Unseen Self

$50,000, bro.  They promised they could remake me.  Think about it, it’s only a year’s salary. Took me a long time to save it up, that’s for sure – couple of years.  I was an engineer, had paid down most of my degree… but I wasn’t happy.  So I did some digging on the dark web.  It’s a gig economy but more than that, a fetish economy, and folks will pay for all kinds of twisted shit.

What did it entail?  Haha, well, I didn’t want them to make me a total moron, but I did want to bro out.  I did want a major lifestyle change.  For the chunk of change I was spending, I, or should I say we, got to plot and plan the deets together for some time.

I was hella fuckin’ nervous, that’s for damn sure.  My hands were shaking as I signed.  It was a total lifestyle change, and I’d be living paycheck to paycheck, just like an average dude.  But then the fun began.  They helped me figure it out – tats like I didn’t give a fuck, not being so uptight about booze and drugs, definitely loosening way the fuck up about casual sex, and just turning into a chill guy, the sort I envied, the sort I knew it would be way more fun to be.

I wanted to be able to just chill, do what the heck I wanted, and be sort of alpha and sort of a dog, you know?

It took four months of intense retraining.

It was like a boot camp in a way, which is funny because my lifestyle is so much the opposite of order and discipline, now.  But they had a lot of work to do on me.  It was fuckin’ hot, every step of the way, this total devolution, I guess you could call it.  If my sergeant saw me with a nice shirt on, he’d slap me upside the head and say “Who the fuck are you?  Remember who you are!” and rip it the fuck off me.  Eventually everything I owned to wear was ripped the fuck off me, from pants to underwear.  They replaced it all with jock straps, athletic shoes and shorts, sweatpants, tank tops, you get the deal.

You ever seen A Clockwork Orange?  We went through some of that in a chair.  Electroshock, light but firm.  Poppers – god, I fuckin’ love poppers now, actually.  Just generally slapping the pussy out of who I was.  I learned to fuck and how to take it up the ass.  Turns out I’m a top, but vers.

That was a whole hot process, too, the erotic training.  They started me on muscle training first, and then basically drugged me up when they took me out for my first tats.  Fuck.  I loved it, too, finally doing a stupid but permanent thing like that.  But yeah, the erotic training – he slapped the fuck out of me and told me to remember who I am.  Erotic asphyxiation and aggression were so much of my early training, when I was bottoming and being humiliated, for days on end, even, that it’s now a firm part of who I am… I love getting aggressive on a dude, almost can’t control myself, really.  They need to find out how hot it is, and I love to drink and smoke and hold poppers under their nose.  Love doing it to a guy for the firm time, too, bustin’ a cherry is always hot.  Would have been too sensitive before, I’m sure, ha!

But yeah, fuckin’ was worth it for sure.  Message me if you want to know more.  Getting the lingo down and the dumb but hot-as-fuck laugh down was a lot of training, but serge and I had beers to pound down, arm-wrestling, fuck, I was changed so much in the process.  Having the time of my life now.  Best money I ever spent.  Totally don’t give a fuck, love who I am and how I get what I want out of so many dudes pretty much all the time now.

--- Originally posted on 2023-03-28 by breedertfs ---

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

That Wish Stinks

“W-wait, let me be more clear!” The blonde twink barely has the chance to lift his hands up, gasping in shock, as a glowing rift appears in front of him.

In a half hour, his boyfriend is coming over to spend a fun evening cuddling in the sheets watching their favorite show together, but to Christopher’s dismay, his older brother is still crashing at his place. What was supposed to be a weekend has turned into a near month of free-loading, and for all that time, the admittedly prissy and tidy twink has been at his absolute limit.

Chad got laid off at his construction job, and their parents moved out of state years ago, so they couldn’t offer help. And as much as Christopher was horrified by the idea of being trapped in a house with his slob older bro again… what else could he do? But now, wading through beer cans and fast food wrappers and choking on the fumes that only a straight jock can produce, his empathy seems more like a mistake than a virtue.

It’s as Christopher is trying to clean under his couch that his fingers come into contact with a very warm and very sticky and EXTREMELY foul smelling sock. His big bro’s cum sock, hardened in some spots but still moist in others. “EWWW!” was all Christopher could cry out, rushing to grab more paper towels and cleaning supplies. In his frustration, going down on both knees to better clean the pig sty, he makes his wish.

“I wish my brother wasn’t the absolute filthiest, most stereotypical, stupid jock in town,” he started sassily, happy that his brother was gone and pumping iron at the gym so that he could express his thoughts openly. But that’s when the rift appeared, a glowing and radiant energy that somehow seemed to stare right at him, pulsing with light.

Wish granted.

Try as he might to protest, not realizing some entity was listening to his ill fated wish, Christopher is powerless as the rift consumes him. It feels like he is being stretched on all sides, legs extending and arms stretching, far past the limits of his older bro. In the rift, he could only stare in horror at a swirling mass of green fumes, reeking of the same foul, gnarly scent of Chad’s farts. The same ones that haunted Christopher in his youth, pretty little face squashed under those hairy, sweaty cheeks after no-consent wrestling.

He’s trying to scream when the gas goes straight down his throat, pouring into his being, making his eyes water as the last remnants of the twink wail and gag. He could down every inch of his boyfriend’s cock, but this was unalike anything he had ever experienced. As he inhaled the fart, his stretched body filled in all the spaces his former lithe frame couldn’t compensate for. His newfound stout, commanding figure bore a striking resemblance to Chad’s, but it seemed to go a step further. More swole, more reeking.

In a flash, his thin jaw cracks into a strong, lantern cleft chin. His shoulders pop up and broaden into boulders, football sized biceps following suit, he can’t help but to flex them. The twink used to hate burly men, Christopher used to hate size and smell and hair, but now Topher is grinning down at his sick ass gains, his huge muscular thighs straining against his sweatpants. His cock stirs, hardening, growing in size and length as the head of it rubs against the fabric, going commando because that’s just who he is. The new him. It throbs with the urge to be released, to penetrate, the flood of testosterone in his senses rewiring all of his urges, erasing every aspect of who he used to be to make room for who he wishes to be.

All he wanted right now was to plow a bimbo and seed her, pass on his majestic jock genes for the future generation, and make her cry out his name as he plays with her tits. He can’t even remember his boyfriend anymore. That’s not something he’s ever considered, not Topher. If you think Chad is a walking stereotype, just meet his brother, that’s what everyone says. Chad’s got nothing on Topher.

The absolute filthiest, most stereotypical, stupid jock in the house.

He settles into reality, raising his arms into his new favorite pose, breathing in deep the scent of his musk. His workout shirt is stained to hell and back, but he’s proud. There’s a bag of fast food junk he smashed earlier for his bulk, and there’s two cum rag socks under the coach he and his little bro share when they gotta let off some steam. Shit, what he wouldn’t give for some pussy right now. Maybe when Chad gets home from his pump Topher can propose a night out to go and satisfy their pythons. He’d be home in about twenty minutes, and Topher has a mean fart brewing in his gut that’s he’s gonna use for a glorious, protein reeking prank to greet him.

Then the doorbell rings, and Topher is surprised to see some fairy stumbling over his words on his porch, asking where his boyfriend is. Topher just chuckles, dim eyes looking sharp for possibly the first time ever. “Hey, uh, I still get two wishes?” A familiar rift started to appear over the frightened queer’s head as Topher, pawing his engorging cock, thought of how great life was doing to be living in his man cave with his bro, the next best thing to himself, and how even still it could be all just a little bit better.

“I wish I had a bimbo side piece standing on my front porch right about now.”

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.

Locked in the Laundry Room

The Origins of Heir

I was so excited to spend a week alone in the city.

