Swimming Confidence

Gnarly Tides

--- Originally posted by ZacharyEverlust before 2018-08-22 ---

--- Note: Pokémon Gym Leader TF ---

We are back at the same location! Same place, same time, same method! Well slightly different one, a tweaked version of what will happen to the fellow victim from the previous story. Only this time, its from the OTHER soon to be-surfer's perspective. As such, the story starts off with his perspective. Seran, being called here by his friend, Baikoha, via text.

Dude you've gotta check this out!

I'm having a blast with Swimming! Coach wants you to tag along!

Bring your goggles along too man!

Obviously, knowing his friend, its totally odd that he would post a message like that. Baikoha didn't want to attend Sports Week much less enjoy those "swimming lessons". Not to mention he actually complained about it yesterday at his dorm...

Seran walked towards the open pool, letting his really long brown hair down as he gazed over the line of participants for this year's "Jockification Week", or so what people described. 'They turned guys and girls into jocks, full of school spirit and cocky bravado!' was apparently what some people described what happened to their friends...how farfetched, well, aside the fact that even his own friend posted that weird message back to him.

The invited-teen peered over for his friend for a few moments, unable to find him. Probably already in the pool by then, Seran assumed, scratching his growing beard down below his lip. The thin-lanky man has to be at the beach in about an hour from now, skipping out an hour's worth of sleep to originally bail with him so they could dodge sports week together, though his friend's apparent change of heart as shown in his message...it was weird, really weird.

Probably at this moment, Seran's mind wondered even more about those Jockification rumors he'd heard from the other newbies. "What if they were true?" Was the first stereotypical soon-to-be-victim thought anyone would have. He recalled the goggles he and his friend discussed yesterday, him being the lucky person that received a limited edition "Marlon & Brawly branded goggles." To his surprise, the other pair was inside the gift box that was laid in his doorstep this very morning!

To be honest, it looks awfully strange, with shiny plastic lenses and their sides being being labelled with the numbers 1-2-3-4-5. Coloured completely black with shiny orange lenses. He wanted to go and tell his friend about this too, though it'd be better just to surprise him. Right?- SPLASH!-Wow some douchebag splashed water on him---SHONE!--"WHA--?"

He sensed the sides of the goggles glowing, sending pulsating charges to the lenses as they glowed a bright orange, shining brightly as though its a conjoined process. Glowing and overwhelmings strongly on the inside of the lens, past the helpless victim's past through the corners of his brain, touching the commands and subjects that make a person-them.

"ARGH! My eyes--huh?" Like an enormous tidal wave that's about to wash over a helpless surfer, he felt like his body became paralyzed in a millisecond, as though he was no more in control. HANG TEN! Was the signal the flashed in his brain, the only thing he could focus on the inside whilst observing the pool's water dripping down from his skin--?

Brawler's Stance!

His thought shifted momentarily, the number 5 engraved on the side of the goggles faded away as this happened. His fists clenched, as his body brought itself to an iconic fighting position, one that's familiar in a game remake. With feet firmly rooted to the ground, squats strongly standing apart and fists brought close to his chest.

SOMEBODY HELP ME! He thought loudly to himself, unable to open his mouth aside forming a huge cocky-like smile that was unlike him, eye brows furrowed oddly , if anyone took notice of him, he would look like a mix of an odd statue and a young man looking for a fight. Although...he didn't fit the part of a fighter just yet, needing an appropriate body to support the current position he is in--

SPLASH!

"NOT AGAIN!" He shouted. The Second tide came in, as a swimming gave a powerful dive from the diving board. Drowning Seran's clothes and his chest from the inside even further. A Drenched white T-shirt and brown khaki shorts, with plain looking sandals. This certainly did not match the goggles he is current matching, and that is about to change as the number 4 faded away next.

PUMP IT UP!

WHOA! He watched his body rise up even higher with a dose of electrolytes, goggles converting pool water to salt water as it gave a dose full of a lifetime's worth of minerals to the body. Aging several years as his height went up with it, with even longer legs and arms, a body that's as tall as any other typical sportsman that can be seen in sight.

Bathed in an appropriate amount of UV rays from the sun, his body crusted into a perfect moderate-brownish Hawaiian tan, like its a result of time and dedication. With his body being at a prime at his early twenties, yet feeling really uncomfortable underneath the clothes he's currently wearing, like it wasn't his style, like he deserved something better--

WOW! The next thought came up, as he watched as his clothes physically re-materialize by themselves right before the goggles covering his very eyes-- RUBBER! Starting with the feet, as the base of the sandals dyed themselves a strong orange, and black rubber soaked itself over the top.

Escalating hugely, they grew larger than the size of his foot as they reached a decent L-size. Bottom becoming rubber like the top, with the strap too becoming part of the design and turning orange as well. Five circles appeared where the toes should be and two black rolled loops appeared at his ankles, though the whole new wet-shoes get-up barely fit him.

The same treatment can be said about the rest of the attire as it went up, clothes now barely fitting and staying on him due to the L-size of the clothes, only thanks to the tight-fitting quality of wet-attire were why they were able to still stick onto his thin bod.

With Khaki shorts morphing themselves blue with waterproof threads as they wrap loosely around his waist, sky blue boarder shorts only on due to the current "stance" he's made into. A plain generic T-shirt gaining originality as they rediscovered cool typical sports patterns sufficing from his chest and trailing from on shoulder to another.

Those patterns turned a familiar pure orange as the rest of the shirt turned into a sporty black. Bringing out a cool and manly side out of the wearer. The sportier shirt hugged tightly to his skin as they turned into a waterproof-skin tight fabric, seemingly rubberized. A loop suffices around the top of his shirt, below his neck and similar to the ones of his wet-shoes.

With that being said, the last changes formed at his fists as the surfer influence touched his hands. Black covering his fists as they turned into orange at the top, with the same loop down at his wrists. Forming Brawler-like slash Surfer wet gloves for those who enjoy diving into the ocean from time to time, and with the current status of his body, it seemed as they just enjoyed anything water sports related, especially surfing--

SPLASH!!!!

"DUDE! THIS IS NOT COOL BRAH---?!" The man complained, vocabulary "Oh man! I haven't even bulked up yet---!" He realized that, with it being the next stage as the number 3 faded too.

IT'S WORKOUT TIME!

His brain thought, feeling his fists clenching even harder as veins bulge toughly from his arms. Watching them firm up as they do their years of training hard, growing to a sizable size as those knuckles nicely fit the gloves like a proud brawler.

The power and energy moved up to his shoulders, expanding them wide and steady as a result of surfing for over a decade, body posture and balance maintaining his strong figure. With a hefty lean-muscular chest supporting his front with tanned pecs and chiseled abs showing his status as a gym instructor, and a gym leader.

Legs tanking out, with calves steadying and fitting the boarder shorts like he liked it. Butt rounding and firming up, jutting out simultaneously with his feet as they filled in their entire wet-shoes. His attire completely suiting his powerful physique, like he deserved it.

"Man! This is great and all!" The soon to be hundred percent Surfer man spoke. "This like totally caused a storm of astonishment to my system! Oh man! But like..."

SPLASHHHH!

"HAHA! Wow! Again with the waves dude!" With water entering his system, cleansing his throat and tonsils, refilling the surfer lingo that he ever most desires with an attractive, chill and a totally radical voice that didn't cared much about intelligence." Gnarly Voice man...AWESOME!"

HANG TEN DUDE!

"Wicked!" An overwhelming surge of confidence and resolve shone in his face. Teeth as white and strong as a Sharpedo's, a smile evolved to a fearless confident grin. Angular Jaw being a sticker to the personality that crashes tides and oceans with his surfboard.

"I LOVE this dude! Can't get enough of it!" Hair spiking at the back, maintaining themselves like an in-bred style that suits him. Blasted away with Sky Blue like his boarder shorts, totally radical as they held spiked in place, bangs free. Facial features chilling with the breeze blowing against his forehead, ears wide open, nostrils filled with the scent of the sea, black sharp eyebrows boldly representing his self-assurance, his power, and his passion for what he does.

"And it just gets better and BETTER!"

"SPLASHHHHHHHHHH!"

"WHOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" Fully lost in the Ocean, the new man awoke. With the number 5 completely fading away, he understood the hang ten quality within him and embraced the tide. With outstretched arms voluntarily breaking past any gnarly paralysis, and a body standing tall and firm as water poured down on him.

His goggles glowed and allowing the sun rays reflecting of the pool's surface to bask him with all the thoughts that he needed. Goggles taking on their true form as they tinted themselves as pure orange shades, with black sides supporting his coolness.

"Yo! Brawly! Sup!" Marlon raised his hand. HI-FIVE "Hey Man! Totally drenched me over here! Haha!" He laughed.

Lifting up the shades, revealing two piercing light blue eyes that shredded killer waves. He understood who he is, and how couldn't he? Being the Former Gym Leader of Dewford City's Gym, churned in the rough waves while pumping in the gym and toughening up in a pitch-black cave.

Now the Captain of The University's Water Sports Group, and yet another carefree Surfer Jock who loves nothing more than being in the water, Brawly takes his stance.

With his buddy Marlon by his side, being the fierce competitors and the greatest of friends back when they met in orientation. Rooming up like the bros they are, and having being given their own special goggles together by the higher-ups as a reward for being one of the best pairs in their category. The Ocean. Though his was definitely cooler since it could transform back and forth between his trusty shades and goggles with a button at the back. How awesome is that?

With their knowledge of the ocean, surfing as well as a healthy match of Pokemon battles and tons of working out. With Marlon and Brawly taking the lead in The school's Swimming/Water Polo and Dynamic Surfers Teams respectively, The Captains of the University's Water Sports Group were unstoppable together.

"Dude! Race you to the top of the diving board." Marlon swam. "Oh yeah? Well I'm gonna wipe you down man!" Brawly jumped in and swam right after him.

The two of them made their way to the diving board.

"Hey Man! Watch this--I'm gonna make--!"

"A Bigger Splash Than The Sea!"

SPLASH!

"Dude, that's nothing. Don't forget, I'm--!"

"A Big Wave In Fighting!"

SPLASH!

Cocky And Proud, By Accident

Greg's roommate Chris had just begun his 10 month stay in Japan as a part of a student exchange program. In the beginning Greg thought that maybe, just maybe, he would have their 2 bed dorm all to himself. Then he realized he would probably be living with a student from Japan. After all, Chris was taking part in a student exchange program.

But he didn't expect what actually happened. He was assigned a new roommate, who turned out to be Heath Richards, a jock from the football team. When Greg was informed of the administration's decision he just sighed. This was going to be a hard year.

From the moment Heath first entered Greg's room it was clear his new roommate was a textbook example of a college football bro. He was loud - screaming while watching TV, belching and burping, laughing with that dumb jock chuckle. His clothes were everywhere and he refused to pick them up no matter how often Greg would remind him. This also meant that his sweaty smell quickly filled the whole room and removing this stench seemed impossible.

Greg was stuck with a dumb football jock for a roommate and he hated every minute of it. But there was nothing he could do as there was no process to appeal the decision that put Heath in his room. He also didn't have the money to move out and rent a studio off campus. So he was stuck with Heath. And that musky, sweaty smell.

One day Greg woke up and while still groggy and half-asleep, he started looking for clothes to wear. He opened his drawer and took out the pair of boxer briefs from the top of the pile and put it on. He then moved to their small kitchen area to prepare himself some breakfast. As he mixed the oatmeal he felt as if Heath's smell was more noticeable than usual.

"broooooooo" He suddenly heard the jock's voice behind him "why you wearin' my Under Armour boxers dude?"

"What?" Greg looked down and he gasped as he realized that the underwear he was wearing was not his usual kind, but Heath's black Under Armour boxer briefs.

"Fuck, how the hell did these get into my drawer, dude?"

"dunno brah, just calm down bro" Heath just shrugged "ya can wear them dude if ya want, i don't care, i have like 20 more after signing that sweet deal" Greg was about to scream at the guy, demanding he finally take care of his clothes when a thought entered his mind. You enjoy wearing Under Armour. It was a foreign thought, almost as if someone else had planted it in Greg's mind. But it stayed there, and though he was still angry at Heath, the need to take off the boxers just disappeared.

"Ugh" he just groaned "you jocks are all the same" he muttered under his breath and finished making his oatmeal, which he then took back to his desk. He sat down and started eating. You enjoy the smell of sweat, especially after a workout. The feeling of disgust at Heath's stench disappeared instantly, replaced by a slight enjoyment of the salty smell.

Greg quickly ate his breakfast, then got ready for the day. He put on a pair of shorts, a t-shirt and a hoodie, his ass still covered by Heath's UA boxer briefs. He saw the jock sitting on the couch on the other side of the room, wearing only a jockstrap, with his legs spread wide apart, looking at something on his phone. Greg rolled his eyes as he took his bag in his hand and walked up to the door.

