeking, rubber on lacquer. The clang and repeated thud of weights against racks. A pumping soundtrack, fading in and out.
“You’ll be right at home,” the coach said. “Trust me.”
I doubt it, thought Matthew, but Matt’s face was grinning, and Matt’s mouth was saying, “Awesome, Coach.”
o
“So, how’s the recruiting stage going?”
“Great. Aspirin was a great way to hide it. No one knows.”
“And after a minor, accidental, spill, pain relief … is somewhat necessary, wouldn’t you say?”
“Brody is a good QB. He’ll do whatever I tell him to, even if it does include a little … hooliganism. ”
“How about your white whale?”
“Oh, Matt’s doing amazing. You know, you wouldn’t believe it, but the kid’s twice his size. We’ll have him on the football team for this coming season, and he’s gonna make a hell of a QB after Brody graduates. Isn’t even a trace left of who he was.”
“We want to thank you for allowing us to test our new drug out on your student body, as it were, Coach.”
“Well, I understand the need for a return to the fundamentals of society. If that comes at the expense of some brain cells, well, so be it.”
“Quite right. Excellent work. I assume you’ll be having another winning season?”
“Year after year. Year after year.”
Listen Up: Swimmer
--- Originally posted on 2021-04-21 by newyoutf ---
Jon twisted back and forth under the showerhead, singing along to the music blasting from his phone on the counter.
The music lowered in volume for a second, making way for two loud dings. Jon reached out from the stream of water and fumbled with the screen in his wet hands. It was a message from Oliver, his best friend, “Hey bro, got something you should listen to.”
“Bro?” Jon wondered. Since when did Oliver say “bro”? Jon blinked, struggling to think for a moment. Oliver talked like that all the time, he was American after all... wasn’t he?
Attached to the message was an audio file. Jon figured it must have been a new song by one of the pair’s favorite pop divas, perhaps a new leaked track. Jon hit the play button, placed the phone back down, and returned to the hot water.
A harsh static buzz and what sounded like garbled speech boomed from the phone, taking Jon by surprise. The corrupted audio cleared up after a moment and a deep, male voice started.
“Welcome. This audio program is custom designed. Just for you. Ensure you are in a comfortable, private place. You will not want to be disturbed.”
“Oliver,” Jon rolled his eyes, thinking that surely something starting this ridiculous would be some sort of joke or meme. After all, Oliver had always been a dumb joker. “Wait,” Jon felt confused, he could have sworn Oliver was a quiet, twinky lad like himself?
Jon realized couldn’t form a solid impression of his friend in his mind. They met at their university in London and became best friends, bonding over their mutual love of pop music and ogling the campus jocks. But now it was like that reality had been shattered. Those memories gave way for ones of meeting each other at the campus gym shortly after Oliver arrived from the US. Oliver was his best, hot, American friend, right? Jon’s cock twitched at the new image of his friend as he placed his face under the stream of hot water in an attempt to clear his head.
“Relax. Take a deep breath, in and out.”
Jon unwittingly followed the instructions. The frown fell from his face and his body relaxed, taking in the warmth of the water.
“You’re Oliver's best friend. Makes sense, given you’re a total alpha too.”
“Both wha- ah! Ah!”, Jon planted his hands against the wet, tiled wall as the words sent pleasure rippling through his body. He looked down feeling a strong warmth against his leg but it wasn’t the hot water. His semi-hard cock had blasted a rope of cum against his leg. “What the fuck?” Jon mumbled.
“What a coincidence that you’re both six-foot-four. It serves him well in the gym, the same way it serves you well in the water.”
Jon howled in ecstasy, spluttering and moaning, as his five-foot-nine body stretched higher. His soft cock drooled hot cum as it rapidly began to rise. His arms pushed against the wall, lengthening for better performance in the pool. He stepped backward as his head struck the showerhead and rose even higher. Hot water poured down the front of his much longer torso and legs.
“Your shoulders are so broad. Typical of you swimming jocks.”
Unable to resist the command, Jon's shoulders crunched and throbbed, thrusting out larger and bulging with muscle. “God! W- What the fuck i- is... ugh... happening?!” he roared, terrified not just by the growth gripping his body, but the incredible pleasure it wrought on him.
