Back From Hiatus & Discord Server

Wheelman

In the darkness of his study a shadowed figure sits in the glow of his screen and favorite beverage. Above him shows a red camo print mustang racing through obstacles, the driver hyper focused. “Sir?” A voice asks stepping in from the doorway. “He’s the one,” was the only response. “Find him, bring him to me.”

Diego Higa sat in his Mustang waiting for the light to change. A black suburban pulls around to come beside him. Diego looks over unable to see through the tinted windows. Nervous he grips his steering wheel. The light changes and both vehicles proceed forward, Diego accelerates more to gain distance from the black SUV. Thinking he’d gotten a safe distance away he’s about to slow down when red and blue lights flash behind him. Cursing in Spanish he pulls over to the side as the black SUV passes by. The cop walks up and before Diego can speak reaches inside tazing the young man knocking him out cold.

Diego woke up hours later to ropes binding him to a chair. Cursing in Spanish and fighting against his binds he doesn’t hear the footsteps of someone walking up. Speaking in Spanish the man approaches, “hello Diego, I’ve come to offer you a proposition.” Diego looked up at him with a snarl on his face. “I don’t bargain with someone who kidnaps me.” The man smiles and blows smoke into his face. “You haven’t heard my deal yet. I want you to be a wheelman for me. You’ll get paid very well.”

Diego was floored. Did this guy really think he would stoop to something so low? “Pass,” he said confidently. The man smiled, “I knew you’d say that.” He reaches out giving Diego’s leg a squeeze. “You’re twenty-one? Is that right? Very young and very talented. Is that why they call you the baby-faced assassin?” He grabs hold of Diego’s face examining it. “You are cute, but still very cocky.” Diego just glares and daring the man to try something. “Don’t worry Diego,” he said blowing another cloud of smoke in his face. Diego inhales and begins to cough the man using the distraction to jab something into his leg.

“Youch! What the hell! Are you drugging me?” Diego growled fighting more against his restraints. “I’m making you more compliant and less likely to be recognized.” As he finishes saying that the spot where the needle had been begins to burn. Diego groans uncomfortably as it starts spreading down his legs and into his feet. The man grabs a chair and sits down to watch. The pain gets worse for Diego as his skin feels on fire. His naturally tanned skin lightens in tone. His leg muscles spasm and he experiences hundreds of leg cramps as the muscle expands and swells underneath his skin.

“Not so pleasant is it? Don’t worry it gets worse.” The pain radiates up his thigh as his eyes start to water. The muscles are growing in his thighs, it reaches his groin and he screams out as he feels it the burning spread to his testicles. They swell and immediately flood his body with testosterone. His abs become more defined, his chest pushes out underneath his shirts. The man smiles watching as the shirt shrinks underneath his growing form. A wet spot forms from his growing rod as pre leaks out. “Almost there.” Diego groans as his arms grow longer and beefier. His skin changing to barely tan. “Looking good,” Diego then realizes that the man is now speaking to him in English.

“What are you doing to me?” He asks through gritted teeth. Veins start popping in his neck, his voice growing deeper as if he is going through a second puberty. “Stop!” he screams as his face burns. He closes his eyes, tears pouring out as his face changes. The baby-face starts to melt giving him a more mature appearance. Face hair and a more predominant jaw line. His hair shortens leaving him with a buzz cut. The burning subsides and he sits there panting. He looks up angry and defiant as the man approaches. “Don’t like your new body?”

“Change me back,” he growls the restraints straining to hold him as he flexes his muscles. The man gets close in his face asking, “are you really sure you want to do this? Do you really want to fight me?” Diego rears back and smacks his head against the man sending him staggering back. “Fine! That’s it.” He rushes forward. “Say goodbye Diego,” he says coming up to Diego. Diego tries to fight it, but the man holds him down and grabs a vial. “You’re going to become very obedient.” The man forces Diego to open his mouth dropping a few drops into his mouth. Diego’s eyes shoot open and his cock twitches and stirs before shooting out a load and then another. Each shot wipes a piece Diego away. He struggles and groans and then sits there blank as his cock dribbles out the last drops of cum into a vial leaving him stripped of his identity. The man pulls out a new vial with the words Damian written on it and pours it into the man’s mouth.

“Damian?” He looks up at the man. “How do you feel?” The bound man blinks for a moment and then grins, “good boss. I do something wrong?” He motions to the straps. “No my boy, you asked for it remember?” He unstraps Damian. “Go get cleaned up. I have a job for you.” Damian nods and quickly gets up grabbing the clothes sitting on the table. The man looks at the vial filled with the essence of Diego. He smiles and puts the vial into a case. “I’ll save you for later.” He caps the vial smiling as Damian comes back asking what the job is.

Breedertfs Story Index

This author also went by the following names:

Hogtfs

Shapedbydesire

Stories:

A Bad Wet Dream

A better ride

A better son

Arabian Nectar

Drawn

Better use of a twink

Born to Breed

Born to be a father

Chet

Don't be a queer, be a breeder

Frat Boy Fantasy

OnlyWishes

Put a sock in it

Set free

Shady Unit

Stop babe

Stud Pride

What You Desire

Taboo

That Wish Stinks

Thrift Shift: Camo Hat

This post will be updated this week as I reposted/reblogged more stories.

Geared Up

---

Second original story! Hope you all enjoy it.

Thanks to @mrrharper for providing nice images to use and proofreading!

---

Aaron was never type that would ever consider applying at a security company, much less applying to be someone's personal muscle.

However, the pandemic had struck Aaron quite hard. He was now living on what little he had left in his savings. Needing to pay rent he had already sought out any opportunity to work, but never had any luck. Thanks to the coming of A.I. it seemed his graphic design degree had become nothing more than a literal paperweight now.

In order to make ends meet Aaron he turned the next best option, working at Geared Security Inc.

Geared Security was a new company in town. They were actively looking for new employees meaning he could start quickly if he got through the interview.

Upon second consideration Aaron realized it wasn't a bad deal after all. The pay seemed good, no prior job experience was required, and he would even get a say in how his hours were scheduled.

Aaron decided he needed to take action as soon as possible and rung up the place, scheduling a interview for tomorrow.