For my recent eighteenth birthday, my parents agreed to give me a week and let me explore the nearby city and check out the university I had been longing to attend every since I was little. My favorite cousin, who was a few years older, volunteered to give me a tour on the first day I was there, and the rest of the time was mine to spend on my own. I was so excited, I almost jumped out of my seat when I drove out of my driveway Sunday night.

My cousin and I were best friends from almost as early as I could remember. The two of us were inseparable, and decided when we were older to be partnering doctors. After a few years passed, my cousin flew right out of high school into my dream college. Now a few years later, I was on the same path. Both of us had 4.0’s going into senior year, and I know I could last a little longer.

I was so excited to spend a day with my cousin, but also a week alone. My parents had promised that they would leave me alone and that there wouldn’t be any check-ins or “unplanned” surprises. I was always set on a straight path towards becoming a doctor, so I was usually by myself, nose-deep in my studies. I never really had time to make friends or find a girlfriend. I was also fairly average physically, so no one really put in the effort to talk to me unless they wanted to get an A on some group project. Sure, I was lonely every now and then, but it could have been worse. I always was better on my own or with my cousin.

Monday was amazing. My cousin showed me every stadium, classroom, study area… anything the university had to offer. We ate out, chatted about school, and she introduced me to her friends. When the day was over, I was exhausted. I jumped on my hotel bed and immediately fell asleep.

The next morning, I explored the city’s restaurants, stores, and parks. Lucky for me, there were plenty of great sales and deals only available on that day. Who knew Tuesdays could be special? As I strolled along a path near the downtown area, I realized I had missed something on my tour yesterday at the university. I hadn’t seen any dorms while I was there! I quickly grabbed my phone from my pocket, but realized I shouldn’t text her. It was barely past noon, so I didn’t want to interrupt one of her classes. I thought about what I could do for a moment, and decided I could just find a dorm myself. I ran to a bus stop and jumped on the first ride to the university.

I hopped of the bus and walked to the first dorm I saw: Richardson Hall. Richardson Hall was one of the older buildings on campus, but it was only evident through the slightly faded look on its brown bricks. It was surrounded by oak trees and plenty of students studying and working together on assignments. The building was the only one on campus that hosted students of all ages, but for only males. As I walked closer, I noticed how truly massive it was. It only had five floors, but it looked more like ten as I got closer. I got near the doors and pulled out and fiddled around on my phone, casually waiting for a group of students. I didn’t have a keycard to enter the building, so my great plan was to blend into a group when they entered. I looked at my home screen for a while, which adorned a picture of me and my cousin at a mall. After a few minutes, a group of male students came strolling down the path. As they came up the steps, I quickly added myself in between them and was let inside.

Richardson Hall wasn’t anything special on the inside. Besides it strangely ornate main stairwell, it looked like a normal dorm. I walked around for a bit on the different floors, looking into different people dorms as I strolled by. One of the perks of looking ordinary is that you can drift by without anyone taking too much notice. After about an hour of just hanging around the dorm, I decided it was time to head back to the hotel. As I walked back to the stairwell, I noticed something peculiar. There was a small sign with the words, “LAUNDRY ROOM” in huge letters, and with it a small arrow pointing up. For some reason, I found this amusing. I was on the fourth floor, so that meant that the room was on the top floor. I’d never hear of a laundry room not in the basement, so for some reason I felt like I ​had ​to see this.

Once I got to the top of the stairs, I followed the signs that led me down an old hallway. At the end there was an old brown door that was just barely open. I opened it and was surprised to see a second door. This door was white, with a glass looking into the room. I would’ve just looked through the window and left, but it was made with the kind of glass that was more of a faded white than clear. I slowly pushed the door open and entered.

The laundry room was really nothing special. The room wasn’t too big, and it seemed even smaller due to the amount of washing machines and dryers. There was a skylight above me, flooding sunlight into the room and providing a little natural heat. After I saw the cheap flooring and the soft-colored walls, I decided the room wasn’t as fun as I thought it might be. The only strange thing about it was the smell, or, lack of. I was expecting to be blasted with some sort of detergent-soapy aroma, but instead it was quite stale.

As I inspected the room, I noticed there were two others in the room. They were whispering to each other, but I don’t think they had noticed my presence. The first thing I noticed about them was that they were ​built.​ Both of them were stacked with muscle, and they didn’t try to hide it much either. Their clothes were a little more revealing than I was comfortable with. One was carrying a sports-related bag, while the other was putting laundry in the dryer. They were probably some cocky football jocks or some stereotype to that.

The one said something to the other one with the bag, nodding and smirking, and then patting him on the back. The one with the bag began walking towards me, seeing me for the first time. He wore a tight, light and dark gray striped tee shirt and a pair of too-skinny skinny jeans. His short, dirty-blond hair brought out is kind smile as he walked closer to me, his large fleet clomping.

“See ya, Mark!” he said, his cologne wafting past me as he stomped by. By the way he walked, he was definitely confident with himself. His stride was so powerful that I felt a small breeze ruffle my shorts when he walked past. “Mall in two hours, bro!”

“Sounds good, Easton!” Mark said, still at the laundry machine. I heard Easton walk out and shut the first door behind him quietly.

“Hey, bro,” Mark said, walking forward to me, “I’m Mark.” He extended a meaty paw towards me. “Oh, hi,” I said, looking over him and extending a hand, “I’m John.” I winced a little as we shook hands. I had underestimated how strong he was. His whole body was covered in a tan that showed hours spent in the sun. I started at his chest, because sadly that was eye-level. Mark was wearing a university tee that was at least a size too small. His biceps and pecs were nearly bursting, but his jean shorts were somehow even tighter. The jean shorts barely covered half of his muscled, hairy thighs, and it was obvious by his pronounced bulge that he wasn’t packing light. After drifting my eyes past his hairy calves, I saw his huge feet, which were covered by a pair of old athletic socks and some very worn-down Nike’s. Their bright red color hadn’t survived very long, and it was now faded under a soft layer of dirt. I craned my neck past another pronounced bulge, now in his neck, and looked more closely at his face for the first time. He had a very masculine and sharp jaw, and his hair was messily styled in a way that worked with the whole “football jock” look. The last thing I noticed was his beard, which I was immediately jealous of. A beard like that was hard to grow, and it probably showed more pride than his own pride, if you get what I’m going for.

The whole time I was looking him over, he was inspecting me to.

“You’re not a student, are ya, bro?”

“No, I’m just touring,” I said, a little neglected.

“Well, this is great school! We have some of the best sports around the nation… and best professors,” he quickly added, remembering who he was talking too.

“I’m glad to hear that,” I replied, already knowing both.

“Well, I gotta head out, but it was nice meeting ya, bro!” Mark smiled and patted my shoulder as he walked past me. I heard him walk over to the door and grab the handle. Mark fiddled with it for a second and groaned. He grabbed it again, a little more vigorously and a little less patiently, and tried to open it, but to no use. I turned to see Mark looking at me; he was angry over something.

“Something wrong?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he replied, sighing, “my bro, Easton, he accidentally locked the door.”

I stood there, puzzled, “How?”

“The first door is always supposed to be left open because it locks on its own. That doofus closed it.” Mark took a deep breath, but he was obviously pissed. “Ya got your phone on you?” “Yeah one…” I began, but as I reached down into my pocket, my hand felt nothing. I tried again, but it was still empty. I reached into another pocket, and still came out with nothing. After about a minute of searching, Mark stopped me.

“So ya don’t got your phone, and mine’s charging in my room. Great.” Mark walked past and sat down, resting his back on a washing machine. I walked around to where he was sitting, placing myself opposite of him.