"I hope I won't find any more of your clothes in my drawer, Heath" he barked at his roommate as he opened the door.

"yeah, yeah, calm down bruh" Heath drawled in response, then scratched his bulge. Greg sighed and left the room, ready to get through all the classes he had to attend today.

Greg was sitting on his third lecture of the day, still not the last, taking notes diligently. The professor went on and on, his charisma barely perceptible and he seemed to be the only person in the room who was still following what the older man was saying. Then, as the prof was looking at the computer, trying to change his presentations, a thought was implanted into Greg's mind. You have an IQ of 80 and don't care about academics.

He stopped taking notes and looked around. Fuck, how much longer was this lecture going to take? Greg shifted around in his seat, spreading his legs wider apart. The old dude leading the class resumed talking but he didn't really get what he was saying. It all sounded so boring.

An hour later, Greg was finally free of that old dude's ramblings. He looked at his phone and realized he still had one class left. Huhuh, nope, he was not going to suffer, not for one minute longer. And so he left the rest of his group and started walking towards the dorms. His brain needed time to relax after this mind numbing experience.

When he entered his dorm room, Heath was sitting on the couch, watching game tape on his laptop. Wait, how did he know it was game tape?

"ey dude, yer early bro" Heath commented, his eyes focused on the screen.

"Yeah..." Greg nodded, but then he didn't know what to say, he didn't have the words. You speak like a dumb jock.

"dude, lectures were so fuckin' boring bro, huhuhuh" Greg let out a dumb chuckle as he approached Heath and then sat down on the couch.

"duh bro, never got why ya bothered with all that academic bullshit bro, i see yer finally seeing how dumb all that shit is" Heath paused the video on his laptop and looked at Greg. "the only reason to stay in school is fuckin sports dude, ain't no other way to get to the NFL bro" He then furrowed his brow as he looked into Greg's eyes "you play ball dude?"

Greg was surprised by the question and as his brain was processing it, another thought appeared. You are a cornerback playing for the Atlanta Golden Eagles.

"yeah bruh huhuhuhuh, am a damn cornerback" Greg let out another dumb chuckle and Heath looked at him, suddenly very confused.

"shit, i gotta get ya to coach" He put the laptop away and stood up "follow me bruh"

Coach was not thrilled when he learned what happened to Greg. When Heath brought him to his office it took a while to get the necessary context out of the dumb jock, but eventually Coach was able to understand what had occured.

His supplements which turn all his players into strong and cocky football jocks had a weird quirk - it spread through his body and entered the jock's cum. And because Heath was one nasty jock, he got off into his boxers and didn't even wash them. so when Greg put on Heath's used boxers, some of the supplement got into his system and the his transformation began.

Coach was not thrilled, but he quickly , but he quickly decided to use this whole mishap to his advantage. He activated his connections, did some work himself and got himself a new player - cornerback Greg Geralt Evans. A few rounds of Coach's supplement and Geralt would be just as muscular as his best bro Heath, ready to get on the gridiron destroy any opposing team.

And Chris would have to find himself a new place to live after coming back form Japan.

Originally posted on 2019-09-03 by dumb-and-jocked

What a Johnson’s Made Of

Taylor was ecstatic.

Everything had gone right for him today. He had graduated with flying colors, he had just received special honors that lead to an incredible scholarship, and his longtime crush had just asked him out. Sure, the first two were amazing, but the fact that one of the hottest girls in the school had asked him on a date was the cherry on top. Taylor wasn’t that bad looking himself, being tall, slightly muscular, and having stark, black hair. His nerdy personality and short temper were usually what drove people away.

Taylor walked back slowly to his house, the evening sun setting behind him.The river was gleaming as he strode confidently down the path. Graduation had been that morning, and he had partied with friends throughout the day. Now, it almost being dinner time, he was heading back to the lavish mansion his family owned. As he strolled, he noticed a large new development being built. He gazed on, looking at the many construction workers. He scoffed in disgust - why couldn’t any of them get real jobs. He was on the route to be a neurosurgeon, worlds apart from what these dimwits had to offer. As he passed by, one of the construction workers noticed his staring and called out to him.

“Like what you see?” he shouted, flexing his arms to show off his furry pits.

Taylor quickly placed a hand to his mouth, holding back vomit. He gulped it down and then lashed out.

“Shut up you dirty fag! You really think someone of my life would lower to your animalistic standards!”

“Woah, bro,” the construction worker replied back, “I was just aski-”

“Asking what? If I’d suck your worthless dick?” Taylor shouted, furious.

“Alright, that’s it.” The worker jumped down from the platform he was standing on and quickly walked over to the student. Before Taylor could even move, he felt a large paw start dragging him into the fight.

“Hey! You can’t do this! THIS IS ILLEGAL!” Taylor tried to get out, but the worker was too strong.

“Shut it, bro!” The worker responded back roughly, dragging him to what seemed to be the middle of the sight. Taylor began to notice a weird funk surrounding him, realizing he was taking in the scent of his captor. He coughed, showing that he was obviously irritated. The worker, being dumb but not oblivous, grabbed the kid and gave him a noogie, shoving a pit in Taylor’s face. Taylor tried to escape, being covered in pit sweat and dark hairs.

Once the worker had taken him out, they stood in the middle of the development. There, in front of the worker and Taylor, stood a very muscular male. He looked to be in his late forties, with a rugged beard and dad gut. He definitely worked a very physical job, his body showing meaty strength and wearing age. He was reading the blueprints of what seemed to be the house being built around them.

“Boss?” The worker said, grabbing his attention.

“Harvey?” The boss replied, his voice stern and rough.

“This kid was causing trouble outside, I think you oughta be the one to deal with him.” The boss thought about this for a moment before creating a miniature smirk underneath his furry mustache.

“Thank you, Harvey, you can get back to work now.” Harvey pushed Taylor over to the boss before walking away. The boss pointed to the trailer beside the construction and walked towards it. Taylor wanted to run, but all he could do was follow. He couldn’t believe how much trouble he had gotten himself into. He knees shook as he opened the door to the trailer and closed it, sitting down at the desk where the boss had his boots up on the table. Taylor sat there quietly, waiting for the boss to say something. He couldn’t really see the boss - his rather large boots blocking the view - but Taylor could feel the immense power seeping out of the man before him.

“Luke Johnson,” the boss said, not extending a hand, “I am the manager of this development.”

“Taylor Stenson,” Taylor replied timidly.

“Well, Taylor, it seems yer creatin’ some kinda commotion, is that correct?”

“I wasn’t do-!”

“Is that correct?”

“Yes, sir.” Taylor didn’t know what he added that, it just felt appropriate.

“Then, let’s getta the point,” Luke responded, taking his boots off the desk and placing his feet under the table, “I don’t have time to deal with you, and you don’t have time to deal with me.”

Taylor sighed in relief, maybe all blue collar workers weren’t dumb jocks after all.

“Let’s make it so that you never existed, is that alright?”

“Yes!” Taylor said in glee. He couldn’t believe it was going to be this easy.

“Alright,” Luke said, standing up and extending his hand, “it’s a deal.”

“It’s a deal,” Taylor said, shaking it.

As soon as the shake was over, Luke grabbed Taylor’s arm and pulled him over the desk. Taylor screamed in fright before his face was slammed into a giant boot. Taylor held his breath for quite a while, but eventually gave in. He unintentionally took a deep breath, the musk invading his brain. The powerful scent of pure masculinity overrode his head, giving his a massive headache. Taking the boot with him, Luke slowly lifted Taylor back over the desk and into the chair. Luke sat on the desk in front of him, lowering the boot from his face.

“There, that’s a good boy,” Luke said, “Daddy’s got you.”

Luke put the first boot on the ground before removing the other and putting it next to its twin. The way he said “daddy” bounced around in Taylor’s head.

“Why… are…” Taylor tried to speak, but his head ached tremendously. The foot funk was still lingering deep within his mind.

“Shh… don’t worry. Daddy’s got you.”

With Taylor still in his haze, Luke swiftly removed his tight polo and khaki pants. Both items of clothing had been truly showing off what lay beneath, as Taylor now realized that a true male adonis stood before him. Luke was covered head-to-toe in muscles with defined abs, powerful pecs, and gigantic thighs among many things. As Luke sat back down, Taylor became even more scared at seeing the python begging for release underneath Luke’s yellowed jockstrap.

“You agreed to this,” Luke said, his deep voice soft and sensitive, “I’m going to make it so that you never existed. So instead of being a Stenson, yer gonna be a Johnson.”

“But… I don-”

“You don’t have to understand, because Daddy’s here for ya.” Before Taylor could jump in again, Luke stood up from the desk and turned around. Luke’s large, muscular bubble butt pushed its way back, lining up the crack right along the center of Taylor’s face. Taylor, being so mentally disorganized, couldn’t argue as he heard a small rumble build up from within in the meaty buttocks. Seconds later, Luke let rip a massive fart right into the teen’s face. Taylor tried to get air, but the only thing available was the gas.

As Taylor inhaled the putrid scent of a blue collar behind, he didn’t realize that his body was slowly changing. As he timidly sniffed away, his structure began to alter itself to the new reality it was to abide to.

First, his torso began to bulk up. Taylor had participated lightly in the gym and some sports, but now he was truly showcasing something drool worthy. Years of exterior work began to grow on him as hard pecs and abs formulated. Meat filled in the loose cracks as body fat shrunk away. A deep tan spread across his broadening shoulders and the unkempt hair upon his chest fell away. His belly button shrunk in as his nipples enlarged, becoming ever so sensitive to even the touch of a safety vest.

Even though his chest had developed quite noticeably, Taylor was still being bombarded by Luke’s crack to notice anything. He also didn’t recognize his memories beginning to alter, rearranging themselves to become more appropriate to the better reality. Images of being placed in advanced and enriched classes began to evaporate as they were replaced with a regular level education. Special honors and scholarships disappeared as he remembered passing with straight B’s.

Luke slowly unbuttoned Taylor shirt before ripping it off, proud to see the promising chest that was displayed beneath. Luke slowly backed away from Taylor, making sure that every last hair on his butt would caress Taylor’s face. Taylor blinked, still befuddled, but before he could fully regain consciousness he saw a giant foot shoved into his face. Not thinking straight, he began to sniff the foot and - to Taylor’s and Luke’s surprise - lick it. He was fairly timid, but Luke didn’t expect him to be such a quick learner. As Taylor sniffed away at the massive foot in front of him, he hadn’t realized how nasty the sock was. Luke hadn’t washed them in over a week, making them into a somewhat second skin. Taylor should have been far away from the feet, but he was too confused to care.

Next, Taylor’s legs began to reshape. Days of running became weeks, months, even years as muscle was poured into his calves and quads. Thighs thickened, pushing the seams of the skinny jeans as years of truly masculine sports flooded his brain. Hard meat popped out as his dark hairs took on a lighter hue. His quads expanded to the size of melons while his legs lengthened, stretching him to a dominant 6’3, but still shorter than Luke’s 6’4.

Taylor’s memories also shifted, becoming more suitable to his closer future. Study sessions with friends quickly became practices with bros. Thoughts of easy tests transitioned into hard, brain-wracking hours were sometimes Taylor wouldn’t even finish. Times at home now became times in the locker room, where he had learned to appreciate his fellow brothers instead of his family.

Luke, believing Taylor was done, removed his sweaty, sticky foot and leaned over from the desk.

“Get up, buddy,” Luke said, with the words “buddy” and “daddy” dancing in Taylor’s head, “I gotta get yer pants.”

Taylor obliged, not really understanding why as his jeans were pulled down. He hadn’t even noticed Luke had stripped him of his shoes and socks. Luke sat back down and ripped off his old socks too, leaving the pair in only their underwear.

“Alright, you can sit back down,” Luke said, and Taylor followed, “time for you to clean Daddy’s pits.”

Luke got up and sat on the edge of Taylor’s almost naked lap. The powerful alpha was barely held up by the aspiring student, but neither of them cared. Luke then took Taylor’s head and guided it towards a dark, furry armpit, letting him sniff away. The scent was just as powerful as the first two, but this one had a lot more hair. The soft fur coated Taylor face with sweat, making him even more lightheaded.

Following were Taylor’s arms, which inflated with each eager sniff. Biceps and triceps began to appear as powerful tendons emerged. Beef and brawn were packed on to the appendages as all dark hairs began to disappear to a lighter coat. Wrists inflated as Taylor’s hands became much larger, filled with meat. He now had the paws of a man, instead of the hands of a nerd. The once skinny arms now looked to be more like those of a gym rat. His armpits also lost most of their hair, now creating wispy, but much more potent, bushes.