---

The following morning Aaron had made his way to the industrial park where Geared was located. The building was a old hangar which seemed to have been renovated recently. It proudly showcased "Geared Security Inc." on large banner plastered on front. As Aaron entered the building, he was surprised to see no one inside. He looked around seeing the brown leather chairs lined up side-by-side in front of the wooden reception desk. Looking at his phone he realized he got there a tad early, still having about 15 minutes before his interview would start.

Despite the amount of job openings the company had he was surprised to see the absence of applicants.

"Better chances for me" Aaron thought to himself.

"I'll be right with you" a baritone voice boomed from the back.

"Ah.. Alright" Aaron replied taken aback by the deepness of the man's voice.

Moments later a large man appeared from the back.

Aaron could not help but notice his massive arms. What's more, the man's traps and neck were equally as developed, visible through any layer of clothing he would be wearing.

"Aaron, am I right?" the absolute unit of a man asked.

"Ah... uh... Yes, sir." Aaron replied, snapping back to reality.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Dan" he said, offering his handshake

As Dan shook hands with Aaron, his biceps could be seen straining against his uniform.

At the same time Aaron, still mesmerized by the hunk in front of him, felt a little zap as they firmly shook hands.

"Alright Aaron, please follow me to the interview room" Dan said, making his way towards to the room located left of the reception.

The layout of the room was simple. A large table accompanied by two chairs placed opposite of each other. Aside from the table, the only other notable thing was the carpet floor and the black door on the right.

"Please, take a seat" Dan said, looking directly Aaron.

As intimidated as Aaron felt by Dan, he also admired the level of confidence he exuded. He always stood tall and proud whenever he interacted with Aaron.

"You're here to apply for security guard, is that correct?"

"Yes, sir." he replied.

Dan scanned Aaron from top to bottom with a stern look as he grabbed the file in front of him and started skimming through Aaron's personal details.

"23 years old... City local... College degree..." Dan murmured to himself as he read more about Aaron.

He sat nervously, unable to read into whatever his interviewer was thinking.

"So Aaron, what made you want to take this job?" He asked.

Aaron realized he might not be the best guy suited for the job since he wasn't a literal wall of muscle unlike most security guards. He was however quite fit always making sure to keep up his running habit even after finishing high school.

"I've always had a knack for justice, plus I'm quite a fast runner since I've done track and field ever since I was in high school." Aaron replied, highlighting his skills.

"Good" Dan replied, nodding in approval of Aaron's athleticism.

The interview continued. As Aaron kept answering Dan's questions, he felt more at ease. He was getting more confident in passing the interview.

"You're hired."

Aaron was ecstatic.

"Before you're formally employed we will have to go over the employee conduct policy and sign some legal papers, okay?" Dan told Aaron.

"Yes, of course, I understand." Aaron answered, relieved at the idea of finally having an income stream again.

Dan shuffled through his stack of papers, finding one filled to the brim with text and bullet points.

He walked around the table, reaching over Aaron's shoulder and placing it in front of him.

Instead of sitting back in his seat, Dan now stood at the door behind Aaron whilst he waited for him to sign it.

In the meanwhile, Dan took the opportunity to read conduct policy out loud.

"As personal muscle employed from Geared Security Inc.," he started.

"You only care about lifting and gaining as much muscle as possible"

"You will be dumb and obedient. You will do anything your employer asks you to"

These requirements caught Aaron by Aaron by surprise. In just one moment he became extremely unsure as to what he was getting himself into.

"Actually, Dan I think I might need a bit more time to think this over..." Aaron started, trying to backpedal on the job offer.

Dan remained quiet as he stood in front of the door they had both used to enter.

Aaron, did not the trust the situation. In a quick judgement he ran towards to the only door that was left unguarded, hoping it would lead him to a possible exit.

He thought it was his best option given that he would not be able to get past the boulder that was Dan.

As Aaron got the door and turned the knob, he once again felt a zap as the turned the handle.

Unlike what he hoped the room wasn't anything close to an exit. Instead, the room in front of him was a small storage closet that was filled with clothes and firearms.

Aaron turned back around, expecting that Dan would've chased after him. However, he just stood there, like a statue, waiting idly.

Then, out of a sudden, vertigo hit Aaron. His vision got shaky, as the ground seem to be coming closer.

"What's-" he tried to say. However, the only words that came out were an unintelligible mess.

In a single moment Aaron had forgotten the situation he was just in.

In fact, he had forgotten it all.

The more he tried to remember, the more he forgot.

When he tried to who he was, or why he was here it became hard to think. His mind felt fogged up.

Any attempt at thinking was hard.

Maybe it was best that he didn't think at all.

Maybe, he should just let the thinking be done for him.

Whilst he tried his earnest to remember, the heat proceeded to only grow stronger.

Aaron felt his normally loose fitting clothes start to heavily strain at its confines. Where a once flat chest was, was now two pair of muscular slabs that started to were pushing his dress shirt to its max.

"Let me help you" a voice called out.

As he looked towards the origin of the sound he was met a sense of calmness.

It felt good to listen to the man.

Aaron just stood there as the man's burly hands made quick work of his dress shirt, ripping it apart.

"At ease, guard" Dan commanded as he moved onto removing Aaron's belt.

"Guard..? Who-" Aaron asked, still struck by confusion.

"Yes, that's you. You're a Geared Security employee, did you forget?" Dan stated.

"Ah.. yes.. I'm a Geared Security guard... Yeah, that's right.." Aaron confirmed, slowly gaining back a sense of his self.

Whilst Aaron was slowly puzzling everything together, Dan had finished undressing him. Much like his dress shirt, his pants had also met a similar fate. In mere moments, Aaron's legs had grown heavily, no longer looking the slim muscular legs meant for running. Instead, legs as wide as tree trunks remained, perfect for subjugating any possible suspects.

"Do you know who you are?" Dan asked.

"Yes of course... My name is... Aaron" he replied pausing in between due to his uncertainty.

"That's not correct is it?" Dan quizzed.

Aaron wasn't sure anymore. What the man said made sense. He knew the man was right.

"Yeah, it isn't..."

"Your name is James. You will be referred to by your designation A501"

A501 realized the man was correct, his superiors always are.

There is no Aaron. There never was.

"You were just getting to work and getting changed right?"

Of course, how could he forget. Like many of his colleagues A501 wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed. Luckily he never had to think much. The only thing he had to care about was lifting weights and gaining muscle. His superiors would do the thinking for him.

Not wanting to embarrass his superior any further, A501 quickly went to the storage closet and starting picking out new clothes.