“Those are some long, meaty fucking arms, Jon.”
“F- fuck!” Jon roared, spraying a massive load up the back of the shower feeling his narrow arms explode with thick mounds of muscle, rippling across his biceps and triceps. The growth spread down his arms, his forearms bloating with tight, lean muscle. His wrists cracked as they thickened.
“Hands that big must be useful for pushing through the water.”
Stifled screams rumbled from Jon’s tightly clenched mouth. His hands were pressed against the back of the shower, clicking and twitching as they began to swell across the tiles. The fingers accelerated longer and longer. His palms spread monstrously broad. He flexed his hands, in total awe of their disproportionate size; perfect for pushing through the water.
The experience was like nothing Jon ever felt. A sexual eruption taking place across every cell as the words rewrote his body. “Can’t... resist... so g- good,” Jon grunted, gasping for air.
“You clearly work out for the aesthetics as well, not just the pool. Your shredded chest is proof of that.”
Jon couldn’t even attempt to fight anymore, but nor did he want to. His chest puffed and bulged, distorting the path of the water running across it. The previously non-existent pecs pushed outward from his widening chest. His cock trembled as the changes took hold in his abdomen, causing his flat stomach to erupt with tight, thick abs. Jon gripped his ass, feeling it swell into his huge hands while he erupted cum across the tiles once more.
*“That’s the spirit, Jon. You’re a *stud.”
Jon felt those words echo in his ears and rumble down his throat. Grunts and pants became deeper and deeper as his thickened and voice morphed. His head groaned as it enlarged to fit his frame. Hair began to flourish out of his cheeks and across his upper lip while the mop of medium-length hair on his head retreated, leaving a short, handsome cut in its place. He stroked his cock with one hand and clasped his face with the other feeling his jawline refine and the angles of his face sharpen. He turned to the mirror cabinet, seeing just a sliver of his improved visage. Jon gasped at the sight and immediately ejected another load of cum.
He didn’t just look like a swole swimming jock. He felt like one too. He rejoiced in his mind being filled with thoughts of the pool, weightlifting, spotting his bros at the gym, and fucking them afterward.
“Good to see the bottom half matches the top.”
Jon’s legs trembled. He clutched the slippery tiles harder to hold himself up, the pleasure reverberating through his legs almost too much to bear. Muscles spasmed in his calves, swelling with every little twitch. Muscle wasn’t all that was gracing his legs. Dark hair grew forth from the skin, coating his powerful legs in a layer of fur. Jon swore under his breath, impressed by the hair spreading up and down his legs. He thought about how he refused to shave like other swimmers, he liked the hair, and regardless his superior form needed no extra boost. His body responded to the suggestion, triggering a fine layer of hair to sprout from his forearms, between his pecs, in a trail over his abs and across the tops of his feet.
Memories of the pool, the beach, and victories across university swimming tournaments swarmed his brain. Trophies and medals materialized in the bedroom just next to where he was showering.
“Damn, it’s no surprise you outperform everyone in the water with feet that massive. And you know what they say about that, Jon.”
Every one of the toes on Jon’s size eight feet surged with pleasure. He moaned loudly as they began to push across the floor of the shower while his soles stretched to catch up. He recalled new memories of having large feet, how they propelled him to victory in the pool, and the comments people would make: “Bigfoot”, “You know what they say...”, “Where can you even buy size sixteens?”
“Sixteen?!” he repeated in his mind. The brief shock turned to anticipation as he felt his soles continue to march forward longer and wider, his toes twitching while they reshaped long and meaty. Jon growled aloud as he expelled another load, “God, yeah... so f- fucking... big.”
The jock trembled under the stream of hot water, desperate for sexual release. He looked down as the expanding feet settled into excessively large size sixteens, curling his long toes as his six-inch cock began to quiver in its desperation to grow larger as well. It felt as though it were perpetually hardening, only to then push longer and girthier instead. Jon grasped his wet cock and thrust into his grip hard and repeatedly. He relished in the sensation of the veins bulging and the shaft thickening.
*“I guess what they say really is true, isn’t *it?”
