Product Placement: Free Exercise Healthcare Offer

Ball Practice

--- Originally posted on 2018-08-13 by time-to-transform ---

I saw you checking us out at our practices. Can’t blame you, I mean watching a bunch of muscular jocks getting sweaty and tackling one another is pretty fucking hot.

I decided to do you a favor and transform you into the football that we’ll use from now on. Now, instead of watching from a distance, you can be up close to all of the sexiness going on here. I bet you’ll love being gripped tightly by my strong, meaty hands. And just wait until we start sweating even more, the manly odor we produce from all this exercise absolutely reeks.

If you got turned off simply by looking at us practice, you’re going to be in a horny paradise from now on. Hope you enjoy spending the rest of your life being roughly handled and tightly held by a bunch of sweaty football jocks. You’re welcome.

Modulated

--- Original author: realhankmccoy ---

“I ain’t no motherfuckin’ redneck, you assholes! Don’t you fucking get it? I’ll never be ok with you being here and disrespecting our gay spaces!” I had shrieked and screamed, and I was being sassy as fuck. But they had darted me, so it was too late for me already. I had been one of the hottest little twinks in Colombia back then. I had such a tight little body, I was non-binary, and I was supportive of my local drag scene. I was absolutely into resisting these fucking fascists and their goddamn bullshit lifestyles, which I couldn’t stand.

That’s how I thought of it all back then, anyhow.

Man, that dart though, it had done its dirty work. I was writhing on the floor of the club, so I didn’t even get to witness the way it transformed me as I went into spasms. It was almost like having a seizure, but I could feel the muscle growing on me, and I could hear my shrieks and wails shift in pitch as I grew on into this whole new, far more masculine body.

I was getting to be built like a brick shithouse really fucking fast, and was taking on more of a mature look. Everywhere I was getting more muscle. I was splitting the seams of my jeans, and my underwear, and felt my back pressing up and splitting my tight pink t-shirt.

When I finally was able to sit up, I was in a daze. I had rendered my clothes asunder. I had bristles of hair all over my face, and the har on my head had grown longer, too, sort of flopping in my eyes. I was a mess.

And then the headache came. I was clutching the sides of my head and moaning, almost screaming in pain out loud, as my twinkish mind collapsed and got replaced by a growing part of me I didn’t even know existed. That part, my friends, is the motherfucking, take-charge redneck stud I am today.

My friends helped me get out of there, and I was still in transition. It takes a good seventy-two hours at least until you can fully collapse one of those weak-ass brains like the one I had before and until a more dominant, superior personality takes over like the one I was starting to get.

So yeah, like I said, I was a mess, and when my friends got me back to one of their apartments, I was still sporadically ranting about how dare those fascists do this to me, they’d never win, this was fucking awful. But as I heard myself talk, there was a growing part of me that was observing myself and thinking “so what? You sound like a raving lunatic. Look at this body! Damn, boy, just look at that muscle!”

Sleeping on it, man, that twink brain of mine must have collapsed even further. I woke up and I just wanted coffee with a splash of alcohol in it, so that’s what I got. Then I added two splashed. I had already stripped out of my shredded pink t-shirt, and my friends had some loose boxers that fit me, but I was just this naked, muscular stud in awe of his own body and trying to come to terms with who I was now.

I was seeing my friends with new eyes, too. They seemed anxious to me, weak, full of nervous, overly feminine motions, jittery, immature, skittish and mostly just kind of fucking annoying. “Those are your friends,” I’d remind myself. “This isn’t you who’s thinking this.”

But that growing part of me was thinking “This is you. This is all you, stud. You’re so much better than them. They don’t even know you’re thinking this, and if they only knew, they’d probably be terrified.” That thought made me want to laugh out loud, so I did.

“What are you laughing at?” one of them asked.

“Oh, nothing man, nothing,” I said, looking away and scratching my head. “These are your friends,” I told myself again, but I didn’t really seem to believe what I was trying to tell myself that morning. “So what if they’re your fucking friends,” my new mind was saying. “They’re fucking losers, man. Don’t let them drag you down. You ought to just get out of here.”

That morning, I was feeling just hornier and altogether more fucked up than I’d ever been. I was thinking, nah, this can’t be the new me. I’m no motherfucking redneck. I don’t think like them. But already I was feeling excited, having this body, having these different feelings, realising that I didn’t feel like such an evil guy like this, not like I thought I would, anyhow. All I wanted to do at that point in time, I felt like, was get the hell away from these people. I didn’t know to where. I borrowed some shoes and a t-shirt that was so tight it hurt, pleading that I had to get back to my apartment. It felt like the shoes would split, and the shirt was riding up on my belly, as I trotted back to my place.

I didn’t know what I was doing or what I was gonna do. When I got home, I felt thirsty, just wanting to drink a little, feeling like that would make this feel better, even though I told myself no, you have to compose yourself, you have to call people, you have to report this. Just one drink, I thought. It turned into shot after shot, and before I knew it, I was drunk, hard in my boxers, having kicked off the shoes and thrown that tight-ass shirt on the ground as soon.

Then I was beating off, and cumming, and the build-up to that orgasm, man, it flooded my brain with some real redneck juice. I wasn’t thinking of the type of guys I usually did. I was thinking about redneck studs, studs like myself, feeling the drool run down my chin as I beat off. As I came, shooting way up on my pecs, rubbing it in with my hand, I was whispering to myself, almost like a confession that I had yet to voice to anyone, “You hot fucking redneck. Holy fuck, you love this, don’t you. You’re a redneck now. Holy fuck. Holy fuck.”

The desire to live for working out and fucking was already growing in me.

Thoughts were just racing through my head then. I knew I didn’t want to be some lame-ass yuppie or some weak-ass queer, man. I felt this powerful attraction to the redneck scene, the working class scene, the country scene, the military scene, the jock scene, you name it, any scene were men were men instead of the glitter fairy I had been before. I couldn’t quite pin it all down at that point yet, but my thoughts were sure racing.

Can you picture me, getting drunk in my apartment, turned on at my own body and swirling thoughts? And then I started to really know, man. I started to know. There was no going back now. The guy I used to be was a loser. I didn’t want to be him anymore. I was pissed off that I ever even was him.

I walked barefoot into the bedroom, checking out his stuff in the drawers and on the walls. Almost none of it would even fit me anymore. His feminine attire and the way his shithole apartment was decorated disgusted me. It made me want to punch the wall, even, so I did that and it felt good. I saw the paint crack and the drywall cave in. This new body had power.

I screamed then, a roar of pure rage and exhilaration. I punched the wall again, and it felt so fucking good that soon I was ripping all his shit off the walls and throwing it in a corner, ripping that flouncy shit off the mattress and I didn’t stop, screaming the whole while, until the bedroom at least look bare bones enough to resemble something a man would want to sleep in. I’d be damned if I ever let that loser back into this mind.

There were a few flashes, sure, and man was he a crybaby as he went out, as well as one hell of an angry little prick. Lots of hatred in his heart. I’d just laugh and say, “Fuck you!” sometimes out loud as I felt that twink brain collapse forever.

And now, as far as I’m concerned, he’s gone man. No longer a part of me, thank God.

I was nervous at first, when I started trying to hang out with guys I thought I’d have a lot more in common with that my old friends. Would they accept me? I was pretty desperate for acceptance at that point. I starting hanging out at a diner that I knew a lot of them liked to frequent, classic diner that pre-dated even the 1950s, a real antique. But these sexy ass guys would show up there, and soon we got to talking over waffles and hash browns.

Soon I was telling them I was darted, and they were saying that was hot as fuck, wanting to hear the story. Soon I was telling it to them, my legs in the air, sweat dripping down my bearded chin, as I was getting fucked.

Months after that, I was almost fully integrated into the lifestyle, man, and soon I was the one doing more of the fucking, especially after I got these sweet-ass tattoos all over my right arm. Getting fully into it, the desire to be that all I could be as man, hell, it ran in my veins now. I was going to let those commies know that I was better than them in every single way imaginable, and I wanted to show it off. I still get hard just at the thought of that, demonstrating my own superiority in the most tangible – well, to them, intangible, because I don’t want them even fucking touching me – methods available to me.

Yeah boys, it meant war for me, just like it had when I was a stupid twink, only this time I was playing for the other side, and it was chess instead of checkers.

Of course, there’s a lot more to life than just that for me, namely having hot-ass sex with all sorts of country studs and military men, hell, being part of that whole network of strong and powerful men who worship and respect other guys who’ve worked for it. I feel like I’m serving my country and being a paragon of virtue for it even when my legs are slung over some guy’s bull neck and thick, rounded deltoids as he plows the fuck out of me with his long-ass rod.

I had never gotten fucked this good when I was a twink.

I do real work with myself now, a man’s work. I dress like a man, I eat like a man, and I live my life like a man. I’m fucking proud of it, too. I love who I am now, and relocated to the other side of town, too, where the action’s hotter and I have way more in common with most folks.

I am sure glad I’m a buff stud with a thick-ass chest these days, and I don’t ever go clean-shaven. Been really into guy’s pits lately, and getting them to flex for me so I can lick those. Yeah, shit, I’ve gotta stop, because here I’ve got a raging boner just telling you all about that right now. I swear I’m way more horny than I used to be. At least seventy-five percent of the time now, I’d bet, I’m a top these days.

I don’t really like bottom boys, either. Their mere existence tends to piss me off, to be honest, so when I do fuck them I tend to be an aggressive power top. A lot of the time I don’t even think of it that way, though. I just think of them as so weak that the same rules don’t even apply to them. Different rules, in a way, because they’re a different kind of guy than me. Much more like women, unable to control themselves, you know how they are. I used to be one of them, and I’m so glad I’m not anymore, that’s for fucking sure.

A lot of the time I prefer to just fool around with guys such as myself. I love topping another top, having to wrestle somebody for hours in a strength and dominance competition. Gets the blood flowing. I like somebody who puts up a fight. C’mon, son, do you have any idea how fucking fun that is for me now? To meet up and hook up with another guy who’s just as manly as I am? That’s the stuff I live for now. I’m ready to just fuck my life away with hot ass guys at this point.

So, yeah, I’m a top who loves to wrestle with other tops and see who can dominate. I must be pretty good at it if I swear I’m scoring a seventy-five percent these days, but that’s just because occasionally I throw in some twink losers. Yeah bud, even some of these leftists get thrown a bone by me every now and again. They need us, and I like them to know they need us. They wouldn’t know what to do without us.

