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bluecollarmcandtf · 11 days

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Bros, Bros, and more Bros

I made a mistake! My cousin told me about this fortune teller that cast a spell on him. Apparently, it made every man he ran into act like a fatherly figure in his life. I had an awesome dad, but I've always struggled to connect with guys my own age, so I tracked the witch down and begged her for another spell. She eventually came around, but the effects aren't quite what I expected...

"Sup, dude! Wanna skip and hit the park?"

My eyes stretch wide to take in the sight of my own father, carrying a skateboard over his shoulder like it's the most natural thing in the world. He's been acting like this for weeks; not washing his hair, barely even washing himself, and constantly wearing that stupid cap backwards. He's lost any sense of his old self!

"Dad, it's Monday. You've got work," I reply, not wanting him to piss his boss off.

"Work blows!" he sneers, "I hate wearing this stupid tie, and I'd rather hang with you, bro."

I sigh as my father tosses down his skateboard and extends a palm, pulling me into a cliche bro-hug where he claps me on the back. My dad used to give out hugs all the time, but it was never as performatively masculine as this. All this stupid curse did was turn my father into an 40 year-old frat guy.

"You're going to work," I say firmly, "And I'm going to school. We can play videogames or whatever when we get back later tonight."

"Bruuhhh!" he groans, "Fine. I'll catch you later, dude. There's pizza in the fridge if you want."

The idea of leftover pizza this early in the morning makes my stomach ache. My dad used to cook an entire meal every morning, complete with fruits and veggies. Now, he'd probably settle for a bag of chips.

The man leaves the skateboard behind and grabs his suit jacket, pulling it on with an attitude. He gives me one last head nod before bounding out of the house, hair flowing behind him. I imagine it's only a matter of time before my dad's boss is fed up with his new persona. I can't imagine a bro-personality is very conducive to getting work done in a corporate office. Hopefully, he'll mature soon.

With an empty stomach, I saunter out of the kitchen and walk to campus. I'm grateful to live close to the university. Hopefully, my curse won't get in the way of my day.

"Hey, how's my favorite student doing, bro?"

My professor yells and breaks into a goofy grin at the sight of me. I close the door to his office to give us a bit of privacy. Mr. Carlton only acts like this when I stop by, so his colleagues would be shocked to see such a drastic shift in his usually stoic personality.

"I'm good, Professor Carlton," I say, "I wanted to check on my grade for this course."

"No need to be so formal, dude," he smiles, clapping me on the back, "You can call me Daniel. Want a drink? I have some bourbon."

"I'm good. I really just-"

"Relax, bro," my professor says, shoving a glass in my hand, filled to the brim, "This is good stuff. I save it for special occasions, so sit down! Kick your shoes off! I don't care!"

The department head pulls off his suit jacket and leans back in his chair, propping his feet up on the desk and stretching his arms behind his head. I'd never seen the man act so unprofessional, but ever since the curse, he's started treating me like his closest buddy.

"Professor...sorry...Daniel, I just wanted to hear about my grade."

"I got you, bro!" he laughed, "Just keep doing what you're doing. I don't care if you don't show up!"

My shoulders relax. That's what I want to hear. It's not that I don't want to attend his lectures, but the last time I did, he started acting like a jackass in front of the entire class of 50 students. His presentation went from ancient monetary systems to ratings of best celebrity nip-slips. It's a miracle he didn't get fired!

"Ok, good. I have to go," I say checking the time, "And you have class in 20 minutes."

"Shit, I know," he groans and gulps down the rest of his booze, "Another day another dollar, I guess. When can we hang out, man? Tonight? I really wanna hang out with my guy."

"Nope, sorry!" I tense up and grab my backpack, "Good luck with the lecture."

"Right on, bro," he holds a sad hand up for a high-five, swallowing the rest of the drink he poured me.

I give my tipsy professor a halfhearted clap and scamper out of the office as quickly as possible. These interactions make me cringe so hard when a grown man acts young and cool for me. It's especially awkward to see such a respected individual sink to such a low level. What would we even do if he came over?

"Dude! Long time, no see!"

In the hallway, I run into the football coach and two of the team's best players. The three of them look like they're getting back from an early morning conditioning session. They're all sweaty, panting, and happy to see me.

"Oh, hey," I muster, feeling increasingly less cool around these jocks. I hate to admit it, but guys like this wouldn't give me the time of day before I got that bro-curse.

"Hey, man! You gotta come hang out with us," the brunette grins, "The team's still changing, but you're cool to come in the locker room!"

"Yeah, bro!" the blonde quickly adds, "We'd love to have you in there!"

My heart pounds faster and faster. This is why I've never been able to connect with guys my own age. I find myself boning up every time they look in my direction. Now that these two athletes are practically begging for me to join them in the locker room, my erection is bursting out of my pants!

"We can take care of that too," the coach suddenly mentions, pointing a finger at the tent I'm trying to hide in my crotch.

"What?" I stammer with a dry mouth.

"What do you think bros are for?" the coach continues, clapping his two players on the back, "My boys would be happy to help a brother out!"

The two football jocks nod. It feels like I'm dreaming, and I don't know what to do. Before I can decide, the two athletes have approached and grabbed me by the arm. Their grips are firm, and I realize I'm being escorted into the changing room whether I like it or not!

"Who's this guy?"

My stomach drops as I enter the locker room, finding an array of footballers in different states of dress. They all glance up at me with confusion, like I'm not supposed to be there, but then their faces soften. The gypsy's magic sets in, and they don't see a stranger when they look at me. They see their bro.

"Oh, it's you, bro," the same jock says, letting down his guard. I think I recognize him as the quarterback.

"Oh yeah, dude!" the massive lineman stands up and pulls me into a sweaty hug, "Glad you're here!"

"That's right guys," the brunette at my side says, still holding me tightly in place, "Our best bud is here, and he needs some attention."

My face flushes as I suddenly remember the problem poking out between my legs. By now, the entire football team is staring at it. If anything, it's only become more rock solid.

"Let me take care of that for you, bro," the quarterback says, grabbing my crotch without any hesitation.

"Move, I'll do it," says the lineman, pushing the quarterback out of the way and getting on his knees. He opens his mouth wide and-

"Shut up, all of you!" the coach suddenly roars! The locker room falls silent: these athletes are really well trained. "If we're gonna do this, we're gonna do it right. Line up!"

"Yes, coach!"

The jocks back up and form a line in front of the lockers. Even the blonde and brunette that were holding me, release and join the rest of the team on the bench. Suddenly, I'm standing with the coach, looking at an entire team of well-disciplined football players. My throbbing erection is very apparent and pointing right at the small crowd of muscular men.

"Our bro deserves to be kept satisfied, right?" the coach slams a hand on my back.

"Yes, coach!" they shout back.

"So we don't just want to get our boy off once and move on, now do we?" he punctuates his question with another slap, this time lower on my back.

"No, coach!"

"We're going to set up a system for us to get him off whenever he needs it!"

"Yes, coach!"

The broad-shouldered and balding coach gives me one more slap, clapping me on the ass this time while staring into my eyes. "I'm gonna have my boys take turns sucking you off, bro. You just tell me which one's your favorite. Sound cool?"

I manage to mumble my assent, and with one look from coach, the quarterback is on his knees crawling towards my crotch. He pulls down my pants and unleashes my aching hard-on. "I got you, bro," he says, before putting his mouth to work.

After a few minutes, the coach pulls the jock off my pole and orders the linebacker to get busy. Before long, it's the brunette's turn, then the blonde's. I cycle through all 30 of the team's exceptional players, and I've gotten off more than just a few times. It's impossible to choose a favorite.

At the end of it all, the coach pushes the last player aside and says, "My turn, bro," before opening his mouth as wide as he can.

The entire football team watches as I spend the next 15 minutes just filling their coach's eager throat. When I'm finally done, I feel completely spent. I swap numbers with each jock and am repeatedly promised that they will be available whenever I call, but it isn't enough. They want to hang out with me now. They want to go out and party. I find it too difficult to say 'no' to a group of 30 eager athletes, so I let them sweep me up and take me to the nearest bar.

Needless to say, we end up causing a bit too rowdy of a scene.

"I got a complaint about a bunch of college idiots causing a ruckus. Would that be you?"

The officer was all business when he first walked in the bar. My football bros were dancing and yelling, barely even paying attention to the policeman scowling at the wild scene in front of him. He looked pissed, and his glare only softened when it found me.

"Woah, didn't know you were here, man," the cop says, cracking a slight grin on his hardened face.

"Well, I am!" I cry, feeling the effects of all the drinks my bros had been buying for me, "You should forget about work and party with us!"

"You got it, dude! Screw this badge!" the officer yells, pulling me into a tight embrace. I guess the bro-curse even works on law-enforcement!

Just like that, I'm dancing with a policeman in the middle of the dance floor. He doesn't have any moves, but he loosens up after we get some beer down his throat. The football team loves watching the cop party right alongside them. Apparently, this guy has broken up many of their parties in the past.

"Drink! Drink! Drink!"

The officer gulps down his seventh beer and slams the glass on the floor. It breaks, but the shattering is largely drowned out by the music. His onlookers go wild, but I can see the intoxication on his face. Beer is plastered around his mouth and dripping down his neck to soak into his uniform. I doubt this man has ever been this drunk in uniform before.

He stumbles over and throws a muscled arm over my shoulder, "Come here, bro. Let's do some shots or something!"

"I think it might be time to call it a night, officer," I yell in his ear.

"Oh, screw that!" he whines, "And don't call me officer! It's so formal!"

"Ok, what should I call you?"

"I dunno..." he mutters, "Buck! Call me Buck. That's what my wife calls me."

I roll my eyes at the mention of his wife. Of course this guy is taken. He's a complete stud of man. I've always liked a guy in uniform.

"How'd you like to come home with me tonight, Buck?" I ask sheepishly.

He lights up, "Bro, I thought you'd never ask!"

The cop grabs my arm with a wicked grin and stomps his way towards the door, dragging me along like I'm the prize he won at a fair. The players on the football team all stare at him with envy, mad that he's stealing their new best friend away for the night. I could see how badly each one of the jocks wished they were the one having a sleepover with me tonight.

"Hop in, I'll drive," officer Buck slurs his words and gestures to the police cruiser with his free hand.

"I think I'll handle the driving, if that's alright," I say, "Just hand over the keys."

"Anything for you, bro."

"Looks like someone got lucky!"

"Oh my God. Dad you're still up?"

"Bro, you said you'd play videogames tonight and then you never showed! What was I supposed to do?" he retorts, unbothered by the late hour or the cop hanging on my arm.

"You have to go to work in 4 hours!" I scream, "And you haven't even changed out of today's work clothes! What are you thinking?"

"Chill, bro," my dad says, turning to the drunk policeman holding my hand, "Take him to the bedroom and show him a good time. I'm sure you were going to, but the dude could use some extra help relaxing tonight."

The sound of my own father encouraging the man I brought home to 'show me a good time' makes me question everything again. My dad just witnessed his son bringing home a cop that's the same age as him. He doesn't even care! I want to tell him to grow up and be the man I used to know, but Buck is already jerking on my arm.

"Let's go, bro," he mumbles lowly, using his strong arms to drag me into the bedroom.

"Enjoy your new cop friend, bro!" my father calls and I hear the sounds of his videogames start back up.