Taylor coughed, the scent from the pit being so immense. He couldn’t comprehend the life that he had once planned out for himself. The plans of becoming a doctor, inheriting his parents fortunes, creating a stable foundation all fell out from beneath his feet. As the year of sports and passing C’s filled his head, he remember the new scholarships. Paths for the future were now made from pigskin and spandex rather than paper. Taylor didn’t have a promising future in academics, but he definitely did in sports.

Luke slowly pulled back, noticing Taylor leaning forward while the pit moved away. Luke smiled and got back up. Taylor moaned in disorientation as Luke slowly pulled of his jock. As he did, a huge cock flopped out, the biggest that Taylor had ever seen. It was a thick as a can and it was incredibly long, standing at a proud 10 inches The balls were just as impressive, both the size of tennis balls and covered in an animal-like fur. They definitely produced a hefty amount of man-milk.

While Taylor admired Luke’s package, he carefully placed his grimy jockstrap over Taylor’s face, lining up the pouch with his nose and mouth. Once he had secured it, he sat back down on the desk and place his feet on Taylor’s crotch, slowly bringing him to full mast. He wasn’t going to let him blow just yet, he had to edge Taylor first.

Fourth was Taylor’s feet, which were rapidly changing as he sniffed and licked away at the vulgar jockstrap. His once pristine Size 9 feet began to bloat, his naked toes pushing out against the cheap trailer carpet. The once lean feet became meaty as years of running and stomping replaced those of strolling and dance. Light hairs appeared as the toenails became rigid and dirty, looking more like those of a construction worker than those of a rich boy. Once the feet reached a promising Size 15, they began to emit their own obnoxious funk, one that would never be washed away.

Taylor didn’t realize it, but he was slightly enjoying the disgusting pouch in his face. He also didn’t realize that his heterosexuality was slipping away. Many girlfriends became many boyfriends, topping men rather than women. A strong love for penis replaced that of boobs, while the thought of being in the strong arms of a man aroused him more than being those arms for a woman. His bros were no longer just bros, as countless pictures of brojobs and “lending a hand” replaced conquering a fair share of women. Homosexuality slowly took the front seat as heterosexuality left, never to return again.

“You’ve been really good so far, son,” Luke said, the word “son” joining with the others. Like got up and removed the jockstrap, “I think it’s time that Daddy gave you a treat.”

Taylor looked up adoringly at the sexy alpha in front of him, not knowing what to expect. Luke grabbed his dick and - after grunting a bit - let loose a hot, steamy stream of yellow piss. It his Taylor right in the face.

“Drink up!” Luke said, aiming right for the mouth, “It’s gonna be part of yer diet.”

Taylor instantly obeyed, trying to get every drop into his mouth.

As the piss flooded his throat and stomach, his head and neck began to adapt. A sharp collar bone pushed its way out as his neck thickened, giving him access to a widening, deepening Adam’s apple. As his register lowered into that of a base, his face began to shift as well, becoming a younger version of Luke’s. Taylor’s face became squarer as his hair shortened, lightening into the proper sandy blond. His lips became larger as his eyes adapter a duller gray tone. His nose straightened while his skull became bigger and his brain became smaller. The A light stubble grew in, one day to hold the same beard of Luke’s size.Taylor’s chin jutted out, creating a larger jaw and a natural dumb guffaw tone to his voice.

The yellow piss flooded Taylor’s system, enveloping him in a warm aura. He couldn’t feel his intelligence being boiled away, the urine eroding away the little left inside Taylor’s head. Memories of sports scholarships passed away as C’s faded into D’s and F’s. Graduation became a joke as Taylor began to remember dropping out of high school. Time at school became time at numerous construction sites, finding the bros who really understood him. The last bits of his old family and friends melted away as the new reality began to firm.

The last drops slowly fell and soon there was nothing left from Luke’s bladder. Knowing it was time to wrap things up, he grabbed Taylor and threw him on his knees.

“Time for Daddy to show you where we get the family name - what a Johnson’s made of.”

Before Taylor could react, Luke’s colossal dick was shoved in his mouth and down his throat. Luke wasn’t a patient man, but Taylor had never sucked a dick before. He immediately sputtered and began to choke, but Luke quickly readjusted. Taylor sucked and quickly got the hang of it. Not only was he a natural, but not many professionals could even handle Luke’s size. He couldn’t say he wasn’t impressed.

The last bits of Taylor changed as the furry oranges Luke called testicles hit against Taylor’s chin. Taylor’s dick slowly began to enlarge, the once erect 6 incher beginning to stand taller. As it rose to new heights, his balls also began to change, growing from average to extra large. His butt plumped up as his cheeks filled with solid meat. Light hairs replaced the dark pubes as his cock thickened, reaching 9 inches of pure masculinity and looking almost as thick as Luke’s. He was meant to be an alpha, but just below this one man. His balls churned as he felt Luke getting close.

While Taylor became more and more skilled at the art of cocksucking, he hadn’t realized that his balls were churning with the remaining memories of his former life. He now felt a certain kinship to this man, almost as if he was his own father. The more Taylor dwelled on the subject however, the more he remembered Luke as a father figure. He had helped lead him to construction, show him it was best to be blue collar, made him realize that each bro was there to help him - or be helped by him. But Luke was more than just a father figure, he WAS his father. His earliest memories were filled with his dad. Showing him how to ride a bike, catching his first fish, helping him shave. He also showed him how fathers and sons were to always be naked with each other, how the son would deepthroat his own father when needed, how he was only allowed to act and wear what his father wanted him to.

As Luke approached the climax, Taylor’s body twitched violently. It was barely noticeable, but Taylor had just gained an extra five years to his age. His body had barely matured, his muscles were a little firmer, and his hairline slightly receded, but otherwise he still looked like the proud son of his amazing father.

Luke shouted as he violently came, semen rushing down Taylor’s throat right down into his balls. His own cum was instantly pushed out, being evicted by the superior seed of his father. Taylor ejaculated, completely ridding himself of his old life and reality. Taylor Stenson soaked into the cheap carpet, never to be seen again.

As soon as the two had gotten over their post-ejaculation high, the father and son cleaned up the trailer to get back to work.

“Crap!” Luke shouted.

“What?”

“I don’t have any extra clothes here besides these shorts.” Luke held up a pair of basketball shorts. They had definitely been used and worn many times. “You’ll have to wear these until we get to the warehouse.”

“Sounds rad, daddy,” the son said, walking over and grabbing the shorts. Luke himself was going to be rather exposed, wearing only an old pair of cargo shorts and large sneakers. The original outfit was used to clean up his son’s cum.

While the son placed the shorts over his naked body, he felt his father grind him from behind. His father’s bare chest felt so sensual against his own. The cargo shorts did nothing to hide his father’s erection.

“Can’t wait to see what ya look like in a safety vest,” Luke whispered, his beard caressing his son’s face. The two quickly made their way out of the trailer and walked two the other side of the development. As the son walked ahead, Luke could only smile: he was so incredibly proud. He couldn’t believe how perfectly he had turned out.

“Hey, son,” Luke said, causing the other man to turn around, “show me where the family name comes from.” The son smirked cockily.

“Johnson?” he asked innocently.

“Yes.”

“Well, there’s a Johnson here,” the son pointed to his left pec

“Yeah?”

“A Johnson here,” he then pointed to his right pec.

“Wow!”

“And a lot of Johnsons right here.” The son pointed at each of his abs.

“So hot!”

“And the best Johnson here!” he pulled down his shorts quickly to show his erect dick. His father applauded him before the son pulled his shorts back up and struck a confident pose.

“Wow, you’ll make a fine Johnson indeed!” His father said before the two continued.

— —

Once they made it to the warehouse, Luke quickly dressed his son up. The proper safety vest, toll belt, old jeans, giant boots, and a large hard hat to fit his giant, but empty, head. Once he was suited up, the father jumped on a crane to get back to work.

“See you at 8, son!” He shouted, “Yer gonna show me what a Johnson’s made of.”

Luke drove off, leaving the son there on his own. As soon as his father was out of sight, another construction worker came into the warehouse. He was hairy, dumb, and extremely sexy.

“Hey, I’m Harvey,” he said, he deep voice rumbling

“Travis,” the son replied.

“While ya wait for him,” Harvey started, referring to Luke, “ya wanna show me what a Johnson’s made of?”

“I’ll tell you it starts right here,” Travis said, pulling back his safety vest to show Harvey his chest. Travis knew the furst Johnsons were good, but he knew Harvery would think the last one was the best.

An Exciting Life

Jason moved to New York with the hopes of making his life more exciting. The hipster had always regretted how much time he spent alone. While his peers were out partying, Jason was always studying or quietly listening to music in his bedroom. Jason thought that all of this would change when he moved to the Big Apple.

“My life will be nothing but bars, partying and strip clubs” he always said to himself

However, after two months in his Brooklyn apartment, Jason was just as lonely as before. He didn’t have friends to party with or bros to go to strip clubs and gawk at all the scantily clad women with. He was lonely.

Jason stepped out onto the fire escape. He gazed out onto the New York skyline and sighed.

“I wish my life was more exciting. Just partying, getting laid and going to strip clubs”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Jason began to feel faint. Jason quickly entered his apartment only to faint, hitting his head on his apartment floor.

When Jason woke up, he was shocked. He opened his eyes to see that he was no longer in his apartment. No longer was he in his cozy home. He was sitting in a comfy chair with a young man sitting next to him. He was in... a club? A strip club? Jason looked around to see the bright neon lights illuminating the room. There were stripper poles dispersed throughout the club and a big stage for the strippers to suggestively dance on. There were men sitting with stacks of $1 bills in their hands patiently waiting for the hot babes to come out onto the stage.

“Hey Jason, you okay?” the man sitting next to me laughed and punched Jason’s shoulder. “You look surprised, buddy”

The man looked like every stereotypical jock. He was handsome. Muscular. And didn’t look too smart. Jason wasn’t gay but even he could see the jock was attractive.

Jason began to get excited. Was his wish granted? Was his life of banging babes and going to strip clubs about to begin? Jason felt like the luckiest person in the world.

“Dude, it’s showtime. Come on” Jason’s new friend said as he jumped up from his seat.

Jason didn’t know where the jock was going. But before Jason had time to think, the man pulled Jason up from his chair and walked off. Jason’s body began to follow the jock against his will.

“Where are we going? I’m confused”

Jason’s new friend continued to walk backstage with Jason. The two eventually reached a secluded room backstage. The jock shut the door behind them.

“Who are you?” Jason asked suspiciously.

“Jason, you know who I am” the man laughed condescendingly. “I’m your coworker. We’re best friends, remember”

New memories began to flood Jason’s mind. Memories of his coworker, Danny, filled his mind. They were best friends. They spent every living moment together. They partied. They banged babes together. They watched football together. They loved to spend time in clubs, especially strip clubs.

“Sorry Danny. I don’t know how I forgot. I’ve been having a weird day. I could never forget about you” Jason smiled at Danny.

“It’s okay, you big dummy. Now let’s do some warmups” Danny began stripping until he was left in nothing but underwear. He made eye contact with Jason. Danny was towering over him. Jason was intimidated by the sheer size of the jock.

“What’re you doing, brah? Warm up and shake that famous bubble butt of yours, bro”

SHAKE. BUBBLE BUTT. The words rang out in Jason’s mind. Almost like he was under Danny’s complete control. Danny unwillingly got on the ground. He spread his legs and began shaking his flat ass. Suddenly, a pleasurable heat began to fill Jason’s ass checks. The heat inflated his cheeks filling them with fat. His ass became big and round. The more Jason twerked the fatter and juicier his ass got. It got so big and round that his ass jiggled like two full waterballoons. Jason moaned and smiled as the pleasure of shaking his juicy melons became too much for him.

“That’s a good, boy. Now strip. Get ready to show off those big muscles”

STRIP. MUSCLES. The hot pleasure filled Jason’s body, focusing on his muscles. Especially his chest. The hot pleasure caused his skinny body to grow. He became big and muscular. His arms the size of footballs. His legs like sturdy tree trunks. His pecs becoming big and round. They became big and soft. Jason couldn’t help but rub his big muscles. It felt so good. It felt so... erotic.

“Attaboy. Show off them big muscles. Damn bro, you’re such an exhibitionist”

SHOW OFF. EXHIBITIONIST. Jason lost all rational thought. Following the commands of Danny just made Jason feel so good. He couldn’t help but just do anything his coworker told him to. Jason wanted to feel good. He wanted to show off. He wanted women to just gawk at him. Admire his godly body. Jason flexed and let out a cocky grin.



“Damn bro. I’m surprised you’re able to understand me so well. I mean, you are Mexican, right? I’m pretty sure you speak little to no English. You can only speak Spanish. Isn’t that right Miguel?”

Jason began to get worried. He had mostly been okay with the changes Danny had been making to him. Big muscles and a cocky attitude were things Jason never had. He secretly loved being huge. Jason did hate how big and juicy his ass looked. But his new big muscular body definitely made up for it.