He put on his large size 12 boots. Followed up by a pair of brown cargo pants which he had to stretch outward to be able to get over his large manhood. Next was the belt containing various tools needed for his job like hand cuffs and his company-issued firearm.

A501 finished putting on the rest of his uniform.

His new clothes fit snuggly, highlighting his large biceps and strong legs.

Revitalized with purpose and a sense of self the fog in his mind started to clear.

"A501, time to work" Dan commanded.

"Sir Yes Sir!"

A501 was now a geared up guard, ready for duty.

TS - #008 Cordypecs

A virus is not just DNA; a virus is also packaged up, covered over with a series of proteins in a nice, elegant, well-compacted form. 

- Francis Collins

An archaeologist begins to explore the ruins of an ancient Scottish castle that dates one of the many battles in the ‘War of the Craft’. His hand faltering and flitting over the stonework, he flinches somewhat as he feels something cold and damp, scared that somehow it may be blood or rot. Instead when he shines a light on the sticky white concoction, his eyes widen as a white dampness turns into what feels like white heat searing through his palm and travelling up his body.

Before he knows it, he’s bent down, hand wrapped around his cock as he can already feel the change happening. His bones shift as his back grows sending him to be over 6’ tall. His feet burst out of his boots. His own ass becomes thick as it grows. His once skinny and pale frame now broad and fair as he can feel muscle growing and growing in an endless wave of pleasure. By the time he cums on himself and feels his intelligence draining, he knows it’s too late, as for now he’s nothing more than a temporary victim of Cordypecs.

Morbus incrementum musculus otherwise more commonly known as Cordypecs is a virus that originated in the late 1400’s due to the actions of Sir Thomas. Having been transformed into an orc, Sir Thomas believed the affliction to be permanent and sought out [REDACTED] believing it to be a cure. During a heated discussion with The Craftsman, he was warned that his case was not permanent and that [REDACTED] wouldn’t cure him but only make his permanently become an orc and have disastrous consequences on both him and those around him. However Sir Thomas did not heed The Craftsman’s words and once he [REDACTED] he found himself shifting into an orc for the very last time as he became the first human-orc hybrid, containing the humanity and intelligence of his old self but the body and power of an orc.

He could barely control his body through the lust as he learned that he had a similar effect to the transformation that ensued for his squire, Gared. Only this time instead of making men more masculine (or at least their idea of masculinity). He also robbed them off their intelligence for the however long they lasted in their new forms. Eventually all men who were even transformed once by this method were soon able to find themselves transforming others and thus what was once a blessing was now viral, spreading from men to men across generations to come (no pun intended).

The virus has since been spreading around however it has weakened in the modern day era, now only leading people to last as long as a few hours in their new forms. Not much else is known about the virus other than it is only spread through semen and that it transforms men into their idea of an ideal man. This has changed throughout the ages, whereas men in the medieval period became knights, soon in the 50’s they became sexy businessmen that worked wonders on Wall Street and then greasers that enjoyed diners, leather, and all things motor in the 1960’s America and so on and so forth. 

Nowadays the ideal man to many varies and one can become anything from a male model, to celebrities, to a jocked out gym bro. Only time will tell what many men will soon become, and perhaps even you will soon become your ideal man.

Identity Death

--- Originally posted on 2024-04-12 by dumb-and-jocked. ---

As directed by @mrrharper

“Endless war will end our world!” Alan shouted.

“Stop funding our military!”

Alan was amongst the hundreds of protestors at the courthouse fighting against the proposed budgetary reforms. Schools, roads, transportation, parks, environmental protections agencies–they were all on the line. Through the presented bill, thousands of institutions would be shut down as billions of dollars would be rerouted towards a single entity: the military.

“The military corrupts! Stop the brainwashing!” Alan spat. He had organized this event under his alias, a popular political blogger on multiple social media outlets. Although his voice was loud and aggravated, Alan's physical appearance was anything but. He wore a baby blue tee and white-washed skinny jeans. 5’7 with bleached hair. All he needed was a rainbow somewhere to perfect his twink look. But he was not here to make that kind of statement. He was at the protest to make another form, something that could gain traction. Peering across the crowd, Alan saw his chance. 

A few of Alan’s fellow protestors were bombarding one of the towering guards with jeers. They scrutinized him, although it appeared none of their words got through the soldier’s heavy artillery padding. In fact, the solider stood proud in his position, dominantly poised with his chest puffed up in pride. Alan approached the guard slowly, noticing he remained perfectly still as the protestors continued to insult him. Without thinking twice, Alan approached and made his move. 

“How about you show us what they’re really funding, dickhead?”

Alan threw a fist at the soldier, putting all his strength behind the movement. Due to the crowds, the soldier did not recognize the motion until it was too late. Alan’s knuckle dove right into the much taller man’s neck, ricocheting into the muscular, masked chin. Instantly, there was a cheer from the crowd at the successful blow, but it was quickly hushed.

“You pathetic cocksucker,” the soldier growled. In a flurry, the once peaceful statue became a merciless brute, swinging down and dragging Alan out of the crowd. Before he knew it, Alan found himself handcuffed with the soldier escorting him off into the enemy’s territory.

“You can’t do this! This is illegal!” Alan cried out. 

“Shut your whiny mouth.” As soon as they were out of public sight, the soldier slapped Alan hard across the face. The warmth of blood soon filled his cheeks where the bruise began to bloom. Alan made sure not to react, but he could not hide the worry in his voice.

“Where are you taking me?”

“The barracks, you fairy prick.”

The soldier brought Alan to a building not too far from the protest lines. He guided them down numerous hallways, Alan losing track before they even made it halfway there. There were checkpoints, various nods, and some curt conversations with other soldiers, but nobody questioned about Alan or the situation. Eventually, Alan was tossed into a small makeshift bedroom, only holding a cot and a pile of unwashed clothes.

“Get undressed,” the soldier demanded.

“Why should I listen to you?”

Alan was met with another forceful assault, this time a punch to his gut.

“Cause I’m First Sergeant, maggot, which means out of the two of us, I’m in charge.”

Alan scoffed. “Is that your name: ‘First Sergeant’?”

“First Sergeant QF24,” the soldier gruffly shot back.

“That’s not a name either,” Alan replied. 

“Been in service so long I don’t need a civilian name.”

Alan wanted to jump on this, make a point about how this was evidence of the dangers of the military, but First Sergeant continued.