I barely have time to worry about any of it. Has this curse gone too far? Will my dad make it to work tomorrow? Does Buck have a wife I need to worry about!?

It all goes away when I'm thrown on the bed. The intoxicated officer flips the lights down low, and stumbles in front of me. He may be drunk, but he is certainly not a disappointment. The cop stares down at me as he rips his state-issued hat off and unbuttons his dark uniform shirt, all the while moving his hips to the beat of gunfire from dad's videogame in the living room.

With his hairy chest exposed, he crawls on top of me and whispers in my ear, "Where do you want me to start? Us bros gotta look out for each other, don't we?"

#gay bros #male transformation #hypno story #gay ai art #gay hypnosis #gay mind control

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bluecollarmcandtf · 17 days

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Don't get possessed!

You'll end up like this...

Gassy air bubbled from deep inside my soft, pudgy stomach. The smell of semi-digested beer wafted into my nose as my lips flapped in the gust of a violent belch dragging itself out. God, this body was disgusting, but this is what I did to it; this is what I did to him...

I used his cellphone to snap a pic of the sweaty slab of meat I'd been wearing for the past three years. It was the disgraced body of a former jock. Jake's stomach rumbled like it always did when I filled it to the brim. Even after all this time, it still hasn't adapted to the crap I've constantly been stuffing it with.

Swallowing yet another beer, I toss the can into the corner of his dark living room, where it collided with discarded pizza boxes and half empty milk jugs. I'd let the entire apartment overflow with the garbage generated by this once-godly body, and there was a lot of it.

The place smelled like a dumpster in the sun.

You might think this is a disgusting way to live. Well, I did too. Everything about the situation was nasty; the damp basement apartment, the stacks of dirty dishes, the closet of unwashed clothes. The entire place had a permanent stench of body odor, and I know it followed this body around everywhere.

I had never in my life felt so absolutely disgusted by my surroundings.

But that was the exact fucking point.

To explain, we'll have to flash back to a few years ago. Let me show you a photo of Jake when I first possessed him. I took this right after jumping into his perfect body...

The athlete had just gotten back from the gym. It was another perfect workout for the perfect jock, and I could feel the grit and intensity swelling in every muscle. The college footballer would normally shower after any physical activity, but I was happy to crack open a beer and bask in his sweaty glory.

I don't know if you could tell, but I am not a fan of Jake.

He was a pretentious bully at my university, and he got away with anything. I tried my best to stay out of his way, but ultimately found myself staring into the headlights of his fancy Christmas present: a shiny black camaro. The asshole ended my life while driving back to campus after one of his famous parties!

I hate to be dramatic, but I was not ready to pass away, and I was not going to let an asshole like Jake get away with my murder. The police couldn't solve the crime any more than I could console my mourning family, so I took matters into my own ghostly hands.

Jake, beautiful Jake, didn't have a single iota of remorse. He continued to get belligerently drunk, and continued to shame and ridicule anyone shorter, weaker, or fatter than him, which was just about anyone. The worst part was people let him: they allowed it because he was the strongest, the most handsome, the prize quarterback with a winning smile!

I had to do something to stop the piece of trash lurking inside his god-like body.

So I possessed him. And I did this...

When I took over, it was like putting on a body suit. As a ghost, I was invisible, so I got right behind and slipped inside. First, I shoved a leg in, then an arm, and then the rest followed.

He struggled, flailing the few body parts he still had control over, but it was in vain!

My head was the last thing to get situated, but once I slid it into place, his yelling subsided. His thoughts evaporated, and I broke in his handsome face with a wicked smile. It felt different, grinning with someone else's mouth, but I was just glad to have a body again. His was definitely an upgrade compared to my old one. The height I stood at, the breadth of my shoulders, the weight of muscular pecs hanging off my chest; it all took some getting used to.

I enjoyed living inside the jock's body, but I was on a revenge mission. The first thing I wanted to screw up was his diet!

I started shoveling massive amounts of fast-food down his throat three times a day, packing on forty pounds in just a couple weeks. Obviously, I quit going to his football practice and even dropped out from his classes. I needed the time to bulk his body up.

His teammates and coaches all reached out, but I told them to get lost. He took everything from me, so I wanted to do the same to him...

This is a pic I took of Jake's body after almost a year of controlling him. I wanted him to look and smell as awful as possible in public, so I kept him as sweaty and hairy as I could. Despite my best efforts, his attractiveness was still shining through. If anything, he looked like a hot, hard-working bear on the way home from the job, and that was not what I wanted.

This made me realize that I could destroy more than just his looks.

In his body, I marched back to campus and begged the manager of the university gym for a job. A bunch of his old friends were there to see it, so I made sure to act as pathetic as possible in the six foot hunk, practically grovelling for any position. I even dropped to Jake's knees in front of the guy, giving a lot of the gym-goers second hand embarrassment.

Ultimately, the manager offered me a janitorial position if I would shut up. I accepted it gladly, kissing the guys shoes with Jake's lips like some kind of submissive idiot.

So even though Jake's body was still attractive with the extra weight and fur I'd given it, the dingey old uniform of a janitor made sure to mark him as the bottom of the food chain. I wore it like a badge of honor, even if I never washed the damn thing. Wearing a stained boilersuit labelled 'janitor' everywhere definitely told the world what Jake was worth!

By that point, people really only saw Jake as a walking mop, if they even looked his direction at all...

This last picture is one I took after about a year of working for the school. No one had spoken to me (Jake) in that entire time, unless they needed a toilet unclogged. The man had truly lost any respect people had for him.

The overalls hide the giant gut I'd managed to grow on his torso, but you can look at the top pic if you want to see how fat and hairy I ultimately got him. He looked nothing like the explosive athlete he'd been a couple years ago.

I took that photo right before I released Jake's to his body.

The jock probably wouldn't recognize himself. He'd wonder why he was suddenly so fat and hairy. He'd be terrified by the janitorial uniform on his back and even more horrified by the layers of dried sweat swamping his skin. It wouldn't be until he realized how much time had passed that he would fully understand the punishment I'd carved out for him. I wonder how he'll react when he finds out that he's spent the last three years scrubbing floors in the gym instead of working out in it.

I wonder if he'll clean himself up and learn a lesson? Or maybe he'll just accept his fate and give in to the habits I've made for his body. I don't know, and I don't care.

I'll be long gone by then.

Honestly, I have to admit that it's kind of fun living like this. Disgusting, sure, but there's something about reveling in the laziness, the degradation, the stink. I never allowed myself to be so laid back in life. Maybe, I learned something from this experience with Jake as well. I'm starting to think I'll find a new body to possess and live in. Someone I can take over and use for my own immediate pleasures.

Maybe you're the right candidate! You've got a nice body I could jump into. You won't mind if I hop in and drive for a few years, would you? You'll be disgusted by the state I leave you in, but hey it's not like it's my body I'm fucking up, right!

#degredation kink #humiliation kink #male possession

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bluecollarmcandtf · 25 days

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Typical Day For a Bouncer

I'm Joey, a security guard at a night club down the street. I got the job because I'm a big ex-rugby player, but I've kept it for so long because I'm good at handling people. I can't tell you how many underage idiots try to sneak in here. It takes patience, grit, and a keen eye to keep the troublemakers out!

Like any other Friday night, the club is packed tight and a line of impatient patrons stretches down the street. I've gotten good at telling people "no," in a way that makes them listen, so they have no choice but to calmly wait until I feel like checking their ID and letting them in.

Every now and again, I'll have some fools try to sweet talk their way in. Girls try to flirt, guys try to bribe, but the biggest assholes make a scene. It's nothing I can't handle.

Just last week, I had this entitled brat come up to me and demand I let him in. The boy couldn't have thought I'd believe he was twenty-one. He wasn't even in line! I don't remember what I did to get him to shut up, but he kept hammering on and on about his skills with hypnosis. I remember listening to that kid ramble about the voodoo of the mind for what felt like forever.

I don't remember kicking him to the curb, though. He probably got tired and went home.

"Hey, buddy!" a familiar voice squeaks over the music. I roll my eyes, preparing myself to say no yet again.

"Oh, it's you," my deep voice catches in my throat. The kid from last week is standing in front of me once more, ignoring the line of adults to his left. In his ratty sweatshirt and baseball cap, he doesn't look any older than eighteen. Still, the sight of him unlocks a memory I somehow had forgotten. "Hello, sir!" I call back, remembering him as my closest and most respected friend. How could I've forgotten that this boy was my best friend I call sir?

"You gonna let me in, big guy?" A devious grin spreads across his boyish face.

"Of course, sir."

There are a few angry comments from the people waiting in line. I can't imagine they're happy to see this guy ushered into the club before them. Normally, I have a strict policy against VIP treatment. I think everyone should have to wait in line like equals, but sir is great. He can come and go whenever he wants!

"Hey, why don't you take a break from the front and buy me some beers," the boy yells over the roar of the music.

I leave the entrance and start pushing my way through the crowd in the direction of the bar. I probably should've warned the other bouncer that I was taking a break, but my feet were carrying me away before I knew what was happening. The other guard knows what he's doing, but he's still pretty new here. I'm sure he'll be fine.

The bartender gives me a can of light beer, and I hustle it back to the boy on the dance floor. People tend to get out of the way when they see a giant security guard coming through, but the place is so jammed packed that I have to press against several sweaty partiers on the way over.

"Your beer, sir," I say, flinching at the meekness in my voice.

"What the hell is this?" he whines when he sees the drink, "This is crap. Get me the good stuff, and buy a lot of it!" The kid tossed the open can at my broad chest, and the cheap beer splashes across my uniform.

"Yes, sir."

I march back to the bar with a clenched fist, and grab a tray, ordering the barback to fill it up with the more expensive bottles of beer. He glances at my soaked shirt and pants, but averts his eyes the second he sees my less-than-friendly face.

That boy is my best friend. I respect him greatly, but goddamn is he infuriating. How did I even become close to someone so immature? I pacify myself, and carry the tray back over to the kid.

"That's better," he snorts and takes a sip of the premium drink while I stand there to make sure he likes it this time.

"Alright, sir," I begin, thinking about the twenty minute break I've been taking, "I need to get back to work."

"No you don't!" the boy interjects.

"I..." the words fumble in my mouth, "...well, I don't need to, but I should, sir."

"Tell your boss you're done for the night. Then go wait by my car. You can guard it!"

"Yes, sir," the words come out before I even know what I've agreed to.

Before I know it, I'm marching into the back office and calmly telling the club owner that I'm taking the night off. He's pissed, but I'm his most reliable employee, so he doesn't fire me. I can tell he's not happy, though. He looks like he'd take a swing at me if I weren't two feet taller than him and a hundred pounds heavier.

"You make a great watchdog!" the teenager laughs as he comes stumbling out of the club.

Something about him brings a scowl to my face. It might be the way he referred to me as an animal, or it might be the way he's staring at me like I am an animal. Maybe I'm just irritated from standing by this parked car in the cold for the last two hours, but this boy is getting on my nerves.

"No one has bothered your car, sir," I report.

"Good, boy," he slurs and then reaches a gangly arm to pat the top of my head. I can smell the distinct earthiness of the beer I'd bought wafting out with his breath.

Every muscle in my body tenses up, as I try my best to restrain myself. Sir is my best friend. I respect him. I do what he says. I shouldn't get this worked up by him making a little joke at my expense. It's perfectly fine for him to tease me a little since I trust him completely. I know all this.