“Is there anything we can do?” I asked, sounding ignorant.

“Not really,” Mark replied, “Janitors only come up here on Saturdays, but Easton will probably know I’m missing so hopefully we won’t have to stay too long.” We sat there in silence for a little bit, but then started to talk to keep each other company. I got to learn a ton about Mark. He had always been into sports, especially football, but once he got to college he put his major before sports. According to him, he was luckily​ ​convinced by the school’s head coach, Coach Sorenson to continue football and join the team. At first, Mark was reluctant, but as soon as he joined he knew it was the right choice. Mark also talked about the lack of numbers on the team, and how he had an idea to get them back up. He had pitched the idea to Coach Sorenson, and it was so good that he offered Mark a job after he graduated next year as Assistant Coach. Mark agreed and immediately changed his major from Business to Physical Education.

“Bro, I was so nervous about switching, I mean, I’m one of dumbest people I know.” Mark chuckled at his own joke. It was a slow, emptier laugh.

“At least I’m not as stupid as Easton, though!” Mark added. We both laughed at that real hard. We sat there for a moment, trying to catch our breaths, before Mark spoke again.

“Hey, bro, would ya be alright if I take of some of my clothes?” Mark asked. During the whole conversation, I hadn’t even noticed the heat. The room was boiling. There was no air conditioning, and skylight was still shining light into the room, making it much hotter than comfortable.

“Yeah, of course,” I said, removing my own sweater. I now noticed the sweat stains scattered along my shirt. Mark carefully removed his own shirt, carefully. It was soaked through with sweat and stuck to his chest like another skin. As he pulled it off, I got a full look of his torso. I was a little jealous before, but now I was bursting with envy. His chest was perfectly defined; it was what every man wanted but couldn’t have. It was hairless, unlike the rest of his body, but you could see every ab and muscle. I was definitely straight, but this truly tested my sexaulity.

The whole time I was gawking at his chest, I didn’t notice him toss his shoes and socks next to me. The smell of his feet instantly filled the hot and stale room, making it so steaming that it brought me out of my trance.

“Size 15,” he proudly stated, smirking, ”biggest on the team.”

I looked at his huge feet, and then at his huge shoes. They reeked so much that it was making me a little dizzy. Then, I noticed another scent begin to fill the room, and for some reason it was familiar. I tried to find the source, and Mark took notice of me immediately.

“Oh, that?” he asked, his smirk grew a little wider as his tone became a little more menacing, “that’s the smell of my cologne: Heir.”

Mark took a little bottle out of his pocket with the word “HEIR” written in big, messy letters. He then put the bottle away and casually lifted both of his arms placed them behind his head. He fully exposed his armpits to me, which were filled jungles of wiry hairs. All the hairs that should’ve been on his chest were obviously there. I then realized why the scent was familiar; I had smelt it on Easton as he left.

“Remember the idea I had talked about earlier, bro?” Mark smiled as he scooted towards me. The scent of his shoes and cologne were making it hard to concentrate.

“When I was taking my Business major, right before I switched to Physical Education, I took a class on funding. An assignment was to fund a new and upcoming company. I stumbled upon a tiny company that made personalized scents located a few miles from here. I brought an idea to Coach about making some colognes, and he approved of it. See, together we made a cologne for all the football jocks to wear, that way we could recruit new players.”

I tried to understand what he was saying, but the two scents were blinding my other senses from working properly. Mark scooted again so he could sit next to me. He slowly took my head and placed it on his crotch with my facing up. He then brought one of his armpits down to my face and uttered a simple command.

“Sniff.”

In my state of confusion, I immediately complied. I began to sniff, at first tentatively, but after a while more confidently. After sniffing his armpit for a little bit, I began to moan as the effects of the cologne set in.

It started with my height. My legs and torso began to stretch to each new breath I took. I felt new muscles tense and release as I got to a height a little over 6’2”, which was a little under Mark’s 6’4”. The next thing I felt was my chest begin to expand. Each new breath made my torso rise a little more. Hard pectorals began to slowly develop, pushing their way into the open. A cobblestone path began to appear as my non-existent abs began to form from thin air. Next were my legs. I groaned a little as my quads began to tense into solid muscle, perfect for the running I’d be doing every day. As soon as my thighs were done pumping up, my calves followed. My calves became meatier, with solid muscle adding itself on top of more muscle. I felt my butt plump up a little too, becoming bubblier.

My arms followed quickly after. Years and years of training kicked into my arms to make them better for throwing and tackling. My biceps and triceps inflated like little balloons, and my hand beefed up to make it easier to catch the ball and high-five my bros. As soon as my hands were done swelling, my feet kicked into gear. My feet, which were already pushed away due to my new legs, began to expand. I could feel my toes slowly move farther and farther towards the ceiling from the floor, until they themselves plumped up. New veins appeared over my feet, giving them a truly masculine look.

“Size 14,” Mark said, admiring my feet as I continued smelling his armpit, “good for you.”

For some reason, it felt good to know that Mark was happy with me. I kept sniffing and felt my neck expand. My moans began to grow deeper and emptier; my voice sounding dumber with each new breath. By the time my neck was finished transforming, my voice sounded almost identical to Mark’s and Easton’s; a now truly sounded like a football jock. My neck was followed up by my head. I quickly dug my head deeper into the dense forest that was Mark’s armpit, trying to help progress the change. My head began to stretch longer. I felt my cheekbones move up and my chin push down, causing my cheeks to suck themselves in. My hair began to turn blond, cutting the sides and growing out on top. As soon as it stopped growing, it coiffed itself up. My nose shrank a little and my lips grew a little wider, and my eyes tooks on an vacant shade of blue.

“Here comes the best part, bro,” Mark said anxiously, pushing me even deeper into his armpit, “this is where the name comes from.”

I sniffed passionately, wanting whatever Mark was so eager about. Suddenly, I began to feel rather itchy across my entire body. I tried to squirm, but I realized that smelling Mark’s armpit was more important. As I gave my full attention to sniffing, I realized I had hair growing all over my body. Blond hairs were heavily covering my legs, arms, butt… there was hair everywhere. There was hair on the tops of my feet, a new bush in my pouch, and my armpits looked like a blond version of Mark’s. The only place where there was an absence of hair was my chest. Once the hair stopped growing, I began to produce my own, pungent body odor. It was then I realized what Mark meant. The cologne was named Heir, but everytime he had pronounced it as “Hair.”

Mark then lifted me out of his armpit and turned me around to face him. I was still a little dazed, but I was coming back to my own consciousness.

“The cologne isn’t the only thing the company makes.” Mark reached past me and grabbed one of his shoes, he pulled out a faded, slightly wet shoe sole. “They also make scented shoe soles.” I was still confused, the smells hadn’t worn off.

He explained further, “The cologne does the physical work, but we have to make sure ya also become a team player mentally. These were a little harder to afford, and they come with some side effects, but bro, it’ll make ya into what you’re supposed to be.”

“Wha… side effects?” I was finally coming back, my head starting working as thoughts came back. I began to realize the danger I had been in all along.

“Oh, nothing,” Mark grinned, bringing the huge boat to my face, “let’s just say that you’ll truly be a bro. You’re gonna be as bright as Easton and have the libido of frat president.”