One of these days, I might even check with one of my army friends and see if I can come along on a mission so that I can dart one of them myself. I think I’d laugh my ass off when my dart goes in his neck or his shoulder, wherever it his him. Just to see the look on his face, shit boy. That could turn a guy on just by imagining it, so one of these days I’ll have to make it legit.

Fuck if I care about the loser I once used to be or what I’m supposed to be doing with my life. My life is better now and that’s all that matters to me.

Hot-ass guys, man. That’s what I live for.

For a better life

--- Originally posted on 2016-07-12 by makingrealalphas ---

Well, today is officially the 366 days since the change and it has been a blast in college with all of the wrestling team celebrating Coach's birthday. And still, no one remembered Raymond Fitzgerald as International Olympic Champion in Chemistry, beating all the odds and becoming the first American teenager to win a gold medal in Chemistry in the 21st century, instead they remembered me as Ray Fitzgerald, the wrestling champion that went to college with wrestling scholarship because of his undefeated record in National Championship. Well, my brain still in here with me but I just made some "adjustment" in my physique. You know how annoying is to win a fuckin' international championship but the jocks still bullied you and your teacher still praised the jocks all the time even though there's a freakin' world champion in front of their eyes? That's why I decided to transform myself into this piece of stud that oozes nothing more except confidence and a potent musk of a real man in the making, simply for a better life

In college, I befriend with everyone but I still keep everything down low, not partying that much (still so much more than if I still myself), only fuckin' chicks with dignity and not the slutty one and make myself into the same room with the Biochem nerd that still not as smart as me, Clayton. Well, I simply don't want an overly wild college life, I just want a peaceful, bullying-free and a little bit careless college life, and well I get that by being Ray

I walked into my dorm but when I past the mirror that I set there for me checkin' myself before out from my dorm, fuck I can't resist to not see my body even though I've checked it a lot since I made myself lookin' like this

I lift my shirt that perfectly fitted and outlined my body and flashed myself my signature smirk that make all the ladies legs turned into jelly.

Well, there's no one in the dorm so being shirtless won't hurt rite? I take off my shirt, fuck it's quite tight, but it's the right clothes to use if I want to show this body for everyone's satisfaction, and fuck, it's not that defined as it should be.

Guess the season off really make me forget to work out, I think I'll workout right away next morning, need to keep this body in shape for the summer, though.

I checked my back and it's still quite the same, maybe I should put some definition in it for the summer too, so grueling back day in the gym is on the to-do list before summer

Well, enough with the checking. Hayley will be here soon and I can't wait to finally release this load after a whole clean week

The New Frat: Part 2

--- Original author: newyoutf ---

“C- Chris? No way… This is some sort of prank right?”, Todd stuttered.

“Not a prank, man! Tried on those slides and now look at me!”, Chris replied, “Guess I don’t need a costume now if I’m the real thing!”

“What slides? What is going on?!”, James yelled, puzzled.

“T- the frat bro costumes we ordered… We just got footwear, but this can’t be real… Wh- where’s Chris? Who are you?”, Todd answered.

“Todd, James, it’s me! You told me ten minutes ago to make the best with what we had for the party tonight!”

Todd’s mouth slackened slightly, no-one else could have heard that conversation…

“You guys should try this shit on too!”, Chris continued enthusiastically as he reached back into the shipping box, “I think these boat shoes might be a good match for you, bro!”

Chris tossed the box containing the boat shoes at a startled Todd, followed by the final box holding the flip-flops towards James.

Todd’s mind raced. If this was really, actually real then he might be able to *become* a frat boy instead of just lusting over them from a distance. Part of him still feared this was an elaborate hoax of some kind, but this was almost certainly Chris, no other explanation made sense. And the thought of actually being what he what desired most was too much to pass up.

“S- So… I put on the shoes, and I became a ‘bro’ or whatever?”, he asked nervously.

“Uh, I’m 99% positive, but only one way to be sure, bro!”

“Todd! You’re not actually believing this right?”, James interrupted.

“James, man, we all know Todd’s crazy for the prep bros, this is his one chance!”, Chris snapped back.

Both of the roommates were stunned, only the real Chris would know about Todd’s admittedly embarrassing predilection for the preppier men on campus.

“O- Okay, I’ll do it…”, Todd began to kick the shoes and socks off his feet while opening the box in his hands and tossing the leather boat shoes to the floor.

“I- uh… s- sure…”, James added while he more cautiously followed.

Todd slipped on the left shoe. It went on with ease being larger than his foot. At the same time James nervously stepped into the flip-flops. He couldn’t believe he’d ever fit into these, the massive slabs made his feet look tiny in comparison. In that moment he thought how crazy he was for falling for whatever joke this was.

“These are like wearing skis! This is ridic-”, James stuttered as he inhaled deeply.

Todd looked at his roommate in surprise just as the right shoe covered his remaining foot. Unimaginable waves of intense pressure and pleasure rocketed up the two men’s legs causing the sounds of moans to fill the room. Todd bucked his hips in the air, “C- Chris! You… urgh…. didn’t mention this p- paaaaart!”

Both men could feel their limbs stretching longer as they grew taller. Backs groaned upward and arms dangled down longer. Todd growled as his 5′9″ frame was stretched into one 6′0″ tall.

James - previously the tallest of the trio - grew slower going from 5′10″ to 6′2″ - a substantial increase, but leaving him to be now the middle height of the group. He staggered forward and tripped over the leather slabs loosely held by his toes, catching himself on his knee as the bones and tendons of his size 9 feet were forced to grow. Sweat rolled down his face to the floor as leant onto his bent knees, watching the exposed feet spreading wider, thicker and longer as they covered the size 13 leather soles completely.

By this stage Todd’s toes were stretching forward within the boat shoes. His heel eased backward while the rest of the sole grew forward. The feet pushed wider, his lengthening toes striking the sides as they filled up the size 12 shoes.

James began muttering senselessly with his lip trembling. All over his skin had darkened to a deep bronze surfers tan. He pulled desperately at the waistband of his pants and freed his hard 6 inch cock. His member quivered with tension as it began to very slowly extend extend longer…

Chris watched on as the mens four legs began to tremble as growth infected them. Thick muscle spread up from their strengthening ankles, wrapping up the back of their calves. James’ legs bulged harder and thicker than Todd’s, violently blowing apart his pants revealing thick, bulging thighs and sturdy, strong calves - all now devoid of hair.

Todd’s shorts, on the other hand, groaned under subtler pressure, tearing and falling away slowly as strong legs emerged from the ruins. Light hair spread across the powerful thighs and reached his pubes, which became tidier, revealing more of the gradually expanding cock.

Todd choked back a loud moan as head of his cock surged in size wildly. He stood panting and shaking as pecs and abs began to press against his shirt, the buttons struggling against the muscle. One by one the buttons popped away, revealing a lean, muscular chest decorated with light hair.

The other friend’s transformation was becoming more dramatic by now. Failing in an attempt to stifle a lustful growl, James collapsed backward onto the side of the bed, feeling abdominals bulge out of his stomach. He placed a hand on his abdomen and felt defined cum gutters chiselling their way out below his new abs. His pecs weren’t far behind as the sensitivity in his nipples rose to unbearable levels, the muscles beneath them surging outward. As his hand brushed along the meaty chest muscles, he felt what little body hair he had dissolving away, showing off his tanned skin and glistening muscles. His small shirt began to warp and tear before exploding under the pressure of the meaty pecs and huge shoulders.

“Fuck yeah, man!”, Chris chimed up, turned on and excited by his friends becoming frat studs like himself. He pawed gently at his own hard cock watching the transformations unfold in front of him.

James wailed, pushing his shoulders back as they expanded even wider. Muscles bulged from them and rippled down his biceps where they swelled even larger. Individual muscles could be seen wriggling and expanding, creating the deeply attractive bulges of muscle seen on other jocks. With the growth spreading down the limbs, hair faded from his inflating forearms. The fingers on his hands stretched outward as they grew longer and thicker alongside his palms. He watched as the digits cracked and flailed becoming intensely long and broad.

The disproportionately enormous hands would provide the world a hint of the massive cock he possessed, now sitting at 8 inches and continuing to swell. He gripped the shaft with his hand and began to stroke.

Todd meanwhile was growling with lust at his own expanding biceps. He gripped his scalp as the changes moved through his head. He could feel his fingers sliding longer through the mop of hair on his head, the hands becoming large and nimble. The hair pushed through the long, tidy fingers, sweeping into a neat, preppy part. He rubbed his face and moaned feeling short spiky stubble where none existed prior. His fingers traced a reshaping facial shape: a sharper jaw and chin, a smaller, cuter nose and ears, a steely-eyed brow.

Both men moaned in acceptance as their personalities were plucked apart and rearranged. Todd staggered, feeling thoughts and memories filling his head: sex, drinking, prep fashion, sex, more sex.

Similar mental changes zapped away at James’ mind. His days would now be consumed by sports, working out, the beach and fucking. Overrun with lust, he angrily stroked his cock as it stretched to its finale of 9 veiny inches. While he thrust desperately he gritted his teeth, feeling them shifting in his mouth. His face creaked and rippled as it shifted into that of a gorgeous, vain, beach-dwelling jock.

The fully transformed James was close to his climax now as he turned to Todd, witnessing his friend clamor and grasp in lust at his own shifting visage. His face was widening and elongating, accomodating a broad and ever more stubbly jaw. He was smiling and moaning, running his hands through his hair as it swept across and lightened a shade. His newly blued eyes fluttered open as he felt his cock surge outward.

“Oh shit, bro!”, James watched lustfully as his friend approached the end of his changes, “Almost… there, man!”.

Todd nodded at James, his mouth hanging open while his cock and balls inflated like balloons - what was once 5 inches minutes ago now pushed beyond 7.

“You ready… bro!”, James gasped loudly.

“I- I’m… r- ready… b- b- broooooooooo!”, with two simultaneous roars, Todd’s cock shot out to 8 long inches and ejected it’s preppy frat boy contents over and over. Similarly, James’ huge cock sprayed stream after stream of his hot jock cum across the floor and up his tanned abs.

“So you guys believe me now?”, Chris chimed in.

“Ha… ha… yeah, man…”, “Ch’yeah, bro…”, the two new additional frat boys replied.

“So, fuck tonight’s party. What do y’all think about throwing our own frat party? A few beers, maybe order some more shit from that site for some friends? What do you think, boys?”, Chris said with a smile as his yanked his phone off the bed and opened it to the website that had started all of this.