"Still think hypnosis is fake?" he asks, bringing his wet lips uncomfortably close to my own.

"Sir?" my brow furrows, unsure why he's bringing up that crap again.

"Well, it's real, and you're hypnotized."

I stifle a groan, "Sir, you've had a lot to drink..."

"The only thing I'm drunk on is power!" he yells, smashing a bottle on the sidewalk for effect, "I've got you like a trained dog; that's how good of a hypnotist I am! Let me prove it."

I was pissed. I was livid. Sir had mocked and insulted me repeatedly. It was a bad idea for anyone to pick on me, especially someone a third of my size! Nevertheless, the boy has all my faith, so I kept my mouth clamped shut.

He told me to kneel, and I grunted, "Yes, sir." I already had beer all over my clothes, so what's a little mud on the knees of my pants? It was better to just keep him happy, but that didn't mean he had hypnotized me.

"Keep your arms raised, like you're worshipping me," he went on.

"Yes, sir."

My arms went up. I'll admit this was a bit more strange, but I still trust and respect the teenager enough to comply. That doesn't say anything about my state of mind.

"Alright, now stay like that until I come back," he laughs, "I'm going to get a snack, but if anyone walks by, I want you to bark at them like the hypnotized guard dog you are!"

"Yes, sir," I answer, hearing the hoarseness in my voice.

As the boy stumbles away, I find myself stuck in the position he'd left me in: on my knees, in the cold, with my arms raised in compliance. I'm doing this willingly, right?

Time creeps by uncomfortably slow as I silently wait next to his car. Suddenly, I hear footsteps nearby. A wave of barks burst out of my throat, and I find myself growling like a territorial mutt in the direction of the pedestrians.

Now I'm acting like a dog!

Sir doesn't come back for another hour, which leaves me to viciously snap at numerous other passerby. They seem terrified, which makes sense. They probably think I'm insane! I'm beginning to wonder if I'm insane too.

I respect that boy more than anyone even if I only met him once, a week ago. I really would do anything he told me too. Is that strange? It's not like me to be so...obedient. I'm the kind of guy that normally tells people what to do, so why am I doing this?

There's no way...it's not possible...I can't actually be hypnotized, right?

"Good, boy," he pulls off my cap and ruffles my hair, "Now, be a good dog and drive me to your house. I might fall asleep on the way there, so you'll have to carry me inside to your bed. If you do good, I'll give you a special treat." He licks his lips and reaches a scrawny hand out to squeeze my tired pec.

"Yes, sir," I answer, jumping up to do his bidding, but I can feel that the words aren't really mine.

Shit. I think he's right. I think I am hypnotized.

#hypno story #mind control #gay mind control #gay ai art #hypnotized #servant

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bluecollarmcandtf · 26 days

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Typical Day for a Mall Cop

My name's Bill, and I've been a guard at the mall for almost a decade now. It wasn't my dream job, but life has a way of creeping up on you with kids and a mortgage. I needed something to pay the bills, and I've always had a knack for watching over people.

Like any other weekend, the mall is fairly busy, so I stay on my feet and patrol the halls for most of the day. Occasionally, I'll check in with the other mall cop, but my time is mostly filled with watching shoppers come and go. If anybody gets too rowdy, a stern look is enough to keep them in line.

A lot of the time, teenagers will loiter in stores. Some of them even try and bring their skateboards in, but it isn't too hard to make them adhere to the mall's strict policies. They might be young and clueless, but that doesn't mean I'll cut them any breaks.

Over by the fountain, I see one of the boys I admonished a week ago. I think I caught him shoplifting or something. Thieves normally get banned from the mall, but I didn't do that with this one. He said something that completely caught me off guard; he said he could hypnotize me.

I laughed in his face.

Amused inwardly by the boy's foolish claim, I walk over to check in with him. I'm sure he'll remember the security guard that almost kicked him out of the mall last weekend.

The kid is chatting with his friends, but they fall quiet when they notice me looming behind them. Like we'd discussed last week, I drop to my knees and kneel in front of the troublemaker. He explained that this is the best thing for me to do when I see him around, and I can't help but agree. I know the boy deserves my respect.

I plant a kiss on both of his sneakers, and then wait for him to speak first. It takes a minute because he and his friends are busy cracking up over some unspoken joke. Whatever it is, clearly went right over my head.

"How you doin', mall pig?" the boy laughs.

I smirk at the nickname he's given me. We've gotten in the habit of calling each other by these pseudonyms, and I don't mind it.

"Very good, sir," I answer, using the name I've come to associate him with, "How are you?"

"Fine, I guess," he shrugs, "I spent your cash on kicks for my crew."

That reminds me of last week again. The boy had made it seem like a good idea to give him all the money I had, which included the paycheck I'd earned for last pay period. On the ground, I had a close view of all the vibrant sneakers the teenagers were wearing. It was nice to know he'd put my gift to good use, even if my wife had been pissed that I'd come home without my month's salary.

"You have another check for me, fat ass?"

His friends laugh at his new nickname for me, but I shake my head and answer a solemn, "No, sir."

The teenager groans and leads his gang of friends away, already bored with me. It seems like he's just going to leave me there, kneeling in the middle of the mall, until he turns and beckons me to follow. Inwardly, I'm glad that he's not done with me yet. I've come to enjoy our interactions a lot.

I follow the boys, crawling behind them all the way into a bathroom.

"If you ain't got any cash to keep me and my crew entertained, then you're gonna have to do something to make us laugh," he explains.

"Of course, sir!" I smile, trying to express how willing I am to impress him and his friends.

"We'd find it hilarious if you dunked your head in each toilet," he adds blandly.

I light up. He's just explained how I can be of service and now all I have to do is follow through. I'm sure it'd be hilarious for them to watch a fully grown security guard giving himself a few swirlies. That's peak comedy!

"Watch this, sir!" I laugh, crawling over to the first toilet and shoving my face into the water without any hesitation.

I know the guy that's supposed to clean these bathrooms, and it's obvious he slacks off because there are skid marks all over. I try not to think about it as my cheeks and forehead brush against the bottom of the bowl. When I pull my face out of the flushing toilet, my ears pop and hear a roar of laughter behind me. The kids find it hilarious, which only fuels my desire to keep going.

With a gaping grin, I shuffle over to the next stall and repeat. There are six toilets in the men's restroom. Some are cleaner than others. The last one is a clogged mess, and the boys find it hilarious when I come up with toilet paper plastered to my face. I laugh through it all, even if the urge to puke is growing.

By the time I'm done, I'm soaked in toilet water, and the teenagers are in tears.

"Alright, toilet guy. That was disgusting," the leader of the pack chuckles, grimacing in my direction, "You have a car or something?"

"Yes, sir. I've got a minivan in the parking lot."

"A minivan?" he seems disappointed, "Hand over the keys anyway. We wanna drive around."

"You got it, sir," I say, fishing the fob out of my damp pockets.

He swipes the keys out of my hand eagerly and turns to leave the bathroom. I start to follow the boys out, but he stops me.

"Why don't you stay in here 'till you dry off," he snorts, "You can spend that time in the corner, thinking about what you can do for me next time I'm at the mall."

"Yes, sir," answer, and the boys leave.

Briefly, the thought of getting back to work crosses my mind. I really should be out there keeping an eye on the vendors and their merchandise, but that goes away. Like suggested, I stare at the dirty tile wall and begin to brainstorm what I can do for the boy the next time I see him.

My walkie goes off now and then with the voice of my coworker wondering where I am, but I ignore it.

After an hour or so, I've dripped mostly dry, but a strong stink still lingers around my head. Still, I've come up with a few different things I could have ready next week. It'll take some overtime to make extra cash for the boy. My wife won't be happy about that, but it'll give me a chance to actually have cash ready for him when he asks for it.

The only other thing I have to offer is the perks of my job. Maybe his friends and him would like a tour of the security office? I'd give them free reign of everything in the confiscated bin.

Speaking of my job, I should probably get back. My partner is probably angry at me for not answering the radio. He'll be happy when I tell him I'll take the late shift for the next few days. Hopefully he won't say anything about the smell. God, it's awful!

Just another day working as a mall cop!

#hypno story #mind control #hypnotized

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bluecollarmcandtf · 29 days

Text

Cash Slave, reporting in...

Good morning, master. State Trooper Hernandez reporting!

I hope you're doing well since the last time we saw each other. Again, I can't apologize enough for pulling you over on the highway. I had no idea you were such an amazing hypnotist. Thank you again for letting me get off easy and only making me taze myself twice! I was paralyzed in that muddy ditch for awhile, but you could've given me a helluva worse punishment!

Your instructions aren't negotiable, so I made sure to snap a photo before I started my shift today. As you suggested, I've been eating a box of donuts every morning, and I've packed on a hefty 30 lbs since I've started. My wife has complained, but I know you want me to look more like a cliche of law enforcement!

I'll stop by your house to drop off my paycheck tonight after work. I won't forget to pick up some pizza for you and your friends on the way: extra sausage, just like you said!

See you tonight, master!

Hello sir.

It's been a week since you came into my shop, and I've followed everything you said. I didn't agree with it at first, but you convinced me with that little pendant.

You were right! I really am beneath powerful men like you. Filthy blue-collar workers aren't worthy to lick the dirt off your shoes. You were right to point that out, and you were right to tell me to embrace it. When the world looks at me, they shouldn't see a man. They should see a grease monkey at the bottom of society.

That's why I haven't showered or changed in seven days. My BO is uncomfortable to work in, but I know it's just a reminder of what I am. I used to be proud of my job. Ha! I used to look down on suits like you, but I'm nothing in comparison; just a tool at your disposal.

Anyways, I cleaned and waxed your old car as fast as I could. I know I lent you my convertible, but you're welcome to keep it. I put a lot of sweat and blood in fixing her up, but like you said, fancy cars are meant for you to drive and me to maintain.

Stop back in my garage anytime. White-collar men like you get free service here! It's not the place of any lowly laborer to get in the way of what you want.

Thank you again, sir.

Hello boss.

Just started another long day of window washing! It's another hot one, but I'll keep my head down and sweat through it like usual.

I've gotta say, it's days like this that make me miss the comforts of my old corporate desk job. I'd kill for some AC right now, but I remember how much you made me realize I hated that career. Like you said, I'm much better suited to a life of mindless cleaning.

It turns out you're the real one with a knack for business strategy because all of your advice has been genius! The income is dependent on the hours I put in, and since I'm working for half the price of all competitors, I've gotten a monopoly on the market! I've fully booked all seven days for the next five or so weeks, so I'll be washing windows non-stop!

The business is already booming! I've been billing customers to your bank account, so you should already see all the profit in there!

Later today, I'll make a note of the minimum I need to replenish the cleaning supplies I'm running through. I'd also be grateful if you loaned me a bit for personal use, but it's understandable if you can't spare any! We agreed that I wasn't working for a salary, and I'm fine with that! I've been sleeping in the company van the last few weeks and it's more than good enough for me!

Don't worry, boss. I'll get back to work!

Tell my wife hello for me, master!

Working on a rig has been isolating. The job is brutal, the days are long, and every night I head back to our bunks covered in oil. I thought I'd at least get to bond with the other guys, but most of us are too tired to do anything but eat and sleep after our shift.