Mark shoved my head into his shoe, and right as I came out of my state of confusion, I was shoved back in. I began to sniff again, feeling my mind replace itself. Memories of my family and high school began to disappear. My loneliness was replaced with tons of friends, girlfriends, and secret relationships with other bros. My new family was more athletic, with my parents both being high school coaches. Memories of being alone with my cousin were now replaced with drunken homecoming bashes and late night bangs. As I sniffed Mark’s shoe, I realized this was all true. I had ​always dedicated myself to sports, and if I had always dedicated myself to sports, that means I would’ve had no time for an education. All my intellectual thoughts and ideas began to flow down through my system, all the way down into my pouch. My balls began to expand, churning my own intellect into pure, jock testosterone. They got bigger and bigger, slowly reaching the size of two tennis balls. My 4.0’s slowly became B’s, which dragged into C’s, and in turn dragged into barely even graduating. I remembered the only reason I had gotten into college was a football scholarship.

Memories of college began to flow in as well. For some reason, I’d thought I was touring as a future student, but I remembered that I was already a student here. I was in my third year of my Exercise Science major to become a physical trainer. I remembered the countless parties that had been hosted at my frat, the multiple professors I’ve had “extra-credit seminars” with, and when my main bros Mark and Easton helped me discover I wasn’t actually straight. After that, we shared so many brojobs and “study-halls” together. I remembered the countless games my football team had won, and how good I felt whenever I could please my coach, Coach Sorenson, or my broski Mark. Sure, I was very close to dropping out of college, but I remembered that as long as I did what Coach Sorenson told me, I would graduate.

Mark began whispering commands to me, edging me on to a spectacular release. He told me how it had always been this way, how I always had this perfect life, how all I needed to do was smell the shoe and release. I kept getting closer, feeling my average member get longer and longer until it reached a permanent eight inches, just barely shorter than Mark’s. Mark kept whispering into my ear and told me to take a deep breath and hold it. I followed his instructions, taking one more huge breath and sealing my IQ at an eternal 89. Then he whispered one last time in my ear.

“Just do it.”

I did exactly that. Streams of white erupted and spread all over my chest, Mark’s chest, and the pile of ripped clothes around me. My old memories were now gone forever. I was still John, but now as a hot, popular jock who would do anything for his Coach and bros. Now, thanks to Mark, I’ve learned who I truly am. I’m about as bright as best bro Easton and have the libido of frat president, and that’s what I’ve always wanted.

As soon as I snapped back to reality, Mark explained to me that we were just doing laundry and got bored, so he decided to give me a good ‘ole brojob. When I noticed I was naked, I asked where my clothes were.

“In the laundry, bro,” Mark guffawed, “we were doing laundry, remember? Why else would we be in here?”

I gave a dumb, hearty laugh back. He opened a dryer and tossed me a pair of gray sweatpants. I brought them to my nose and took a sniff. Mark, Easton, and I never actually use washing machines, we just throw our dirty clothes into the dryer to amplify the smell of our dirty clothes. If people complained, we’d just apply the football team’s awesome cologne: Heir. I pulled up the sweatpants while Mark put back on his socks and shoes. He pulled his shirt over his head, which now stunk of sweat and cum. We began to walk towards the doors, and suddenly, we both heard a click as the first door swung open. There stood Easton, smiling a dumb grin as he came in.

“Hey broskis!” Easton said, coming in to join us, “You meatheads left your phones in the frat house.”

Easton searched through his bag, handing Mark back his phone before grabbing mine. After getting my phone, I leaned up against a counter and checked looked at my home screen, which was a picture of Easton, Mark, and I at the beach in our speedos.

As I searched my phone, I overheard Mark and Easton talking.

“Has he passed the final test?” Easton whispered.

“Not yet, but I think he’ll pass,” Mark replied back confidently before strolling over to me.

“Hey, John,” Mark said, coming close to me. I could smell him. “Are you missing anything?”

“Uh,” I paused, my empty voice rumbling, “my jock?”

“Yes, but that’s not what I was going for, bro. Commando doesn’t count.” Mark came over and grabbed my accentuated pouch. I loved when he did that. Then I figured out the answer.

“I’m missing nothing when I’m with my bros!”

“Bingo!” Mark said, nodding to Easton.

“Hey bro!” Easton said, coming in to join us, “Where’s your shirt?”

“He was too dumb to notice he was missing it!” Mark laughed, and Easton and I quickly joined in. How could I have been so dumb to forget a shirt?

Easton pulled out a blue sleeveless shirt with the Nike symbol out of his sports bag. I smelled it, and realized it was used. Just how I liked it. He also handed me a pair secondhand of black and gray Nike trainers. I investigated the shoes, looking right at the special soles before I put the shoes on. They looked huge, but fit my feet perfectly.

“I can be so dumb sometimes, bro.” I laughed at myself as I put on my clothes. “Such a meathead.”

“That mean’s your keeping what’s important in mind,” Mark added before also reaching into Easton’s bag. He pulled out a small bottle with a label. I raised my arms, showing off my pits, and Mark sprayed a hefty amount of cologne into the dense hairs. He put the Heir bottle back into Easton’s bag.

“Let’s go, bros!” Mark said, leaving the laundry room, “Don’t want to be late for practice!”

Jason swore loudly and had to resist the urge to throw his controller down, pissed that he kept dying cause of the game's stupid glitches (Also known as own mistakes). Still, he regained his composure, and smiled before saying

"Alright chat, we're gonna finish up this one and then we're gonna move on to another game. There should be a poll on top for what we do next"

Jason was a moderately successfully game streamer, averaging about 200 to 300 viewers a night, entirely based on his wit and skill. He knew for sure that they weren't coming for his looks, given his weedy, thin frame, overly pimpled face and large, nerdy glasses. Still, it was enough for him, and he was happy with the progress that he'd made.

As Jason got himself set up for the next game, he heard a shocking sound from above him. The victory theme from one of his favorite JRPGs was blaring through the speakers, and he came up, staring at the screen in shock. He knew what that sound meant. That meant someone had tipped him one thousand dollars, completely out of nowhere.

He looked in shock at the notification on the stream, seeing that it was from someone named JockBro69, with the simple message "Can't wait to get to know you better, cutie~"

Jason was completely stunned. Not only had someone actually redeemed the donation goal that he set as a joke (That being that whoever was stupid enough to tip 1000 dollars got to have a 15 minute private chat with him), it was also someone that he'd never seen in his chat before.

Thoroughly weirded out, but knowing that he had to honor his commitment, he sent the guy a quick private message.

"Dude, I don't know how to thank you enough! Guess I'll see ya pretty soon!"

With that, he sent the man his private zoom link, and said goodbye to the chat, who were still going wild over this turn of events, before pausing,the stream and hopping over to discord for the call.

Not two seconds after his stream stopped, he got a requested video call on discord from the guy, and he opened it up, giving a second for the video to load, but when it did, he was completely dumbfounded again. He was expecting the mysterious donator to be some fat, sweaty silicon valley nerd with too much and money on his hands, but instead what met him was possibly the hottest man he's ever seen, standing up and looking down at his webcam with a friendly expression.

"Fuck, bro! Its so good to finally fucking meet you, I've been such a big fan for a long time, and this is a really big deal for me~

The man had a deep, rumbling, pleasant voice, that shot straight down Jacob's spine and left him feeling strangely... inadequate. Like the fact that his voice wasn't as smooth or melodic as this guy's was his fault, and he should be ashamed of that fact. Still, this guy was pretty pleasant to look at, Jason had to admit. He wasn't gay, definitely not, but he could acknowledge when another guy simply looked good.

Jason scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, not entirely sure of what he should do or say. Still, this guy spent 1000 dollars on this meeting, so he had to try anyway.

"So, umm.... I see your username is jockbro69... What's your actual name thought? I don't think I've ever seen you in chat before..."

The other man actually laughed at this, before looking confused and saying

"What are you talking about bro? Its me, Ethan! I'm in your chat all the time! Man, I guess what they say about playing games so much is true, huh?"