James and Todd looked each and smirked, nodding in approval.

“Hell yeah, bro…”

Fighters Paradise

It was another Friday afternoon and Max was on his way to an arcade. He had just turned 23 and had been saving up for a while to buy a special coin. They were quite expensive, but would give him unlimited access to the best games in the arcade for an entire week.

Max walked into the arcade and was disappointed to see it wasn’t as busy as he thought it would be. He made his way to the counter where an girl with dark hair smiled at him from behind the glass.

“Hello there, can I help you?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’d like to buy a deluxe coin please,” Max said.

The clerk took his money and gave him the coin before saying, “Enjoy your time here.”

Max then made his way into the main hall where all the arcade machines were. He looked around for a while until he found the game he had come here for. It was called Fighters Paradise and was one of the most popular games in the arcade. It was an interactive boxing game where ridiculously muscular characters would face off each other until one of them was knocked.

Max walked up to the machine and wrapped his around the joystick meant to control the game. He inserted his special coin and as he did the screen turned on. The Fighters Paradise logo was displayed in large letters on the screen. Underneath the logo a question appeared "Do you accept the challenge?". Thinking it might just be some ordinary loading screen he clicked on yes without much thought.

As he did, a bright beam came forth from the screen. As the beam of light touched his body and traveled upwards to his torso his body seemed to be disintegrating. Panicking, he tried letting go of the stick only to realize he couldn't move anything at all.

"Please... someone!" Max called out but no one seemed to be around.

Accepting his fate, he watched as his arms and chest disappeared.

Finally, the beam hit his face and everything turned to black.

---

Max opened his eyes slowly to find himself laying on the sand. He was surrounded by palm trees swaying in the breeze and felt the warm sun beating down from above. Looking around he saw no signs of buildings or any other sign of civilization, just water in every direction as far as the eye could see.

"What the hell?" Max muttered to himself as he stood up and brushed the sand from his clothes. He was still wearing the same jeans and t-shirt he had on when he went into the arcade.

Max then noticed that he wasn't alone on the beach. A tall muscular man in boxing shorts was walking towards him, boxing gloves wrapped around his fists.

The man smiled as he approached Max and said, "Welcome to the greatest game of all time."

"What do you mean?" Max asked, confused by what was happening.

He then walked up to Max and wrapped him up in a hug before saying, "You're here now, which means you have accepted the challenge."

"What challenge?"

"To fight against the best of the best in an epic battle to the end," the man said sarcastically with a smile. "I am Tyrone, I used to come from the other side just like you. You can live comfortably in this world, you just have to fight opponents every day unless you want to go crazy."

Max what was was weirder, the fact a boxer was standing in front of him instead of the gym or the fact that he had been pulled into a video game and was just told to fight people to until one was KO'd.

Max looked around at the beautiful scenery before asking, "Me? Fight?"

He looked down at his attire, he was not dressed for the beach much less to fight some random stranger.

"Sorry man but I don't think I'm cut out for this. Can't you just send me back out again?" he pleaded with the man

"No can do. It's a one way street." he replied with an empathetic smile.

"But I'm not a fighter!"

"Not yet, is what you mean to say. It won't affect you yet but soon you will be craving combat," he says, "don't worry I'll train you"

Tyrone led Max down to the beach and around a large rock that was at the edge of the water. Behind the rock was a small shack with a boxing ring set up outside it.

"This is where we'll be training," Tyrone said as he opened the door to let Max inside. The gym was nothing special, just an old shed with a few punching bags and some weights.

Max looked around the gym in surprise, "I don't have much experience with boxing."

"That's alright," Tyrone said, "I'll teach you everything you need to know."

He then walked over to a punching bag and hit it with a powerful uppercut. Max was amazed at how hard the man hit the bag, causing it to fly back and hit the wall behind it.

"First things first, let's get some basic punches down," Tyrone said before grabbing two gloves from a shelf. "Here, put these on."

Max took the gloves from Tyrone and put them on. He then watched as Tyrone set up the punching bag so it was hanging at the perfect height for them to use.

"Okay, watch me and copy me," Tyrone said before throwing a jab.

Max followed through with his own jab after watching Tyrone. Tyrone then demonstrated a right hook before having Max throw one as well. After practicing both punches a few times, they moved on to combinations.

"Let's try a simple 1-2 combo," Tyrone said, throwing a jab followed by a right hand. "Copy me."

Max threw the same punch combination after Tyrone and watched as he smiled in approval. They continued practicing punches for a while until Tyrone finally said, "Alright, that's enough for now. Let's move on to something else."

"What next?" Max asked, taking off his gloves and hanging them up on a shelf.

"Let's get some footwork down," Tyrone replied before leading Max out of the gym. "We'll be using the boxing ring outside for this."

Max followed Tyrone out into the backyard where they both stepped into the boxing ring that had been set up there.

"Okay, I want you to move around the ring and pretend you're throwing punches," Tyrone instructed. "Keep your hands up in a defensive position when you're not throwing them."

Max did as he was told, moving around the ring and throwing imaginary punches. After watching him for a moment, Tyrone said, "Your footwork is pretty good already. We just need to work on your balance a little bit."

He then stepped into the ring with Max and had him practice his footwork while he lightly touched him to see how well balanced he was.

"You're doing great," Tyrone said after a few minutes of this. "Alright, let's take it up a notch now."

He then started throwing some light punches at Max to see how well he would dodge them. Max quickly found himself dodging the punches left and right, feeling like he was in an actual fight.

After a while of this, Tyrone finally said, "Okay, that's enough for today."

Max stepped out of the ring, exhausted from all the practice they had done. He was amazed at how well he was doing considering he had never boxed before. He looked over at Tyrone who was watching him with a smile.

"You're a natural," Tyrone said before walking up to Max and patting him on the back. "I'm proud of you."

Max smiled at the compliment, feeling like he had finally earned it after all the hard work he had put in.

"Thanks man," he said to Tyrone. "I really appreciate it."

"No problem," Tyrone replied before walking over to the gym door. "Let's come back tomorrow and we'll keep practicing. I have a feeling you're going to be a force to reckon with in no time."

Max nodded and said, "Sounds good. I can't wait to get better."

As Tyrone closed up the gym he led Max to his villa that was situated close to the beach as well.

"Wow" Max thought to himself amazed by the view and the luxurious building that Tyrone lived in.

"If you're spending a long time here, might as well make it comfortable right?" Tyrone started saying as he led Max through all the different rooms of his house.

"This will be your room, I'll see you in the morning"

Exhausted and overwhelmed by the crazy things that had taken place in what felt like less than a couple hours, he fell asleep in mere minutes.

---

Max awoke with a start, feeling like he had just had the most bizarre dream. It took him a moment to realize that he was actually in a strange dream right now. He looked around the room he was in, noticing that it was much nicer than the one he had been staying in before.

"What the hell?" Max muttered to himself as he got out of bed. He walked over to the window and gazed outside, seeing an amazing view of the ocean.

It was then that he remembered what had happened yesterday, how he had been pulled into a video game world and forced to fight people for Tyrone's entertainment. The thought made him feel anxious, like there was something he should be doing but couldn't quite remember what it was.

Max decided to head down to the kitchen in Tyrone's villa to see if he could find something to eat. As he walked through the hallway he noticed a few pictures on the wall that showed Tyrone with other people. One of them was a man who looked muscular but also very stylish, wearing a suit and smiling for the camera.

Max stopped in front of this picture, feeling like he recognized the man but couldn't quite remember from where. He shook his head and continued on to the kitchen.

When Max entered the kitchen he was greeted by Tyrone who was cooking some eggs and bacon. "Good morning," Tyrone said, "I hope you're feeling rested after yesterday."

Max nodded, not trusting himself to speak just yet. He sat down at the kitchen table and watched Tyrone finish up breakfast as he thought about what had happened the day before.

It was weird how he could remember being in a boring arcade waiting for his turn to play some stupid game, but couldn't recall anything after that. Had they drugged him or something? It was just a theory, but it was the only thing that made sense at this point.

"Here you go," Tyrone said, placing a plate of eggs and bacon in front of Max. "Eat up."

Max started to eat his breakfast, doing his best not to think about the weird day he had had. He was interrupted when Tyrone asked him how he was feeling.

"Anxious," Max replied truthfully, "Like there's something I should be doing but don't know what it is."

Tyrone nodded and said, "It's probably just the curse of being stuck in this video game world. The only thing that helps is to fight."

"Ah," Max sighed in a defeated tone, "so you really weren't kididing about that"

"Nope. The only thing that really helps is to well, fight..." he replied with an empathetic smile.

"Let's get you some clothes and head to the gym, that should help already" Tyrone suggested, already moving towards another room of the large villa.

Max was lead into Tyrone's bedroom which was somehow even more luxurious than the other rooms in the villa.

Tyrone opened yet another door connected to his bedroom which looked to be a walk-in closet lined with boxing clothes and stylish floral shirts.

"Pick something you like and we'll head to the gym, okay?" Tryone said, already grabbing a a nice pair of red shorts.

"See anything you like?" he asked Max who looked like a kid in front of a candy aisle overwhelmed by the sheer amount of choice.

"Uh,"

"Here, just take this" he said handing the pair of red shorts to Max.

"Thanks... Where can I change?"

"What do you mean? Just change here, we're both men right?" Tyrone replied

"Let's get you out of that old t-shirt"

Before Max even had a chance to respond Tyrone came up to him and ripped apart his shirt in one motion.

"We won't be needing that for much long"

Shocked by Tyrone's assertiveness he responded by covering his flat albeit a little pudgy chest with his hands.

Max did not realize his mistake as this gave Tyrone the perfect opportunity to pull down Max's jeans and underwear as well.

"Don't be ashamed man, you've got a nice body" he complimented.

This comment made Max flustered and blushed red harder than he ever had before.

What Tyrone said next however would send Max over the moon.

"If you'll do well today I'll even reward you" he said with a suggestive wink as cupped Max's balls with his hand.

Many emotions rushed through Max's mind: excitement, anxiety, lust.

"Come on Max, we haven't got all day" Tyrone told him, already set on heading to the gym to start their second session.

---

Max and Tyrone have their second training at the small shack again. Max turns out to be a natural at boxing and is improving at an incredible pace. Tyrone decides to do a little sparing with some light punches. Every punch he deals/receives seems to scratch his itch. After the training Max could also swear that his stomach looked a little less pudgy and more far more toned than it ever had been

Max followed Tyrone out of the villa and down to the gym where they had trained yesterday. He was still feeling embarrassed about what had happened in Tyrone's bedroom, but he tried to push those thoughts aside for now.