The audio toyed with him, pushing his cock just that little bit longer and pumping it ever so slightly thicker. It pulsed and twitched, gradually and slowly with every breath. His uncut, British foreskin slid further backward, as a larger, blunter head swelled outward. Jon smirked as he groaned and growled, stroking faster and faster, enthralled by the beautiful nine-inch weapon he now possessed.
“Cum.”
“Oh yeah! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Jon made three final long, hard tugs on his thick pole before roaring in delight as unspeakable ecstasy filled him. Cum rocketed upward against the water rushing from the showerhead, ejecting what remained of Jon’s old genetic material while orgasm after orgasm pounded his body.
Exhausted and dripping wet, he stepped slowly out of the tub, unsteady on his new legs and feet.
*“Remember to share this recording with your friends*.”
And with that, the playback stopped. Jon looked at himself in the mirror, still shocked, but enraptured with his new body and looks. He grabbed his phone and wiped the water from the screen, struggling to unlock it with his longer fingers. He typed out a reply to Oliver, “That shit was fucking lit mate!”
A few miles away, a sweaty Oliver was busy lifting weights, waiting for his friend to give him some indication that something had happened. He had to place the weight down slowly as his mind blurred for a moment. He saw the images and memories that he had of his friend change and shift. Gone were the images of a quiet little twink, replaced by those of a loud, masculine swimming jock. Oliver smiled cockily realizing what had just happened. Then, as if on cue, his phone vibrated with Jon’s reply. Following was a photo of a huge, semi-hard cock swinging above two gargantuan feet. Oliver felt his own cock stiffen slightly at the image.
“Hell yeah, bro! You should be selling these pics like I do,” Oliver sent in response, getting a deep chuckle out of Jon.
Both men now looked at their phones, horny and pondering who next to share the mysterious audio file with.
Table of contents
Hi I'm a long time lurker on the platform and have been reading TF stories for quite a while.
Ever since Tumblr started cracking down and seeing my favorite blogs disappearing left and right I've started archiving some of my favorite posts.
I'll be reposting some stories from my archive. There's some stories that I can not find the original post nor author for so please help me with finding them!
Stories (author unknown):
A day at the beach
Aronik
Body to brag
Civilian Casualties
Taller and Stronger
Stories (author deactivated)
3TH93USA [dumb-and-jocked]
Admirable Confidence [makingrealalphas]
A Gamer's Paradise [paradisetf]
Alpha Orders [dumb-and-jocked]
Ape boy [realhankmccoy]
Aware Wolf [realhankmccoy]
Ball Practice [time-to-transform]
Be of Service [dumb-and-jocked]
Becoming Bryce [newyoutf]
Bitten by the Country Bug [makingrealalphas]
Booty Text [dumb-and-jocked]
Branded [dumb-and-jocked]
Bro-Job [dumb-and-jocked]
Bro Switch [grandwagonranchmaker]
Chronivac Coworkers [davidrodge]
Cop Out [newyoutf]
Drawn [breedertfs]
Everything has a price [makingrealalphas]
For a better life [makingrealalphas]
Gearing Up! [ZacharyEverlust@DA]
Gnarly Tides [ZacharyEverlust@DA]
Good Game [dumb-and-jocked]
Gym Goggles [ZacharyEverlust@DA]
Here's to 28! [dumb-and-jocked]
Hotel Korea: Chapter One [dumb-and-jocked]
Hotel Korea: Chapter Two [dumb-and-jocked]
Hotel Korea: Chapter Three [dumb-and-jocked]
Hotel Korea: Chapter Four [dumb-and-jocked]
Identity Death [dumb-and-jocked]
I Was Just Being Ironic, Bro [realhankmccoy]
Josh [dumbbro]
Kenny's Uniform [makingrealalphas]
Level Up! [themuscleparadise]
Listen Up: All-American [newyoutf]
Listen Up: Swimmer [newyoutf]
Modulated [realhankmccoy]
Protocol 69 [dumb-and-jocked]
Purgatory [realhankmccoy]
Red Wave [dumb-and-jocked]
Set Free [breedertfs]
Swapsidite stone [dumb-and-jocked]
Swimming Confidence [ZacharyEverlust]
The Bald Bug [dumb-and-jocked]
The Driver: Richard [dumbmusclejockboi]
The New Frat Part 1 [newyoutf]
The New Frat Part 2 [newyoutf]
The Pence Protocol [realhankmccoy]
The Trump Trail [realhankmccoy]
The Interviews [dumb-and-jocked]
Totally Normal [dumb-and-jocked]
White Hat [grandwagonranchmaker]
Unseen Self [brounderconstruction]
Untitled 1 [realhankmccoy]
Untitled 2 [realhankmccoy]
Story index:
TheBurdenBorne
Breedertfs/Hogtfs/Shapedbydesire
If you are the writer of any of these stories and you want them deleted please let me know.