At this statement, Jason actually went pale with shock. THIS was Ethan? This was the guy who's username used to be runningLink? Who was an active fan of the zelda series, constantly begged Jason to play them, and bemoaned the fact that no would date him? It just didn't seem right...

Still, Jason, ever the semi professional, continued on, pretending that he wasn't shocked at the news.

"Well, thanks for supporting me so much! Seriously, this means a lot to me... Ummm... so I guess tell me some of your favorite things about the channel then!"

The man laughed again, the sound coming out in a slow, dumb chuckle, before saying

"What's my favorite thing? Do I even have to say, bro? Its the amazing piece of eye candy I'm looking at right now. You're super hot, bro~"

At this, Jason was shocked, but he chuckled awkwardly while blushing, and said

"Really? I don't think I've ever heard a single person say that before. I guess I consider myself slightly below average..."

The guy looked confused at that, before pressing on

"Really, bro? You look super hot to me, you got those bright, blinding blue eyes that you can just get lost in~"

At this point, Jason knew the man was just messing with him. His eyes have always, and will always be a dark, muddy brown, hidden behind his massive frames. Jason was about to respond, when Ethan continued

"Yeah, and you got that super stylish haircut too, really makes you look super masculine~"

Now Jason was REALLY confused. The guy was right, he did always get complements on his eyes, the bright, shocking blue visible and striking even through his huge glasses. But his hair was always a long, unkempt greasy mess.

"Ethan, are you sure you're okay, you're not just seeing things? Cause I don't know what you're talking about"

Ethan ignored the comment, just continuing to press on

"And you've got that hot, manly face, with your strong jaw and amazing profile"

Jason was confused again. Sure, his stylish haircut did help him look much better, but his face had always been pretty androgynous, with hints of baby fat still present in his cheeks. Again, before he could interrupt, Ethan continued,

"And you've got that smooth smooth skin, that hot stubble, that sexy smirk of yours. You're the full package bro~"

Jason laughed at this. Ethan was clearly being way too complementary. Sure his face had a great shape to it, with strong cheekbones and a square jaw, but his skin was still acne marked as hell, his smile was crooked and awkward, and he'd never been able to grow any facial hair, no matter how much he tried.

"I really have no idea what you're talking about Ethan. Sure I've got some good features, but the overall package isn't much to write home about~"

Ethan smirked again, his eyes lighting up with humor, as if he knew something I didn't.

"Nah, bro, you're underselling yourself. Plus, you've got that body~"

"What about my body? I think its pretty average, though I guess I'm a bit on the skinny side..."

Jason looked down at himself, trying to contemplate what Ethan meant. Sure, he'd been blessed with an attractive, manly face, but it didn't change the fact that his body was still below average at best.

"Again, bro! Putting yourself down. You really think those massive logs you have for arms are below average?"

Jason looked down at his skinny arms, and said

"More like logs than twigs man, seriously."

"And what about your legs? You've spent so long working on em, you've got thighs and glutes to kill for~"

Jason laughed again

"I dunno man! Most people say the exact opposite. They say I spend too much time on arms and not enough on my torso and legs. What can I say though? I love having big, beefy arms."

"Of course you do, bro? Who wouldn't? Especially when right in between em, you got your big, pillowy chest, your sexy abs, and your super toned back~"

Jason was seriously starting to wonder if Ethan was on something. Anyone could clearly see from first glance that Jason's body was badly proportioned, his arms and legs being massive from months to years of work, while he neglected his back, pecs and ab muscles. Still, he thought he looked pretty alright honestly.

"And I especially love how you're not only super sexy, you know it and flaunt it~ I don't think I've ever seen you once wear a shirt. The most you'll wear is a necklace, and even then, not like that covers anything, bro~ Only makes you look sexier"

Now here Jason had to disagree. He knew that he had cultivated and developed an amazing body over his years of going to the gym, but that was all for his own personal satisfaction. He never flaunted it unnecessarily, especially not during a stream.

"And I love the fact that you're such a fucking bro, bro. Every other word out of your mouth is bro and dude, you can't go even five minutes without flexing and thinking of fucking, or going to the gym, or hanging out with your other hot bros. We all know that your brain is basically only good for working out and looking hot. No smart's up there. And you've got your deep, sexy voice, too. Makes it even hotter that you're a gay bro, just like me"

Jason HAD to laugh at that. What the guy was saying was just so ridiculous.

"What the hell are you talking about? Look, I know that I like to show off my sexy body a lot, but that doesn't mean I'm some kind of dumb jock. And I'm definitely straight, dude. Don't know why you'd think I'm gay"

Ethan pressed on, completely unabashed by Jason's last comments.

"But you know the best fucking part, bro? Its that power of yours. The fact that any weak ass nerd who looks at you and your huge fucking muscles grows into a hot, dumb bro like us within seconds~"

Jason was busy flexing, staring at his own bicep in awe, as if he was shocked by him impressive he was. He looked up at Ethan blearily, saying

"Sorry, bro, what'd you say? I guess I got a bit fucking distracted. Huhuhu. But who could blame me~"

"Nah, it was nothing bro. You don't need to worry about it. Now should head back to the stream?"

Jason gasped in excitement, having forgotten entirely about the fact that there was a whole stream audience full of lame ass nerds, just ready for him to make as sexy as he and Ethan were.

"You got it bro~ This is gonna be so fucking hot~"

Jason left the call, going back to the stream and restarting, glad to see that a full 300 people were still watching, even through the extended break. The second he turned his camera on, he could see that people were confused for some reason, saying a stranger broke into his house. How stupid could these people be? How did they not recognize him? Still, not like it would matter for long...

"Hey bros! How're we all fucking doing? Welcomes to today's stream..."

He trailed off, looking blankly at the camera, before saying

"You know what? Fuck video games! Who needs them when you can do this~"

And as his pecs bounced and bounced hypnotically, the chat slowly transitioned from messages like "What the fuck is happening?" or "Who is this dumb jock?" to "Fuck, bro! Your pecs look so fucking hot today!" and "Huhuhu, I love making my pecs bounce like Jace's~"

And so the stream continued, Jace showing everyone all the amazing things his body could do, while anyone that was watching, whether they wanted to or not, began to copy him exactly. And as the stream went on, the viewer count rose, and rose, and rose...

Purgatory

--- Original author: realhankmccoy ---

Q: Bro, you were so smart, bro. Why’d you have to go throw it away like that?

A: Because I had to, man. I guess I just felt like it was something I had to do. Haven’t you ever gotten the feeling that you just had to do something? I’m really glad that I did choose this, too. Love working out.

Q: You had a great future ahead of you, though. Graduate studies at King’s College, a future in the National Health Service, all sorts of prospective opportunities with biotechnology companies, in research, or in higher education. Look at you now, and look at your priorities now. I don’t even recognise you, bro. The studious, bright young scholar you were has been replaced by some sort of aspiring muscle jock. How far are you going to take it with this? You’re not going to seriously keep working out, are you? Are you really planning on getting even bigger?

A: It’s true, man, haha, I am not the same wimp anymore. Not at all. I’m maybe at the halfway mark, the way I see it, in becoming the sort of bro I want to be. A lot has changed for me. Yeah, that guy I was, he was smart and all, but I wasn’t happy. I feel like he’s starting to cease to exist. He’s maybe halfway out the door at this point. I’ve been watching a lot of rugby lately. Been watching Manchester United. Kinda want to try Australian footy someday.

Q: No way, bro. But kinda beside the point, now you’ve got me curious about any potential fetishes of yours. How do you feel about ‘man chest hair’, since we’re on the subject? You want to get united with that?