“While my identity is real, I assume the one you were about to give me is not. What do you go by, something like that 'AlanActivist' snot?”

Alan blushed, believing that his pseudonym had been cool and unique.

“It’s about time you considered that maybe it is not the military that enforces this ‘identity death’ you all are so worried about, but your own belief system.”

“You can’t be serious,” Alan snarked, surprised at the soldier’s intelligent argument. First Sergeant was however humorless, once again pointing to the pile of discarded clothes.

“Get dressed, degenerate.”

The soldier placed one of his giant, gloved hands behind the twink’s back and pushed him towards the pile. It appeared to Alan as a giant heap of army green and camouflage. Slowly but hesitantly, he began to strip himself of his clothing, hoping to avoid any further hazing. Once down to his underwear, he silently pleaded that he would not have to drop anything else.

“Soldiers go commando, sissy.”

First Sergeant quickly appeared behind Alan before ripping his underwear clean off, exposing the twink’s bare bottom and small package to the world. Alan quickly covered himself up with one hand before leaning down towards the pile. He grimaced, his fear no longer overriding the powerful musk seeping from the military cloth. First Sergeant chuckled at his disgust from behind.

“Aren’t homos supposed to like that kind of thing?” he asked, before grabbing the back of Alan’s head. “Go on, get a better whiff of it!” Amused, First Sergeant plunged Alan’s head into the musky pile of clothes. Alan’s oxygen supply was cut off, forcing him to inhale the overpowering masculine fumes.

“You idiots never consider that being in the military is hard work. It’s not all fun and guns.” First Sergeant smothered Alan’s head further. “‘Bout time you realize what it’s like, standing on the front line all day, hot and sweaty and random strangers berating you for protecting their country, their freedom.”

The military body odor seeped into Alan’s system, numbing his body and clouding his mind. By the time he was pulled away, the naked twink struggled to form a coherent thought.

“Much better,” First Sergeant noted the lopsided smile on the twink’s face. “Now, fit yourself into some tactical gear.”

Without questioning it, Alan followed the soldier’s command. He did not know every single piece of equipment that went into the common soldier’s uniform, nor did he understand the procedure to follow, but somehow Alan managed to get the attire onto his body.

Combat pants, military-grade socks, gore tex boots. Camouflage button-up, hardshell jacket, belt with holster and magazine pouches. Shooting gloves, army print hat, face mask. It took a minute longer for Alan to place every minor piece of tactical protection onto himself, but finally his smaller frame was completely covered, dwarfed by the oversized gear.

“Looking like a real soldier there,” First Sergeant mocked. “Now let’s actually make you one.”

Already covered in the musky clothing, Alan’s intellectual ability had been dulled considerably. But when First Sergeant approached, clutching Alan’s head once more before shoving it into his wet armpit, his brain completely halted. Coming straight from the source, the soldier’s stench wafted past all Alan’s barriers, taking control immediately. Its first instruction was to keep sniffing, its second was to conform.

With a chuckle, First Sergeant watched as Alan’s body began to expand underneath his hold. The shrimpy twink grew inside of the tactical gear, filling it out properly in every direction. Muscular arms filled the sleeves of the jacket, meaty hands stuffing the crevices of the gloves. The vest became as padded on the back as it was in the front, juicy pectorals and rigid abdominals forcefully pushing against the fabric. 

Thicker thighs padded the pants, bloated feet crowded the massive boots. Two muscular buttocks crammed the seat of Alan’s pants. A lantern jaw and cleft chin became prominent underneath the face mask. Buzz cut hidden by the cap, deeper voice waiting to confirm with “Sir, yes sir!” First Sergeant even noticed the prominent padding his new soldier was developing beneath the belt. When he ultimately removed Alan from his hold, the man before him now stood at the same domineering height.

“Good, now just stand still for one moment.”

Even if he wanted to, Alan could not move. The musk was still lingering in his mind, holding him steady as First Sergeant deposited an obnoxious military headset onto Alan’s head. He then plugged the headset into a walkie-talkie before tuning it to an empty channel. A robotic voice began looping into Alan’s ears, along with a few simple tones to open up the receptive pathways in his brain.

“Ready to get back out there?” First Sergeant asked, knowing his fellow soldier could not hear him. With a smirk, he escorted the dumbfounded subordinate out of the room, pacing slowly as Alan absorbed the propaganda. It was simple phrases, nothing too complicated but through repetition effective on the psyche. “Military good,” “pacifism bad”. “Nationalism good,” “multiculturalism bad.” “Masculinity good,” “progressivism bad.” The messages were rudimentary, but deliberate.

Once they stepped back into the open, fresh air, Alan’s consciousness resurfaced. He tried to fight back against the rampant messaging, doing his best to tune out the audios as the First Sergeant led him back to the front line. Alan was being attacked on all fronts: his morals, his identity, his sexuality. Every time he turned away to defend one trait, it was like he lost another. He felt himself dwindling, chipping away.

Before long, the two stood directly in front of the courthouse, mere feet away from their first encounter. First Sergeant loaded the new soldier up, arming the man with a weapon and other items necessary in case of an emergency.

“Let’s see if you’re done cooking yet.” First Sergeant looked directly into his subordinate’s eyes, pleased with their reflective quality. He then removed the headphones.

“Name and rank, soldier?” he saluted. The other man fell into place, mirroring his actions.

“Private Aaron Steel, MH36 sir!”

First Sergeant smiled. The name change was a good sign of transition, but complete removal would have been preffered.

“Ready for the task, soldier? Will you be loyal and obedient to the greatest nation? Follow every instruction in the name of tradition?”

The soldier nodded his head quickly, “Affirmative, sir.”

“Alright then.” First Sergeant replaced the headphones back onto the private’s head, knowing a little more time would do the trick. “Dismissed. Get back to work, private.”

“Sir yes sir!”

First Sergeant strolled back to his command at the front line. The new private monitored the crowd, absorbing his commands as he scanned for any disturbances.

TheBurdenBorne Archive

Hi all! Thanks to efforts by @masterwolftfs I have managed to recover even more of TheBurdenBorne's (DeviantArt) old stories!

Below will be a huge index compiled by @imsrtman of most of the titles of TheBurdenBorne's written works.

What I have already posted on Tumblr will clickable on the list.

Similarly, anything marked with an asterisk means that I have a copy of it and will post it soon. I also have some stories that I'm not sure what the title is of so I'll need help with that as well.