Reposted with explicit permission:
Barbarian Dungeon [cinaedefuri]
Removed on request of author:
Ancestral roots [@king-craftsman]
Briefs make a jock [@king-craftsman]
Cody Christian [@king-craftsman]
New Cologne [@king-craftsman]
Officer Davies [@king-craftsman]
Strange Oil [@king-craftsman]
Nanites [@cinaedefuri2]
Original creations:
The Rings: Jake [me]
Fighters Paradise [me]
Geared Up [me]
Do you have what it takes? [me]
Massive & Mindless [me]
Purgatory
--- Original author: realhankmccoy ---
Q: Bro, you were so smart, bro. Why’d you have to go throw it away like that?
A: Because I had to, man. I guess I just felt like it was something I had to do. Haven’t you ever gotten the feeling that you just had to do something? I’m really glad that I did choose this, too. Love working out.
Q: You had a great future ahead of you, though. Graduate studies at King’s College, a future in the National Health Service, all sorts of prospective opportunities with biotechnology companies, in research, or in higher education. Look at you now, and look at your priorities now. I don’t even recognise you, bro. The studious, bright young scholar you were has been replaced by some sort of aspiring muscle jock. How far are you going to take it with this? You’re not going to seriously keep working out, are you? Are you really planning on getting even bigger?
A: It’s true, man, haha, I am not the same wimp anymore. Not at all. I’m maybe at the halfway mark, the way I see it, in becoming the sort of bro I want to be. A lot has changed for me. Yeah, that guy I was, he was smart and all, but I wasn’t happy. I feel like he’s starting to cease to exist. He’s maybe halfway out the door at this point. I’ve been watching a lot of rugby lately. Been watching Manchester United. Kinda want to try Australian footy someday.
Q: No way, bro. But kinda beside the point, now you’ve got me curious about any potential fetishes of yours. How do you feel about ‘man chest hair’, since we’re on the subject? You want to get united with that?
A: Haha, clever, man. Wordplay or whatever. Yeah, chest hair is fucking hot to me. I swear it’s even hotter lately. Always grabs my attention, but that’s what it’s biologically supposed to do, strictly speaking. Not that I really care about the science of it all as much right now, haha. Just love the way it looks.
A: Maybe you should just stop where you are right now, bro. Ok, yeah, I agree that maybe the guy you were before was kind of overly bookish, but you have to admit that right where you are right now, sort of right in between two worlds, probably strikes the perfect balance. You’ve got a tight jock bod and yet are still capable of being conscientious and having an intelligent conversation. Why ruin that?
A: Am I at a nicely balanced level, ha? I don’t know man. I sure feel kind of stupid. In a way it’s like my mind doesn’t run away all the time like it used to. I feel more of a greater sense of calm. I suppose you’re right, though. So, to answer your question, yes, I am going to take it further.
Q: What’s it like to not even be away from the classroom so much?
A: It’s strange, to have not not studied very hard at all in so long, already. I’m not sure I could ever pick up where I left off. I mean, I used to be able to do the Schrödinger equation and the wave equation. I don’t think I could right now. Even the word ‘equation’ seems kinda funny to me right now, to be honest. Haha. I doubt Stephen Hawking would be very proud of me for that.
Q: Bro, but what about the major good your science and math background could do for humanity? It’s not too late. Lots of people take a gap year. You could just make this your gap year and start focusing on again.