A: Haha, clever, man. Wordplay or whatever. Yeah, chest hair is fucking hot to me. I swear it’s even hotter lately. Always grabs my attention, but that’s what it’s biologically supposed to do, strictly speaking. Not that I really care about the science of it all as much right now, haha. Just love the way it looks.

A: Maybe you should just stop where you are right now, bro. Ok, yeah, I agree that maybe the guy you were before was kind of overly bookish, but you have to admit that right where you are right now, sort of right in between two worlds, probably strikes the perfect balance. You’ve got a tight jock bod and yet are still capable of being conscientious and having an intelligent conversation. Why ruin that?

A: Am I at a nicely balanced level, ha? I don’t know man. I sure feel kind of stupid. In a way it’s like my mind doesn’t run away all the time like it used to. I feel more of a greater sense of calm. I suppose you’re right, though. So, to answer your question, yes, I am going to take it further.

Q: What’s it like to not even be away from the classroom so much?

A: It’s strange, to have not not studied very hard at all in so long, already. I’m not sure I could ever pick up where I left off. I mean, I used to be able to do the Schrödinger equation and the wave equation. I don’t think I could right now. Even the word ‘equation’ seems kinda funny to me right now, to be honest. Haha. I doubt Stephen Hawking would be very proud of me for that.

Q: Bro, but what about the major good your science and math background could do for humanity? It’s not too late. Lots of people take a gap year. You could just make this your gap year and start focusing on again.

A: I guess, but when you’re in these highly competitive fields, it’s not so simple as writing it all off as a gap year, really. Also, why would I want to give this up? Everyone’s treating me way better, mostly. Even the ones who are jealous to see that I’m becoming something they wouldn’t ever have the work ethic to ever become make me feel good about myself, in a way. Haha. A lot of them just want to play the victim.

Q: What do you mean by that? Bro, do you want to end up stupid or something?

A: Might not be so bad. Dude, my back’s sweaty, because it’s hot in here, haha. My pits are kinda sweaty, too. I need a bottled water. I swear I can already feel all the muscle swelling up from that last pump. I know it takes a few days, but it’s still a good feeling, that post-working endorphin high.

Q: See bro, you never would have talked like that before. You’d have been going on about how fascinating fenestrated capillaries are and how they contrast with much-wider sinusoidal capillaries, going on about basal laminae, getting technical… what are you doing to yourself, really? You wouldn’t have even drank bottled water before. You’d have been saying a refillable glass is healthier for the planet, or something that’s all socially conscientious, bro.

A: Yeah, haha, that’s pretty funny. Use it or lose it, they say, which is why I intend to keep working out and upping my workouts. I love these gains, bro. So maybe I do want to end up stupid, haha. I gotta say, it’s true that I used to hate on gym bunny types, but now that I’ve sort of become one myself, I totally get it. You don’t really know it until you try it. Feels so good, bro. I really could care less if folks want to call me stupid. It’s not like I really have time to read anymore, and most people don’t at all. So it’s no big deal if you don’t, really.

Q: What do you mean you don’t really have time?

A: Who has time to read? It’s a serious question. There’s work to be done, man. Plus I’m at the gym a lot. Ok, haha, I’m not that stupid, at least not yet, so I’m just kinda fucking with you, bro. I know reading’s a good thing.

Q: Most people think it’s a good thing, bro.

A: Yeah, but to be totally honest, I really haven’t in a while now. I picked up the Canturbury Tales on a bus ride. Thought I’d revisit it, and really didn’t want to bother with my technical textbooks, you know. Just some weekend ready. The Wife of Bath’s tale has always been my favorite. Raunchy stuff. But really, I stopped about a quarter through as I was getting sick of it. A lot of that’s just that I’ve read it before, anyway. Plus it’s hard to see how relevant Middle English is right now, especially with Brexit going on and all.

Q: With Brexit and all? How do you feel about Brexit?

A: Yeah, I don’t know, I see myself as more outside of politics now. It’s just not my thing, man. I honestly am getting kind of sick of seeing anything political in art, in the schools, in the workforce, in movies, even in porn, in everything. Jordan Peterson is right that it definitely doesn’t belong in universities. Those are supposed to be about learning facts, not about indoctrination. And you have to admit, we’ve got a lot to focus on right now other than just college.

Q: Seriously?

A: Yes, seriously! Look at what the Americans are doing. We could learn a lot from them. In a lot of ways I think it was, in retrospect, actually kind of a mistake to isolate ourselves from the USA. Even places like India would probably be better off if they still had colonial rule, and I know that’s not politically correct. But markets are important, even to scientists, who need to get their supplies from like, China. It’s a global economy now. I’m just not as much of a bleeding heart as I used to be, I guess. I think it’s important to stay prepared and to make sure businesses want to have their headquarters in the UK, right? We can all agree that that’s a good thing. And the facts are that it’s harder to do that with a high corporate tax rate.

Q: Bro, you used to say discussing politics was for those who didn’t want to focus on work. And now you’re one of those guys you probably would have caalled stupid. It’s really something to witness. You really seem to think you know it all now, or that you maybe even talk like you think you’re better than others or something. I can hear it in your voice, basically.

A: Well, hey bro, like the left doesn’t think they’re better than others? They’re the masters of that. They’re the ones trying to manipulate and cancel everything. I don’t believe in either party really. Labour controls the media, so you never hear the negative sides about them. It’s important to have two balanced political poles, I think. And mostly I’m just annoyed that politics has just gotten into a lot of things it shouldn’t even be in.

Q: You already said that, bro. You really do seem stupider than before to me. You definitely seem cockier and less interested in listening. You used to say all stupid people suffer from Dunning-Kruger.

A: Dunning-Kruger, lol. More like Dumbing-Kruger.

Q: You think that’s funny? What’s so funny, bro?

A: Hey, don’t piss me off, man. Look, like I said, I don’t really care if people want to at like I’m stupid. I knew some guys would say I’m stupid just because I wanted to work out and do something better with my body than I had been. You can’t win with a lot of people.

Q: It’s not too late, bro. Have you at all considered that maybe you should purge this muscle hunk fixation from right out of your mind before it’s too late? You’re becoming somebody totally different. Or at least don’t push this muscle stud game further.

A: Why would I want to do head back in the wrong direction, bro? Look, guys are way more into me now. I got a ton of adds on Instagram. And as a guy, you’re supposed to have muscle. It’s biologically what’s attractive to others, isn’t it? I was too thin before. When I look at those guys who are total studs with their pecs and cobbled 8-pack abs, it gets me hard as fuck. Not gonna lie. I’ve always wanked to those guys. It was probably just a matter of time.

Q: Bro, but why are you so into your own body all of a sudden? Has your philosophy on gay life changed at all?

A: Haha, yeah, not gonna lie, my perspective has changed. I used to consider myself gay and all. Now I’m just a guy who happens to be into guys, I think. I don’t see any real need to advertise my sexuality. I mean, we have our rights, so that’s kind of over now. I’d rather just be the best guy I can be. So yeah, getting into my body, flexing in front of the mirror and all that, is really helping me develop a sort of confidence I never had before.

Q: Dude, that’s totally hilarious. A guy who just happens to be into other guys?

A: Yeah, I mean, isn’t sex supposed to be kinda funny, haha? It’s not hilarious, man, it’s hot. Plus I thought we were supposed to be able to choose from multiple identities these days? I’m more fun now than I ever was in bed, probably. I love getting sweaty and wrestling with a guy, having him feel these abs and flex while I feel up his biceps. I’ve gotten way more comfortable with my body. I love doing a double biceps pose and facing another guy who’s doing the same, that eye contact, that kind of intense… it’s almost like a brotherhood, man. I’ve noticed my sex sessions are getting way longer.