The only thing that's getting me through it is thinking about you. I know I also have a girl at home, but you were the one that gave my life purpose. I was never going to make money as an actor, and you helped me see that! You were the one that convinced me to go for this ridiculous job in the middle of the ocean, and now I'm making a ton of money!

You deserve it all.

I wouldn't have seen any of this cash if I hadn't stuck around after your stage hypnosis show. I still remember the wild look in your eyes when you came up with this idea for me. I also remember that hungry look you had when you saw my wife. It was impossible to say no.

Oh, and thanks for keeping my wife company while I'm gone. A man like you deserves her attention more than I do. Like you said, I doubt I was pleasing her to begin with. The only thing I'm good for is earning money, and I hope you're enjoying it because it sure isn't easy to earn!

I gotta get back, but I wanted to let you know that I signed up for another six months like you suggested. It's lonely, but I'm happy to do it, master!

Son, or should I still call you 'sir'?

I'm not sure if I your new title applies through text as well? Being your dad and your servant can be a bit confusing, but I don't mean disrespect you! Just let me know.

My workout is done and I'm headed back to your house. I signed the deed over to you this morning, so you officially own it now! Like usual, I'll clean the place from top to bottom. I've got all the mops and cleaning supplies in my van and ready to go. Since it's Friday, I'll start on the weekly yard work; mowing, weeding, etc... I don't want to bore you with the details, but it'll take the majority of the day to keep your place in tip top shape!

As I understand it, you are having friends over tonight, so I'll prepare a three course meal for eight. I ironed my apron this morning so I should look like a more presentable waiter than last night when I served your food!

As always, please let me know if there's any other way I can be of service today or tonight.

I'll be awaiting your return, sir.

Hey little bro,

I just finished my workout at the gym with dad. We're both hitting PRs and we're really starting to see some results! Still can't believe you hypnotized his dumb ass to think he's your butler! That man looks so stupid changing from gym clothes into a bowtie and gloves. He's constantly calling you 'sir' too, even when you're not around.

He's such an idiot.

Anyways, I'm all dressed and ready for my new job. You were totally right. I'm going to be so much happier as a clown instead of a wrestler. I'm about to head out to my first gig; a ten year old's birthday party. I think he's the kid of someone I used to compete with. It might be a little awkward, but it won't affect my routine. I've got an afternoon of pies in the face and self-deprecating humor ahead of me.

I made sure to tell the guy who hired me that I'm willing to stay after and clean up. Kids make a huge mess after all. I just hope he won't be too weird about me being a clown at his son's party. We may have been rivals in the past, but that was back when I wrestled. Now I'm just a joke for hire. He's technically my boss for the day, so I'll have to get used to taking orders from him.

Wish me luck, bro. I'll give you the money after the dad dismisses me. Let's hope I make a good clown!

#mind control #gay hypnosis #hypno story #gay ai art #hypnotized #servant

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bluecollarmcandtf · 1 month

Text

"Dude, I took over your dad's body.."

"...and goddamn is there a lot of him to work with! I've been a ghost for years now, but I've never been inside a 6' 3" ex-linebacker! I've been checking him out all afternoon, and let me tell you that this man is big and hairy all over," he punctuates his comment with a wink.

Your dad, the man you've looked up to your entire life, is saying things you don't want to think about while casually laying on the couch in nothing but a robe and booty shorts. The urge to puke is suppressed, but you know that Jimmy has crossed a line here. Your deceased friend has possessed bullies, professors, and more, but he's never had the balls to take over your own family. What was he thinking?

"I jumped into him while he was at work. I think his coworkers probably found it strange when I picked up his briefcase and waddled his ass out the door," Jimmy chuckles at the memory, "But don't worry. Your old man had plenty of sick days he wasn't gonna use."

It doesn't take long for you to burst out in anger at the spirit controlling your father. Your face is hot, and you can't stand to watch your dad get puppetted around like a fool!

"Calm the fuck down!" he swears uncharacteristically, "Give this big guy a hug. Come here. Daddy needs some love..."

The thought of hugging your father while he's being forced to act like this feels wrong, but you relent. A part of you is glad for the embrace. It might not actually be your dad, but paternal comfort is exactly what you need right now, and your real dad isn't the type to give his child a hug.

"That's it, son," Jimmy pets your head with your father's thick hands, "Let daddy take care of you. Let your dumb old fart-of-a-father give you some much-needed attention."

You can't help but chuckle at the self-deprecating joke. Your real dad was too proud to laugh at himself, and he'd never made an effort to be anything other than distant and formal with you. In fact, there was a lot your real dad would never do; he'd never leave the office in the middle of the day, he'd never lay around the house like a lazy bum, and he'd certainly never let his hairy chest and thick legs be on full display in front of his disappointing gay son.

Suddenly, while still embraced, you realize there's something poking into your waist.

"Sorry, dude," your father whispers in your ear, "I guess your dad is just happy to see you."

You push him away, insisting that Jimmy needs to stay out of family members' bodies because this just feels so wrong! You search the pair of unnaturally blank eyes for any sign that Jimmy might be listening to you.

"You need to relax, bro," your dad (Jimmy) groans in annoyance. He looks disappointed, but then he sparks up and gives you a new look of excitement. "Son," he says with exaggerated machismo, "Take a page from my book and learn to chill out. It doesn't matter what the world thinks about you or me. I'll prove it to you..."

With a placid grin and blank gaze, your father lumbers past and marches straight out the front door of the house. You're almost too stunned to follow. Was Jimmy really going to parade your dad's body around the neighborhood in nothing but his robe?

"Afternoon, neighbor," your father's rumbling tone bellows across the street, "Lovely weather, today. My son thought I should take my fat hairy gut for a little stroll in the sun. You know us dads have got to keep our boys happy. Am I right?"

Mr. Jones stares at your father from his porch, just as shocked as you are. He often drank beers with this man and every other neighborhood dad at backyard barbecues and living room game watches. This was not how he normally interacted with the man, and it obviously struck him as weird.

"You alright, Bob?" he asks hesitantly.

"Right as rain, neighbor!" Jimmy answers with a tone that's too goofy to pass as my dad's, "If that's how you're staring at me now, I wonder what'll happen if I take this robe off..."

Before Mr. Jones can process the flirtation in your father's voice, you shuffle your dad further down the street and away from the whole interaction. That may have been hilarious, but Jimmy was going to destroy any reputation and respect your father had around here!

You demand to know where Jimmy is going with this body. It's not like you have any ability to even slow the ghost down when he's got the weight and strength of your 200 lb father.

"I'm thinking the park. Your dad could use some cardio," he smirks, an unfamiliar expression on the grown man's face, "Or maybe the public bathroom on the north end. You know, it has that hole in the stall..."

No amount of reasoning or arguments can change Jimmy's mind. Apparently he's set on wearing your father to the city's most notorious gay hookup spot.

"Don't look at me like that," his gravelly voice sounds amused by your frustration, "With me in charge, your dad will be the dirtiest slut that bathroom's ever seen. Don't you think it'll be funny to see such a massive, manly bear serving man after man in there?"

You sigh in disbelief.

"Or...maybe I don't have to rent out your dad's body to a bunch of strangers..."

You wonder where he's going with this. It sounds like an ultimatum is coming, and you don't like the idea of your crazy dead friend giving you an ultimatum.

"...your dad could hold off on bottoming for strangers...if...you let him be your submissive little bitch."

The choice is an annoying one, but you're pretty sure you can't let your dad have unprotected sex with strangers in a public place. This is what he'd want right?

"That's what I thought," the grin on your father's face twists maniacally. He tussles your hair like he's the proudest dad in the world, "Let's head on back home, buddy. Daddy's gonna lick every inch of sweat off that body of yours. He's got years of emotional absence to make up for."

One of his beefy arms cradles your back and turns you around. You're relieved to no longer be headed towards the public bathroom, but you're still a little nervous about what awaits you at home. How does Jimmy expect you to enjoy any of this when it's your dad doing all these things to you?

"Daddy's gonna treat you to a night that's all about you," he goes on, "Cooking you dinner, rubbing your feet, cuddling on the couch, and so much more. I want you to think of some humiliating things daddy can do for you while we walk back. Make sure they're extra degrading or your dad will just have to step out of the house and degrade himself where the entire city can see..."

The last comment gives you butterflies in your stomach, but it also gives you a bit of a hard-on. Maybe Jimmy playing with your dad wasn't so scary of an idea after all. With him possessed, anything was on the table: personal affirmations, some much needed bonding, roleplay, revenge, humiliation. Heck, you could even give your father a golden shower and Jimmy would have him smiling through it!

Walking home, you steal glances at your dad, towering over you as his rotund gut leads the way. Home can't come fast enough!

#gay dad and son #male possession #gay dad bod #male mind control #body swap #gay fatty

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bluecollarmcandtf · 1 month

Text

"Dude, I'm in your brother-in-law!"

Panic twists your gut as the bizarre scene sinks in! Those unnaturally clouded eyes are the trademark of Jimmy, your long-dead friend, and they're sitting in the skull of Carlos, your sister's fiance! The ghost is up to his usual antics, possessing yet another guy in your life without any regard to you.

"Did you imagine a tight gym rat like this would wear undies like these?" Jimmy chuckles, referring to Carlos' patterned boxers, "I mean how could you be so intimidated by a guy who's got hearts on his crotch?"

The underwear is the least of your worries: the man is supposed to be walking down the aisle in an hour! It may have been a dick move for your sister to get engaged to your high school bully, but that didn't mean you wanted her future husband to be late to the altar!

"Don't even bother asking me to get out of this body, dude!" the deep baritone of Carlos sings with Jimmy's cadence, "The only thing I plan on getting out of is this tux! Training like this needs to be appreciated, and who better to appreciate it than you? I'm sure you'd love to know what your sister is getting tonight..."

"I mean just look at these abs. It's like a rock hard washboard if you want a feel..." Jimmy winks one of his starkly blank eyes at you, "...speaking of being rock hard, it looks like you're enjoying this bonding time with your new brother-in-law. After all, Carlos does need to apologize for all the bullying he did in high school."

With a racing heart, you shush him and beg for Johnny to leave. He needs to return Carlos to normal before anyone notices! The wedding would be over if someone found the groom naked and flirting with the brother of the bride!

"If you're gonna be my new little bro..." Jimmy says with an unsettlingly accurate impression of Carlos' demeanor, "...then I think you should get to know me. Come on and grab my fat, meaty pecs; pinch my nipples; let me know who the real man is around here..."

It's hard to resist. You've only ever caught stolen glances at Carlos. The jerk would always shove you into a locker when he caught you staring in his direction, yet now he was begging for your attention.

"Come on, bro. Grab my athletic little ass and grope my crotch. It's the least I can do after targeting you for all these years."

Before you realize what you're doing, you find yourself rushing towards the shredded latino and pressing yourself against his exposed body, layered with dense musculature. Part of you still expected Carlos to kick you in the nuts and call you a slur, but his lips instead gleefully embrace your own.

"Damn, if I'd known being queer was this good, I woulda married you and not your sister!" he exclaims. You just roll your eyes, knowing Carlos isn't actually saying these things. Jimmy is just puppeteering his mouth for your amusement, "I bet having your dick in my mouth will be better than the tits of any girl! The only way a piece of crap like me can apologize is on my knees..."