A: I guess, but when you’re in these highly competitive fields, it’s not so simple as writing it all off as a gap year, really. Also, why would I want to give this up? Everyone’s treating me way better, mostly. Even the ones who are jealous to see that I’m becoming something they wouldn’t ever have the work ethic to ever become make me feel good about myself, in a way. Haha. A lot of them just want to play the victim.
Q: What do you mean by that? Bro, do you want to end up stupid or something?
A: Might not be so bad. Dude, my back’s sweaty, because it’s hot in here, haha. My pits are kinda sweaty, too. I need a bottled water. I swear I can already feel all the muscle swelling up from that last pump. I know it takes a few days, but it’s still a good feeling, that post-working endorphin high.
Q: See bro, you never would have talked like that before. You’d have been going on about how fascinating fenestrated capillaries are and how they contrast with much-wider sinusoidal capillaries, going on about basal laminae, getting technical… what are you doing to yourself, really? You wouldn’t have even drank bottled water before. You’d have been saying a refillable glass is healthier for the planet, or something that’s all socially conscientious, bro.
A: Yeah, haha, that’s pretty funny. Use it or lose it, they say, which is why I intend to keep working out and upping my workouts. I love these gains, bro. So maybe I do want to end up stupid, haha. I gotta say, it’s true that I used to hate on gym bunny types, but now that I’ve sort of become one myself, I totally get it. You don’t really know it until you try it. Feels so good, bro. I really could care less if folks want to call me stupid. It’s not like I really have time to read anymore, and most people don’t at all. So it’s no big deal if you don’t, really.
Q: What do you mean you don’t really have time?
A: Who has time to read? It’s a serious question. There’s work to be done, man. Plus I’m at the gym a lot. Ok, haha, I’m not that stupid, at least not yet, so I’m just kinda fucking with you, bro. I know reading’s a good thing.
Q: Most people think it’s a good thing, bro.
A: Yeah, but to be totally honest, I really haven’t in a while now. I picked up the Canturbury Tales on a bus ride. Thought I’d revisit it, and really didn’t want to bother with my technical textbooks, you know. Just some weekend ready. The Wife of Bath’s tale has always been my favorite. Raunchy stuff. But really, I stopped about a quarter through as I was getting sick of it. A lot of that’s just that I’ve read it before, anyway. Plus it’s hard to see how relevant Middle English is right now, especially with Brexit going on and all.
Q: With Brexit and all? How do you feel about Brexit?
A: Yeah, I don’t know, I see myself as more outside of politics now. It’s just not my thing, man. I honestly am getting kind of sick of seeing anything political in art, in the schools, in the workforce, in movies, even in porn, in everything. Jordan Peterson is right that it definitely doesn’t belong in universities. Those are supposed to be about learning facts, not about indoctrination. And you have to admit, we’ve got a lot to focus on right now other than just college.
Q: Seriously?
A: Yes, seriously! Look at what the Americans are doing. We could learn a lot from them. In a lot of ways I think it was, in retrospect, actually kind of a mistake to isolate ourselves from the USA. Even places like India would probably be better off if they still had colonial rule, and I know that’s not politically correct. But markets are important, even to scientists, who need to get their supplies from like, China. It’s a global economy now. I’m just not as much of a bleeding heart as I used to be, I guess. I think it’s important to stay prepared and to make sure businesses want to have their headquarters in the UK, right? We can all agree that that’s a good thing. And the facts are that it’s harder to do that with a high corporate tax rate.
Q: Bro, you used to say discussing politics was for those who didn’t want to focus on work. And now you’re one of those guys you probably would have caalled stupid. It’s really something to witness. You really seem to think you know it all now, or that you maybe even talk like you think you’re better than others or something. I can hear it in your voice, basically.
A: Well, hey bro, like the left doesn’t think they’re better than others? They’re the masters of that. They’re the ones trying to manipulate and cancel everything. I don’t believe in either party really. Labour controls the media, so you never hear the negative sides about them. It’s important to have two balanced political poles, I think. And mostly I’m just annoyed that politics has just gotten into a lot of things it shouldn’t even be in.
Q: You already said that, bro. You really do seem stupider than before to me. You definitely seem cockier and less interested in listening. You used to say all stupid people suffer from Dunning-Kruger.