But this was too far. Jason‘s English thoughts began to dissipate, being replaced by Spanish. His memories began to change. No longer did he remember being raised in Seattle. He remembered growing up in Mexico. He remembered being bullied for his big fat juicy ass in school.

“¿Qué? ¡Soy americana! ¡¿Que me esta pasando?!” Jason was shocked by the words that left his mouth.

“Damn, you really don’t speak any English. But you don’t need English for this job. You just need to look sexy. And you are a very sexy gay Mexican himbo, aren’t you... Miguel?” Danny grinned deviously.

GAY. MEXICAN. HIMBO. Jason... or Miguel’s appearance began to change. His hair becoming long and black. A thick luscious beard began to form. His eyes becoming dark brown. His skin darkening. Miguel’s appearance began to reflect his Mexican heritage. His entire body became Mexican. His average 5 inch white cock shot forward becoming a thick 12 inch Mexican cock. There was no trace of Miguel ever being a skinny, white hipster. He had always been a big sexy Mexican himbo.

The words GAY HIMBO rang out in Miguel’s head. Miguel’s ivy league college education began to drain out of his head. His thoughts began to turn in drool. Miguel stared blankly at Danny as his thoughts, ambition and old personality leaked out of his mouth, dribbling onto the floor. His mouth was forever stuck hanging open. His jaw so relaxed. So relaxed it would just let his drool leak right out of his mouth. His face looked so dumb. So vacant.

Miguel’s sexuality began to shift. Thoughts of cock and getting his new bouncy ass stuffed full of cum filled his mind. He loved cock. He needed cock. Miguel didn’t care about women anymore. He only wanted men to see his body. He wanted to show off his body to men. It felt so natural to show off to men. It felt so... right. Like his entire purpose in life was to show off his big bouncy ass to the horny daddies in the crowd.

“Soy un marica estupido” Jason dumbly giggled as drool dribbled from his hanging mouth.

“Alright, bud. You ready to do your job and strip?” Danny smirked.

“Sí, papi” Miguel drooled and let out a dumb vacant chuckle.

Miguel confidently strode out onto the stage and began his new life as a dumb Mexican stripper. No longer would he have to worry about being smart or even being able to form a coherent sentence. All he had to focus on was being sexy and enticing all the sexy gay men in the crowd.

Jason was now nothing more than a fat assed, dumb, Mexican stripper. But Jason got what he wanted. His life is exciting now. He is forever stuck as a dumb horny stripper dancing and gyrating his body for the men in the crowd. Jason wanted to be in a strip club and now he is forever bound to one.

That’s a good dumb himbo. Strip for daddy.



He didn't realize it that the mask that his boyfriend give him already doused with special serum.

***

"Where's the mask I used when I came here?"

"Sorry babe, I don't see it," Bryan said as he tried his best to hide his smile. The mask is in his back pocket "Here, use mine, got this from someone in the street handing out free mask," offered Bryan

"Black, totally not your color,"

"Well, that's why I give it to you,"

"Okay then. Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow for dinner?"

"Of course babe, see you,"

They kissed and then Mark walked out from the apartment, he put on the black mask and Bryan can see that his posture instantly straightened

Along his way home, Mark changed even more. His arms swole as his biceps and triceps exploded. His once soft palm turned rough, courtesy of the workout regimen he put himself through. His polo became a little bit snug as his flat pecs turned muscular, the set of abs followed through to appear and at last, a visible cum gutter that leads to his now 7.5 inches dick with hairy balls. His complexion turned slightly darker, his shaggy blond hair went jet black and cropped while his baby blue eyes also turned black.

As Bryan flopped down to his bed after cleaning the kitchen, a message appear. It's a selfie from Marco, his boyfriend

"Thanks for the mask, babe. It looks good on me,"

Bryan just snickered as he whipped his dick out from his shorts, ready to jack off to the sight of his improved boyfriend

Unknown Title 4

--- Want to read more? View all stories by TheBurdenBorne ---

Josh new that this was a dead end job, but he went any way. He had graduated from college a few years ago and bounced around in various internships, temp jobs, unemployment, driving for Uber, you name it. He knew that he wasn't going to be at this job forever, but it paid the bills. Rent was expensive. He had moved to the city with a few college buddies, but one by one, they got married, went out on their own, or moved to find work elsewhere. So, now Josh was paying for a single apartment on his own by working at a call center. Nothing glamorous, but it was not terrible pay. It was regular business hours, the calls were from people buying or renting medical equipment (wheelchairs, crutches, etc.) and customer service issues. He had been there for around six months and started to open up to people. Even so, he always felt a little out of the loop. That was until they hired Gavin. He was charismatic. Learned everyone's name the first time. Always had good suggestions for happy hours, work parties, group activities. He made life bearable. Josh found himself smiling more often whenever they worked shifts together. They didn't really have much in common, but it didn't seem to matter. Gavin was a bit of a fitness buff. Always taking about his protein diet, or his marathon training, or his college swim team. Josh like sports, but more of the watching the game at the bar and eating a bowl of nachos type of fitness. Josh had played hockey in college, but had gained a lot of weight. He was fairly tall, but the years of living with guys that loved drinking had given him a beer gut and a flabby chest. He still was strong, but good use some slimming down. He never really thought much about working out or trimming fat until he heard Gavin going on about his routine.

"You would love it, Josh" Gavin said one day. "It's very aerobic, burns fat, builds muscle. Gives you a rush of energy. You feel great. You look great!" Josh blushed insecurely. Gavin noticed. "I mean you already look great," but that made Josh blush more. "Dude, I get it. Trust me" Gavin said, touching Josh above the elbow. Josh felt awkward and nervous. He noticed Gavin's muscular arm and shoulder, and his eyes wandered down his chest and abs, which were straining against the tight button-up shirt he wore. He broke away and didn't answer. From that point on, he felt a little uncomfortable around Gavin, but still enjoyed talking to him.

It was Gavin's idea to watch a game at a local bar as a work happy hour. 8 - 10 people showed up so they broke into groups at the bar. Josh sat down next to a few girls from the office and ordered a drink. They were mainly talking about their marriages, and how Karen wasn't drinking because she was pregnant. Josh was supportive, but honestly could care less about this conversation. He found himself ordering a second beer and staring blankly at the game. Out of no where it seemed, Gavin appeared and took the empty bar stool next to Josh casually patted him on the shoulder.

"Seems pretty quiet over here," he said. Josh stared into his handsome eyes and saw how dark the stubble on his jaw looked in the light. He relaxed a little instead of recoiling at his touch. "Let me get your next drink," he said, noticing that Josh's second beer was almost gone. "Honestly, it's been pretty quiet over at the other end of the bar too," Gavin continued. "I mean, most of those guys are just talking about work. Or trying to hook up with Rachel -- there's been a lot of that too." Josh looked over and saw that Rachel was surrounded by guys, all laughing and flirting. "I just wanted to watch the game." A long pause. "Well, watch the game and talk to my best bud." He touched Josh's shoulder and this time Josh felt butterflies in his stomach. He looked over and saw that Karen and the girls were watching them and they had smiles on their faces.

"Hey, Gavin," they said playfully. "Finally coming over to the fun side of the party!"

"Well, it's been a rough month," Gavin said, still smiling, so clearly it wasn't that "rough."

"Why, did you break it off with Riley?"

"Yeah, he was being so protective ... and critical ... I'm done with guys like him!"

Josh's eyes went wide and he was trying to think through the alcohol. Gavin had never mentioned Riley to him before. At first he thought, maybe Riley is a girls name and he mean "she," but he replayed it instantly in this head and he definitely heard "he." A million questions were popping into his head. So, Gavin was gay? He didn't "sound" or "act" gay, but those are just stereotypes. Was he bi? Maybe. He was confident in him image, that's for sure. Was Riley the one that made him work out so much? Was that why Gavin was so "handsy"? Was he just a friend? Or was this all in his head. Josh had always though he was straight, like a bro, meat-head type, that wasn't a dick of a person. Was he just a nice guy or was he flirting? While all these questions ran through Josh's mind, the conversation had continued.

"No, I think I'll take some time before starting a new relationship. But, I still go out. Oh, Josh, you'd love this bar I know downtown on..."

"I'm not gay!" Josh blurted out.

"...on 6th Avenue... it's a craft brewery..." Gavin and all the girls were staring. "It's not a gay bar...Josh? Did you think..."

"Sorry..." Josh backpedaled. He was so embarrassed, but he really had been clueless about Gavin before and it just all had combined with the noise of the bar and the nearly three beers he had finished. "Sorry ... I'm not like one of those guys that's ... uh... I'm not anti-gay ... I just don't think I'm ... I mean, I'm not gay ... and I just want to say ... I mean ..."

"Dude, relax. It's fine," Gavin said kindly. Now every look he gave Josh seemed to have a double-meaning. Sensing the awkwardness, Gavin left to talk with another group of the party. The girls excused themselves to go to the bathroom. And the bartender came by.

"Need another drink after that?" He hadn't noticed before, but the barkeep had a trimmed beard and Josh followed his neck down to a trail of sexy chest hairs from his half open shirt. His skin was tan and his chest was steamy. "Eyes up here!" the bartender laughed. "Look, I'll be honest with you. I worked at a gay bar before this gig and you were just checking me out, your friend is hot for you, you are clearly hot for him, and you'd be an idiot to pretend that you aren't gay for him. Just saying. I mean look at that ass!"

Josh looked across the bar at Gavin, lingering a second too long on his tight ass.

"Caught you," said the bar keep with a smile. "You knew exactly where he was in the bar. You've been watching him all night. You've thought about him at night."

"Fuck off," Josh mumbled.

"Woah ... guess that's enough for you," said someone from behind the bar. But it wasn't the man from before. It was a balding middle-aged white guy. Josh thought he was losing his mind. Had he just hallucinated a sexy, gay barkeep. Had that sexy gay barkeep just called him out. Was he gay for Gavin? For years he had wondered, questioned, dodged the questions. "Why don't you have any girlfriends, Josh?" "Why don't you ask her out?" And he remembered his friend in high school, who flat out asked him one day after school: "Josh, are you gay?" He said no, but his freshman year of college, some seniors on the hockey team asked him again, called him a faggot, roughed him up a bit during hazing and made him man up. He hid it from his friends and roommates, but he had to be honest with himself. His internet history sure seemed gay. Those pictures of buff guys that he had put in a hidden folder. Those videos he watched one night and then jerked off in the shower. That time he was watching the U.S. Olympic Men's Gymnastics team and hid his boner under a blanket.

He looked up and saw the football game transform before his eyes. He saw the muscles flexing. Their jerseys coming off. Their naked bodies in the locker room. Two men were kissing, and he saw that it was him and Gavin. His body was chiseled and smooth, his waist slim and his junk stuffed into a speedo. Gavin kissed his chest, his arms, his neck, his mouth. He kissed back. He heard a voice coming from behind the bar. "You are gay. You've always been gay. You've looked at men, dreamed of men, now become the man you want to be. You are gay. Embrace yourself by embracing him. Gay men are strong. Gay men are beautiful. You are strong and beautiful." He saw the barkeep from before ... or at least he thought he saw him ... he couldn't be sure if this was reality or not. He was wearing a tight tank top and skimpy underwear. Josh wanted to reach out and pull him in for a kiss and a fuck. "Not here," the man said. "Bathroom." The thought of stripping down in a stall with this specimen of a man was making Josh hard. He kept hearing in his head. "It's okay. You can look. You are gay. You want to look at him. You want him. You are gay."

The bar erupted in cheers and Josh snapped out of the vision. He tried to celebrate the touchdown, but was more aware of how drunk and sick he felt. He walked through the crowds towards the bathroom. Maybe it was the alcohol, but he felt like he was floating. Like his mind and body were pulling apart. He felt himself walking towards the bathroom, but the room seemed to be spinning. He stumbled into the bathroom and it looked like it was empty. He walked over to a stall and took a piss. It felt relaxing and it seemed that the weird effects of the drink had worn off. He walked over to wash his hands, and saw the door open. He turned his head to see who it was, a completely natural thing to do, but instantly regretted it. The man he saw was shirtless and wearing a speedo. But, in a second, the hallucination was over and it was just a normal dude from the bar, fuly clothed. Josh continued to watch him in the reflection of the mirror as he walked over to one of the urinals. He heard the voice of the bartender in his head again, but this time it felt natural, almost soothing.

"You are only doing what is natural. He is an attractive gay man and so are you. You want to go over and fuck him. And he wants to fuck you." He looked into the mirror and saw his body transform. His shirt and suit pants were gone. He was wearing tight blue briefs and his chest and abs were completely smooth. His muscles started flexing and with a few short spasms, he was looking at a lean, athletic version of himself. His cock pressed against his briefs and he heard the voice saying. "You are ready. Just relax and let the transformation be completed. When I count down from 5, you are going to accept whatever happens in this bathroom. Then, you are going to go back into the bar and notice nothing different. You are a new person. 5. 4. 3. 2. 1."