"Alright," Tyrone said as they stepped into the small shack that served as a boxing gym, "let's get started."

Max nodded and went to put on his gloves while Tyrone set up the punching bag. He had been getting better at landing his punches since yesterday, but there was still room for improvement.

"Remember to keep your guard up," Tyrone said as he finished setting things up. "You never know when I might throw a surprise punch."

Max nodded and assumed a fighting stance, readying himself for the training session ahead. He felt more confident than he had yesterday, but was still wary of Tyrone's skill.

The training started off well, with Max landing several good punches on the bag. Tyrone complimented him on his progress and said that he was getting better at reading his opponent. This made Max feel even more confident as they continued to practice.

After a while, Tyrone suggested that they try some sparring. He promised to go easy on Max, saying that it would help him get used to fighting another person instead of just a bag. Max agreed and they stepped into the ring, starting to throw some light punches at each other.

It felt weird to be hitting Tyrone instead of a sand bag. But they both kept their punches light and tried to focus on improving their technique. As they continued to spar, Max found that every time he landed a punch on Tyrone, it was like scratching that figurative itch deep inside him. It made him want to land more punches, it as almost addictive.

On the other side of things, Tyrone felt a similar itch being scratched when he blocked Max's punches or landed one of his own.

Max started to understand how the curse worked and how fighting was so important in this world.

After a few rounds of sparring, they both were feeling exhausted. Tyrone suggested that they take a break and have some water before heading back into the gym for more training. Max nodded in agreement and they both stepped out of the ring to catch their breath.

As they drank some water, Max couldn't help but notice that his stomach looked less pudgy than it had earlier. He didn't know if it was just his imagination or if all the exercise he had been getting was actually paying off. Tyrone noticed him staring at his own body and smirked.

"What is it?" he asked. "Noticing how much more toned you're getting?"

Max blushed, not sure how to respond. He hadn't meant to be staring at himself, but he couldn't help feeling proud of all the progress he had made in such a short amount of time.

"I guess so," he admitted truthfully.

Tyrone clapped him on the back and said, "Then let's keep up the good work! We'll have you looking like a lean mean fighting machine in no time."

Max smiled back at Tyrone and felt his heart race as he thought about all the changes that might come with more training. They both finished their water and headed back into the gym to continue practicing until it was too dark to see.

---

As they walked back to the villa, Max couldn't help but feel anxious about what was going to happen next. He didn't know how much of it was the curse giving him pleasurable feelings, and how much of it was his own desire to have sex with Tyrone. But he knew that he wanted Tyrone, and there wasn't anything he could do about it.

He stayed silent as he entered the villa and followed Tyrone into the bedroom.

"Take off your clothes," Tyrone ordered. "I want to see you naked."

Max did as he was told, feeling a little humiliated to be stripping in front of Tyrone. But it didn't matter, all that mattered was getting some release for his raging hardon. He stood there awkwardly, his cock throbbing painfully as Tyrone looked him up and down with hungry eyes.

"Get on the bed," Tyrone commanded. "I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk."

Max climbed onto the big soft bed, feeling like a rag doll in Tyrone's strong hands. He spread his legs wide open for Tyrone, inviting him to take what he wanted. Tyrone smiled and then kissed Max deeply, his tongue exploring his mouth as his hands gripped Max's ass cheeks.

Max moaned into Tyrone's mouth, begging him to hurry up and fuck him. He was so horny that he didn't care about the kiss or even about Tyrone's skill; he just wanted to cum.

Tyrone positioned himself between Max's legs and spit on his cock before wrapping his hand around it. He started to stroke Max slowly, making him writhe in frustration. Then he suddenly pressed his cock against Max's tight hole and pushed forward without warning.

Max cried out as he felt Tyrone's thick cock stretching him open. It hurt a little at first, but it was nothing compared to the pleasure of having Tyrone inside him. He reached down and started to stroke himself while Tyrone began to fuck him for all he was worth.

The bed creaked loudly as Tyrone pounded into Max's ass. His big hands gripped Max's hips tightly, holding him in place as he thrust over and over again. Each time Tyrone bottomed out inside of him, Max felt like his insides were being rearranged. It was a little painful but it also felt so good.

Tyrone's grunts filled the bedroom as he got closer and closer to cumming. He began to fuck Max harder and faster, making him cry out louder and louder. Then Tyrone's cock twitched inside of him and he felt hot cum filling his ass.

"Fuck yes," Tyrone groaned, holding still for a moment as he emptied his balls into Max. "You're such a good fuck."

Max was too busy recovering from his own orgasm to reply. He could feel Tyrone's hot cum leaking out of his ass as he lay on the bed panting. He felt completely empty and satisfied after finally having sex with Tyrone.

After a few moments, Tyrone rolled off of Max and got up to get dressed. He smiled down at Max as he put on his clothes. "That was fun," he said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Max nodded weakly, his body still trembling from the intense fuck he had just received. Tyrone laid down next to Max, panting heavily. Max turned to the side, resting his head on Tyrone's sweaty chest and quickly drifted off to sleep from exhaustion.

---

The next morning he woke up to sounds of running water and the sight of Tyrone no longer next to him on the bed.

As Max walked into the bathroom, he saw that Tyrone was already there, standing naked in front of the sink. He was brushing his teeth and didn't notice Max enter. Max felt a little thrill at catching Tyrone in such a private moment. He moved closer to Tyrone, watching him as he brushed his teeth.

"Hey," Tyrone said, spitting into the sink after finishing with the toothpaste.

He turned around to see Max standing behind him. He smiled when he saw that Max was still naked from their night together.

"Good morning," Max said, moving closer to Tyrone until their bodies were pressed against each other. He reached around and began to stroke Tyrone's cock through his wet hair.

Tyrone groaned softly as Max's hand moved up and down his shaft. "What do you want this morning?" he asked huskily.

"I just wanted to wake you up properly," Max replied, leaning in to kiss Tyrone's neck. He continued to stroke Tyrone's hardening cock while kissing and licking his neck and chest.

Tyrone reached down to grab the shampoo from the shower cabin, but Max grabbed his hand before he could reach it. "I don't think you need any shampoo," Max said with a mischievous grin. He began to suck on Tyrone's hard nipples, making him groan even louder.

"Fuck... I need a shower," Tyrone panted. He stepped back from Max and turned around to face the shower cabin. "Join me."

Max followed Tyrone into the large shower cabin. It was steamy from the hot water that was falling from the shower head. Tyrone had already lathered up his body, making it slick and shiny. He leaned against the wall of the shower, waiting for Max to join him.

Max stepped closer to Tyrone, pressing his naked body against his. He reached down and began to stroke Tyrone's hard cock, feeling its hot length in his hand.

"Mmm... That feels good," Tyrone groaned.

Max leaned up and kissed him passionately, their tongues dancing together in their mouths. As they made out, Max continued to stroke Tyrone's cock until it was throbbing in his hand.

After a few minutes of making out, Max knelt down in front of Tyrone. He took his cock into his mouth and began to suck on it, gently at first but then with increasing intensity. He used one hand to stroke the base of Tyrone's cock while he sucked on the tip.

"Oh fuck... That feels so good," Tyrone moaned. He put his hands on Max's head, guiding him as he bobbed up and down on his cock.

Max could feel Tyrone's hot cum beginning to flow into his mouth. He sucked harder, trying to coax as much of it out of Tyrone as possible. When Tyrone finally came, he groaned loudly while Max gulped down his load.

After Tyrone had finished cumming, Max stood up and kissed him again. They continued to make out for a few more minutes before Max stepped back to rinse off. He felt refreshed and ready for another day of training after the steamy shower session with Tyrone.

As they stepped out of the bathroom, Tyrone noticed that their clothes were neatly folded on the bed. He smiled at Max and said, "I guess you're ready to go then?"

Max nodded, feeling a little sad to be leaving so soon after such an intimate moment in the shower. He followed Tyrone out of the villa and they headed to the gym for another day of training.

---

For the next week, Max spent most of his time at the gym being trained by Tyrone. He had never been in such good shape before and was enjoying the feeling of his muscles growing and becoming stronger.

Tyrone complimented him on his progress every day, telling him that he was making fast improvements. He said that with a few more weeks of training, Max would be ready to do his first real battle.

Max was excited at the prospect of finally fighting and the immense pleasure it would bring him.

"Fuck babe, you look so hot now." Tyrone said, looking at Max with hungry eyes.

"You remember when you first came here?" he started, "look at you know" he continued.

Tyrone grabbed onto Max's arms who flexed them in response.

"Like what you see?" Max said with a cocky smirk

"I do" Tyrone replied as he groped Max's pecs.

"Don't be shy" Max egged him on as he lead Tyrone's hands down into his boxing shorts.

"Show me how much you like my body"

Tyrone smiled and pushed Max down onto his bed.

"Fuck babe, you're so-"

"Ssh..." Tyrone signaled, sealing Max's mouth with his lips as he passionately kissed him.

Max moaned into Tyrone's mouth as their tongues danced together in each other's mouths. He felt like he was melting under Tyrone's touch.

As they made out on the bed, Tyrone began to kiss his way down Max's body, moving from his mouth, to his chest, and then lower to his stomach. He kissed all over Max's body, leaving him feeling hot and wanting more.

When Tyrone reached Max's boxing shorts, he undid the button and pulled them down along with his underwear. His hard cock sprang up, bobbing in the air as Tyrone stared at it hungrily.

"You're so fucking hot," Tyrone said, before positioning his ass, ready to take Max's cock.

He slowly lowered himself down onto Max's cock, feeling it slide into his tight hole. He groaned in pleasure as he took more and more of Max's huge cock inside of him. When he finally bottomed out, he sat there for a moment, enjoying the fullness that came from being filled up completely.

Then he started to ride Max, bouncing up and down on his cock. He reached down and began to stroke his own dick as he fucked Max.

Max felt like he was in heaven. Tyrone's tight ass felt amazing as it slid up and down his cock. He could feel himself getting closer and closer to cumming each time Tyrone took his entire length inside of him.

"Fuck babe, you're so tight," Max groaned.

Tyrone smiled at Max, his eyes filled with desire and lust. He began to fuck him even faster, moving his ass up and down quickly on Max's cock.

Max reached up and grabbed Tyrone's hair, pulling him close to him so that they were chest-to-chest. He kissed him passionately, their tongues tangling together in a hot embrace.