A: Dunning-Kruger, lol. More like Dumbing-Kruger.
Q: You think that’s funny? What’s so funny, bro?
A: Hey, don’t piss me off, man. Look, like I said, I don’t really care if people want to at like I’m stupid. I knew some guys would say I’m stupid just because I wanted to work out and do something better with my body than I had been. You can’t win with a lot of people.
Q: It’s not too late, bro. Have you at all considered that maybe you should purge this muscle hunk fixation from right out of your mind before it’s too late? You’re becoming somebody totally different. Or at least don’t push this muscle stud game further.
A: Why would I want to do head back in the wrong direction, bro? Look, guys are way more into me now. I got a ton of adds on Instagram. And as a guy, you’re supposed to have muscle. It’s biologically what’s attractive to others, isn’t it? I was too thin before. When I look at those guys who are total studs with their pecs and cobbled 8-pack abs, it gets me hard as fuck. Not gonna lie. I’ve always wanked to those guys. It was probably just a matter of time.
Q: Bro, but why are you so into your own body all of a sudden? Has your philosophy on gay life changed at all?
A: Haha, yeah, not gonna lie, my perspective has changed. I used to consider myself gay and all. Now I’m just a guy who happens to be into guys, I think. I don’t see any real need to advertise my sexuality. I mean, we have our rights, so that’s kind of over now. I’d rather just be the best guy I can be. So yeah, getting into my body, flexing in front of the mirror and all that, is really helping me develop a sort of confidence I never had before.
Q: Dude, that’s totally hilarious. A guy who just happens to be into other guys?
A: Yeah, I mean, isn’t sex supposed to be kinda funny, haha? It’s not hilarious, man, it’s hot. Plus I thought we were supposed to be able to choose from multiple identities these days? I’m more fun now than I ever was in bed, probably. I love getting sweaty and wrestling with a guy, having him feel these abs and flex while I feel up his biceps. I’ve gotten way more comfortable with my body. I love doing a double biceps pose and facing another guy who’s doing the same, that eye contact, that kind of intense… it’s almost like a brotherhood, man. I’ve noticed my sex sessions are getting way longer.
Q: Tell me about that.
A: Well, I don’t know, I’ve been hooking up and having fun for sure. Last guy I had over, he wanted to get all shirtless and sweaty with me on my couch. So we did. So I’m drinking a Thatchers Cider and it’s tasting really good, and I’m leaning over him, kissing him, maybe more aggressively than I usually do. I’m so randy these days, it seems. He’s just focused on my abs, feeling them up, and asking me to flex. So I flexed, first in a double biceps, then, with my arms behind my head so I could flaunt my abs and my triceps. That’s when he said that my pits were so fucking beautiful. So, I kept doing it. Then he wanted to lick them out. Said my hairy armpits looked hot and he felt lucky to be able to see them up close. I’ve never had a guy suggest that before or flatter me in that way. So I let him. He said I smell so good, man. That felt good.
Q: Aww dude. Fuck. I kinda see where you’re coming from with this all. That’s hot for sure, bro.
A: Right? It’s way more pleasurable than trying to do research on the Great Barrier reef. In a lot of ways, it’s probably even more useful than memorising rote facts, like how your nose can remember 50,000 different scents. What’s a statistic like that matter compared to actually stopping and smelling the roses sometimes?
Q: I wonder how many of those 50,000 scents are the scents of a guy’s musk, haha. Do you mean to find that out, bro? How many pits you been in?
A: Haha, yeah bro, I mean, I’ve definitely gotten sluttier and I’m not ashamed of that at all. I love learning how to kind of dominate a guy, lead him on, and I’m getting more energetic as a top. I like my face in their pits, too, it turns out.
Q: You do look a lot better, there’s no getting around that.
A: Yeah man? Fuck. I feel better for sure. You think I should go all the way?
Q: Bro, just that you say that or even suggest it is pretty hot to me. Just being real. I still think you’re in the perfect middle ground right now. But the thought of you pushing it further…. hell… in some ways I feel like you’re turning into a sort of deity. A muscle king among men. Don’t tell anyone I said that.
A: Yeah? Like some sort of muscle God? Haha. I”m fine with that for sure.