Q: Tell me about that.

A: Well, I don’t know, I’ve been hooking up and having fun for sure. Last guy I had over, he wanted to get all shirtless and sweaty with me on my couch. So we did. So I’m drinking a Thatchers Cider and it’s tasting really good, and I’m leaning over him, kissing him, maybe more aggressively than I usually do. I’m so randy these days, it seems. He’s just focused on my abs, feeling them up, and asking me to flex. So I flexed, first in a double biceps, then, with my arms behind my head so I could flaunt my abs and my triceps. That’s when he said that my pits were so fucking beautiful. So, I kept doing it. Then he wanted to lick them out. Said my hairy armpits looked hot and he felt lucky to be able to see them up close. I’ve never had a guy suggest that before or flatter me in that way. So I let him. He said I smell so good, man. That felt good.

Q: Aww dude. Fuck. I kinda see where you’re coming from with this all. That’s hot for sure, bro.

A: Right? It’s way more pleasurable than trying to do research on the Great Barrier reef. In a lot of ways, it’s probably even more useful than memorising rote facts, like how your nose can remember 50,000 different scents. What’s a statistic like that matter compared to actually stopping and smelling the roses sometimes?

Q: I wonder how many of those 50,000 scents are the scents of a guy’s musk, haha. Do you mean to find that out, bro? How many pits you been in?

A: Haha, yeah bro, I mean, I’ve definitely gotten sluttier and I’m not ashamed of that at all. I love learning how to kind of dominate a guy, lead him on, and I’m getting more energetic as a top. I like my face in their pits, too, it turns out.

Q: You do look a lot better, there’s no getting around that.

A: Yeah man? Fuck. I feel better for sure. You think I should go all the way?

Q: Bro, just that you say that or even suggest it is pretty hot to me. Just being real. I still think you’re in the perfect middle ground right now. But the thought of you pushing it further…. hell… in some ways I feel like you’re turning into a sort of deity. A muscle king among men. Don’t tell anyone I said that.

A: Yeah? Like some sort of muscle God? Haha. I”m fine with that for sure.

Q: Yeah bro, you’re definitely getting to be closer to… well, maybe it’s better left unsaid. I know I really shouldn’t be encouraging you.

A: That I’m becoming better than I was before? Haha. Bro, it’s ok. I already fully intend to pack on at least another ten, fifteen pounds of muscle and might go even further than that. I used to think where I’m at now was more than I’d ever want.

Q: You really have changed. It’s kinda awesome to witness.

A: You admit that this is awesome, right? You like these muscles, man?

Q: Fuck yeah I like those guns, muscle boy. Aww fuck. Flex for me.

A: Awwww, fuck yeah bro. I love this.

Q: Fuck yeah you love this, idiot.

A; Fuck, it’s so hot when you call me an idiot, man.

Q: Fuck yeah it’s hot.

A: I gotta tell you man, I really don’t give a fuck anymore. All I want to do is be the best muscle dude I can be.

Q? Yeah? You’d like that, muscle boy?

A: Yeah. To be as sexy as I want to be, get all the cock, man. I don’t care if I’m turning into a slut even.

Q: Fuck yeah you want it, slut.

A: Aww fuck. Call me that again, man.

Q: You’re a fucking slut, muscle boy. There is no going back for you. I can tell. What a shame, dumbass. You’re gonna be just another stupid muscle boy.

A: Yes. Fuck yes. I can feel it, man. There’s no choice anymore. I can’t go back to the route I was on.

Q: Then run with it, muscle boy. Be the best muscle slut you can be.

A: Exactly, man, yes, I’m going to. The guy I used to be was boring, barely living. Now I feel alive. It feels soooo good when you call me stupid.

Q: That’s because you are stupid.

A: Fuck. Yes. You know I am, man. Suck on my jock cock. I want you to. I want you on your fucking knees worshipping me as I flex and talk about how much muscle I’m gonna put on still.

Q: Suck on my cock, muscle slut. Then maybe I will.

A: Aww, fuck yeah. Ok man. Fuck. (mmmmph, mmmph). Fuck yeah! (gasp, mmmph, mmmph) Fucking delicious! All I want to do is jock up, suck dick, get fucked, fuck random guys… Fuck, man. I want it so bad, man. You’re hot, man. I think everything about man sex is so hot. (slurpppp, mmphhhs)

Q: You’re gonna get fucked tonight, muscle slut. And I’m going to tell you about how thick your pecs are gonna be, and how hot your bubble butt is, and how sexy it is that you’d do a stupid thing like jock yourself up. Every kiss I give you will make you dumber. We’re gonna snort so many poppers that we’re both going to be drooling on each other and not have any thoughts left. It’ll just be sex, bro. Sex, sex, sex. Muscle sex, man sex, biceps sex, furry leg sex, hairy crotch sex, licking necks sex, slobbery kisses sex, nipple-flicking sex, and slutty dumbfuck sex.

A: Fuuuuuuuuckk yeah… kiss me.

Q: Fuck yeah, bro. (smack, slurrrpp)

The Locker Room

Owen did not belong in the locker room. It was normally a place that he would avoid like the plague, unless he had to. However, today for some reason Alex had summonded him. Owen had no idea why, but Alex was not someone you want to leave waiting.

Owen hoped, desperately hoped that this wasn't going to be another occasion where the football team pounced and him, beat him and made him feel even more worthless than he already felt. He checked his watch.. It was time. He got closer and closer to the locker room and two members of the team were waiting outisde.

"Hey Owen, you made it" said Brad. Brad was a 6 foot tall muscle mountain. The perfect specimen of football player. Owen always felt so small next to them, the fear must have been showing on his face.

"Don't worry, mate" said Rich "you will love what we have in store for you. Rich laid his hand on Owen's shoulder. Somehow this still did not releax him. Rich did not let Owen hesitate and pushed him straight into the sweaty, smelly changing room.

The room was where the team came to chnage and you could smell it. Clothes, shoes, socks strewn about everywhere. However... This was not the biggest worry of the room because tied to a chair looking very bruised was Alex.. Alex was the star player, at least he used to be. It looked like something had happened. You felt a hand on your shoulder and turned around in panic. Standing behind you was Rhys. Rhys was the second in command, he always followed what he was told by Alex so this scene made you panic even more.

" I bet you want to know whats going on" Rhys said in the most sinister way possible

"I thought i was coming to speak to Alex" Owen replied feeling very tense.

"Well if i had told you I wanted you here, i know you wouldn't have come. You see Alex has been having trails for another team, he was planning to leave the school and take his talents to another team. Coach did not like this so told me to change things if you will" Rhys almost seemed like a super villian at this point. But as he was talking Rich and Brad came into the room and started to strip Alex completely naked. Owen did not know where to look which amused Rhys.

"Since I cannot allow Alex's talent to leave my only choice is to replace him. This is where you come in. We want you to join the team Owen" Rhys started walking round Owen as he spoke.

"How can I join the team? I don't even like sport. I can barely play football" Owen said.

Alex was now naked in his chair. His clothes presented to Rhys. Rich and Brad smiled at Owen as they left the room.

"Because Owen, i want you to become Alex and he will become you forced to live exactly as you do. Wouldn't you like to have a body like his, feel that strong, and feel what it is like to be popular" Rhys knew he was playing into Owen's deep desires. Owen turned to look at Alex who was silenty weeping, knowing his fate was sealed

Owen turned to Rhys and said "how does it work"

"all you need to do, is wear his clothes and when he wears yours you will become each other" Rhys spoke smiling through every word.