You stifle a moan as all 200 lbs of the naked jock drops to his knees with a dopey grin. Carlos' soulless eyes stare at the tent in your pants like it's the most desirable thing in the world. It doesn't take long for him to unbuckle your pants and open his mouth...

...twenty minutes later, you're still catching your breath while Carlos slowly redresses.

"Now you can watch your sister marry this homophobic dirtbag and know that you've shoved your shaft down his throat," Jimmy purrs, enjoying his final moments in Carlos' form, "I'm not going to brush his teeth, so he'll have to taste you throughout the entire wedding."

You giggle at the thought of the guy wondering about the strange flavor in his mouth while reading his vows. Somehow, Carlos doesn't seem as big or intimidating as he once did.

"If it were up to me, I'd commandeer his whole life," Jimmy went on with a sparkle of enthusiasm in Carlos' clouded retinas, "I'd walk him out there in nothing but his heart-patterned undies and announce to his whole family that he's a flaming homosexual. Then I'd like to spend a couple weeks working his body as a stripper at the nearest club, and of course I'd come home to you every night..."

The idea of Carlos coming out to his orthodox family and working as a stripper is an insane one, but it did turn you on. It's too bad your sister's taken a liking towards him, otherwise, you'd tell Jimmy to go crazy with the guy.

"Imagine your old high school bully coming home to you every night, hot and sweaty from dancing all day, with a new skimpy costume for you to explore. Damn, I'd want you to find a new way to degrade me each night while I wore him. It'd be healthy, I think, after all he's put you through."

Jimmy's crazy ideas never cease to amaze you. A little time belittling Carlos sounds hot as hell!

You give Carlos one last kiss and remind your paranormal buddy that he has to leave soon. The stud frowns, looking sad that he won't be possessed by a gay spirit anymore. At least you know that if this man ever screws up, if he ever wrongs your sister, if he ever hurts her; Jimmy is just one seance away from charging back in his body and making this twisted fantasy come true. It's only a matter of time before Carlos screws up his marriage, and then he's yours.

You almost can't wait for your sister's marriage to fall apart, and it hasn't even begun...

#gay possession #male body swap #male possession #gay ai art

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bluecollarmcandtf · 1 month

Text

"Dude, I possessed your professor...

The hairs on your neck prick up as you notice the glassy look in Dr. Bradley's eyes. It was the trademark sign that your old pal, Jimmy, was back from the dead to haunt you. Obviously, your professor was his next host...

"...holy crap! Look at this idiot! I know he's real booksmart or whatever, but he can't be that clever with a jocked up body like this! I'm gonna strip him down and see what he's hiding under this fancy shirt. I know you wanna see your teacher naked, right?"

You stare at the uncharacteristically goofy grin on your professor's face as he oggles his own body. Back when he was alive, Jimmy was the most immature and gayest guy you'd ever met. It feels so wrong to see him wearing the school's most renowned researcher like a costume! Dr. Bradley would be more mortified by behaving this way than by seeing actual paranormal activity.

"Come on man," your old friend speaks with the doctor's sonorous tone, "If I'm a ghost, I at least wanna enjoy the perks. And when else are you gonna get the chance to screw with this straight tight-ass?"

You stare at his body as he lounges back on a desk. It creaks under the weight of the man's hefty muscles. God, his bare chest is practically begging for your attention!

"Come on, bro. Screw me in your professor's body," Dr. Bradley -no, Jimmy- flashes a wicked smile.

Before you can decline, Jimmy assertively throws up one of the man's strong hands, "Maybe I can make this easier on you, dude. I'll raise your grade if you spank me a few times to get started. Hell, if you leave his ass red, I'll even send an email to the dean about how you deserve another scholarship!"

It's time to put an end to this, you think. Jimmy's talking about playing around with this man's career, and you really don't want to get him or yourself in any trouble.

"Alright, then a new tactic," Jimmy sneers, employing the lower, more commanding register of Dr. Bradley's voice, "Fuck him up the ass, or I'll change your grade to an F. We can do it right here, on his desk..."

You stare at your professor's glazed over eyes and his drooling grin. Jimmy wouldn't actually blackmail you, right? This has to be just another one of his careless antics.

"Get up here," Dr. Bradley grins at you, "I want my favorite student to do whatever he wants with my hot-teacher body!"

You shake your head one final time, but you can already feel your defenses breaking down. Exploring your possessed professor is starting to sound more and more like a good idea.

"You know I've been practicing my ghost skills, man?," he continues, "I can jump into these idiots and stay for up to seven days before I need to jump out and stretch my legs again. That means I can be Professor Big-Butt all week!"

"Maybe I'll kick out his wife and kids so you can come over and play house with me. Imagine your professor waking you up ever morning with his mouth on your pole. Imagine him under the dining table slobbering over your feet while you enjoy the dinner he prepared. Dude, imagine hitting a gay bar with this professional stud as your obedient muscle-slut and pimping him out to every guy who walks in. Bro, I'm so down to do whatever you want to see him do!"

You stare at Dr. Bradley in awe, precum soaking into your shorts. Once again, Jimmy's imagination has you drooling with desire. You can't help but squeak out an affirmative response.

"Hell yeah, man!" the professor's voice is unrecognizable with Jimmy's ecstatic glee.

"Now hop up here and destroy this guy's ass! Don't forget; I know about your kink for degrading guys so I want you to really humiliate me!"

In a daze, you unbuckle your belt and climb up behind your professor. A part of you knows this is wrong, but that part of you is buried somewhere deep beneath your primal lust. If Jimmy wants you to degrade and humiliate him, who were you to say no? Besides, you couldn't let Dr. Bradley -Jimmy- give you an F!

"I knew you were my favorite student for a reason," your ghostly friend says, imitating the doctor's direct and authoritative demeanor, "You're more of a man than I could ever be. I knew it from the first time I saw you in class. We locked eyes, and I just knew; all of my achievements, all of my time spent in the gym, everything I had once been proud of; all meant nothing compared to you."

Hearing the professor's heartfelt manifesto was more than enough to get you into the mood. They might not actually be his words, but they were coming from his mouth, and it was more than enough to get you on Jimmy's side. Ideas for using and abusing your tenured professor were already racing across your mind, and thanks to Jimmy, Dr. Bradley is a willing subject.

This next week is going to be a good one...

#gay possession #humiliation kink #gay ai art #gay mind control #servant

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bluecollarmcandtf · 2 months

Text

Total Customer Service

My hotel famously caters to the whims of each and every guest, so I thought I'd highlight the insights of some of my staff. My "unique" recruitment process has helped me acquire an army of hard-working uniforms who are guaranteed to serve! Hopefully, this glimpse will make you want to book a visit...

(Josh) The Bellhop

I love this job, but sometimes it kills my back! Who would've thought that being a porter would wear down my body more than hard labor ever did? Don't get me wrong: I'll gladly work here forever, but most of my days aren't a walk in the park. Honestly, none of them are.

When I was a construction worker, I got paid to be outside and occasionally hammer in a nail or two. My crew was pretty notorious for just standing around all day. We were doing that when my current boss approached us. I don't remember exactly what he said, but before I knew it, we were dropping our tool belts and hardhats and following him back to the hotel!

He hired me as a bellboy, so now I offer any guest the service of lugging their suitcases up to their rooms. Since I'm just staff, I obviously can't use the elevators, (those are reserved for the guests) so I carry their things up the service stairs in the back of the building. The temperature in the stairwell is always hot as hell, so I rarely end a shift without sweating through the pits of my uniform jacket. It sucks, but the AC is saved for spaces that make guests more comfortable.

Most of the customers are pleased to see me working so hard anyway. I'm usually panting by the time I deliver their luggage to their rooms. I'll always offer to unpack their things: it's a part of the hotel's five-star service.

Then I wait and see if they need anything else from me. A lot of times, I'm the first employee the guests are able to interact with, so they're usually pretty excited to take advantage of the "all-inclusive" service our hotel is famous for.

Some of them are shy about it at first and some of them are demanding from the get-go, but I'm always happy to do whatever they ask. Even if I don't particularly like what I have to do: it's just a part of the job...I love this job...I love my boss...I love that this work is my life...

(Bill) The Housekeeper

Part of me cringes every time I get a look of myself in a mirror. Sure, I'm proud to be a housekeeper, but it's a real change of pace from back when I was a financial advisor. Part of me is nervous to think I could run into someone from my old life: a former colleague or an old customer perhaps. I'd still clean their room the same of course, but I can't help but wonder what they'd think of me while I did it.

I used to manage the hotel owner's finances. That's how we met. He persuaded me to grow his hotel as much as I could. It became an obsession of mine, and I'll have to admit that I tossed all my other customers to the side to focus on him. It was a bit out of character for me. I'm not really sure why I did that. Anyway, I was spending so much time at his hotel instead of my office that he offered me a job.

I can't recall his pitch, but it must have been a convincing one, because I dialed up my old former boss and quit. I just didn't want it anymore! It didn't even bother me that the only vacant position was in housekeeping!

I took it immediately.

I love cleaning up the messes our guests leave behind. Thinking about that is what gets me out of bed everyday, which is no easy feat since my shift starts at four in the morning. No matter how messy, gross, or bizarrely sticky a room is, I just love to get on my hands and knees and scrub every inch for them.

The best part is when a guest comes back to their room to find me making their bed or cleaning their shower. I can tell they're always pleasantly surprised to find me there.

I just keep my head lowered submissively like I'm supposed to and wait for them to take charge. They always do. Here at the hotel, us employees are completely at the customer's whim. I'll do anything they tell me to...I want to make them happy...I want to serve them...I want to obey.

(Donavon) The Waiter

Who knew waiting could create such awful migraines. I work in the hotel bar, and every day is a new storm of hungry and entitled mouths. Each table has someone who isn't happy with their meal, and they love to express their discontent in the most ridiculous ways. Sometimes it's a glass of water in my face. Sometimes it's a slap on the ass, but it's always followed by a roar of laughter!

Usually, every guest in the restaurant joins in like it's all one sick joke.

I'm not used to being treated this way. I used co-own a nearby gym, and I always made it my mission to foster a welcoming culture of respect and familiarity. I know "the customer is always right," but sometimes it is a hard fact to swallow.

The hotel's owner helped me learn that. He approached me one night at the gym and pulled out this weird swinging medallion...

I don't remember much of what he said, but I knew I had to abandon my gym. I left my wife too. We were happy, but I couldn't work here and have other commitments.

That's how I got started waiting tables. I'd never done it before, but it's not hard when I'm constantly being told what to do. Between the customers and the boss, I spend the entire day running around fulfilling orders; table six wants more wine, table nine wants their food cut for them, table twelve wants a foot rub... you get the picture.

It's all pretty typical stuff for a restaurant, I think. The customers get full control over me and the rest of the wait staff. However, it does make serving food a little difficult at times. Last night, we had to work overtime because this one guy kept making full use of us waiters. A good chunk of my evening was spent under his table, so I had to sprint afterwards to catch up on everyone's food.

It might stress me out, but I try not to let it bother me. I'll put up with their abuse and treat them with the utmost respect like a good waiter should. I don't mind being groped and fondled by virtually every customer as I pass. Part of our service is complete access to the staff. They can do whatever they want to me...they can have me do whatever they want...they deserve that treatment...I'm meant to give them that treatment...