Q: Yeah bro, you’re definitely getting to be closer to… well, maybe it’s better left unsaid. I know I really shouldn’t be encouraging you.
A: That I’m becoming better than I was before? Haha. Bro, it’s ok. I already fully intend to pack on at least another ten, fifteen pounds of muscle and might go even further than that. I used to think where I’m at now was more than I’d ever want.
Q: You really have changed. It’s kinda awesome to witness.
A: You admit that this is awesome, right? You like these muscles, man?
Q: Fuck yeah I like those guns, muscle boy. Aww fuck. Flex for me.
A: Awwww, fuck yeah bro. I love this.
Q: Fuck yeah you love this, idiot.
A; Fuck, it’s so hot when you call me an idiot, man.
Q: Fuck yeah it’s hot.
A: I gotta tell you man, I really don’t give a fuck anymore. All I want to do is be the best muscle dude I can be.
Q? Yeah? You’d like that, muscle boy?
A: Yeah. To be as sexy as I want to be, get all the cock, man. I don’t care if I’m turning into a slut even.
Q: Fuck yeah you want it, slut.
A: Aww fuck. Call me that again, man.
Q: You’re a fucking slut, muscle boy. There is no going back for you. I can tell. What a shame, dumbass. You’re gonna be just another stupid muscle boy.
A: Yes. Fuck yes. I can feel it, man. There’s no choice anymore. I can’t go back to the route I was on.
Q: Then run with it, muscle boy. Be the best muscle slut you can be.
A: Exactly, man, yes, I’m going to. The guy I used to be was boring, barely living. Now I feel alive. It feels soooo good when you call me stupid.
Q: That’s because you are stupid.
A: Fuck. Yes. You know I am, man. Suck on my jock cock. I want you to. I want you on your fucking knees worshipping me as I flex and talk about how much muscle I’m gonna put on still.
Q: Suck on my cock, muscle slut. Then maybe I will.
A: Aww, fuck yeah. Ok man. Fuck. (mmmmph, mmmph). Fuck yeah! (gasp, mmmph, mmmph) Fucking delicious! All I want to do is jock up, suck dick, get fucked, fuck random guys… Fuck, man. I want it so bad, man. You’re hot, man. I think everything about man sex is so hot. (slurpppp, mmphhhs)
Q: You’re gonna get fucked tonight, muscle slut. And I’m going to tell you about how thick your pecs are gonna be, and how hot your bubble butt is, and how sexy it is that you’d do a stupid thing like jock yourself up. Every kiss I give you will make you dumber. We’re gonna snort so many poppers that we’re both going to be drooling on each other and not have any thoughts left. It’ll just be sex, bro. Sex, sex, sex. Muscle sex, man sex, biceps sex, furry leg sex, hairy crotch sex, licking necks sex, slobbery kisses sex, nipple-flicking sex, and slutty dumbfuck sex.
A: Fuuuuuuuuckk yeah… kiss me.
Q: Fuck yeah, bro. (smack, slurrrpp)
Product Placement: Free wax and hair Removal
--- Want to read more? View all stories by TheBurdenBorne ---
The hurtful words stuck in Ashley's mind all afternoon. She had overheard two of her classmates laughing about her "girl-stache." In her freshman year of college, she assumed bullying was behind her -- something that only happened to high schoolers, but she was wrong, there will always be bullies. Ashley looked in the mirror and saw the fine brown hairs on her upper lip. She had always been hairy for a girl, but couldn't understand why it was such a big deal!
A few days later, she was browsing on her computer when a pop-up add offered a "Free wax and hair removal!" She had done some research before, and apparently her computer knew that was looking for this, so she clicked on the add and read about a skin product that would remove unwanted body hair. She ordered a bottle...regretting it a little, but hoping she could sneak it past her roommate, Kailey, who was one of those "girly-girls" -- blonde, always wearing pink, with perky breasts and a bubble-gum cheery attitude. It annoyed Ashley, who had much darker tastes, but she wanted to fit in so she hid her real passions.
--
The package arrived and Ashley hid it in her backpack before Kailey would notice. When the coast was clear, she grabbed her shower bag, backpack, and towel and headed to the showers on her floor. She claimed one of the showers in the corner and read the instructions.