Owen put on Alex's socks first. They were clearly fresh off of his feet and for some reason, this excited Owen more. Before he put on the jockstrap he inhaled the smell deeply. He could not wait to put it on. Next the boxers. Everything hanging of slightly Owen continued with the shorts and football shirt.

Owen was now completely in Alex's clothes and the real Alex started to cry. Rhys grew angry at the sight and punched Alex right in the chest.

"Now. You need to dress him in your clothes and you will feel yourself start to change" Rhys exclaimed.

Owen bent down and started with the socks. Alex thought him at every possibility but as the socks slipped on, Owen saw Alex's feet fit perfectly into the socks as his feet started to grow. As Owen slipped his briefs onto Alex, as if by magic, his cock and balls shrank and Owen's new jockstrap fit him perfectly. After his uniform trousers and shirt were on their bodies had perfectly swapped. The only thing missing was the shoes. Rhys had taken his own of and walked behind the new Alex.

"You may have his body, but now I need to rewrite your mind. The smell of my shoe will make you loyal to me. You will always lead this team and be loyal to us" Rhys said. Once he was sure this had sunk in, he removed his shoe. He then picked up Owen's shoes and began to hold it over the new Owen's nose. He left it their until the new Owen's eyes glossed over and passed out.

After about 20 minutes Alex, as he was now to be known came to Rhys was there ready

"Dude... Ya passed out on us, what happened" Rhys said

Alex looked around, felt his body and looked at his hands. Something didn't feel right but he shook it of and said " must have been something i ate". Alex saw Owen laid out on the floor.

"mate, you having fun without me" said Alex as he eyed the nerd passed out

"oh no mate, i was saving him for you" said Rhys as they both proceeded to lay a punch on the nerd. Alex thought to himself, who would ever wanna be like that. All smart and no fun.

If only he knew...

Roommate Needed 7

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

The barrista across the counter looked annoyed with me as I mumbled my way through my order.

"Um ... I'll have the ... uh ... a medium caramel latte."

"What kind of milk?" she asked, but before I could mutter an answer she continued, clearly anticipating my next question. "We have whole, 2%, skim, or soy."

"Whole milk, I guess."

"What's your name?"

"Um ... oh, right ... um ... Elliot"

She gave me a sour look at started working on my drink. She had a few other orders to make, so it would be a little bit of a wait. I suddenly realized that I really had to go to the bathroom and figured my drink would be ready by the time I got back. The coffee shop was pretty full with people, many of them staring into their computer screens or down at their books. No one seemed to notice me as I walked past.

I walked into the bathroom and shut the door. It was a small room, unisex, with a toilet in the corner, a few hooks for clothes or a backpack, a sink, and a mirror. I hung up my bag and saw my reflection in the mirror. My hair hung down over my eyes, touching the frame of my glass and darkening my pale face and watery eyes. My thin arms hung weakly at my side.

On the edge of the sink, I noticed a pair of sunglasses. I picked them up, thinking I would give them to the store manager for the lost and found. But as soon as I touched them, I felt the urge to try them on, just for a second. I had always worn glasses because I had terrible eyesight, so I never had the chance to wear sunglasses very often. I took off my glasses and saw my reflection become blurry in the mirror.

"What's the use," I thought to myself. "I won't really see how I look in them anyway ... I would need my real glasses."

But, as soon as I put on the dark shades, the reflection in the mirror transformed. Through the lenses, I saw the image of a muscular body, perfectly clear. I pulled off the glasses and the world brightened and blurred. I squinted at my reflection and saw that my shirt was unbuttoned. When I put the shades back on, I saw the image again, but this time noticed the tattoos covering his arms and chest. I looked down at my arms and saw that the same tattoos were winding their way up from my wrists, slowly covering my pale skin. This time when I looked at my reflection, I could see myself clearly, as if I no longer needed my glasses. I quickly pulled off my shirt and watched as the tattoos advanced onto my biceps and down my back. I put the shades on again, looked into the mirror and saw that stubble was bristling on my chin.

"This can't be real," I said to myself. I could never grow facial hair. "This must all be some optical illusion."

But, I rubbed my hand against my chin and felt the rough texture. I tipped the glasses down, expecting to see my body transform back into its original, pale and thin version. But the image stayed the same, only the light had changed back to the bright white of the room. I started flexing, watching my muscles tighten and bulge in the mirror. My chest was smooth and tan, clearly shaven and waxed. But at the base of my chiseled abs was a line of hair leading to my crotch.

I unbuckled my belt and pulled my pants down. There I found my manhood bursting out of a tight pair of sports underwear. I guided my erection into the sink and thrust towards my reflection. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the beautiful face and body in front of me. Was this really me? Was this really my body I was pleasuring? With every stroke I felt my mind relaxing into its new self. I was forgetting ... no ... I was remembering. With a final thrust, a hot stream of cum shot into the sink.

I backed away from sink, pleased with my new body. In my backpack, I found a white tank top and a plaid shirt to replace the one I had thrown on the ground. I changed into my new clothes and headed back out into the cafe.

As soon as I reached the counter, I heard the barrista call out a drink. She looked me straight, then scanned up and down, lingering a moment on my crotch, and then blushed as she said, "Medium raspberry mango protein shake for Mark."

I walked up to the counter, smiled a bit, watched the barrista blush even more, grabbed my shake and walked out the door, not wanting to be late for my lifting session with my roommates. They would be waiting for me at the gym.

Gnarly Tides

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

--- Note: Pokémon Gym Leader TF ---

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

Dude you've gotta check this out!

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

Bring your goggles along too man!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Brawler's Stance!

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

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

SPLASH!

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

PUMP IT UP!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SPLASH!!!!

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

IT'S WORKOUT TIME!

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

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

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

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

SPLASHHHH!

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

HANG TEN DUDE!

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

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

"And it just gets better and BETTER!"

"SPLASHHHHHHHHHH!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"A Bigger Splash Than The Sea!"

SPLASH!

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

"A Big Wave In Fighting!"

SPLASH!

If anyone knows the author, let me know!

Taller and stronger

--- Originally posted by unknown before 2018-08-29 ---

Anonymous asked: Can you help me become a much stronger and taller person? I'm really weak with my muscles and I want to be better

Stronger? Taller? Sure I can.

You see, first, we have to change your mentality a bit. Sure, your muscles might not be too strong right now, but we have to be careful with using words that hold such strong negative connotations. Like: "weak"

If you want a stronger, more built body, your mind has to be just as strong.

So I'm going to boost your confidence a bit, plus add in some extra knowledge about how to properly diet and exercise to maintain your new body. Consider it your lucky day as my first customer on the World Wide Web. I can't always be this generous.

Now, I'm going to need you to close your eyes and imagine with me:

Your height is by far the easiest thing to change. Let's shoot you to, hmm, just under 6 feet. Picture your legs stretching oh so slowly. Feel the tissues and fibers of your muscles pulling up and away from the ground.

See? That wasn't too bad. I doubt you felt a thing.

Now, your strength.

I want you to picture your ideal physique. How strong do you want to be? How big do you want to look? Feel the heat beneath your skin as your imagination begins to grow, and, in turn, so do those muscles.

Your arms and legs begin to swell far greater than your wildest dreams. Your chest and shoulders expand outwards, creating an intimidating and admirable silhouette.

Hmm, some callouses on those hands huh? Nice touch. I mean, it makes sense with how jacked you look. You're looking great.

And I'm going to have to stop you there, before you get a little carried away with yourself.

I've never let someone change themselves, so, I gotta learn how far I can push those limits. But, like I said, it's your lucky day as my first online customer.

I hope you enjoy your new bod - I know I definitely do. Take care of it, cause I don't offer any returns or touch-ups without a tremendous cost, and trust me, no one wants to see what that is.