As for the remaining entries on the list:

Please send me a DM if you have any of the stories that are not marked or posted yet! I

It does not matter if you only have say part 4 or part 2. If everyone contributes parts here and there we can recover most of it!

(All the stories are sorted from A-Z ascending)

Unknown:

Story 3

Story 4

Uncategorized:

Dog Tags

Hypnotizing Young Bro

Jock boy is hypnotized

Man's Best Friend

Missing Dick

Sculpted

Tailgating

Trash

Series: Black Power

Black Power Ch. 1

Black Power Ch. 2

Series: College Camp

College Camp Part I

College Camp Part II

College Camp Part III

College Camp Part IV

Series: Dancing Bears

Dancing Bears No 1

Dancing Bears No 2

Dancing Bears No 3

Series: Daydream Age

Daydream Age 13

Daydream Age 23

Daydream Age 33

Daydream Age 43

Daydream Age 43

Series: Enrollment Week

Enrollment Week 1 (Garrett-POV)

Enrollment Week 2 (Garrett-POV

Enrollment Week 3 (Garrett-POV)

Enrollment Week 4 (Louis-POV)

Enrollment Week 5 (Carl POV)

Enrollment Week 6 (Wesley POV)

Series: Extra Curricular

Extra Curricular: Filmmaking

Extra Curricular: Metals

Extra Curricular: Woods

Series: For Him

For Him Part One

For Him Part Two

For Him Part Three

For Him Part Four

For Him Part Five

Series: Manual Labor

Manual Labor Client One

Manual Labor Client Two

Manual Labor Client Three

Manual Labor Client Four

Series: One Fad Fits All

One Fad Fits All: Biker Chic

One Fad Fits All: Bodyguard

One Fad Fits All: Cowboy Up

One Fad Fits All: Lumbersexual

One Fad Fits All: Surfer Boys

Series: Ostello della moda

Ostello della moda: Antonio

Ostello della moda: Bruno

Ostello della moda: Christofano

Ostello della moda: Diego

Ostello della moda: Eduardo

Series: Pokémon Go Team Green

Pokémon Go Team Green: Battle

Pokémon Go Team Green: Captured

Pokémon Go Team Green: Hatched

Pokémon Go Team Green: Traded

Series: Primal Instincts

Primal Instincts: A Bit Overbearing

Primal Instincts: Men are Dogs

Primal Instincts: Monkey Around

Series: Product Placement

Product Placement: Free Exercise Healthcare Offer

Product Placement: Free trial Attraktion Kondom

Product Placement: Free wax and hair removal

Product Placement: Subway sleeper

Product Placement: Wet Dreams

Series: Roommate Needed

Roommate Needed One

Roommate Needed Two

Roommate Needed Three

Roommate Needed Four

Roommate Needed Five

Roommate Needed Six

Roommate Needed Seven

Series: Selfie Seduction

Selfie Seduction Interlude

Selfie Seduction Part 1

Selfie Seduction Part 2

Selfie Seduction Part 3

Selfie Seduction Finale

Series: The Collector

The Collector Part 1: Auction

The Collector Part 2: Acquisition

The Collector Part 3: Audition

The Collector Part 4: Abduction

Series: The Modern Man

The Modern Man-Step 1

The Modern Man-Step 2

The Modern Man-Step 3

The Modern Man-Step 4

The Modern Man-Step 5

The Modern Man-Step 6

Series: Uber Men

Uber Men 1

Uber Men 2

Uber Men 3

Uber Men 4

Uber Men 5

(Total amount not verified)

Primal Instincts: Men are Dogs

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Haha," replied Gwen drolly.

--

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

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

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

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

"Wait, you can talk?"

"Of course I can talk!"

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Roommate Compatibility Program

this is my first time posting something like this to tumblr, hope it's an enjoyable read !

Arthur and Jimmy may have had the same last name, but that was the only thing they had in common.

Arthur Lee was, by all accounts, a nerd. When the Asian math major wasn’t dutifully taking notes on complex equations at his lectures or studying in silence at the library, he could usually be found holed up in his dorm, gaming until the wee hours of the morning. His only extracurricular activity to speak of was his weekly participation in the Chinese Student Union, if by “participation” one meant “sitting in the back of the room and not speaking to anyone.” His naturally pale skin was made even more so by a lack of sunlight, and his messy black hair resisted any attempt at styling. Short, shrimpy, and gay, he had clearly never seen the inside of a gym. In short, he was the exact opposite of his roommate.

Jimmy Lee was everything Arthur was not. Tall where Arthur was short, buff where Arthur was skinny, popular where Arthur was friendless. The straight white jock spent his days living out the all-American college fantasy — playing sports, pumping iron, and partying all night long. Of course, that hardly left any time for Jimmy to work toward his comms degree — but that hardly mattered, because everyone knew he was as dumb as a bag of rocks. His brutish Neanderthal features, extensive body hair, and blond buzz cut only added to that impression.

Maybe it would have been unrealistic to expect Arthur and Jimmy to be friends, but certainly no one could have anticipated the sheer antipathy that defined their roommate relationship. Arthur’s reasons for hating Jimmy were predictable — he was dumb, loud, and obnoxious; he left dirty clothes and sweaty exercise gear everywhere; and he stank up the dorm with his alpha musk. Jimmy equally couldn’t stand his prissy, prudish roommate. Arthur nagged him constantly, and he shot down all his invitations to work out or go out. Not to mention, he forbade Jimmy from getting laid while he was in the room, which was all the time. Nothing said unsexy like the presence of a judgmental Asian nerd hunched over his gaming PC at two in the morning.

Needless to say, it was not an ideal situation for anyone. So when a flier for the Roommate Compatibility Program was slipped under their door one evening, their interest was piqued.

Having issues with your roommate(s)? The Roommate Compatibility Program is here to help! Our trained experts use scientifically proven methods to ensure you and your roommate have a lifelong bond. 100% success rate, guaranteed!

In a rare moment of agreement for them, they decided they had nothing to lose.

That was how they found themselves entertaining a stranger in their dorm the next day. The man, who had introduced himself as “Mr. Thompson-Filipowski, from the RCP — but you can call me Mr. T.F. for short” had shown up out of the blue, giving them no time to prepare. So now they sat in their respective beds, answering Mr. T.F.’s questions as he appraised their living space thoughtfully. He wore a loud blue suit and had in hand a clipboard that he occasionally used to jot down notes, but otherwise he had no distinguishing features to speak of. Everything else about him, from his build to his skin tone to his hairstyle, was somehow impossible to pin down. He must have just had one of those faces.