"Place product anywhere on body to remove unwanted hair. After a few minutes, rinse in warm water."
The chemical smelled harsh, but Ashley rubbed it on her upper lip and waited a few minutes. She felt the chemical burning her nostrils, but powered through the awful smell. She rinsed her head in the shower and decided to see if anything had changed. She walked over to the mirror, but still saw dark strands of hair. She looked closer, and it looked like the hairs had grown longer and thicker.
"Shit!" she said as she grabbed the bottle. She read the instructions again.
"WARNING: Hair may darken at first, apply a second time until hair looks natural."
"Looks natural?" Ashley thought to herself. Would it ever completely disappear? She walked back to the showers and rubbed the chemical onto her face again. This time, she added a little more and spread it out over her chin and cheeks -- she might as well take care of any unwanted hair. The chemical didn't sting as much this time. In fact, it sort of reminded her of an aftershave that her dad used to wear.
She hopped into the shower and rinsed off the chemical. The suds drained down her body, and she felt a burning sensation in her groin.
"Fuck," she said. She hoped that the chemical would give her a rash. She started rubbing her crotch and felt her breasts becoming sensitive and raw. She dried off and wrapped the towel around her body to look in the mirror again. Thankfully, no other girls were using the shower.
When she looked in the mirror, her jaw dropped. Her mustache had thickened again, and this time there was stubble on her chin and sideburns. She felt her breasts burning and saw that her chest was flatter. Some girls were laughing in the hallway, so Ashley quickly dodged into one of the shower stalls again. She set down the towel and saw that her body was transforming. She was losing body fat and gaining muscle. Her breasts became tight pecs, her waist narrowed and her abs became chiseled. She could feel her shoulders broadening. She felt her crotch throbbing and saw that she had a small dick and two testes. When she touched them, blood rushed and filled her new cock until it was erect.
"Maybe if I apply one more time, it will go away?!" panicked Ashley as she slathered the chemical over her transformation body and stepped into the shower. The chemical seemed to burn all over her body, tightening her skin over top new muscles and smoothing them out. She washed away the product and saw a shiny, male body emerge. She was still hairy on her arms, legs, armpits, and crotch, but her chest, back, and ass were smooth. The longer she stayed in the shower, but more comfortable she felt being a man. Her body was like a sexy popstar, and she felt confident in her new sexuality.
But how would she get out of the bathroom without anyone seeing. Guys were not supposed to use this bathroom! And what about clothes!
She wrapped the towel around her waist -- she didn't have breasts to cover up anymore anyway! She strode past the mirrors where two girls were putting on makeup. They looked up and smiled, scanning her muscular torso. She caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror -- she had a thin black beard and her hair was tousled. The two girls giggled as she walked out.
When she opened the door of her room, she was shocked to see Kailey sitting at her computer. She slammed the door behind.
"Hey Ashley," said Kailey without looking up. But she soon did a double take.
"Who the fuck?! Why are you in here!" Kailey shouted.
"Kailey, it's me -- Ashley! Something happened in the bathroom ... I can't really explain... but you have to help me!"
"Ashley ... you look ... I mean ... sexy!"
Ashley wasn't expecting this reaction, but something about being a guy made her take a risk, drop the towel, and flex a little. She was starting to feel more and more confident in this new body.
"Thanks!" Ashley's voice was lower and more manly. Kailey's hands went to her mouth in excitement. "I go by Ashton now," as soon as she said this, Ashley felt her mind go blank. She had completed her transformation.
Kailey walked over to Ashton and touched his chest. She locked the door behind him and pulled him towards the bed.
"Let's use the bottom bunk ... my roommate's not around," said Kailey before she pulled off her shirt and dropped her skirt to the floor.
They fucked for a few minutes before Ashton rolled off the bed and looked around the room for his clothes. He wasn't sure where anything was, but grabbed a pair of athletic shorts and a t-shirt. He would have to buy some new clothes. He walked across campus towards the guy's dorm. Surely, he could find something in the laundry room. He would enroll the next day, and no one would know the difference. As long as he looked like this, he could get anything he wanted.
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