(Ricardo) The Kitchen Staff

This job sucks. It's the truth, but I don't think I'll ever leave. The kitchens are so steamy and uncomfortable that I constantly think about walking out and getting a breath of fresh air. Still, my hands keep scrubbing countertops and chopping vegetables.

Sometimes I think of my life before I worked at this hotel, back when I was just an aimless twenty year old hanging out at the gas station. I had so much free time then. Now, I spend every waking moment in this sauna of a kitchen getting splashed with grease and oil.

Everything changed when that stranger came up to me and my buds one day. He talked really slow and dangled this weird necklace in front of our eyes. If I didn't know any better, I might think he was trying to hypnotize us!

Obviously, that's not what happened.

He was just offering us work. He made me realize how much I needed to work. I have to do this job! I need it! All my buddies agreed too. Some of them had jobs, but they didn't mind. It's been awhile since I saw them since I'm stuck down here in the kitchen. I think one of them might be a pool boy or something? I don't remember. Whatever it is, I'm sure it's more enjoyable than washing dishes down here.

The only break we get is when a customer comes in the kitchen.

One of them burst through the doors last night. We could all tell he'd had too much to drink, but that didn't change how we treated him. Like always, me and the rest of the staff stopped what we were doing and straightened our backs out of respect. He stumbled around, licking his lips as he looked us up and down. He wasn't afraid of groping us, which any guest is more than entitled to do.

Eventually, he got to me, burping in my face before covering my mouth with his slobbery lips. I'm not gay and he had a rank odor of beer on his breath, but I wasn't going to tell a customer no!

Before long, he was ordering me on the floor and crawling on top of me. The other chefs and kitchen staff got back to work, but I was left with the responsibility of keeping the guest entertained. I'd describe it as gross more than anything. I think he might've even pissed himself, but an order is an order.

His demands were the ridiculous kind only a drunk ass would make. Still, I did everything: no matter how uncomfortable, sick, or degrading they were. That's just the expectation for employees at this hotel...we are here to serve them... I'm here to serve them...I am at their whim.

...so now you understand.

My hotel is famous for its "uniquely unlimited" customer service. Stay here and you'll always be right. You'll always have someone to pick on, laugh at, play with, or use.

Get familiar with anyone that catches your eye. I can assure you that all of my employees are handsome and thoroughly conditioned. Order the waiter to pour your food over his head; tell the housekeeper to do a little dance; command the bellhop turn around and bend over. They'll do it all, and they'll thank you for it.

So what are you waiting for. Book your next vacation with us! I promise you'll enjoy meeting the rest of my staff...

#gay hypnosis #humiliation kink #gay mind control #gay ai art #hypnotized #hypno story #servant #mind control #blue collar

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bluecollarmcandtf · 2 months

Text

I Don't Believe in Hypnosis

When I was a boy, my father taught me how to work hard and provide for my family. Farming ain't for weaklings. It takes a man to do what I do, and this work has given me a hard head and thick skin. That's why I sure as hell wasn't scared of no Hypnotist last Friday night!

As I linger in the cornfield, finishing up a hard day's work, I recall what happened that night...

My wife, Annie, finally got me to take her to the Fair. She'd begged and begged until I'd agreed. My girl dolled herself up and put on her favorite dress. I knew I'd made the right choice when I saw her, looking like the thin, bubbly girl I'd courted back in high school.

Together, we climbed in my truck and drove towards the sparkling fairground. The place was alive with music and attractions. We rode every ride, and I'll admit I enjoyed getting out of the house with my girl.

Then Annie saw a sign for some weird hypnosis show. I had no idea what my wife was talking about, but she said she'd seen it in movies: the ability to control someone's mind with a swinging watch or some crap!

I told her it was dumb, but she flashed me her big baby blues and sidled up real close. I could never say no to her like that. With a tired groan, I followed her into the tent and sat down to watch the stupid show. The rest was a blur.

...that was a week ago, and I shouldn't dwell on it now that I'm done workin' for the day. Hopefully, Annie has supper is ready!

Entering the house, I don't see her in the kitchen. I'm a bit bothered because she's usually got it prepared by the time I come in, but then it strikes me! I remember why she's held up! How could I have forgotten our guest? I'll bet she's too busy handling him at the moment to cook my dinner. They're probably both still in the bedroom, if I had to guess.

I chuckle at my mistake and march to the back of the house, peering past the door into my bedroom. I was right! My wife's still under the covers with the Hypnotist. They're both too occupied to notice that I've come in, but I know how to wait.

Quietly as I can, I step over to the bedside and lower myself to my knees. There's not much else to do, so I just kneel on the hardwood and watch them go at it until they see me waiting.

It takes a few minutes but the Hypnotist eventually notices and gives me a roll of his eyes. "The hick is back," he groans while sliding off my wife's back, "Don't you have something else you could busy yourself with?"

"I just got done fertilizing the field," I answer back, trying not to be disgusted by all his sweat that's soaking into my bedsheets.

"Fertilizing?" he asks with a toothy grin, "No wonder you smell like shit."

I'm not too sure what to say back, so I just keep my mouth shut. He turns his attention back to my wife, leaving me with nothing to do but wait some more. I know he's a fraud, but I respect the Hypnotist greatly. Let me explain how I came to invite him over. Honestly, that memory's a bit hazy, but I'll try...

It happened after the show. In fact, the show must've been over awhile since all the chairs were empty aside from the one that held my beautiful wife. Next to her sat the Hypnotist, looking just as oily, pale, and chubby as he'd looked at the beginning of the show.

That was when I realized I was standing on the stage.

I didn't even remember standing up, let alone leaving my wife and going up to the front! Brushing off my worries, I approached the man leaning on Annie's shoulders. He stopped whispering in her ear and gave me a sly grin.

"Enjoying my wife?" I asked.

"Certainly, I can't believe a fine creature like this could end up with such a pig," the Hypnotist licked his lips as he stared at her dress, "Invite me to stay with you."

"Stay with us," I instinctively answered, extending a welcoming hand. The Hypnotist didn't shake it, but he did escort my wife out of the tent with fingers creeping down her back. After that, I drove them home. He's been holed up in my bedroom with Annie ever since!

"Go grab me a beer," he says, jerking me from my thoughts, "Hurry up!"

"Yup," I stumble to my feet and hustle to the kitchen. The Hypnotist has had me fetching his beer all week so I know how he likes it. Grabbing the last cold bottle in the fridge, I race back and drop to the floor with a bowed head. This is how he likes his drinks presented.

"Believe in hypnosis yet, farm-cuck?"

I snort. Of course I don't. "Hypnosis isn't real," I retort, keeping my eyes fixed on the floor until he tells me otherwise.

How could I ever believe in something like hypnosis? The power to control someone's head is something that only exists in cheap movies. I hate to say it, but I think my wife is a bit of a ditz for believing in such a thing. I mean, this guy's been living with me for a whole week and he still hasn't done anything to hypnotize me or Annie!

"So you don't mind when a real man sleeps with your wife?" he asks.

"You jokin?" I laugh at the stupid question, growling "I'd kill any asshole who tried!"

"... but?"

"...but obviously you can do anything you want to my wife. You have more of a right to her than I do!" I add frankly.

"That's right," he snickers back, sneering down at me from the bed, "Pour that beer on yourself."

Without hesitation, I grab the beer and step back, popping the cap and raising the bottle high over my head. The ice cold liquid sends shivers down my spine, but I empty the bottle over my head anyway while the supposed Hypnotist howls in laughter.

I shiver at the feeling of cold beer soaking into my clothes, leaving a sticky layer of beer residue against my skin; not to mention the puddle sinking into the floorboards around my feet. Obviously, I'm uncomfortable and embarrassed, but I put the bottle down, satisfied by a job well-done.

"Are all country bumpkins as dumb as you?" he laughs.

"I'm not a country bumpkin," I snort with a clenched jaw.

"Yeah you are," the Hypnotist sneers back, "Remember? Tell me you're a country bumpkin."

Suddenly, it dawns on me that he has a point. I hate to say it, but I suppose I am exactly what he's saying. "I'm a country bumpkin," I agree.

"I knew I'd convince you," he snickers, "Now let me finish on your wife. Face the wall and listen to how a real man handles a woman."

"Ok," I answer reluctantly, turning around and leaning my head against the wall. I have no idea how I'm supposed to feel about this. I mean, here I am soaked in beer and hungry for my wife to cook me supper, and this jerk wants me to wait? I want to be mad; I should be mad, but for some reason I just don't mind. Even as Annie starts moaning louder and louder, I can't help but respect the guy. I mean, he's my guest so I want to keep him happy. Part of me is honestly just relieved that he's enjoying himself and showing Annie a good time while at it. She's obviously enjoying it.

They go on for another hour or so, and each time Annie squeals, my stomach lurches at the thought of him doing a better job than me. I just stare at the paint peeling off the wall and try not to picture what's actually going on.

"Alright, cowboy," I hear a tired voice pant from behind, "I'm done for now. Turn around."

I keep my eyes averted, but I can't ignore how out-of-breath the Hypnotist has become. What's even more disturbing is the brief glance I get at my wife, seeing the dumb smile stretched across her face. She's grinning like her entire world has been rocked, and she doesn't even bother to look in my direction!

My stomach growls under my shirt, "Do you think Annie could make some dinner...?" I ask quietly.

He shakes his head in disbelief, "Sure! Get up whore!," he smacks her on the ass, "Go make me some food."

My girl giggles and climbs out of bed, completely unashamed to be called a whore or walking around the house naked, scurrying to the kitchen. My heart sinks.

"Sorry son, she's cooking my dinner right now."

"But I just spent all day tilling and-"

"Don't speak!"

My mouth snaps shut, and my knuckles clench! How am I supposed to till the fields all day and come home to no food on the table? I'm the one who keeps a roof over our heads! Even still, I take a deep breath and relax.

The Hypnotist is right. I'll wait.

"Listen to me, hillbilly Joe. You're going to go to the store and buy me some more beer," I sigh, thinking about how dark it's getting, "Don't take the car. You'll run. Sitting on a tractor all day is giving you a pudgy gut!"

The Hypnotist gives my aching stomach a couple slaps before continuing his instructions. I can't help but notice his own belly flabs jiggling with every move. "Oh and while you're there, I want you to make a huge scene, heein' and hawin' like the dirty mule you are. If anyone gives you trouble, you'll piss yourself, and get on your hands and knees, licking their boots like the beta-cuck you are. Got it, bitch?"

Stunned, I freeze for a second as it all sinks in. I don't know why on earth I'd do all that, but in a daze, my feet lead me out the door and start jogging the first of several miles into town.

"Eeeeh-HAAAaaw!"

My voice breaks as I enter the store, shoutin' my presence with the most obnoxious donkey bray I can muster. My throat is raw and my lungs are aching. Running seven miles to the nearest store was a lot more difficult than the Hypnotist made sound, but hopefully it shed some pounds off that gut of mine. I'd never noticed it before, but I can tell I need to lose some weight! My already beer-soaked clothes are now even more wet and ripe with sweat.

"HEEeeee..." my voice catches as I notice a couple store employees staring at me. They're giving me dirty looks, but I'm here on a mission! "eeEeEH-HaaAaAAuW!" I bellow!

I stumble towards the back of the store, where they keep all the drinks. My legs feel like jelly, so I'm limping pretty bad. I realize I must look insane or drunk, but I'm just getting some beer for my guest! He needs beer! I grab the first case I see, scooping it up in my arms with another ridiculously loud cry of a mule.