“Thank you, boys,” he said after he was done interrogating them about their (lack of a) relationship. “I just have one more question for each of you before we can officially get started.” He turned to Jimmy first. “Jimmy, what would your ideal roommate be like?”

Jimmy had to think for quite a bit at that question. Finally, he responded in his vapid baritone: “Uh, I dunno… I guess he would just, like, be my bro.”

Mr. T.F. nodded, scribbling something on his clipboard. “Okay, excellent.” He turned to the Asian nerd next. “And Arthur, what about you?”

“My ideal roommate would be someone who’s, well, similar to me,” Arthur said, wincing at how his voice still cracked at every word. “Someone who shares my interests, and who I can spend time with, and… yeah.”

Mr. T.F. returned to his clipboard. “Right,” he said. “So, to summarize — Jimmy, you want your roommate to be your bro. And Arthur, you want your roommate to be similar to you. Is that correct?” There was a strange weight to his words, exuding the sense that something significant was carried within them, but Jimmy didn’t register this and Arthur thought it irrational, so both roommates ignored it. They nodded.

“Excellent!” Mr. T.F. said, the ominous presence now gone from his voice. “Okay, so often what we’ve found at the RCP is that roommate incompatibility is often a case of misapplied expectations. Often, our roommates do meet our expectations, you just need to keep an open mind about it. I’d wager you boys have much more in common than you think.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and Jimmy audibly scoffed at that, but they both kept listening anyway.

“For instance, looking around your dorm room, I can tell that both of you have a pretty similar fashion sense, wouldn’t you say?”

Arthur wanted to protest that all of the clothes strewn about belonged to Jimmy, not him, but the more he looked, the more he realized that wasn’t entirely true. That jersey on the floor definitely belonged to him, as did the baseball cap hanging from his bed and the sweaty white socks next to his desk. In fact, now that he thought about it, roughly half of the clothing he could see actually was his. Huh, he supposed he did dress similarly to Jimmy, then…

“I guess so,” Jimmy said as Arthur was distracted. “It’s hard to remember whose is whose sometimes because we dress the same and wear the same size, huhuh.”

As Jimmy spoke, his words became reality. He didn’t notice, but he shrunk down a few inches from his previously monstrous height until he was just under six feet — still respectable, but no longer anything more. Meanwhile, Arthur rose dramatically to meet him, until they stood at the exact same height. Since the two were equally small and shared the same taste in schlubby, sporty clothes, they essentially owned one wardrobe between them, borrowing and swapping constantly — although what looked tight and well-fitted on the muscular Ajimmy was loose and baggy on the lanky Jarthur. Curiously, the shirt Jarthur currently wore was the one item of clothing he wore that didn’t update itself to match his new reality; as such, it was now uncomfortably small on him.

Mr. T.F. continued, “And judging by the sports gear and gaming equipment in here, it looks like you also have similar interests, isn’t that right? Have you ever tried bonding over that?”

Again, it seemed Mr. T.F. was mistaken. Yes, their room indicated their respective interests in fitness and video games, but those interests were far from shared. Jarthur wanted to correct him, but then he had to reconsider. While he wasn’t into sports like Ajimmy, he certainly knew his way around them. He got as hyped as any other guy watching the Super Bowl, and he had fun whenever he was invited to play a quick game of basketball or soccer.

Meanwhile, Ajimmy was trying not to laugh at the implication that he liked video games. What did Mr. T.F. take him for, some nerd like Jarthur? But now that he thought about it… he did have fond memories of owning his bros with his mad gaming skills. He didn’t really want to call himself a gamer — he wasn’t into any of that anime or Nintendo kiddie shit. But Madden, CoD? Yeah, he fucked with those.

Imperceptibly, the dorm room shifted to match the roommates’ changing interests. Posters of popular players duplicated themselves from Ajimmy’s side of the room and pinned themselves into the wall above Jarthur’s bed. At the same time, the gaming computer vanished from Jarthur’s desk, swiftly replaced by a small TV between their beds. Well-used controllers popped into existence, one for each of them. The roommates themselves weren’t spared from the wave of changes, either. The tan leached out of Asjimm’s skin until he was quite pale, although not unhealthily so. Meanwhile, muscles made themselves known for the first time all across Joethur’s body. He was still lanky, but there was a definite sculptedness to his body that had never been there before, demonstrating his newfound appreciation of physical activity and straining his shirt even further.

“Yeah, all the time,” Joethur responded to Mr. T.F.’s questions. “I can destroy Asjimm at basketball in real life and in 2K,” he bragged.

“As if!” Asjimm retorted good-naturedly. “Next time, I’m kicking your ass, nerd!”

Joethur laughed. He may have had some problems with his roommate, but their shared competitiveness was not one of them.

“Ah, that’s lovely to hear,” Mr. T.F. said, checking a box on his clipboard. “The best way to become closer is to spend time together, after all. But that should be easy for you two — I’d imagine your class schedules are quite similar, since you’re in the same major.”

What was Mr. T.F. talking about? Joethur had never taken a comms class in his life, and Asjimm would certainly never be caught dead in a math classroom. But then Joethur went over his class schedule in his head again, and he realized that he did share most of his classes with his roommate. There was Accounting 101 on Mondays and Wednesdays, and Entrepreneurship every Thursday morning… In fact, aside from Joethur’s one math class and Asjimm’s lone comms class, their schedules were identical! But how could that be the case…?

“Well, I mean, yeah, I guess we do,” Asjimm said. His face twisted into a cocky smirk. “But just between you and me, it’s not like we bother to show up to class most of the time, right Joethyr?”

Everything suddenly snapped into place for Joethyr. Ausjim was right, of course — being a business major required confidence, charisma, and leadership skills more than anything else, and both Joethyr and Ausjim had that in spades. It certainly didn’t require studying or smarts, which was fortunate for Joethyr, as his brain was rapidly shrinking to match his meatheaded roommate’s. In fact, it was even smaller than Ausjim’s — he had scored highly enough in high school math that he was able to take an elective comms class for an easy A this semester, while Joethyr was being forced to struggle through calculus for a second time.