As the voice faded, Josh realized that the man at the urinal was undressing and pulling him into the bathroom stall. He didn't say anything, but Josh knew what to do. He got on his knees and started kissing the mans abs and worked his way towards his shaved cock. He took the tip in his mouth and felt waves of pleasure. After a few minutes of foreplay, the man traded places with him and gave him a blowjob that felt so natural, so fulfilling, and so beautiful. Josh moaned and felt all of his insecurities fading away. He was forgetting about the years of casual mockery that he had grown up with. He had never had a girlfriend, so that made him gay. He like watching sports, but didn't really enjoy playing them competitively, which made him gay. He would stare at someone on the train, and be called a fag. He would want to wear something or do something or be something and it all made him feel out of place. Not anymore. He climaxed and sprayed cum into this stranger's mouth. He felt his body shudder and he worked his way back to his partner's cock and finished him off. But, as the man released, he felt himself gagging. Was this real? He had never done this before? This wasn't really him. No, he wasn't gay, was he! This was just the alcohol, or something. Or, maybe all those voices. He was lost in the moment and it felt like he was blacking out.

In a second, he opened his eyes and realized he was puking his guts out into the toilet. He was completely alone but could hear dance music on the other side of the wall. He spat and flushed the toilet, which was filled with booze and stomach bile. He stood up and walked into the main section of the bathroom. It was pretty crowded and all eyes turned to him. There was a muscular man wearing leather chaps relieving himself in a urinal. Two guys were fixing their hair and adjusting their tight mesh tops and brightly colored pants. Where was he? Wasn't he at a work party? Where was everyone.

He stepped out into the main hall of the bar and saw dozens of guys dancing. A few gave him "the look," and it was the first time he realized that he wasn't wearing a shirt and only had tight black jeans. But, he wasn't worried about that. He was only worried about Gavin. Where was Gavin? He was at the bar just a minute ago. Then he felt someone squeeze his ass and he jumped.

"Hey there, it's just me," said Gavin. He put his arm around Josh's shoulder and pulled him in. "Feeling better?" He looked Gavin in the eye and saw his affection. His cropped hair and stubble were sexy. His clothes revealed how toned and strong he was. He noticed that he had a fully tatted arm. Josh stood a few inches taller, so he pulled Gavin in and kissed him on the forehead. It made Gavin smile.

"Yes much, better" said Josh. He looked around at the room and realized it was clearly a gay bar. And, he was clearly here with Gavin and only Gavin. He looked over at a bartender and it felt like he recognized him from somewhere, but he couldn't quite remember. The man looked back, winked at him, and pointed his eyes onto Gavin. "You know, let's blow this place."

Gavin looked back at him and replied, "I know a place we can blow."

Josh laughed, "Such a horny bastard. I love you."

They giggled all the way to the entrance of the bar, grabbed their coats, but before they made it out of the parking lot in their car, they had stripped down and fucked in the back seat.

Later that night, Josh laid in bed and tried to remember how he had met Gavin. He couldn't quite remember, but it didn't seem to matter.

White Hat

--- Originally posted on 2018-08-20 by grandwagonranchmaker ---

You were staying with your aunt and younger cousins in Texas for the summer. So far your days consisted of running and hiding from your younger (but bigger cuz Texas) cousins to try to study for your college entry exams. Whenever one of them caught you with a book they would relentlessly bully you for trying to be smart and stay in school.

You were taking shelter in the basement one day when you noticed a door, almost invisible under layers of dust, dirt and debris. You figured this might be your golden oppourtunity to escape them. You crack open the door, coughing and wheezing on all the dust thats kicked up and inside find… a bedroom. The room was unnervingly clean and well kept as if it had been used just today. It looked like a typical Texas boy’s room with lots of jeans, belts, sports equipment and a few naughty magazines under the bed. But what you were most drawn to is the white hat laying on the bed like it had been waiting for you.

“What’s this new hat doing here?” You feel compelled to put it on and when you do you slide it around backwards. The hat seems to give a satisfying click as it slides into place and the room begins swaying gently and throwing you off balance. You stumble over to the closet feeling every footfall get heavier and harder. Your small nerdy size 7s expand, to 8s, then 9s, then 10s. They grow with each step causing you to almost fall over with your comically sized proportions. The big toes feel so much more sensitive and cover so much more floor space then youre used to. They continue sizing up to 11, 12 and finally 13 feeling like huge boats chained to your legs!

“What the fuck done happen to my feet” you blurt out. Your legs share the same fate, getting thick as tree trucks and longer to match. You barely slide your nerdy shorts off in time before your buff manly legs can destroy them. But it doesnt stop as your ass expands in your underwear and your dick explodes in size with big Texas balls to match. You’re forced to remove your underwear as well. The only thing in the closet you find is a big pair of boxers and jeans waiting for you. Desperate, you slide them on trying not to enjoy how comfortable they feel. Your big dick floating nicely in the large boxers while still making a reasonable bulge. You feel a need to complete the look and pull out a nice belt, wrapping it around your perfect waist and clicking it together sending another shock of pleasure through your body.

You notice your upper body changing next and strut over to the full body mirror with renewed confidence and excitement. You hasily tear away at your shirt revealing beautiful, full pecs with a dark Texas tan covering them. Your abs are now hard and firm with a darker, thicker treasure trail crawling up them. You eagerly flex, showing off those bulging new biceps and thick patch of musky underarm hair.

“Haha gonna need a bit of Axe bro!” You spray yourself down, inhaling the overwhelming scent. The particles seep into your head, rotting what was left of your nerdy brain. You won’t be worrying about those tests anymore, you can barely spell college. Your hair darkens and shortens, a puff coming out of the front of your hat. Your face arranges to be dumb and innocent looking with cute puppy dog eyes and a dull farmboy grin. As the last of the cloud is absorbed into you, you stomp out of your room, big bare feet slapping the ground and your bulging sweaty upperbody exposed for all to see. Its time to join your brothers for today’s chores before you go into town for some fun!

Swapsidite stone

--- Originally posted on 2019-10-17 by dumb-and-jocked. ---

ROMAN’S PERSPECTIVE

“Come on Roman, let’s get to work.”

I kicked off my small shoes and sulkingly walked into Mr. Jefferson’s house. I was still embarrassed that I had scratched his car during a neighborhood soccer game. All the other kids in the neighborhood were playing soccer with me, yet here I was, the only one who had to pay up. Just because I was the one who ran into his car and scraped my cleats across his door shouldn’t mean that I have to make it up to him all alone. I mean, how much can one twelve-year-old do anyway?

At least Mr. Jefferson was a pretty cool dude. He let me off fairly easy, saying that I just had to come over for one day and help around his house. He had moved into our neighborhood a few years ago, buying the entire rambler to himself. I’d always hear my parents talking about him, how they feared he was growing a little too old to stay a bachelor. I’d seen a few women come over to his house and stay the night, but no real signs of commitment. He seemed to be in his late 30s, maybe already in his 40s, the guy was definitely past his prime. Unkempt beard, flabby stomach, and poor choice in clothes, he wasn’t the best looking neighbor on the block. I didn’t know much about fashion, but everyone knows that the dress shirts, jeans, and flip-flops don’t go together. He even had a weird-looking necklace on, something I’d never seen before today.

No matter what I said about his body or clothing, my opinion was rather meaningless. Still waiting for puberty, my short, skinny, and hairless body wasn’t anything special. I wore a bulky football jersey and mesh shorts to make my appearance seem bigger, but I’m pretty sure it just made me look smaller.

Mr. Jefferson led me to his kitchen and showed me a stack of boxes.

“I need you to bring all of these downstairs,” he said in a deep voice, “I don’t have much for you to do today, so I hope you remember that, even though I don’t think you will.” He walked towards the living room and out of my view. What did he mean he didn’t think I’d remember this? Was he trying to make a backhanded comment or was he just being honest?

“It’s all super easy, Roman. I promise!” Mr. Jefferson shouted from the other room, dragging me out of my thoughts.

I shrugged it off and grabbed the first of the boxes. It was a little heavy, but I’d be able to manage. I walked around the house slowly, the weight causing my stride to be a little off. Once I had eventually found the staircase, I placed the box down and wiped my brow of sweat. It had become a little more than I had expected. Procrastinating the inevitable, I surveyed the area around me. I noticed Mr. Jefferson sitting in a yellow chair--he was in my view, but luckily I wasn’t in his. He held the necklace up to his face, examining it as if it was the first time he had ever seen it. I swear I saw him whisper a few words into it and saw it glow lightly, but before I could focus any more on it, he began to shift in his seat. I quickly picked up the box and, forgetting its weight, marched down the stairs.

— —

I carefully placed the last box down next to the others and ran up the stairs, my mediocre-sized feet making little noise. I walked into the main area, and, after pushing the brown hairs away from my eyes, found Mr. Jackson still sitting in his chair, smugly reading something on his phone.

“I’m done, Mr. Jackson,” I exclaimed proudly, my soft baritone ringing in the room. He slowly got up from the chair and guided me over to my next project.

Mr. Jackson and I had been pretty close these last few years. Ever since that one day I had stupidly run into his car during a soccer game, I had often come over to help with his other chores. Although he was only in his mid-thirties, the single man still had a lot to do around the house. After a while, he began to pay me for my work, persuading me to come over every summer. He even offered me a raise this year, saying that I should get some extra money before college in a few months. I probably could’ve gotten a better paying job, but my personal connection with Mr. Jackson made it hard to turn down. Luckily, it turned out to work for the best.

Ducking under a short ledge, we walked into a small closet behind the main bathroom.

“Alright, Ronan,” Mr. Jackson began, pointing to rolls of paper towels, “I need you to bring these down into the laundry room. Once you’re done with those, come and find me again; I’ll be in the same place as usual.”

Being that both Mr. Jackson and I were the same height, he didn’t have to grab anything down for me. He walked off as I grabbed the first few rolls, being able to fit a decent amount in between my large palms and toned arms. Over the school year, I made sure to start the healthy habit of working out, hoping to get ahead of the freshman fifteen. I had never really gotten into sports through high school, but I made sure to keep my body through the school gym during my senior year. It took me a while to start working at it, but progress eventually began to show. After only a few months, my body had firmed up with the beginnings of abs and some perceptible biceps and triceps. It wasn’t much, but I was fairly proud of myself. It also made an impression on my boyfriend, which became an extra motivator for me.

I strolled out of the closet and walked back towards the staircase downwards. I saw Mr. Jackson sitting in his chair again, scratching his small beard as he read a small book. I itched my own stubble with my shoulder as I descended, remembering how I had forgotten to shave this morning.

— —

Once I dropped the last load into the laundry room, I guided myself up the stairs, ready for the next assignment.

“Next thing?” I shouted as I strolled into the room where the other man sat.

“Finished so quickly, Robbie?” He quipped, getting up from his chair. He knew I was going to fly through that job in minutes. I barely had to put out any effort; my military experience made it rather simple to carry everything down.

“Got anything harder for me, bro?” I said, itching my buzz cut. I had just returned after four years in the service, which I had come to realize were some of the best years of my life. After graduating with a bachelor’s degree, I decided to draft myself into the military and spend some time overseas. My parents and friends didn’t approve at first, but after a while they realized it was good for me--and by that I mean my physical appearance.

Coming home to see my parents shocked faces a few days ago was one of the funniest moments I had experienced. When they saw the lumbering, muscular man walk out of the airport, they didn’t expect to hear their names coming from his [my] mouth. The military had given me a rather strict routine, providing me with an impressive 6-pack, defined upper arms, and powerful quads.

After spending some time with my family, I decided to visit my old friend next door. We had gone through most of school together, with my neighbor only two years older than me. I hadn’t been able to spend his thirtieth birthday with him a few weeks ago, so I was making it up by helping him move into his new house. He had bought his house from his parents, now owning the very place he grew up in. Assisting my old friend reminded me of when we were younger and I scratched his parents’ car during a game of soccer. I can still vaguely remember all the chores I had to do that day to pay for the damage.

“Since you’re so good at this,” he snarked, “I think I’ll give you something a little more difficult to do.” We both walked to his front door and, after grabbing my average-sized shoes, made our way to the backyard. I had been over here plenty of times, the two of us spending hours here when we were little, but now it looked almost completely different. The old playground and slide were removed, now replaced with a disheveled patch of grass and a modern fire pit. Where once stood the garden was now a brand new shed, and as my neighbor opened it, I realized it was where he stored all of his seasonal gear.