Tyrone moaned into Max's mouth as he continued to fuck his cock. He could feel himself getting closer and closer to cumming.

Suddenly, Tyrone's eyes widened and he let out a long groan as he came on Max's chest. His ass tightened around Max's cock, milking it until he finally came too.

"Fuck babe," Max said, panting heavily after his own orgasm had subsided. "That was amazing."

---

Max woke up with a groan, feeling like he had just had the best dream ever. As he opened his eyes, he realized that it wasn't a dream after all. Tyrone was still naked and lying next to him on the bed. He smiled at Max as if to say "thank you" for last night before getting up to get dressed.

Max looked down at himself and noticed that he was wearing his red shorts again. It felt weird to be wearing them after all this time in Tyrone's villa, but it was a sign that he was ready to fight his first real opponent.

"Hey babe," Tyrone said, coming back over to the bed after getting dressed. "You ready for your first battle?"

Max nodded, feeling a little nervous but mostly excited. He had been training hard for this day and was now just one step away of becoming a full-fledged fighter.

"Let's go"

---

Max and Tyrone arrived at the arena, which was packed with people cheering for the upcoming fight. Max felt a surge of adrenaline rush through him as he stepped into the ring, looking at his opponent.

His opponent was a muscular guy in a leather chest piece and a loincloth. He had scars on his face and arms, making him look like a true warrior.

"Ready to get your ass kicked?" Max taunted, feeling confident that he could win the fight.

The opponent grinned at Max, then nodded to signal that he was ready to start. The bell rang and the two of them began to circle the ring, sizing each other up.

Max saw an opening in his opponent's defenses and lunged forward with a flying tackle. He hit his opponent square in the chest and sent him flying back into the ropes. His world stood still as an immense wave of pleasure hit Max. He had gotten used to the effects of the curse when sparring but this was the first time experiencing the real deal.

Time continued as the crowd cheered loudly as Max stood valiantly over his downed opponent.

"What a great first round," Tyrone said, slapping Max on the back. "You've got this, babe."

Max grinned at Tyrone, feeling like a million bucks. He turned to face his opponent again and saw him getting up and ready to fight once more.

"Ready for round two?" Max asked, looking even more smug now.

The opponent lunged forward with an uppercut, but Max ducked under the attack. He then kicked his opponent in the thighs, sending him to the ground. The crowd cheered again as Max stood over his defeated opponent.

"And the winner is... MAX!" the announcer declared, raising Max's hand into the air.

Max felt like a million bucks as he basked in the cheers of the crowd. He had won his first fight and was on his way to becoming a true experienced fighter.

"So, what's next?" Max asked, eagerly looking forward to the next round of battles; to the next wave of pleasure.

Tyrone smiled at Max, "I know first-hand the pleasure of a first real battle but you've got take a break for today and enjoy your victory. Tomorrow will find someone else again to battle, for now let's take a break."

"I know something else we could do for the rest of the day" Tyrone said.

Max didn't even have to ask what he meant. A tent had already started forming in his shorts long before he had a chance to finish his session.

What would happen next is another yet another round, though this time in a different place and different setting.

---

Max had lost count of how long he had been living in this new world. He was enjoying his time here with his boyfriend Tyrone. They both spent most of their days either fighting, fucking or training for the next fight.

Max had recently started his first week in the arena and it had gone well. He had won every fight and got a lot of points. The second week wasn't as lucky. Max had lost half his fights which meant he had to wait another two weeks before he could challenge for the top spot again.

During those two weeks, Max and Tyrone spent their time either fucking or training hard in the gym. When they weren't doing one of those two things they were relaxing at home, cuddling on the bed naked or watching some TV in the living room. They had gotten into a routine of sorts, which Max enjoyed immensely.

Max couldn't believe that he was now a muscular stud in this new world and with his hot boyfriend to boot. He had been transported here against his will and was practically forced to fight every day but at least he had Tyrone to keep him company.

A lot had happened in a short span of time but he had not lamented it at all. His old life that he had back when he entered the arcade is now gone.

Now he enjoyed a simple life together with his new boyfriend in a world where the only that matters is to fight.

A New Delivery Service

Jimmy picked up the delivery order from the city’s newest, most overpriced, most overrated fusion restaurant, put the delivery bag into his backpack, and stepped out of the door to unlock his bike. He hated menial, brainless, shit jobs like this, ones that got him absolutely no where and ones where the people he dealt with were reliably all motherfuckers. He couldn’t complain too much, though. He got to create his own hours, the constant to-and-from gave him plenty of exercise to maintain his lean figure, he could put in his ear buds and get paid to ride around town listening to music, and there were other perks of the job.

He unwrapped the lock on his bike and put it back in his bag and then pulled out his phone. He clicked back to the delivery app and confirmed that the order had been picked up and waited for the app to load the directions to the drop-off location. His phone chimed as the delivery address was mapped out.

“Bitch, what the fuck??” Jimmy huffed out loud and dropped his jaws at the location. The home he was to deliver the food to was on the literal opposite side of town, up the gradual sloping hill on which the whole town was built, and was apparently a 45 minute biking route. To make matters worse, the app guaranteed a delivery time to its customers within a half-hour window, and docked it from the deliverer’s pay if that window was lapsed.

“Nuh-uh, nope,” Jimmy shook his head and flipped through the app, making his way to the employee support portal. This called for taking advantage of those ‘other perks’ of the job.

He arrived at the ‘Delivery Assistance’ tab of the employee support portal and entered in the details of the delivery. Well, actually he flubbed the details a bit. Exaggerated the delivery distance, over-estimated the weight of the delivery, maybe inflated some more numbers here and there... What the hell, what the company didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

He leaned back after hitting submit, watching the spinning wheel on his phone that indicated that his request was being processed. He anxiously tapped his heel against the pavement awaiting the response, when his phone vibrated.

Request granted!

• Enhancement : current stats X 3

• New delivery time estimate : 20 min.

• Duration of enhancement : 1 hour 20 minutes

Jimmy only had time to wheeze out a shocked laugh as he felt his phone send a jolt through his arm. He was no slouch, but three times his current stats?? And for an hour and twenty minutes?? Talk about a lucky fucking break!

His body immediately tensed up as a high moan suddenly escapes his lips, and he could feel himself spreading upwards and outwards. His calves dropped any hint of body fat and tightened, feeling slightly like a leg cramp, but then loosened as thick muscle twisted up the length of his claves and thighs. He felt his ass lift off his seat with a giggle as his cheeks packed on dense meat. It traveled up his back and torso, carving his back, sides, and abs into a sculpted work of art as he felt his pecs begin to bounce. They thudded bigger and bigger as he looked down and giggled with a deeper and deeper moan, taking a handful of each new massive tit in each hand, his breath quickening as he felt his neck widen and thicken while his shoulders rolled forward. As his shoulders pushed outwards to accommodate his still-growing size, they bursted larger with bulging definition. His flexed his already massive arms as he continued playing with his tits and playing with his nipples. His arms had always been his most treasured feature that he kept proudly displayed with a tank top, and now firm muscle snaked down the expanse of his limbs, rising to the surface and bulging into twisting pythons of muscle. His arms crossed as he flexed and felt the new size of his bulging peaks of muscle. He threw his head back in a way-too-loud groan—garnering plenty of stares from pedestrians—at the next sensation. ‘Guess they haven’t fixed the bug yet,’ he thought with a grin as he felt his cock stir to life within his shorts. His typically 4 inch softie bloomed outward, snaking down his thigh and fattening considerably into a soft 12 inch hog, and quickly swelling into an unwieldy, throbbing 18 inch pecker, a considerable increase from his typically 6 inch hard-ons.

Request complete! Proceed to your destination.

He grinned down at his phone and wheezed another small laugh. He should be grateful that they hadn’t fixed that bug, especially considering some of the incredible shit they unfortunately got rid of with software updates. One of the older bugs was what actually turned him onto working for the app. One of his exes was a delivery biker for the app and would often surprise him all the time as a horned-up 9 foot giant hunk—sometimes smaller, sometimes bigger—to fuck him raw and shower him with unbelievable excesses of cum. Sometimes he’d even get big enough that Jimmy could do pull-ups on his rock hard cock hanging stiffly in the air or even use his ex’s cock slit as another hole during their impromptu lovemaking. Enough local prudes complained to the company that they were sick of seeing a bunch of horny muscular giants running around the city, so they eventually ‘fixed’ it, if you can call it ‘fixing.’

Jimmy couldn’t get over the fact that he had so much time allotted with his enhancements. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten such a long time to enjoy his enhancements… Actually, that wasn’t true. The last time was about 2 weeks ago when he finished a delivery way ahead of time and met his boyfriend at the park after. They both loved when the enhancements came through, they were a great means of keeping things hot, impassioned, and adventurous in the relationship. But most times, Jimmy only ever gets a X 1.5 or an X 2 stat enhancement, rarely ever above that. He was a fucking beast now with his X 3 enhancements, and he intended to share his new beast body with others.

He kicked up the kickstand on his bike and pushed off the ground, feeling the wind blow past his face as his new body propelled him on his bike through the air at a speed much higher than he was used to. He grinned as he pedaled up the hill, barely breaking a sweat, and dialed up his friend Pete, a coworker-turned-friend veteran in his early 40s that was stuck in the gig economy cycle like millions of other workers.

He was already a pretty hunky guy—he always joked about thanking the government for giving him his ‘superman body’ but fuck all beyond that—and he was a hell of a lay, too. Jimmy thought maybe he’d be down to party.

He held the button on his earbud and waiting for the ding. “Call Pete,” he said in a deep voice, the confirming ding echoing afterwards and putting through his call. It rang a few times until someone picked up.

“Yyyyello?” Pete answered with his typical goofy greeting for Jimmy.

“How’s it hanging, boss?” Jimmy replied with a grin. He always loved talking to Pete. He would have considered him sort of a father figure if they weren’t such good friends and even better fuck buddies.

“Currently delivering to the west side, buddy. Enjoying a X 1.5 enhancement on top of it, thank you kindly to my benevolent corporate overlords.”

“X 1.5?! Nice, dude, so they got Super-Superman out here delivering food to the masses now?”

“The people gotta eat, Jimmy!”

“And eat they will! I’m sure a lot of them would prefer a taste of your specialty. What was it today, extra long sausage rolls?”

“You know it! All day, every day my guy!” he responded cheerfully as they both laughed. A brief, semi-awkward pause laid over the conversation. “By the sound of your voice, it seems like I’m not the only one here rocking some enhancements.” There was a slight eagerness in his voice.