Records across campus rapidly rewrote themselves to reflect this new reality. Ausjim’s grades rose slightly, even as Joethyr’s GPA dropped from a 4.0 to a 2.0 — but whatever, C’s got degrees. In turn, the two roommates underwent their own changes. Joethyr’s unkempt hair retreated into his skull, leaving behind a slick fade. Moreover, the spark of intelligence retreated from his eyes, leaving them dark and hard. Ausjim’s hair experienced the opposite change, growing out into an impeccably groomed quiff that perfectly framed his face, neutralizing his unattractive Neanderthal features. His body hair also faded into nothingness, leaving him totally clean-shaven. The business classes he was taking had taught him the importance of presentation, after all.

“Yeah, bruh,” Joethyr agreed, now speaking in the same vacant timbre as Ausjim.

“Well, how do you boys spend your time then?” Mr. T.F. prompted. He was nearly at the bottom of his checklist — this far into the process, he didn’t even need to guide the roommates’ transformation. Their new personalities had largely subsumed who they used to be, and would be happy to fill the remaining gaps by themselves.

“Isn’t it obvious, bruh?” Ausjim said. “The gym — duh! Gotta get those gains!”

At his roommate’s proclamation, Joethy underwent a startling change. At last, his muscles ballooned all across his body until they were identical in size to Ausjim’s. No longer did he have to settle for merely toned — he was well and truly ripped. So dramatic was the change that his shirt was instantly torn apart, revealing his glorious pecs and washboard abs for the world to see. The Asian hunk subconsciously flexed as he thought about his answer to Mr. T.F.’s question, realizing something funny in the process.

“Hell, we probably even spend more time at the Chinese Student Union than class, right bruh?” Joethy nudged his equally jockish roommate.

The word “Chinese” resonated in Ausjin’s mind as he experienced sudden changes of his own. His lush hair was quickly thickening and inexorably staining itself midnight black. And as for the rest of his body, his lack of hair down there became much easier to maintain, as he naturally had less of it. Meanwhile, his facial features were shifting all at once — brow softening, nose broadening, eyes narrowing, lips plumpening. Eventually, they settled on what the rest of his body had already become — a carbon copy of his roommate.

“Yeah, bro, totally…”

At the word “bro,” the roommates’ final changes began. The physical refinements were over, but there was still work to do mentally. Ausjin’s brain was purged of the faces of his former family, their white features morphing into far more familiar Asian ones. Fond memories shifted as his mother’s famous meatloaf became her authentic dumpling recipe, and the destination of his childhood summer vacations was corrected from Europe to China. Through it all, he remained the dumb, popular jock he had always been. That was also true of Joethy, who could no longer remember being a lame, skinny nerd. Nights spent studying were replaced with nights spent partying, and members of an extensive social circle easily entered the parts of his brain that had never experienced true friendship. His memories of his family remained the same, however — with one key addition. The newcomer’s face was blurry, but the more that he focused on it, the more familiar it seemed. Almost like… his own face…? Or was it Ausjin’s face? That seemed closer, but… 

By Joethy’s side, Ausjin found his memories haunted by an identical face. The two jocks sat there in dumbfounded silence, both trying to recall who it was that featured so prominently in their memories. What was his name? Not Joethy or Ausjin, but rather… rather…

“Joey! Austin!”

Joey and Austin Lee snapped back to attention, refocusing on their strange guest.

Mr. T.F. chuckled, putting his clipboard away. “You boys zoned out there for a sec! It’s okay, I’ll get out of your hair soon. I just have one last question for you — are you getting along as roommates?”

“Well, of course we’re getting along, bruh!” Austin exclaimed.

“We’re basically the same person already!” Joey finished his twin’s sentence with a pure, dull guffaw.

Because it was true. Joey and Austin Lee were clearly cut from the same cloth: The identical twin Asian jocks were both brainless, buff, bisexual business-major bros. The only appreciable difference between the twins was their hairstyles. Austin fancied himself a pretty boy, spending hours by the mirror meticulously maintaining his gelled hair. Joey, meanwhile, rocked a utilitarian crew cut, confident enough to put his angelic face on full display. But other than that, they were totally inseparable — everything they did, from working out to gaming to partying, they did together. (Rumor had it that they even fucked together, only bringing a lucky girl or guy home when he or she was willing to share.)

“Great to hear that! Thanks for participating in our Roommate Compatibility Survey, you two — although I don’t know what results we were expecting from twins like you… Anyway, have a great one!” As Mr. T.F. exited the room, he allowed himself one last glance back at the Lee twins as they mindlessly bantered. Both of them had certainly gotten their wishes. Joey was exactly like Austin, and Austin was exactly like Joey, and they were certainly each other’s bros — in both senses of the word. Another success for the Roommate Compatibility Program.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind Mr. T.F., the Lee twins promptly forgot he had ever existed, returning to their existences as paragons of young Asian American masculinity.

“So, what’s the plan for today, bro?” Austin said. “Hit the gym, then hit the streets?”

Joey smirked, admiring himself and his twin in the mirror. “You know me so well, bro!”

--- 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.

The rings: Jake

--- First time writing my own story ---

--- Please let me know what you think ---

Just before the second year of college rolled around I was met with the unfortunate news that my best bro, my roommate, would not be making it to the second year.

Turned out he'd been spending too much time partying, and too little studying. Not even the coach could save him anymore.

Sure, being on a sports scholarship meant studying isn't your main priority but you still had to maintain your grades somewhat if you want to make it to the next year.

To make things worse, my new roommate turned out be some nerd.

Jacob was your average nerd that would be holed up in his room most of the time.

He didn't really bother me. It's just... I had hoped to have a new bro to go to the gym with instead of some wimpy kid.

Color me surprised when the guy came out of his room out of nowhere to ask me to help him some project he was doing for some course.

Something about trying some "telepathy" gear he was working on he was working on for a biomed class.

To be honest it all sounded really like some science mumbo jumbo to me. I must admit I wasn't too excited so I thought I'd struck a deal instead: he'd tutor me for my calc class and I'd try his stupid gear thing.

He seemed happy with the proposal and told me it'd be ready for testing in a couple days.

--

As I stepped out of the bathroom after just taking a shower I was met by Jacob holding two comically large rings which almost looked like miniature hula hoops.

It had been a week since he'd asked me for the favor. To be honest, I'd already forgotten about our agreement.