“I’d love it if you could mow the lawn for me,” he began, “it’s never really been my thing.” He smirked arrogantly, knowing I’d do anything he said because I missed his birthday. I pulled out an old lawnmower and pushed it out of the shed, my old friend had already gone back into his house. I adjusted my jersey, which fit perfectly tight on my frame, and pulled at the engine. The motor revved up, purring obnoxiously as it began. Although I was very athletic, mowing was still such a bore. As my long legs glided across the yard, I reminded myself to never miss another one of his birthdays again.

— —

I brushed over the last part of the lawn and let go of the brake, causing the motor to stop. I brought a palm up to my sweaty forehead, pushing the black hair back back on top of my head, revealing my receding hairline. I still can’t believe I agreed to mowing for Jackson--the guy’s no older than 25 afterall. He had the body for it too: we had worked out together before, so I knew he was fairly toned.

Then again, I had no problem at all with the physical exercise. Ever since returning home from the military 12 years ago, I had made sure to keep my body in shape. My muscularity isn’t exactly what it used to be (age does that), but I still take a vast amount of pride in my work. I still have the torso, arms, and legs of a football player, but now with the firm maturity of adulthood. I also still have the libido of a football player; no one told me that your cock gets meatier as time passes.

After pushing the lawnmower back into the shed, I made my way to the front of the house. I opened the door, kicked off my large shoes, and made my way to the living room. There, sitting comfortably in his yellow chair, was Jackson, reading his phone once again, his shirt lying on the floor.

“I was hot,” he replied, seeing my confused face. His voice was smooth, deep and youthful.

“Alright,” I said before yanking off my shirt, revealing a shaved, muscular torso with a black treasure trail. Bulging arms and wet, hairy pits also became visible to the world.

“I’m hot too.” The smell of my sweat and odorous armpits began to flood the room.

“I think I’m done with you for today, Richie,” Jackson muttered before plugging his nose, “but I think you do need a shower.”

“What?” I replied sarcastically, my deep, gravelly voice shaking the room, “You don’t like the smell of this?” I brought my furry underarm up to his face and shoved him playfully. I’ve known him since he was born, so we’re almost as close as we can be. I was already in highschool when he was born, and, being the neighbor, I became his babysitter. As the years flew by, babysitter became friend, workout buddy, and brotherhood, so teasing him with my pungent body odor wasn’t anything new. I knew he didn’t like it because he was straight, but I loved it. Being a homosexual, and a top, made dominating very erotic for me, but Jackson had no idea of my true sexuality. That was why I had to hide my giant boner as he found his way out of my pit.

“Ha!” I guffawed, “Now your going to smell like my pit sweat all day long.”

Jackson glared at me furiously, my beads of sweat on his forehead.

“Go take a shower before I kill you,” he said, pointing to the master bathroom.

“Oh, sure,” I retorted before walking off. He could never beat me: I was a man still in his prime. As I stripped myself of my clothes and stepped into the shower, I quietly stroked my dick. Once I got home, I’d have to furiously beat one out like many nights before, probably once again to the thought of Jackson.

— —

JAX’S PERSPECTIVE

I still can’t believe it worked!

With my life lately going to hell, this was my last, desperate choice. Nevertheless, it’s surprising that I even found the necklace in my basement; the people who had lived in the house before must have left it.

When I had found it a few days ago, there was a little note attached describing the name and purpose of the necklace. According to the description, the Swapsidite Stone, the strange chunk at the bottom of the necklace, would switch one of your traits with another person. The trade off however was that whatever you’d swap, the other person would receive double the original bargain. For example, if one person had decided to take a quarter of someone else’s intelligence, the first would receive the quarter bargained for, but the other would dumb down so much that it would seem like the first had taken half. As an added factor, only the person who had the stone one remember their own swap, the rest of reality would change accordingly. That was why I had to consider what I would take and give to someone else.

A few days after I had found the necklace, Roman scratched my car. It was only a coincidence, but I knew it was the perfect time to strike. It took me a while to figure out what I would trade between the two of us, but after a lot of thought I figured out what I desired the most: I wished to redo my past and find a woman to love. I regretted that most of my life I had remained a bachelor, and know was my time.

I decided to trade 20 years of my age to Roman, which meant that he would receive 40 years in total. I felt bad at first, but as I saw him change and reality adjust around us, I began to care less. I had gone from Mr. Jefferson, a 38-year-old loser, to Jax, an 18-year-old stud, in the course of one day, and the best part was that the changes were permanent. I was so excited that as soon as I saw the stone darken to its finish, I stripped down to my underwear and sat back in my chair. I now had the body of a high school jock: thick muscles, blonde haircut, pronounced pouch--it was perfect.

“Hey!” I heard a gruff voice shout from the bathroom, “Where did we put the towels?”

“Back counter!” I yelled back, my voice now a lighter baritone with a more innocent tone. As I sat in my chair, a large, older man walked out of the bathroom, wrapping a towel around his waist. Usually, the sight of a naked man would disgust me, but right now I was completely enthralled. In front of me stood a true adonis.

The man, who was now 52, had the body of an alpha male. Strong forearms, calves, and hips were brought together by incredibly large biceps, triceps, and quadriceps. Not only that, but there were a powerful set of abs hiding beneath two massive pecs, adorned with large nipples. The man’s face showed lines of maturity along the forehead, which were easily visible thanks to his recently-gelled graying hair. The beginnings of a beard also framed his lantern jaw, its shape just as perfect as the ridges of his collarbone. The last thing I noticed was the military academy ring he wore on his left hand, which lay in front of his graying pubes. I assumed there was both a massive dick and large set of balls hiding right underneath.

“What are you looking at?” his husky voice rumbled.

“Oh, uh, nothing,” I lied dumbly. Before I could react, he leaned over and snatched the necklace of my neck.

“And what have we got here?” he asked, looking at it oddly.

“Oh, just something I found in the basement,” I replied, giving him half the truth.

“So you wouldn’t mind if I tried it on?” he requested, catching me off guard.

“Sure?” I responded cautiously. He placed the necklace around his neck and smiled smugly.

“This is the Swapsidite Stone, correct?” He already knew the answer, but before I could react he had already muttered something into the stone. The stone began to shine dimly.

“Richard, I can explain, if you’d just-”

“Jax, I know you did something to me. I have no idea what you traded, but at least I know that you did something.”

“But Richard, I-”

“It’s Sir to you.”

“But, Sir-” I froze. Why had I just listened to what he had told me?

“I’ll tell you what I swapped between us, because it won’t matter soon enough.” ~~Richard~~ Sir pulled up a seat from across the room and sat right across from me. He placed the towel aside and let his naked body hang free, his enormous cock standing tall.

“I’ve had a crush on you ever since you entered high school. I’ve known you since you were born, I’ve raised you, I’ve made you who you are today, but now I’m going to make you into who I want you to be. You’ve never appreciated what I’ve done for you, so I’ll make it that way.” I had no idea what he was talking about. He was referring to the new reality, while I was still living the old, causing me to have no way to respond.

He took a deep breath before continuing, his tone becoming more serious, “You see, you stupidly left the description card in the bathroom, not even thinking about me finding it. Once I got out of the shower, I finally figured out why you were wearing that ugly necklace. Now it’s my turn to trade and I think you’ll like what it is.”

I tried to get up from the chair, to run away, but I was stuck. It was like I had no control.

“I’m taking half of your dominance. You know what that means right? I’ll become 150% the alpha male.” He leaned over closely, his hot breath on my cheek.

“And you’ll lose all free will. WIth this, I’ll be able to change anything about you that I want, no magic stones needed. Oh, and just to be safe,” he ripped the necklace off his neck and crushed the small stone between his hands, never to be recreated again.

“So I hope you remember that,” he smirked, leaning back, “even though I don’t think you will.”

— —

Something was poking at my hole, and I had now idea what. I slowly opened my eyes, finding a hairy forearm draped over my side. The smell of my dad’s body odor and cum poured from the sheets like a flood, almost as if they had been washed in them. Memories of the pounding dad gave me last night came into my head, causing my miniscule dick to harden. I remember my dad telling me that although it was almost as big as his, it was tiny. I knew he was right--he is always right.

“Morning, Jax,” I hear my dad groan as his dick pushes further inside of me. I moan as he begins to push in and out. This is how mornings usually go: waking up to the smell of old sex, discovering how intelligent and arousing my father is, and then him filling me with his cum. It was always a pleasing cycle.

About ten minutes later, after my insides were filled with his semun. I got up and went to go make breakfast, still in my birthday suit. It only took me minutes to prepare a protein shake and some eggs for my dad. It only took seconds for him to come clomping down the stairs with his abnormally large feet. He always had to specially order his shoes.

Before sitting down, my dad, who was also naked, brought a dirty cup to the tip of his penis and began to piss. A dark, yellow stream dripped in until it was full to the brim.

“Drink up, son,” my dad said as he handed me the cup, “it’s good for you.”

I greedily slurped the steaming liquid down my throat. It was going to be a long day of work ahead, so I had to eat and drink healthy. There were chores to do, dirty laundry to sniff, and fathers to please. I was excited to do it all.

Strapped Down and Beefed Up

--- Original author: realhankmccoy ---

It was a nightmare scenario for Aiden, but his dad, firm of tone and sick of having a snowflake of a son, was fully adamant.

“You must do this, Aiden. I’m not giving you a choice. Everybody gets some body work done these days. It’s not like I’m forcing you to change your gender or get massive reconstructive surgery like one of those CK models. You’re not going to be a Gaga Version 7.0 or a Beyoncebot. I’m not putting you through any oddball risks for a Guinness Record, either. Look, you think those freakish long legs on Nastasha, excuse me, but that’s how I think of her, Natasha Abioye look natural on a woman? Not to me they don’t.”

“Think of it this way. It’s not any different than going to the dentist or barber shop, ok? You think your teeth are natural? You think your hairstyle is natural? Of course not. I just want you to live up to your fullest potential. You haven’t exactly been a stellar student. You’re not even in the top 10 percentile. You’ll finally man up. You’ll have some serious guns and everybody will be jealous. And I’ll get the son I was always hoping for. It’s win-win. You’ll still be you, just a much better version of you. Don’t you want to be a better man?”

“Yes it is different, dad. For starters, we’re supposed to be making society more feminine, not more masculine. For second, it’s not my choice. I have some serious gender dysphoria, which I’ve told you about repeatedly. If I’m getting any hormonal or surgically corrective work done, it will be to transition to a woman. Mom said maybe I could. Almost every queer guy my age goes in that direction. There’s not even many lesbians who want to be a man anymore. You just don’t get it because you don’t go to my school. Men are obsolete. I’ve read Caitlyn Moran. You haven’t even read her, dad. I should know better than you on what’s real,” Aiden said.

“Just look at the statistics about men,” Aiden continued, trying to really connect with his father on something he could relate to. “I am good at statistics so I do have something to offer. I’m making plenty of progress. Maybe someday I’ll even be an actuary or accountant for an LGBTQIAP+ Resource Center. I can’t see myself caring about most jobs but I could care about that. I do get a say in my own life. What about that can’t you understand?”

Aiden’s dad just shook his head and laughed. It wasn’t a mean laugh, but a bitter one, a sad laugh. Aiden could tell it was his dad’s way of coping with a world that had headed in a direction he just didn’t understand. Aiden figured his dad must have feel he like the world that had shifted right out from under him, so he tried to be empathetic. He even felt kind of guilty and ashamed for the moment, feeling aware of his dad’s antiquated value system and how he hadn’t measured up to that expectation. But it was still Aiden’s life, not his dad’s. There was no way he was going to let his own life be derailed. Being a part of community-based social justice movements for almost two years had taught him so much about what truly should matter to us all.

“Aiden, my son, maybe someday you’ll understand. But this babble that’s pouring out of your mouth is exactly why this needs to be done for you. No more arguing, ok. I’ve already put money down for it.”

The fateful day was just around the corner, and Aiden was even considering running away from home. But where would he go? He was thinking about begging the school to intervene, but could they? Would they? That would almost definitely lead to a conference call with his father, and how would that end. He tried his mother, but she just said talk to your father as it was his decision, not mine. So he sulked and refused to budge instead. Maybe his dad would eventually listen to reason if he displayed how deeply upset he was.

But then it was Wednesday, and his dad had told him he was off school for the rest of the week, and he’d already let the school office know about his doctor’s appointment today. As far as Aiden was concerned, he’d have to be frog-marched there as he wasn’t going to go. He practically was marched out, in the end, as his dad had to take him by the arm to get him moving down the stairs.

“Here’s one way to think of it, Aiden. You’re transitioning, son, which is the big contemporary trend, right? You’re just transitioning in a different way from the herd. Think of it that way if it helps you get through this. I’m going to be so proud of you for taking it like a man today. You’re legitimately going to transition into a real man right before your very eyes. Believe me, that’s going to be so much more valuable and needed in the future than anything your friends are playing around with right now.”