Jimmy’s heart leapt as he turned the corner to head further up the hill, his cock twitching and drooling out some pre as it rested stiffly against his tree trunk thigh and snaked out of the leg of his shorts. Jimmy looked down at his massive arms and only got harder. “Guilty as charged, dude.”

“How big, bro?” Jimmy could hear the smile in Pete’s voice.

“Oh, you know, just X 3.”

“X 3?! Shit, well then I guess you and I are pretty evenly matched!” He was right! Jimmy smiled and looked down at himself. Fuck, he loved looking down and seeing a porn star body. The developers had to know what they were doing when they made this feature. And come to think of it, he was basically the same size as Pete now, except almost double the package size, thanks to the system bug.

“I’d say you’re right! Buuut,” Jimmy bit his lip feeling a grin stretch across his face. “I think I have, well… about 3 times more the package you do.”

“Woof, shit… I guess I can deduce that you’re not talking about your delivery order! You’re making my mouth water, stud,” Jimmy could hear the grin in his voice as he painted on his bike. “Making my cock water a bit too, if you know what I mean!”

“I think I do, Pete. I think I do.” Jimmy kept pedaling up the hill while a silence hung over the line for a second. Jimmy could feel his bulging size press against itself as he leaned over to pedal harder. “So… Meet up at the park bathroom after our delivery runs?”

“Fuuuck yes, man! Haha, I was beginning to worry you’d never offer!” Pete chuckled to himself for a second. “Now this is gay culture: two alpha studs swapping spit and jizz in a public bathroom.”

“It’s what our forefathers and foremothers would’ve wanted,” Jimmy quipped back, suddenly realizing something. “OOOOHH I think Richie is working today. Wanna make it a party?”

“Abso-fuckin’-lutely, the more the merrier!”

“Awesome. Either way, I’ll see you in like 10, good?”

“Good. Keep it stiff for me, stud.”

Jimmy smiled and hung up. That would be no problem; he’d been fully cocked since he heard Pete’s voice, and his unnaturally large cock head was poking out of his shorts by now, leaking sticky pre onto his thigh as he pedaled. He just hoped Richie could join in on the fun.

Jimmy knew that Richie only worked a few days out of the week, but took only the biggest jobs when he did. He loved the extra money, sure, but he loved the enhancements more. Jimmy could remember more than a few occasions that he ran into Richie while he was looking like some body builder fetishist’s giant, sweaty, throbbing wet dream. It was comically different from what Richie was like outside of work. If you saw him on his work days versus his short, twiggy appearance and demeanor on his off days, you’d think they weren’t even related.

He tapped the button on his earpiece again, “Call Richie,” and listened to the ringtone. After a few rings, the line answered.

“YOOOOOOOO,” Jimmy heard a thundering, impossibly deep voice answer.

Jimmy’s grin widened. They’d need a bigger bathroom.

Ostello della Moda: Diego

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

Luke slid the last cigarette out of the pack and lit it up within a few seconds of stepping outside the brightly lit airport into the dark, hot Milanese night. Local time was 2:30 A.M., but he needed a cigarette so badly! The airline industry makes smoking so difficult and he needed his fix. He inhaled deeply and thought about his girlfriend back home. Well ... his ex-girlfriend. Part of the reason for their breakup was his smoking. That, combined with her desire to get married and started on a perfect American life, made Luke somewhat glad that he was free. This was going to be the trip of a lifetime!

He inhaled deeply and wondered if he could get a taxi to take him to the "Ostello della moda." They said they had 24-hour check-in. His friends were probably catching up, maybe headed out for a night on the town without him. But, he would catch up. He was the real party-animal of the group and always had been. He remembered those days in college when he would come back to the apartment completely hammered and they still took him in and helped him get to bed. He missed that -- he missed his friends.

He tossed the cigarette onto the concrete and walked towards a waiting taxi. He would need another pack in the morning, even though he was going to try and cut back on this trip. He wanted to quit, but habits don't die easily. "Last one until tomorrow night," he vowed.

The taxi wasn't air-conditioned and he tried to get comfortable. The cab smelled like smoke -- which made Luke even more anxious as the taxi bounced it's way towards the city because he could few the craving grow again -- especially when the driver lit up while driving. He didn't know enough Italian to ask him to stop, so he just inhaled it in and tried to relax. It took the cab about half an hour to make it to the hostel, and he tipped the man generously because he helped with the luggage.dn't

A sleepy young Italian man greeted him and asked him a few questions. "Uh...passport?" he said. "Right," Luke said as he reached into his bag. The zipper was halfway open and he pulled out a few things while digging for his passport. An opened pack of cigarettes fell onto the floor. Luke picked them up in astonishment. He was positive that the pack was empty. Plus, this was clearly an Italian brand that he was unfamiliar about.

"Sir...passport?" said the man. "Oh ... yeah. Here it is," he replied, wondering if maybe the taxi driver had left them there.

"You can smoke in the courtyard," said the man looking at the pack of cigarettes in Luke's hand.

"Oh, I wasn't ... I mean ... thanks."

"I need to make copy. Please, relax. I will return."

The young man walked into a back office and left Luke alone in the room. The courtyard looked empty and he didn't see any of his friends around. The cigarettes seemed to radiate energy and he knew it wouldn't go away until he smoked. He nervously walked to the courtyard, pulled out his lighter, and puffed away. The smell was different than the cab driver's brand. It felt comfortable. It felt like he had smoked these for years. On one of the drags, he brushed his hand against his chin and felt stubble. He could have sworn that he shaved before he left on this trip and he shouldn't have stubble yet. He also felt a burning on his left shoulder, like tingling needles. He put out the spent cigarette and spat into the bushes. On his way back inside he saw a bathroom and raced inside. He felt sweaty and sick, like his whole body was writhing. He pulled his shirt away and saw a dark black and red patch on his shoulder. His face looked different too. He pulled off his t-shirt and looked in the mirror. On his left shoulder and chest there was a large tattoo. His body looked slim and athletic, much more muscular than he remembered. He managed to put his shirt back on, but it was tight against his body and uncomfortable. His head was flooded with the high from the cigarette, but he managed to find the front desk again.

"Ah," said the man handing him his backpack. "Room 234, Bunk D, Diego." When he said the name "Diego," something clicked inside him. He felt a wawdve of recognition, including a mastery of the language, flooding into his brain. It was as if the chemicals in the cigarette had opened up an entirely new person inside him. As he climbed the stairs, he felt less and less like Luke and more like Diego. When he opened his back pack in the room, he pulled out a tight leather jacket, slim black pants, a pair of sunglasses, and dog-tags that had "Diego" printed on them. As he looked out the window at the dim morning light, he wondered if Bruno, Christo, and Antonio would be coming back soon. He walked over to the window and lit up another cigarette. He shivered slightly, and noticed a vein running along his bicep and the moon carve shadows on his tight abs. He stared out at the street letting the smoke fill his lungs, and with a deep breath, he exhaled the rest of his former life into the dark of night.

--- Originally posted on 2023-04-04 by breedertfs --- --- Want to read more? View all stories by breedertfs ---

Arabian Nectar

“Drink, brother. I see you admire, and so I assist.” Robbie, who only moments ago had a hairless jaw and pale skin, was unable to pry himself away from the perky, golden nipple he now found himself suckling from. Even beneath a swirl of dark, wiry hair, he was entranced by the salty taste and musk of Amir’s hard earned sweat. His every nerve ending seemed to come alive with every lick and slurp of the tangy flesh. The handsome man in front of him was telling the truth, after all. Robbie had been admiring the Middle Eastern hunk for most of his workout at the gym throughout the day, unable to stop himself from risking a few glances when they eventually found themselves alone together in the locker room. Robbie, horny as he might be, was a polite and sensible twink, and he would have never for a second thought that he had a chance with the obviously straight, macho Amir. His attraction was harmless. Until the tan man snapped his fingers at him, that is, commanding Robbie’s attention before lifting his sweaty tank and hooking it around his neck to reveal his plump pecs and a healthy coating of body hair.

At first Robbie was stunned, lightly aroused, but more than anything confused. It took Amir nodding his head down at his chiseled pecs to get Robbie to snap back to reality, walking forward on feet he didn’t entirely feel in control of. He could feel his heart hammering as he approached the attractive man, could feel his throat tighten at the rank scent wafting into his nostrils. Spicy and earthy, and very potent, everything about Amir seemed to be traditional and masculine. He calmly watched the white boy approach with timid steps. “Sorry for staring,” Robbie began as he closed in, meaning to stop but still stepping closer and closer to his surprise. “I was just admiring, wait wha—” Robbie startled, leaning down and forward mid-sentence as he finally came face to face with Amir’s chest. He opened his mouth to protest, to ask questions, only for Amir’s large hand to secure itself on the back of his head.

“Suck, brother.” Robbie’s open mouth was forced to close around the nipple, face pressed into the hot, ripe flesh of the stud before him. Stink play was definitely not one of his kinks, and being man-handled wasn’t doing him any favors. He tried to fight against Amir’s grip, tiny hands failing to push the slabs of meat away from him. “It is a shame to eye fuck men when you can eye fuck women, no?” As Amir spoke, each thrum of his deep voice vibrated through Robbie’s core. The twink couldn’t stop his feasting. Obediently suckling from Amir’s nipple, tongue darting out to swirl against the salty skin, lapping up every ounce of sweat. “If you wish to spend time with me as a man, it should only be as a brother.”

Robbie could feel his jaw tighten as he nuzzled against the pec, a bristle of dark hairs covering his lips and then his cheeks and eventually his entire chin. As Amir ran his fingers through Robbie’s hair, no longer pressing down quite as forcefully, the strands seemed to go on for longer than the white boy remembered. Thick, dark, luscious, being swept back into a traditional, well groomed style. His eyebrows thickened and grew heavy, dark, forming a menacing line over his currently blissed out expression. He could feel his shoulders broadening within his shirt, heat sparking up in his pits and in his crotch, a heady scent of sweat oozing from his pores to match Amir’s aromatic musk. He continued to suck, to worship, to accept the gift being presented to him. He felt obliged to follow Amir in the way a man would follow a trusted general, or a political figure. As more and more of the essence coated his insides, pouring down his throat, he began to feel less excitement about the source of the nectar and saw the pecs as a means to an end, more than anything else. Amir produced the sweetest honey, and Robbie was grateful to receive it.