Turning, I run face to face into a cop.

"You been drinkin' tonight, bud?" he gives me an unamused look.

I let the case of beer tumble to the floor. This guy is the deputy sheriff. Our town is small enough for everyone to know everyone, so I've chatted with him and his wife a few times. He's always seemed like a real stand-up man, and over the years, I've managed to get him to give me a casual nod whenever we pass.

"hheee-haawWH!" I throat brays in his face.

A warm feeling spreads through my crotch, and I remember what the Hypnotist told me back at the house. I'm pissing straight into my jeans. My cheeks flush red, but I don't move or try to hide it. Somehow, I know this guy is supposed to see this happen to me. It's like this is all a performance, and I'm the world's greatest actor!

I know what to do next. For the third time tonight, I fall to my hands and knees, staring up at the appalled cop with a gaping mouth and heavy breath. This position is feeling more and more comfortable, as the night goes on.

Without warning, I slam my mouth on his standard boots, extending my tongue and lathering it against the dusty black leather.

The deputy kicks me back and glares down. "Come on, man!" he growls, "You like making my job more difficult than it is? If you want to get piss drunk, do it at home!" He grabs me by the collar and drags me to my feet. "You're better than this! Think of that pretty little wife you've got waiting for you at home!"

His words hurt, but only leave me more confused. I'm not drunk! I wanted to do this, right? Why else would I have pissed myself and licked his shoes? Getting another glance at the officer's disappointed stare, makes my shoulders cringe out of embarrassment. I decide it's best to just keep my mouth shut as he pushes me past the place's staff and kicks me out of the building.

When I come to my senses, I make sure to apologize. He just frowns and tells me to get in his cruiser. Thank the Lord he's driving me back home. I think I would've passed out on the side of the road if I tried to run back.

We don't talk much while the cop drives. I mostly just sit in the back and stew on what I'd just done. The smell of piss, sweat, and beer makes my empty stomach churn. Why had my guest asked me to do this? Why had I even agreed? This entire outing had been a nightmare! That damned Hypnotist can't tell me what to do! When I get home I'll give that phony a piece of my mind.

"You find it hilarious," the Hypnotist says, and all of the sudden, I can't stop laughing!

I was ready to punch that fat ugly freak, but he has a point! Thinking back, I don't know why I'd been upset: it was hilarious! I was a complete fool! Just thinking about the disgusted looks of those employees made me fold over cackling. And that cop! He seemed more disappointed than anything! Laughing, I can feel the wetness where I'd pissed myself, sending me into another wave of hysterics! It'd disgusted me before, but now the humiliation of it all was just so damned funny!

"That was a good one," I wheeze, whipping a tear from my eye.

The man chuckles at me, taking a bite of the steak my wife is serving him in bed, "Laugh at your pathetic excuse for a husband, tits."

Annie stops feeding bites of steak into his mouth and looks at me for the first time tonight. Without hesitation, she bursts into laughter at the sight of me. I chuckle along with her, though the feeling of amusement is starting to wear off.

"Alright, now go sleep in the barn with the cattle, dumbass!" the Hypnotist mocks, "Your wife is going to massage me to sleep."

"Ok," I mutter, barely even maintaining a smile at this point.

I'll admit that I'm sorta glad to leave. Standing there while he and my wife just laughed felt wrong for some reason. As I trudge through the mud on the way to the barn, I see the glow of morning on the horizon. Soon, the rooster will crow and the cattle will be mooing up a storm, so I don't know how I'm gonna rest.

Food-deprived, sleep-deprived, cold, wet, and sweaty, I slump down in the old wood barn. As famished as I am, even the leftover slop in the trough is smelling good. I brush off the idea, and curl up in the mud with the cows. My clothes are too soiled to bother with cleanliness, so I ignore the flies and manure.

I pray sleep will find me quick. If that Hypnotist could actually do anything, I'd have him hypnotize me to sleep. It's too bad hypnosis isn't real. Even if it were, I doubt it'd work on a salt-of-the-earth man like me!

#humiliation kink #hypno story #cuckhubby #mind control #degredation kink #gross

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bluecollarmcandtf · 2 months

Text

The New Garbageman

Lance slowed from his run and glanced at the trash compactor sitting outside his apartment complex. He needed to catch his breath, but he hated being so close. The young man gave a disdainful look to the laborer who seemed wholly unbothered by his choice in career. 'Some men are just meant for menial crap like this,' he thought to himself, 'God knows I wouldn't be caught dead doing it.'

The jogger looked straight ahead as he passed, not wanting to make eye contact with the sucker lugging away a week's worth of his building's refuge. Lance thought the smell alone was enough to make him gag, but he was even more disturbed by the garbageman's indifference to the squishy contents leaking all over his clothes.

'At what point is that worker just considered trash himself?' Lance pondered with a grimace.

Just as he was about to escape into the entrance of the complex, a sharp ripping noise sounded behind him, followed by a clamour of things crashing to the ground.

Lance made the mistake of looking back, seeing a huge mess scattered across the sidewalk. It looked like a garbage can had exploded and now there was rotten food and crumpled papers everywhere, but that damn sanitation worker had vanished!

"The hell!" Lance shouted in anger, but his rage didn't last long.

A sudden pain stabbed him in the back and he crumpled to the ground like all the garbage had moments before. Everything went black...

Lance shook off the daze and found himself leaning against one of the garbage bins. The pain in his back didn't feel as acute anymore. All he could feel was an unusual warmth spreading from where he had been stung.

"Where is that goddamn garbage man," he growled, wincing at the litter surrounding him. He was ready to give that idiot a piece of his mind.

He put his hand on the concrete in an attempt to get himself up, but was surprised by the feeling of gloves over his fingers. Lance stared at his gloved palms with total confusion. He was sure as hell that he didn't put those old worn things on!

Then he noticed his shoes. They weren't the sneakers he'd been jogging in moments before. They were some kind of work boots!

"What the hell!" he exclaimed, wondering if he'd actually been knocked out and robbed.

Lance pushed his fears aside and began climbing to his feet, but as he did, he noticed something had appeared over his shoulders!

"Where'd this come from?" he cried, becoming more and more angry as articles of clothing just kept appearing on his body.

He was positive this dirty old jacket didn't belong to him. It was covered with stains and reeked like a public bathroom. Lance had a habit of always keeping his clothes freshly laundered and fragranced. He wouldn't even wear jeans two days in a row without washing them, so what was this raggedy work jacket doing in his back?

Lance frantically started to pull the thing off, but it seemed stuck on his waistband or something. No amount of thrashing could get him to pull the thing over his head!

He moaned in frustration and threw his fists down angrily. Then, he noticed why the jacket wouldn't come off. It took him a second to realize what he was looking at. The jacket was attached to the new pants he had on!

Lance shouted out in a state of confused panic. "Help!" he cried, not knowing what else to do, but even if someone did come over, what would he tell them? They'd never believe that his clothes were magically being replaced!

He couldn't even bring himself to look down at what he was wearing. Gone were his running shorts and tank top. In their place, a gross old jumpsuit had enveloped his body. Lance was struck by the itchiness of the course material, but he was even more horrified by how damp it felt against his skin. He didn't want to know what liquid those coveralls were saturated with; oil, sweat, or something even worse?

Lance couldn't find his phone in any of his new attire's pockets. He didn't know what was going on, but he was about to start screaming if he didn't find out soon. His breathing intensified while his heart raced out of his chest. He could feel the panic attack coming.

Then all of a sudden, he stopped...

That warm feeling in his back had washed over his entire body and told every tense muscle to relax. Lance's heart rate eased and his breathing slowed. The confusion, worry, and panic in his face was gone: a numb expression sat in its place.

Lance didn't understand why he had suddenly become so calm. Internally, he was still disgusted, horrified, and outraged, but he couldn't deny how relaxed his body had became.

Finally able to gain his bearing, the former jogger climbed up from the ground and gave his new outfit another look.

"What the hell is this thing," he wondered, but his voice had a comparatively lifeless tone.

Lance studied the clothing. The boots were caked with dirt and grime. He could feel his feet sweating inside them. In fact, his entire body felt like it was being cooked. He was completely covered from the neck down with some pretty heavy duty work wear. It was all clothing he would never be caught dead in, yet it looked kind of familiar.

Suddenly it, clicked.

"I'm dressed a goddamn garbage man," Lance spoke again with a monotoned voice.

Then his mouth moved on its own, "I am a garbage man."

The words chilled him to the core. He had not meant to say them! That warm feeling that started in his back had moved to his throat and taken over.

Before he knew it, his hands were moving on their own too. They were picking up the trash littered around him! His legs moved to, crawling his body across the concrete, and Lance couldn't do anything to stop himself.

His mouth wouldn't open when he tried! He wanted to scream! His arms and legs weren't doing what he wanted either. He was trapped in his own body! Lance couldn't speak; he couldn't run; he couldn't hide; he couldn't even panic. His own heart beat at a steady pace like he was the calmest man in the world! His lungs systematically drew in breath after calm breath, and his face was locked in an empty look of indifference...

Lance would have to get used to being around the trash. He was a garbageman now...

One Year Later...

Lance had never imagined he'd be trapped as a garbage collector for this long. His body hadn't let him look back once since he walked away from his old life. Who knows what happened to his apartment and family. He'd long since given up on the idea of ever going back to his old life.

His days were now spent being puppettered to take out other people's trash. It was disgusting hard work that he got no thanks for, but that didn't matter. He wasn't in control of his body, and his body just kept lugging rank bags of garbage day after day after day.

He'd been subjected to millions of dirty looks as people caught sight of him. Lance knew he must seem pathetic. He was sure he smelled even worse. How could anyone respect a man like him? Even after a year, his face still burnt red when someone looked grossed out by him.

The discomfort of his uniform has become normal to Lance. It was itchy and humid under there, which made sense since it hadn't been washed in the all the time he'd had it on.

Well, that wasn't entirely true...

Every night after work, his body would hop on the garbage truck and get dropped off at the sanitation department's parking garage. There he and the rest of the garbage crew would hose each other down. It didn't do much other than make him cold, but at least he got that.

After the makeshift shower, he and the rest of the guys would file into the garage. Lance assumed that every one of the laborers were being used as puppets like him, because they appeared just as numb and lifeless as he did. There was no chummy chitchat; there were no friendly waves or claps on the back; hell there wasn't even a smile or frown on any of their faces.

All the garbagemen acted like robotic slaves for unpaid labor, which is exactly what they were.

Lance's theory was that when he'd felt that pain a year ago, he'd had some sort of Syfy-futuritic-techno crap inserted in his back. It had to be controlling his actions. He could feel it on his spine, sending signals to the resto for his body for how to behave.

It was just a theory. He couldn't prove or disprove anything when he had no autonomy over his own body.

So he was stuck seeing himself play out the same awful routine everyday. 'At least the day's almost over,' he thought to himself. At least he could still dream of a life where he didn't wear this disgusting uniform and pick up garbage all day.

Lance's body joined the rest of the men on the floor. This was where they spent their nights. Whoever was controlling them was clearly too cheap to buy them beds let alone showers or laundry machines

It usually got pretty bleak in there: a whole room of men that aren't allowed to talk or interact outside of working together. There was nothing else to do but sleep, so Lance slid down to the concrete and closed his eyes, wondering if he would ever be anything other than a smelly garbageman ever again.