“Dad, this is so wrong,” Aiden pleaded from the passenger seat. He was looking over at his dad behind the wheel, eyes straight ahead on the road. Aiden tried to make his own face look as panged as he could, hoping the expression on his face would be enough to make a difference. It wasn’t.

“There really is no right and wrong, so give it a rest, Aiden. I’m your dad and whatever I say is just as right as anything they might teach you in that school. Sheesh. I should have packed up the wagons and moved the family to Sandy Springs or Alpharetta a long time ago. This joke of a school system has totally failed you. Just you wait, my son. Dad’s fixing the mistake he made by skimping on a better neighborhood and school district. That was my mistake, but I’m finally making things right for you today.”

Even in the doctor’s office Aiden wouldn’t give it a rest. “Please, dad. Please,” he tried to beg at the reception desk, clutching at his dad’s sleeve, trying to get through to him, somehow, even though he wanted nothing more than to push him away and pout hard. He had to try, though. This was his life on the line. The embarrassment of whatever his dad was going to put him today through was nothing compared to what he’d even have to deal with at school.

None of Aiden’s friends were on the side of men, and who knew how they’d treat him after this. If you wanted to be respected, you had to have a body that was oppressed and had at least some sort of claim to victimhood. Everybody knew it. A man’s body was going to mess everything up and who knew how he’d be treated in one of those. He’d be stuck in the exact same kind of body he and his friends were always trying to take down. His dad didn’t seem to understand any of this. Aiden was even sobbing right in the waiting room.

“Oh Aiden,” Aiden’s dad said, sighing heavily. “I’m so disappointed in you. Really, stop it with the tears. I was hoping you’d start finally begin to at least try pulling yourself up by your own bootstraps. But it looks like we’ll be strapping you down today instead.”

And indeed, in the doctor’s office, it soon became clear that restraints were an option. Aiden had started panicking over the mere suggestion of a needle, and seemed to barely be able to simply make it through his blood pressure being taken today without a panic attack. Aiden’s dad was the one who suggested to the doctor that they restrain him. “Sorry, doc. He’s overacting because he thinks it’ll get him out of this,” Aiden’s dad said to the doctor. “I don’t know why he has to be like this today as he knew it was coming. But I’m sure you’ve seen this behavior before.”

“Yes, we do see this a lot,” said the doctor, calm and collected, continuing on with his work as he talked. “We usually go with restraints in at least 3 out of 4 cases or so. It’s just easier that way for everyone involved. Sometimes the liberty of the changes happening freely is good option for everyone involved, and we’ve even done them with the boys sitting upright before. You’ll find you get the same results either way in the end, however.”

Aiden was asked to disrobe, which he did very slowly, full of embarrassment and shaking with nervousness. Then he was asked to lay on his back on the doctor’s table, the rattle of the medical paper below him catching his attention as he got situated. The doctor opened a lower cabinet and got out the velcro restraints to be clasped upon his arms and legs. Aiden had never seen velcro so thick before. The doctor had to pull the cuffs open with both hands, straining to unclasp all four of them as they were so heavy duty. Aiden felt frozen and numb, like a dumb animal, as the restrains clamped him to the metal bars of the table.

He could feel the chill of the metal brush up against one of his thighs, which was a bit splayed out and lightly brushing against the cold gleam. Aiden didn’t really know much about metal or beds, medicine or velcro, any of it. It wasn’t what was important to him. But right now he at least wished he knew more so he could find a way out of this.

He tried to sit up and couldn’t. Maybe something would go wrong. He hoped so. An earthquake, a blackout, anything at all would be good right now. Maybe his dad or the doctor would just die of a heart attack. “Please,” Aiden started to say out loud, really wanting to make his point about how wrong this all was. “You’re not my dad. Stop it. You’re not my dad at all if you do this to me.”

“Sure thing, Aiden, whatever,” his dad said, chuckling the tone in his voice lightly dismissive. “Look at you, you all all prepped and ready to go. Are you ready to say goodbye to sissyhood?

Aiden’s dad continued, “I just have to tell you, son, that I knew this was the perfect option for you once you started sassing off so much and saying ‘sis’ all the time like you thought it was the same as saying ‘peace on earth and mercy mild’. It’s really a travesty that your school let you down. The war on men has been going on since before I was even born, and I suppose you didn’t stand a chance. That war was already the establishment by the time you went off to kindergarten. It really did make you a sissy. Well, son, now you’ll finally be a man, a big man. Just you wait until your worldview becomes clarified for you. You’re gonna have the time of your life.”

Aiden whimpered as he saw the doctor get out a long needle, and continue to do so as the doc approached his nutsack, but he couldn’t see anything that far down in these restraints. All he could really do was stare to the sides, or stare at the ceiling, so it was just a quick job of pain at first. And then there was the sickening feeling of a large amount of liquid being injected into his right testicle. It was just as bad when the doc did his left nut.

“Goodbye, sissy,” Aiden’s dad said. “Look at those nuts. You’re getting some big ones already, you should see them.” Aiden would be mad if he weren’t so terrified. This was all so wrong, so evil and such a betrayal. When he was free again he would definitely do everything in his power to make it clear this was not ok. Just because he’d end up with a changed body did not mean he ever needed to go along with it in his own mind. And he would never accept that his dad was doing this to him. This was so terribly wrong.

And then the pain started, just a flicker at first, like a match being lit inside his nutsack. Aiden started screaming as he felt the fluid start to burn. It was as if his balls were heating up. It felt as if they had already swollen and as if they were swelling even more. The felt as if somebody had just set them on fire. Even worse, it felt like the blaze was still growing. The pain felt absolutely excruciating, as if his body was going to swell, pop, and mutate into some heated up mountain of flesh, the monster of muscle his dad had told him he wanted, a jacked stack of living meat and flesh. It was the polar opposite of what he wanted to be. But it was already happening. Aiden could feel his dick burning, throbbing, as the fire spread, the sensation of blood pumping into his dick. His dick was swelling, burgeoning, expanding clearly palpable to him. He could feel it swell and feel it embiggen against his nuts. He tried to wrest his way out of these tight velcro manacles. They were so much tighter than the blood pressure cuff, though. He couldn’t break them. He was stuck.

It already felt like whatever had been injected into his groin was spreading outwards down his veins . The formula had gotten into his bloodstream. He could feel waves of heat radiating upwards towards his abs, out towards his ass, and all down his thighs.

Muscle started to swell and explode on Aiden’s upper thighs as he cramped up, shaking with cramps and pain. The muscles of his ass felt thick, hard, pushing backwards against the table, his glutes expanding outwards. The pain spread down to his lower legs as his calves started twitching. His quads and hams were totally on fire now. His feet were already cramping, and almost his entire torso felt aflame. He could see when he opened his eyes – which was hard to do given the pain – that his cramping, sharply strained abs were swelling up hard, firm, round and as cobbled as well-worn bricks arising from his smooth belly. He had abs that would never retract now, it looked like, firm and proudly raised from a tight belly that was taking on a very cut V-shape. He was really turning into a man, some sort of muscular dude with a cut gym body. He felt a wave of nausea. The shockingly painful, jolting sensations of a body that was mutating beyond his will, a sharply masculine body, had completely flooded his mind and were almost overwhelming him.

Aiden could smell the sharp scent of adrenaline rising off him, a scent that caught his attention immediately because it wasn’t the norm for him unless he was really being pushed to run hard in gym or something like that. His pecs were twitching, swelling, turning into firm, wide mounds of muscle as the pain spread upwards to his neck and all down his arms. His biceps were cramping, baseballs of muscle jumping up on them, which he could clearly see from his position on the table. The cramps in his legs had died down, and now his arms were fine, the burning and cramping being more in his feet and hands. Breathing deeply, his lips pulsed in the shape of an O, he thought for a brief second that maybe this wasn’t so bad, despite all the pain. Maybe he would be able to handle this, this new muscle, which wasn’t as hulky as he feared. The baseball shaped biceps on his arms looked just about right, an attractive, jocked-out model look that he could learn to live with. But then the burning sensations were returning, and he was heating up more, and the cramps returned. He saw his abs pop even harder, his pecs continue to expand, and watched his biceps strain and swell further as the pain persisted, refusing to stop, refusing to die down. His guns, which is what they were starting to look like, were pushing into larger baseballs and then more towards a small football size, stretching the skin so tight as veins started to pop out and demand the attention of his eyes, all while his muscles seemed to be throbbing, harder and harder on a rocket of swelling pain.

He was screaming freely now, as he hyperventilated, such dry, sharp screams, until suddenly his voice cracked down in a hoarse, choked-off scream, the fall of a whole octave in one jolt. His vocal chords, steeped in the spreading effects of the serum, were growing and maturing in size along with the rest of him. And he couldn’t stop screaming, sounding like a cow or a bull to himself, these lower, stupid-sounding screams of a man trapped like a prodded bull in a stall. His voice continued to fray as he screamed uncontrollably, sounding ever more ragged and shredded, and not being able to stop screaming seemed to only strain his taxed vocalizations all the more.

Looking down at his sweating, overstrained body, the pecs that were now jutting from his chest, all Aiden could think to do now was try to break out of his restraints and scream. He let out a low, gutteral groan that sounded more and more like a roar as he shifted his weight to his side, trying to find the power to break the velcro. This was too much pain and transformation and he would not comply. It was evil. He had to get out of this, he had to make it clear to this doctor’s office that this was not right, he had to get out of it all before things got even worse. He wasn’t thinking clearly anymore.

Aiden’s body, or at least as much as he could see of it as he looked down, was looking masculine, massive and freakish. His broad pecs now a thick shelf of meat that expanded outward. His back had widened into a thick hood of meat that took up a bigger slab of the table. His neck was thick and bullish, and his arms were just snaking with veins that had popped up all up and down the length of his forearms. Most of his arms and some of his torso now had a vascular look that he’d never be able to hide again. The pumping veins of his football-shaped biceps were drawing his attention once again, so much bigger than he had ever wanted or thought possible. His rounded shoulders and glutes had him feeling like he was sitting higher on the table, even, which was completely disorienting. His cock and balls had stopped burning, and he mostly soon only felt burning and smaller cramps, smaller jolts, on the nape of his neck, in his hands, and in his feet.

And then it died down, the rollercoaster of a mutating injection being largely overly and done with, and then there he was, breathing heavily, staring at the ceiling. His eyes were wide open and roving wildly over minute details about the room that he didn’t even seem to care about before. He looked back at his swollen bicep and couldn’t get over how it looks completely different, with so many lines of vein to trace and note, so many different shapes and ridges of muscle to take into account.

“You ok, Aiden?” his dad said, looking down at him, patting on one of his legs as if to comfort him, the doctor taking notes with a pen and a chart to his side. “Just wait until you see yourself, Aiden. You’re not even gonna believe it.”

Then they were undoing his heavy straps, the doctor and his dad working together, ripping the heavy straps open. And then he was sitting up, feeling somewhat dizzy. Part of him wanted to lash out at the two of them, which he probably could, given this body. And yet he was so disoriented and even more importantly, it was already over now. It couldn’t be undone. This was his body, now. He had to at least figure out what they had done to him first.

They walked him over to the mirror, his dad gripping his arm and helping to steady him as he found his balance.

He looked at his reflection. He had completely hulked out and turned into a freak, he thought, like a bull of a man, or a beast of a man. Maybe a silverback gorilla crossed with a bull, he finally considered. He barely even recognised himself like this, and this body seemed to have nothing in common with the personality traits of his that he had long considered so important. His face was now covered with a dense, short but thickly bristled beard. He hadn’t even noticed it in all the ensuing chaos and the intensely burning, muscular mutation. It’s not easy to see your own facial hair without a mirror, Aiden figured. It still surprised him to see a hairy face reflected back at him.

He was now just corded with vascularity. He looked massive and felt massive, noting that they were two very different things, and both happening at the same time now. The doctor gave him a towel to put on to cover himself up, and he couldn’t even believe the size of his long, thick dick and how low his nuts were hanging, hairier than ever, not to mention the way his pubic bush had thickened up and spread out. His dad helped him wrap the towel around his waist, tucking the the corner in tight so it would hold. “There you go, big guy,” his dad said, slapping him gently and affectionately on the back. “Man, Aiden, you really do look great. You did a great job getting through that pain, too.”

Aiden looked in the mirror again, eyes both glazed over with shock and wildly searching, as if he weren’t even able to quite yet find even himself. He felt like he was still trying to come to. It was similar to feeling like he was underwater, and very much a dreamlike sensation, like he couldn’t quite wake up, although he definitely wasn’t sleepy. He still felt on edge and could feel the pump of his blood right through his arteries as it pulsed to feed his new, much thicker muscles. He could feel the tight, eager power and energy in his legs. He could see it all over his torso, this raw power he now had, this taut, lean meat that was stimulated with adrenaline and ready to burst into physical action, physical activity, the sort of life he hadn’t led before. All that muscle he’d developed looked both out of control and good at the same time. Aiden really wasn’t sure what to think, and he felt like it was difficult to even try to think right now. He didn’t want this, and it was going to be so awkward to go to school like this, right? He had been mad at his dad earlier, right? How was he going to manage at school when he looked like this? What was he… he was trying to think, and decided it didn’t matter right now. He had to get accustomed to this body. He looked so different. The muscle looked good, didn’t it? He really looked fit as hell.