Though I was a man of my word and did need some help with calc, not wanting to end up like my old buddy.

He signaled for me to sit on the couch as he started to explain all about his new gadget.

Supposedly, the pair of rings were some new technology he was working on. He explained that it allowed the wearers to communicate with each other as if the other person was simply a voice in their head.

I accepted one of the nearly metal rings, the only discernable difference being a smaller engraved letter T on the side indicating that I would be on the receiving end according to Jacob.

Not thinking much of it, I held it over my head as he instructed.

As I pressed the button on the side of the device it quickly shrank, tightly sealing itself on my head.

Jacob, doing the same, had grabbed a small little tablet whilst the ring sealed itself on his head.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Yeah, let's get this over with" I replied back.

A large shit-eating grin appeared on his face as he pressed a button on the ring.

"You jocks are real dumbasses, you know. Should've been more skep--" the nerd started saying before he suddenly stopped.

The twig had frozen right in his tracks. He looked as if his soul had left his body.

Testing if he was actually there, I waved my hand in front of his face.

Nothing.

Huh? What the fuck?

Okay, this is kinda weird.

I need to get rid of this ring.

It didn't budge. Not only that, this shitty thing just zapped me as well.

Hmm, think. The nerd mentioned something about telepathy, right?

Hey nerd, you hear me?

No response. Fuck.

I'm gonna look like some freak with this stupid headband there has to be something...

Maybe I should just try the telepathy again.

Hey Jacob, say something!

In an almost comical fashion what seemed like a corpse just uttered one word.

"something"

You've gotta be kidding me.

Uh, let's try something else.

Jacob, jump!

Without skipping a beat he jumped.

This is kinda awesome...

Jacob, explain what your plans were with these rings

"My intention was to use these rings to transform you into a nerd as well as do something other things..."

Explain what you mean with transform

"These rings are a technology I devloped that allows you to transform your target however you like by giving suggestions"

Heh. So, if I told him to grow a pair that would work?

As expected the nerd briefly twitched before a visible bulge started forming.

The Jacob's bulge wasn't the only thing growning larger in the room.

I noticed that my dick started to chub up as well, fueled by this new power I had just obtained.

I realized that with these rings I could do anything.

I could still get the roommate I wanted. And I could make him however I wanted.

--

Time to get to work.

Strip

The pudgy nerd took care of undressing, now showcasing his unimpressive body.

I could not help but feel pity for the guy.

He lacked any muscle definition. The only thing he had going for him was his now bull-sized nuts that looked mismatched compared to the rest of his body.

I should at least give him an appropriate cock to match.

Jacob, add a couple more inches to your cock

His average 5 incher started growing rapidly, reaching a monsterous size of what looked to be 8 inches.

I circled around him, proud of my work while I looked for the next area of improvement.

To be honest, there was a lot of work to be done. Maybe a rough approach would be better.

Adjust your body fat percentage to 7%

His already slim frame now became quite boney.

Add 40 lbs of muscle mass

The same arms that once lacked any muscle mass now had biceps that would rival an amateur body builder.

Veins also started bulging out, running from his large mitts upto his biceps.

The changes didn't stop there, however.

A pair of meat slabs started to form on his chest as well.

Unable to resist, I snuck up behind Jacob to fondle his newly formed pecs whilst also admiring his growing traps.

My hand went slipped down further, sliding into the deep crevasse formed by his 6-pack abs.

It seemed that Jacob hadn't missed leg day either. His legs now looked more like tree trunks that would be easily able to squash a watermelon.

To make the picture complete Jacob's feet had to match as well.

You've always worn a size 13

His feet grew large and veins appeared, much like what had happened to his previously tiny hands.

You've always prefered to keep your hair in a quiff

Jacob's unruly mop had started to style itself in a trendy quiff.

Now, flex for me

Jacob now struck a double bicep pose, his already large biceps forming sizeable peaks.

----

"You mentioned something about jocks and being a real dumbasses didn't you, Jacob?"

Ah, wait.

You will wake up

"Huh, what... Why do I feel heavy..." Jacob murmured before realizing it was caused by his new physique.

"Wait! No. You were supposed to get the receiver not the transmitter! How did I- argh" Jacob said fully grasping the situation now.

"I don't want to be some dumb brute!" Jacob told me, now reaching for the ring.

Don't move

Without missing a beat Jacob froze right in his tracks.

"What are you planning to do to me, you stupid jock?" he asked.

"Stupid jock, huh" I mocked.

"It's funny you say that because right now you look more like a jock than me." I told him.

"Perhaps you just don't think like one... yet" I snarked.

"I remember you said something before. Something about jocks being real dumbasses?"

"Wait no! Please-"

You've always been a dumb

"I- uh.. Hng.. What did I say again...?"

"A real jock wouldn't go by a nerdy name like Jacob, now would he?"

You have always been called Jake

"Bro, I don't know who the fuck you're talking about."

"Ah, nothing to worry about bro" I reassured him.

You only care about is lifting weights and partying. You never bothered with studying.

Oh, and you may move again

"So bro, what's up what are we doing here? We should go to the gym." He asked me, completely oblivious as what happened not even minutes earlier.

"You dumbass, we just got back from the gym." I told him.

"Oh, huhuh, sorry bro, I guess I forgot haha" he replied.

When I call you by the nickname brute, you will obey my instructions, no matter what I tell you

"Hey Brute, won't you help me with getting these rings off?" I ask.

"Of course, anything for you bro" he replied.

A bro is never afraid of a little bromance

A little fire in his eyes lit up.

"So bro, what do I need to do?" he asked.

"On the count on three, we both press the button on the side of the ring. I think that's the only way to get them off" I explained.

"Ready?" I asked.

3.. 2... 1..

I immediately felt relief as the tight ring was now removed from my head.

"Brute, give that ring to me. You never want to touch that ring again. You know big bro will handle it for you" I instruct Jake.

"Here you go, bro" he said handing the ring.

I put the rings on the nearby coffee table.

I was happy. I now got myself the perfect roommate. And, if I needed it I could give additional to my brute.

"Hey Jake, there's a party tonight. You wanna go?" I asked him.

"Of course bro, always down"

"Before that, I've got to ask something" I said, sitting back down on the couch.

"I need a little help with something" I smirked, turned on by all the effort put in transforming my roommate

My dick had become rock hard and was begging for attention.

"You think you can help a bro out?"