But as his hips widened and his large, muscular ass stretched his tight boxer briefs to their limit, he was powerless to stop the images forming in his mind. A rational voice tried to urge him to pay attention, to realize that none of this was normal, there was no reason he should be sucking Amir’s nipple all these minutes later, and there’s no way the sensations running across his body could be real. He licked, inhaled, and more and more of Amir’s scent invaded his senses until it felt as if he was breathing in his own scent, too. Beautiful women began to appear in his mind, golden skinned and raven haired, women from his home country. He could feel his cock lengthening in his shorts, a sweaty mass of dark hair forming a forest around it, heating up with every pulse and throb. Something was wrong. All he wanted to do was get a good workout and check out a few cute guys, but now the thought of that made his lip curl in disgust. A man’s purpose in a gym should only be to improve himself, and to bond with his brothers. The white twink had been effectively replaced by a proud Middle Eastern man, broodingly handsome and more than happy to show off his hardened body to any interested female. He was every bit the kind of man Amir expected a true brother to be.

Releasing his lips from the nipple, mind blanking and resetting, new and improved personality quickly squashing the whining twink’s consciousness into a headlock at the very back of his own mind — Rahim rises to his feet, removing his shirt to reveal his muscular form, gaze looking over Amir’s shoulder and instead settling on his own reflection. Rahim was deeply traditional, the kind of man who would wait until marriage to seed a womb, but was more than happy to ass-fuck horny white women who thought they had any chance of swaying him. They were simply holes to be filled, things to be won in conquest. If you couldn’t find him eating out a white woman’s pussy, then you would find him here in the gym with his brother, Amir. He was a man of simple pleasures. They lived together in the same bachelor pad, moving to this country together many years ago for the opportunities it provided. Following in Amir’s image, life was perfect. Rahim took out his phone, walking away from his brother and going to admire his reflection in one of the locker room mirrors.

“Thank you for the wake up call, brother.” He glanced at the large amount of messages flooding his inbox, the regular hook ups begging for him to fill them up, new women hoping to try for a taste of his cum, a few ladies even asking if his brother would be open to a threesome. He only smirked, licked his lips, and recorded a short video to send to all of these chicks to appease them for now. His cock still throbbed in his shorts, ball sack swollen and full of his superior seed, but he couldn’t allow his mind to be so easily clouded by lust. “I should focus on my workout, and my time with my brother,” Rahim decided finally.

His python would surely get its satisfaction later.

Super hot story! Great for a first attempt at inanimate TF.

Not In The Exhibit Brochure

It was a hot summer day and the city was filled with people coming to be a part of one of the biggest fantasy conventions in the country. Video games, board games, tabletop RPGs, LARP, movies, TV shows, theater shows, even musicals. If one fancied themselves a fan of a franchise that existed in any of these forms, they could be found spending a sunny August weekend in the convention center.

Mark meandered between countless people in the Second Pavilion, getting tired having spent the last five hours walking around the convention area, being asked for pictures and catching up with his friends. This year he came wearing a full cosplay of one of the characters from his favorite first person shooter. He put on a tactical vest, helmet with a full headset, a tactical belt with a bunch of accessories and camo pants. In his hands he was bearing a perfect replica of the most famous gun from the game.

He spent a long time perfecting the costume, both by searching for just the right gear and by spending hours in the gym. Now his broad and thick shoulders, football-sized biceps and veiny forearms were visible for all attendees, which garnered Mark a lot of attention, which he enjoyed.

It was exhausting, however. The temperature inside the convention center got uncomfortably high at times, so he decided to take a break. He fold the few friends who joined him during the day that he was leaving for a while to take in some relatively fresh air, then pushed his way through the crowds until he got to the exit.

Thanks to the fact that the center was basically in the middle of the city he didn't have to go far to get to a park and relax, then find a place to eat and just take a walk through the city.

Mark was aware that many businesses and institutions had various perks for the convention ticket holders, to keep the attendees in the city for longer and spread the economic effects of the convention. He was reminded of this fact just as he was walking by the giant building of the art museum. His curiosity was piqued and he checked if he would get a discount of a ticket. It turned out he could walk in for free, the only requirement was to show his pass at the entrance.

What Mark saw after getting through a quick but awkward security check truly amazed him. He slowly walked from one part of the building to the next, taking his time to watch every piece, all displayed in a well air-conditioned space, which was a nice bonus. The museum had a bunch of different special exhibits currently open to the public and they were all pretty stunning, each in its own way.

Finally, Mark made his way to a part of the museum furthest away from the entrance where he saw a recent collection of sculptures from a local artist. Each statue was an extremely realistic depiction of a person, and they were supposed to collectively represent modern society. There were athletes mid-run, businessmen in the middle of walking in between offices, chefs tasting their newest creations, it was all incredible to watch, every sculpture most likely taking weeks or months to complete. Mark stood in the middle of the room as he looked around and every time he managed to find a new detail in one of the statues. While his eyes were jumping from one piece to another, inspecting every curve and small detail, he was unaware of just how much time has passed since he entered this space.

And then he tried to move.

Mark heard his phone buzz loudly in his pocket. It was probably one of his friends wanting to check up on him. He tried to move his hand to take the phone and answer the call, but it wouldn't move. Neither would his head. Or any part of his body. He was immediately alarmed. Mark tried as hard as he could to get any element within his human form to move even an inch, but it didn't work. His whole body was suddenly completely stationary and he could not control its movements, because he couldn't cause any movements. He started to panic and hoped someone would notice that he wasn't well. There were a lot of people at the museum so it would be just a matter of time before one of them came to this room and noticed a guy in a military cosplay was standing weirdly still.

Except this did not happen. Visitors just passed by him with no interest in the person standing frozen in the middle of the room. As Mark looked with his unmovable eyes at the tourists wandering around the space right in front of him he felt like he was losing the track of time. Was it a minute ago that he realized he couldn't move? No it mus have been almost an hour by then. Nah, it couldn't be.

Then Mark realized something horrifying. Not only was no one coming up to help him, they began to stop in front of him and just look at him, as if he was just another...

Did he turn into a fucking statue?! That terrifying thought seeped deep into his mind wreaking havoc along the way. How could this have happened? Magic? But magic wasn't real! That was impossible, this was a dream, for sure! He tried to move his body even a little bit, but again he failed every time. He desperately tried to force his hand to move so that he could pinch himself and wake up from this terrifying nightmare. But no part of his arm changed position, not even an inch.

A larger group of tourists, mostly retirees, led by a young woman slowly moved through the exhibition space and passed by Mark, who continued to struggle and try to move.

"Huh, the guide didn't say anything about this one. Did that lovely lady talk about this soldier, Harold?" An elderly couple stopped in front of Mark and they stood there and admired him for a moment.

"No, Mary, I'm pretty sure I'd remember" The man, Harold, took a step closer towards the statue.

"Harold!" The woman shouted at him. "You can't walk up too close to the sculptures dear."

"Oh, calm down" Harold responded, slightly annoyed at his wife's comment. "I'm in an art museum so don't tell me to not look at the art." The older man stood just a few steps away from Mark. "There's no plaque or rope or anything, this is a free country, Mary!" He was a few inches shorter than Mark, so he couldn't clearly see everything but it seemed he was just looking at Mark's gear.

"Look.The artist - that Gary what's-his-name - knew what he was doing with this one. I recognize all that gear this man is wearing. Nice work." Harold's tone of voice suggested he was weirdly pleased with the statue that used to be Mark. "This is what a real man's supposed to look like. Not some sissy sitting behind the desk all day."

"Of course Harold, of course" The woman walked up to her husband and put her arm around him, then started gently pushing him towards the other statues.

Mark's brain struggled to comprehend what he had just witnessed. He had really turned into a statue! People thought he was a part of the exhibit! How could this have happened? He couldn't come up with any even remotely plausible explanation for what he was experiencing. He then thought that his only hope would be his friends - they knew he was downtown, maybe some would guess that he used the opportunity to get into the art museum for free, which would lead them to the place where Mark was currently stranded.

The group of retirees came back, walked next to Mark and was about to leave the room when the tour guide looked at him and murmured to herself.

"This statue was not a part of the exhibit. How did it get here?" She grabbed her phone and quickly led her group towards the rest of the museum.

Mark again realized he couldn't tell how much time had passed since any of the recent events. It was as if his internal clock had stopped working, ran out of batteries. This whole experience was so confusing that he had issues fully registering everything. He tried counting in his head, but got lost after 20, maybe? The only thing he was sure of, for now, was that the day had not yet ended, but he could not tell what part of the day it was, as the whole museum was constantly lit with this slightly weird diffused lighting.

Three people suddenly came into view and stood some distance away from Mark, clearly looking at him. He couldn't hear the conversation they were having because of the noise from surrounding visitors, but he could clearly see that they were all agitated, talking over each other and aggressively pointing at themselves and Mark. As he looked closer he realized they were all museum employees, meaning they were probably debating what to do with a statue which has suddenly appeared within the premises of the musem they worked for, a rather uncommon occurrence.

Not long after they left Mark's view and he was once again stuck in this feeling ot timelessness. Tourists stopped in front of him every now and then, looked at him for a moment and moved on, while he stood still, holding the gun in his hands as if ready to fight, and yet incapable of it because of some indescribable force.

The employees from before came back, one of them holding in their hands a metal stand of come kind. It had something written on it at the top, but Mark couldn't see what it was. What he could see was the employee putting the stand in front of him and them all looking at it.

"That will have to do for now" One of them said. This time they were standing closer and Mark was able to hear what they were saying.

"Yeah, I won't be able to make a proper one until tomorrow."

"Okay, but it has to be there by Monday afternoon, otherwise we're fucked. Jesus Christ, still'can't believe this happened."

"No time for moaning, Jacob. We have work to do." Another one replied. They all nodded their heads, took one last look at the stand and quickly left the scene.

Mark thought about what he had just witnessed, and it took him a moment to understand - this was a stand with information about the statue, which meant him. It was the same kind as dozens more throughout the museum that visitors could look at for further information that was meant to enrich their experiences. This was meant to hide the fact that he was not here just mere hours, or minutes, or days, or-- he was certainly not here when the exhibition was opened. That fact was probably what had made them so angry and confused before - from their perspective a random statue of a soldier randomly appeared in the museum.

His mind immediately asked one question - I wonder what did they write on there? What was his title, his author, his artistic description or statement? Wait, his author? That was a strange line of thought, Mark realized.

I am Uncontrolled Power.

Wait, what was that? Who said that? Where was that deep voice coming from?