“Flex for us, Aiden,” the doctor said, calmly and clearly. “Like this,” the doc said, putting down his chart and doing a double biceps even in his lab coat, smiling. Aiden didn’t react right away, still feeling dazed, so the doc did it again. “Like this,” the doc said, putting his arms up again.

“Ok, doctor,” Aiden said, thinking his own voice sounded low, stupid and weird. He wasn’t sure what to say. This really was like a dreamstate, almost, he thought. He thought of how weird it felt to even feel his thickened, larger feet against the bare carpet. How weird it felt to have this towel around his very tight waist and these huge thighs just bursting out from under it. How weird this fur looked on his face in the mirror, far denser of a beard than he could grow before.

Aiden turned to the mirror, raised his arms in a couple biceps and flexed, hoping he was doing it right, noticing the corded veins pop even more. He felt lightheaded from all of this, but at the same time, he felt confident. His dad and the doctor really liked the results, and it was hard not to be impressed by such a body. It was very hard, Aiden realised, and it was his now. His.

“Uh, um… like that, doctor?” he started to say, struggling for words, focused on his reflection.

“Like that, Aiden,” the doctor said, picking up his clipboard again.

Then his dad was standing by his side, talking to him again as he looked in the mirror and down at his own body, still getting to know how different it looked. “Very nice job, Aiden, and I’m proud of you,” his dad said. “You are going to be able to chase any tail you want in school now. Just look at those guns. Just make sure to make those boys earn it. Put them in their place and show them who’s boss. And don’t ever let them act like they’re better than you.”

“For sure, dad,” Aiden responded, just wanting to agree with him for the moment, not really thinking about all that right now. The thought of scoring any boy in school does seem pretty awesome, though, since he mentioned it. In this body he’d be the ones always expected to top guys, he suddenly thought, but especially with the way he was feeling right now, he might be fine with that, or more than fine. He could top any guy he wanted with this body, probably. All this muscular energy was going to have to go somewhere, he knew, and it might as well be into sex. And would he be getting into sports now? He’d be working out from now on, right?

“Aiden, I know you were afraid of this all at first, but we sure knocked the sissy right out of you with that formula, didn’t we? How are you feeling now? You can be honest.” his dad said with a cheerful, friendly tone.

“Well” Aiden said, flexing in front of the mirror, trying to figure out how he really felt. “I look in the mirror and I see a real bull of a man. It feels better than I expected. I guess I can’t say I asked for this. But with all this muscle on me and looking and feeling so different, I honestly think I’m really going to come to like it. I can see why you wanted me to do this. Right now, I’m feeling like I should even thank you, dad. I mean, this is crazy, but that’s how I feel. The energy of this muscle is amazing,” Aiden said, flexing again in a double biceps, enjoying the feel of making that muscle pump up. It felt kind of weird that he had just said that to his dad, like he wouldn’t have said it before at all. And yet it felt right. His body felt so different so why wouldn’t he feel totally different, too? He had the right to change his opinion if he wanted to.

“You’ll figure it out in the end, Aiden. They’ve got to weigh you up and take some bloodwork and a few diagnostics. Glad you came around. I’ll be outside waiting for you when you finish up.”

“Thanks, dad. This isn’t so bad. In fact, I think it’s kinda badass.”

“Hell yeah it is,” my dad says. “That’s what I want to hear, Aiden.”

“Well then hell yeah, it’s some badass shit, dad. I look like a total stud now. Really looking forward to seeing what this body can do.”

I give my old man an embrace and pat him on the back as he walks out towards the waiting room.

Primal Instincts: Men are Dogs

--- Want to read more? View all stories by TheBurdenBorne ---

Gwen could smell the cigarette smoke wafting from one of the apartment windows as she jogged along the street. She always hated this part of the walk because there was usually someone sitting outside on their apartment balcony and she felt "watched." Gwen was in her mid-twenties, just out of college, but single. She worked downtown at a bank and wore fashionable work clothes, but today on her run she wore simple athletic gear. She had an attractive body, lean and fit, and she hoped to keep it that way. It was on this street in particular that she could feel people "watch" her as she ran and it was unsettling. Today, her cell-phone rang, which threw off her running music, so she stopped to check her phone and get the music going again.

When she stopped, she could smell the cigarette smoke even stronger and felt eyes watching her from above. She glanced up and saw a thirty-something guy leaning over the railing and looking at her. She broke eye contact and paced a few steps, but still felt watched. He heard the man clear his throat and spit.

"Lookin' fine, girl! Don' stop now! Keep on'a runnin' " said the guy with a laugh.

She ignored him and tried to get her phone to start her running mix again. While she fussed with her phone, her water bottle slipped and fell onto the sidewalk. She could feel the man's pervert eyes watching her as she reached down to pick it up.

The man let out a loud whistle, "Nice ass! Come by later and I'll help you keep it in shape!"

She had been cat-called before, but this guy was starting to cross a line. Earlier that week, a friend had told her to download an app called "Men Are Dogs." It was supposedly some way to report incidents of guys acting like jerks or "dogs" so other girls could look them up and feel safer. Her friend had thought it was funny to see what kind of guys made it into the database, but Gwen never thought she would actually have to use it.

In a second, she grabbed her phone, opened up the app, and turned to the guy in the balcony.

"You want a picture! I'll give you more than a picture," he shouted as he grabbed his crotch and gestured vulgarly.

This was the first time she actually had a chance to look at this creep of a guy. He was wearing torn jeans and a white sleeveless t-shirt. He was a broad shouldered guy with a big build, but had a beer gut and flabby arms. He looked pretty strong, but not really in shape. His light blonde hair was cropped tight, almost shaved and he had a tattoo on his shoulder. He threw his cigarette in the bushes and licked his lips and thrust towards her again, laughing.

Her phone snapped a picture and within a few seconds the message read "Strike Three," which must have meant this guy had been reported by two other users. The next screen said "Teach this dog a lesson? Yes or No." She wasn't sure what this actually meant, but the guy was being a real dickhead, so she chose "yes."

The screen buffered with the message "Dog in Training," which had a picture of a muscular man wearing a dog collar and panting stupidly. She looked up and saw the man on the balcony look like he was choking and fall to his knees. She ran closer, hoping it wasn't all some stupid act. He was pawing at something at his neck, which Gwen realized was a leather collar. He made a few choking sounds and then looked at her and stuck his tongue out stupidly. Suddenly, his body started to shape shift into a compact, muscular dog. She saw a leash attached to the collar and the dog pleaded softly and looked up at her.

Her phone vibrated and she read the message, "Say hello to Kurt." She grabbed the leash, not sure what do with this man that she had watched transform into a dog. She was happy that he had stopped harassing her, but thought this was maybe an extreme reaction. The phone continued by asking "Bring Home or Bring to Pound?" She chose "bring home," but just wanted to get out of there before anyone one noticed. Kurt trotted in front on his leash while she finished her run.

As soon as she got home, she texted Amanda, the friend that had shown her the phone app. "No way!" was Amanda's reaction, "send a pic." Gwen snapped a picture of Kurt and sent it. "I'm coming over," Amanda replied.

--

"Oh my god!" Amanda squealed when Gwen explained what had happened. "He's so cute," she said as she pet Kurt on the back while he panted and barked.

"Well, he was saying all this stupid shit, and I just thought I'd take a picture and leave ... but it turned him into this dog ... and now I don't know how to turn him back!" Gwen stammered. "I don't want a dog!"

"But Gwen, look at him," Amanda said as she continued to pet Kurt's head.

"I don't want a dog! Especially one that was some sicko guy from the street!"

Gwen's phone suddenly vibrated again and she pulled up the app. She saw a picture of Kurt before he was a dog and the words "Teach your dog a new trick? Yes or No."

"What should I do," Gwen said in frustration. Amanda grabbed the phone and chose "yes." Kurt whimpered a little and then rolled over on his back. In a few minutes, his dog body had transformed back into the original Kurt, but he stayed motionless on the floor. Thankfully, his clothes had reappeared so they didn't have to see a nude guy "appear" on the living room floor.

"Woah," said Amanda. "So you're not kidding!"

"Of course not!" shouted Gwen. "This is him!"

"Give a command," prompted the phone and Amanda selected "Roll over." Kurt obediently rolled onto his belly. "Stand up," and Kurt stood up. "Try your own," read the phone. "Take off your shirt and flex," shouted Amanda. "Amanda! Stop it!" Gwen tried to say, but Kurt obeyed by taking off his white t-shirt and flexed his muscles. While Amanda gawked about controlling Kurt, Gwen saw her pile of unfolded laundry and had an idea for a command. "Kurt, fold my laundry." Dutifully, he walked over and started folding clothes. "Nice one," Amanda replied. "You've got a live-in butler!"

While Kurt folded clothes, the phone popped up another message. "See grooming options." Amanda and Gwen fiddled with the sliding bars, one for muscle, hair, height, etc., but they couldn't decide so they selected "Suggested grooming." They watched Kurt transform again, this time into a muscular young man with ripped abs, a tight ass with a thin waist. Long legs and arms with lean muscle, broad shoulders and sucked in stomach. His hairy belly and back were smooth, like he was properly groomed. Even his smile and eyes looked more attractive.

"Good lord!" said Amanda. "Take off your pants, Kurt!" and he obeyed. "No, like in a strip show!" Kurt walked over to her and started grinding while slowly unbuttoning his jeans. He had on a pair of tight underwear which showed his massive cock. But Gwen choose, "Kennel" on the app and Kurt stopped, curled up on the living room floor and within a minute was back to dog form.

"Oh come on!" said Amanda. "It was just getting fun."

"It's late, Amanda," said Gwen. "And I have to work. Plus, I just want to go to bed and figure out what to do about this in the morning."

"Fine," said Amanda as she headed towards the door. "But invite me over so I can play with your 'dog' once and awhile."

"Haha," replied Gwen drolly.

--

At 6:00 AM, Gwen heard scratching at her door. "What the?" she said as she staggered. She opened the door and saw Kurt scratching his paws to get her attention.

"Do you have to go outside," she asked and she knew the answer was yes. She grabbed the leash and walked him outside to take a piss on the lawn. She changed into her running gear and thought maybe she could take Kurt running with her.

After the run she started getting ready for work and took a quick shower. She stepped out wearing only her towel and screamed when she saw a man standing in the kitchen. But she realized it was only Kurt, who was busy cooking breakfast. He was wearing only his underwear and was the muscular version of himself from last night.

"What are you doing?" asked Gwen, as if talking to a pet. She was startled when he answered, "Making breakfast for you."

"Wait, you can talk?"

"Of course I can talk!"

The whole time since taking Kurt home, she hadn't heard him speak a word. Also, she noticed that even though she was only wrapped in a towel, Kurt was making perfect eye contact with her, not looking at her body or barely covered breasts, just right into her eyes. She felt a little sad for him, but also a sort of "puppy love" at how cute he was making breakfast for her. She finished changing, ate breakfast, and headed towards the door.

"Kurt, I'll be back around 5. Just don't mess anything them and keep clean, okay. Make yourself lunch."

"Have a good day, Gwen," Kurt answered with excitement as she closed and locked the door.

--

When Gwen opened the door to her house she didn't know what to expect. Would Kurt still be there? Would he be a dog-dog or a man-dog? Would he have run away? Would she keep him? What about Kurt's friends and family?

"Kurt, I'm home," Gwen called out. She heard the shower turn off and Kurt ran towards her, this time completely naked.

"Hi Gwen!" he said enthusiastically. She saw that Kurt's massive cock was swaying, half-erect. "Wanna get some exercise?" said Gwen.

"Yes, of course!" answered Kurt, who loved running. He ran to get the leash and held it out to her.

"Not that type of exercise," said Gwen as she led him towards the bedroom. "You're going to fuck me until I tell you to stop, okay!"

"Okay," he said, hopping up on the bed.

"And you're not going to talk until I tell you," she said. Kurt nodded.

"And go slow. You need to be more man and less dog right now," she added as she dropped her work skirt to the ground and pulled off her blouse.

After there love-making -- the best Gwen had ever had! -- Gwen had a notification on her phone. "Training Complete. All Men Are Dogs!"

She looked over at the muscular man-dog lying in bed next to her, looked at his smooth chest, thin waist, and tight ass, and put down the phone, fully determined to adopt this stray and keep him well-trained.