I was created by Greg Duchaime Arreman.

Was there someone standing behind him?

I am meant to represent unchecked aggression and power of the Military Industrial Complex.

Wait a second, what this voice inside his head?

I am the physical manifestation of toxic masculinity and bravado.

Holy fuck, this was a voice inside his head. Was this... what they had written about him on this stand?

Fuck yeah, I'm an alpha who follows orders and crushes any sign of disloyalty.

The voice was talking to Mark. Shit, the voice was talking to him! What the fuck?

You scum, get ready to experience the primal, animalistic force of a toxic man! I'm gonna crush you!

Mark wanted to sigh loudly, but of course he couldn't. Great, the museum employees with their great art wisdom made him a stereotypical aggressive soldier. Obedient muscle. The armored tool of American imperialism. And this soldier character seemed to have appeared inside his head.

I am here to blindly follow orders, enforce them and show everyone what masculinity really means!

If Mark could have rolled his eyes, he would. He was stuck, like an NPC frozen mid-frame, standing in the middle of an art museum, possibly forever. And from now on he would represent toxic masculinity, aggression and military prowess.

Whoever stands in my way will be violently crushed with the power of the American Military and my primal force! Toxic and proud, that's who I am!

Not In The Exhibit Brochure

It was a hot summer day and the city was filled with people coming to be a part of one of the biggest fantasy conventions in the country. Video games, board games, tabletop RPGs, LARP, movies, TV shows, theater shows, even musicals. If one fancied themselves a fan of a franchise that existed in any of these forms, they could be found spending a sunny August weekend in the convention center.

Mark meandered between countless people in the Second Pavilion, getting tired having spent the last five hours walking around the convention area, being asked for pictures and catching up with his friends. This year he came wearing a full cosplay of one of the characters from his favorite first person shooter. He put on a tactical vest, helmet with a full headset, a tactical belt with a bunch of accessories and camo pants. In his hands he was bearing a perfect replica of the most famous gun from the game.

He spent a long time perfecting the costume, both by searching for just the right gear and by spending hours in the gym. Now his broad and thick shoulders, football-sized biceps and veiny forearms were visible for all attendees, which garnered Mark a lot of attention, which he enjoyed.

It was exhausting, however. The temperature inside the convention center got uncomfortably high at times, so he decided to take a break. He fold the few friends who joined him during the day that he was leaving for a while to take in some relatively fresh air, then pushed his way through the crowds until he got to the exit.

Thanks to the fact that the center was basically in the middle of the city he didn't have to go far to get to a park and relax, then find a place to eat and just take a walk through the city.

Mark was aware that many businesses and institutions had various perks for the convention ticket holders, to keep the attendees in the city for longer and spread the economic effects of the convention. He was reminded of this fact just as he was walking by the giant building of the art museum. His curiosity was piqued and he checked if he would get a discount of a ticket. It turned out he could walk in for free, the only requirement was to show his pass at the entrance.

What Mark saw after getting through a quick but awkward security check truly amazed him. He slowly walked from one part of the building to the next, taking his time to watch every piece, all displayed in a well air-conditioned space, which was a nice bonus. The museum had a bunch of different special exhibits currently open to the public and they were all pretty stunning, each in its own way.

Finally, Mark made his way to a part of the museum furthest away from the entrance where he saw a recent collection of sculptures from a local artist. Each statue was an extremely realistic depiction of a person, and they were supposed to collectively represent modern society. There were athletes mid-run, businessmen in the middle of walking in between offices, chefs tasting their newest creations, it was all incredible to watch, every sculpture most likely taking weeks or months to complete. Mark stood in the middle of the room as he looked around and every time he managed to find a new detail in one of the statues. While his eyes were jumping from one piece to another, inspecting every curve and small detail, he was unaware of just how much time has passed since he entered this space.

And then he tried to move.

Mark heard his phone buzz loudly in his pocket. It was probably one of his friends wanting to check up on him. He tried to move his hand to take the phone and answer the call, but it wouldn't move. Neither would his head. Or any part of his body. He was immediately alarmed. Mark tried as hard as he could to get any element within his human form to move even an inch, but it didn't work. His whole body was suddenly completely stationary and he could not control its movements, because he couldn't cause any movements. He started to panic and hoped someone would notice that he wasn't well. There were a lot of people at the museum so it would be just a matter of time before one of them came to this room and noticed a guy in a military cosplay was standing weirdly still.

Except this did not happen. Visitors just passed by him with no interest in the person standing frozen in the middle of the room. As Mark looked with his unmovable eyes at the tourists wandering around the space right in front of him he felt like he was losing the track of time. Was it a minute ago that he realized he couldn't move? No it mus have been almost an hour by then. Nah, it couldn't be.

Then Mark realized something horrifying. Not only was no one coming up to help him, they began to stop in front of him and just look at him, as if he was just another...

Did he turn into a fucking statue?! That terrifying thought seeped deep into his mind wreaking havoc along the way. How could this have happened? Magic? But magic wasn't real! That was impossible, this was a dream, for sure! He tried to move his body even a little bit, but again he failed every time. He desperately tried to force his hand to move so that he could pinch himself and wake up from this terrifying nightmare. But no part of his arm changed position, not even an inch.

A larger group of tourists, mostly retirees, led by a young woman slowly moved through the exhibition space and passed by Mark, who continued to struggle and try to move.

"Huh, the guide didn't say anything about this one. Did that lovely lady talk about this soldier, Harold?" An elderly couple stopped in front of Mark and they stood there and admired him for a moment.

"No, Mary, I'm pretty sure I'd remember" The man, Harold, took a step closer towards the statue.

"Harold!" The woman shouted at him. "You can't walk up too close to the sculptures dear."

"Oh, calm down" Harold responded, slightly annoyed at his wife's comment. "I'm in an art museum so don't tell me to not look at the art." The older man stood just a few steps away from Mark. "There's no plaque or rope or anything, this is a free country, Mary!" He was a few inches shorter than Mark, so he couldn't clearly see everything but it seemed he was just looking at Mark's gear.

"Look. The artist — that Gary what's-his-name — knew what he was doing with this one. I recognize all that gear this man is wearing. Nice work." Harold's tone of voice suggested he was weirdly pleased with the statue that used to be Mark. "This is what a real man's supposed to look like. Not some sissy sitting behind the desk all day."

"Of course Harold, of course" The woman walked up to her husband and put her arm around him, then started gently pushing him towards the other statues.

Mark's brain struggled to comprehend what he had just witnessed. He had really turned into a statue! People thought he was a part of the exhibit! How could this have happened? He couldn't come up with any even remotely plausible explanation for what he was experiencing. He then thought that his only hope would be his friends - they knew he was downtown, maybe some would guess that he used the opportunity to get into the art museum for free, which would lead them to the place where Mark was currently stranded.

The group of retirees came back, walked next to Mark and was about to leave the room when the tour guide looked at him and murmured to herself.

"This statue was not a part of the exhibit. How did it get here?" She grabbed her phone and quickly led her group towards the rest of the museum.

Mark again realized he couldn't tell how much time had passed since any of the recent events. It was as if his internal clock had stopped working, ran out of batteries. This whole experience was so confusing that he had issues fully registering everything. He tried counting in his head, but got lost after 20, maybe? The only thing he was sure of, for now, was that the day had not yet ended, but he could not tell what part of the day it was, as the whole museum was constantly lit with this slightly weird diffused lighting.

Three people suddenly came into view and stood some distance away from Mark, clearly looking at him. He couldn't hear the conversation they were having because of the noise from surrounding visitors, but he could clearly see that they were all agitated, talking over each other and aggressively pointing at themselves and Mark. As he looked closer he realized they were all museum employees, meaning they were probably debating what to do with a statue which has suddenly appeared within the premises of the musem they worked for, a rather uncommon occurrence.

Not long after they left Mark's view and he was once again stuck in this feeling ot timelessness. Tourists stopped in front of him every now and then, looked at him for a moment and moved on, while he stood still, holding the gun in his hands as if ready to fight, and yet incapable of it because of some indescribable force.

The employees from before came back, one of them holding in their hands a metal stand of come kind. It had something written on it at the top, but Mark couldn't see what it was. What he could see was the employee putting the stand in front of him and them all looking at it.

"That will have to do for now" One of them said. This time they were standing closer and Mark was able to hear what they were saying.

"Yeah, I won't be able to make a proper one until tomorrow."

"Okay, but it has to be there by Monday afternoon, otherwise we're fucked. Jesus Christ, still'can't believe this happened."

"No time for moaning, Jacob. We have work to do." Another one replied. They all nodded their heads, took one last look at the stand and quickly left the scene.

Mark thought about what he had just witnessed, and it took him a moment to understand - this was a stand with information about the statue, which meant him. It was the same kind as dozens more throughout the museum that visitors could look at for further information that was meant to enrich their experiences. This was meant to hide the fact that he was not here just mere hours, or minutes, or days, or-- he was certainly not here when the exhibition was opened. That fact was probably what had made them so angry and confused before - from their perspective a random statue of a soldier randomly appeared in the museum.

His mind immediately asked one question - I wonder what did they write on there? What was his title, his author, his artistic description or statement? Wait, his author? That was a strange line of thought, Mark realized.

I am Uncontrolled Power.

Wait, what was that? Who said that? Where was that deep voice coming from?

I was created by Greg Duchaime Arreman.

Was there someone standing behind him?

I am meant to represent unchecked aggression and power of the Military Industrial Complex.

Wait a second, what this voice inside his head?

I am the physical manifestation of toxic masculinity and bravado.

Holy fuck, this was a voice inside his head. Was this... what they had written about him on this stand?

Fuck yeah, I'm an alpha who follows orders and crushes any sign of disloyalty.

The voice was talking to Mark. Shit, the voice was talking to him! What the fuck?

You scum, get ready to experience the primal, animalistic force of a toxic man! I'm gonna crush you!

Mark wanted to sigh loudly, but of course he couldn't. Great, the museum employees with their great art wisdom made him a stereotypical aggressive soldier. Obedient muscle. The armored tool of American imperialism. And this soldier character seemed to have appeared inside his head.

I am here to blindly follow orders, enforce them and show everyone what masculinity really means!

If Mark could have rolled his eyes, he would. He was stuck, like an NPC frozen mid-frame, standing in the middle of an art museum, possibly forever. And from now on he would represent toxic masculinity, aggression and military prowess.

Whoever stands in my way will be violently crushed with the power of the American Military and my primal force! Toxic and proud, that's who I am!