He thought back to his old life, dreaming about that last morning run he'd gotten before all this happened. He fantasized about what would have happened if he'd just ran around the block one more time.

Would he have avoided this fate or was he just destined for menial crap like this?

Thanks for the Ask, workgearfan

#mind control #blue collar #gay mind control #humiliated slave #meat puppets

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bluecollarmcandtf · 2 months

Text

Meet the Basketball Kens!

Your set of Ken dolls isn't complete without Coach Ken! Who else is going to keep an eye on your favorite meat puppets when you aren't around? It won't be hard for Coach Ken to keep them in line! He's got plenty of experience in making boys follow his orders.

Sure, he's no longer in his prime. He might've gained a few pounds, but he makes up for it with his extensive experience and strategy.

Just look at Basketball Alan! Coach Ken has whipped him into exceptional shape, ensuring that the boy eat, sleep, and train in a way that most benefits the team. Allen would be lost without the old man, so he's glad to follow Ken's every command, even when they aren't talking about basketball...

Buy this duo now, and see what we mean! Ken would love to coach you into peak shape! He won't go easy on you, but don't be afraid to yell back at him. Coach Ken might act all tough, but he's secretly just as submissive as Basketball Alan...

#male asfr #servant #basketball #gay mind control #gay ai art

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bluecollarmcandtf · 2 months

Text

Meet the Wrestling Kens!

Have you ever wanted to watch two ripped jocks wrestle on your living room floor? Do you dream of owning a pair of sweaty athletes, dressing them in the singlet of your choice? Your control over them is limitless, so what will you make your Wrestling Ken's do?

These big competitive rivals will duke it out at your command, and they'll only stop when you tell them to. That's right! They'll wrestle all day and night if you let them, so invite your friends over and grab a beer! Then, sit back and enjoy your own private wrestling match!

They'll let you decide which Ken will be victorious, and they'll let you decide which Ken will throw the match. The best part is deciding the punishment for the loser. Maybe the conquered Ken has to kiss the feet of the other; maybe he has to kiss his ass; maybe he just has to turn around and stay bent over for the next few hours...

The winning Ken is programmed to gloat and degrade his opponent. Arrogance is a key design in the wrestler's personalities, which makes it all the more fun when they are inevitably beaten and humiliated for your entertainment. If you'd like, you can make yourself the reward they fight over. Then the victorious Ken will march over and haughtily pick you up in his big meaty arms, determined to enjoy every inch of his grand prize.

What are you waiting for? Two of our beefiest Kens could be squabbling over you right now! Pick up the phone and order your Wrestling Kens today!

#gay ai art #servant #male asfr #gay wrestling #meet ken

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bluecollarmcandtf · 2 months

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Meet the Kitchen Kens!

That's right! Your favorite life-sized playthings are available in packs of two now! That means you can get two Kens for the price of one, and boy are these guys worth the money!

Are you tired of slaving away in the kitchen all night just to end up with a mediocre meal? Do you wish you had one big strong man to cook you the finest dinners and another to clean up the mess? Well, look no further than Chef Ken and Dishwasher Alan! We promise these guys will meet your every need in the kitchen, and they'll do it all with a smile on their handsome faces.

These men belong in the kitchen. Ken knows his place is at the stovetop, spatula in hand, and Alan will always be waiting at the sink with a sponge and a can-do attitude. It doesn't matter if it's a midnight snack or a midmorning brunch, they'll be primed and ready for your order. The knowledge of several five-star chefs has been programmed into Ken's head, and Alan is trained to scrub your dishes until you can see your face sparkling in its reflection!

Buy Ken and Alan now! You'll never find two men more dedicated to serving you in the kitchen, but stayed tuned...

This is just the first set in our new line of Ken and Alan combos. Get ready for these pals to take on even more fun and useful careers...

#meet ken #servant #male asfr #gay ai art

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bluecollarmcandtf · 2 months

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The Disappointment

AJ kept a strong face, but his palms were slick with sweat. Tonight had been the first game of the season, and he'd choked. His teammates couldn't even look his way, but the Coach kept a glaring eye fixed on him. AJ prayed that the locker room would be short and painless, but he had no idea what he was walking into...

"Not you," Coach put a firm hand on AJ's chest before he could follow the team in.

The quarterback looked to his buddies for backup, but none of them bothered. Whatever lecture Coach had planned, he would have to hear it by himself. Internally, he was already groaning in frustration, but he kept up his trademark exterior and asked, "What's up?"

"You're a disappointment, boy," he growled lowly, pushing a fat finger into AJ's chest.

"What the hell!" AJ burst, raising his voice. He may have screwed up on the field, but he didn't have to listen to this crap, "Screw you! None of that was my f-"

"Don't talk back..." the old man cut in firmly.

AJ's mouth snapped shut. It wasn't something he did consciously, but he was too occupied by the coach's hostile behavior to notice.

"...I dumped too much money into this team for you to just throw the game away!"

The quarterback scoffed. He wanted to yell 'What money?' in the coach's face, but he stayed silent instead. His throat had somehow clamped up. Talking back wasn't possible at the moment, so he just rolled his eyes. AJ didn't really care what the man was talking about. He just wanted to shower, go home, and forget about this whole night!

"Put these on!" Coach spat, throwing a set of folded clothes at him.

AJ gave the worn bundle of clothes a look of disdain. His face was boiling with contempt, but he was more confused than anything. Why had Coach just tossed him these gnarly old rags. The thick blue cotton was stained and saturated with a strong smell of body odor. Whatever nasty freak had worn these before had obviously never washed them or himself.

There was no way in hell AJ would put it on!

"Yes, sir."

It took him a couple seconds to realize those words had come from his mouth. They sounded artificially casual in his throat.

For the first time that night, Coach had a grin on his face, but it wasn't a pleasant one. The old man calmly watched as the quarterback pulled off his muddy jersey and shoulder pads. AJ was of course panicking, but it was limited to his thoughts as his body moved on its own.

"That looks much better," Coach purred with an amused glint in his eye.

The quarterback's mind ran wild, and every muscle tensed up as he tried to break out of this tight grip. From the outside, he looked like he was standing tall, arms flat at his side, feet shoulder with the part inside that crusty old jumpsuit, but that did not match how he felt on the inside! AJ was grinding his teeth in the effort to cry out; his eyes itched from an unflinching glare at the coach; and his butt cheeks repeatedly clenched and unclenched as he tried and failed to move.

Even his face has been commandeered by whatever force had taken over him. His mouth sat in an emotionless pout when all he wanted to do was scream! Even worse, his nose was resigned to taking long even breaths that sucked in the musky stench of the nasty blue coveralls he had on. He was acting as if he were the calmest man in the world, but in reality, he was fuming!

"As I was saying," Coach continued, "You're a disappointment, boy. You understand that?"

"Yes, sir," AJ's voice jumped into action once again, leaving him even more worried.

"No you don't. How could you?" the old man sneered, "I told everyone to forget everything: how I paid a hypnotist to help the team focus on the field. Of course, he really just hypnotized my players to obey me..."

AJ was at a loss for words, which didn't really matter since he couldn't control his mouth. He had a vague memory of Coach giving the team a lecture about focus, but he didn't recall anything about a hypnotist!

"...I paid that hypnotist a couple hundred bucks to give me a team I could control! Did you not notice how different everyone's been acting lately?..."

Thinking back, AJ could remember a distinct shift in the team. It was right after that weird chat from Coach! All of the sudden he and his teammates had insane urges to workout in their free time. It was like their personalities became about watching football tapes and bulking up. They had all been so eager to improve themselves for the team, for Coach, and they talked about it constantly.

All the players seemed to have found a new passion for the sport. Could that have really just been implanted by a hypnotist?

"...It was a waste of money." Coach said definitively, launching into an angry monologue, "That hypnotist was supposed to make my team go to State. The whole lot of you are at my command! I can tell you what to do in your free time! I can tell you what to think, but I can't tell you to go out there and win a game for me? It's bullshit!"

The words stung. AJ had never seen this manipulative and bitter side of the man before.

"Well, I need to get my money's worth out of you, and if all you're good for is mopping floors, then maybe I'll take you off the team and make you a full-time janitor! Maybe that'll teach you to not let me down again, boy."

"Yes, sir," was all AJ could say.

"I'm tired of looking at you!" he scowled, "Get to work!"

"Yes, sir."

AJ gladly retreated from the man. His head was pounding from the beratement and the fact that his will had apparently been broken months ago. AJ wanted nothing more than to escape the crazy football team, but his body had other ideas. His legs carried him over to an idle cleaning cart, where his hands picked up a rag and spray bottle.

The quarterback looked calm and collected on the outside as he wiped down and sterilized the gym equipment. In the well-worn uniform of a custodian, he was easy to overlook, but he was the only one still shuffling around in the gym on a Friday night. One would think he was the epitome of lonely non-achievers.

AJ wanted to yell. He wanted to kick over the bench he was wiping sweat off of and punch a wall. Hell, he'd even settle for a frown, but he knew it was useless. That hypnotist had done a number on him, and he felt he had no control over what he was doing with his body.

The defeated athlete just hoped his teammates wouldn't get a good look at him as they left the locker room. He didn't think he could handle that much humiliation in one night. They would be passing by soon, but the quarterback assured himself that his buddies wouldn't give him any grief. They had to be just as intent on leaving as he was.

"Listen up, boys!" came a loud call from Coach.

Internally, a pang of worry shot through AJ's chest. 'What the hell is he going to do, now?' he thought.

"Before you go, toss all your jerseys to the janitor over there. I want you all to see what happens to players who disappoint the team."

AJ's face burnt red hot, but he wasn't angry anymore: just utterly embarrassed. Before he knew what he was doing, his body dropped the rag and spray bottle and climbed up from his knees. Turning on his heels, he faced the entirety of his football team, and just like that, they were staring at their quarterback in the degrading garb of a janitor.

"What's going on, AJ?" one of his buddies squeaked as he recognized him and the apathetic look on his face.

"That's your star quarterback boys," Coach announced, only twisting their expressions into more disturbed looks of confusion, "Give them a smile AJ."

AJ's stomach dropped as his mouth spread into a toothy grin. It was the same charming smile he'd used on picture day. He wanted to shrivel up and disappear, but his broad shoulders stayed wide and his legs stood firm while his teammates stared at his smiling face in horror.

"He's a reminder of what will happen to you if you disappoint me like he did tonight!" Coach continued, "I'm having him spend his whole weekend scrubbing this gym from top to bottom! He's also doing our laundry, so make sure he gets those dirty football uniforms."

The football team stood, frozen in a mixture of fear and bewilderment. Half of them were still convinced this was a really bad prank.

"Get a move on!" Coach roared, "Hand over your jerseys! I want you each to give him an insult as you do. And AJ, I want you to thank each and everyone of them for it!"

A sudden wave of monotoned "Yes, sir," statements echoed through the gym. Apparently the coach really did have each and every player under his control.

It took awhile. With over forty guys on the team, AJ stood there for thirty minutes accepting their unwashed clothes, quietly muttering fake gratitute to each player that insulted him.

"You are an awful team leader," one said.

"Thank you, sir."

"You never deserved to be quarterback," said another.

"Thank you, sir."

Some insults got more personal, "You smell terrible, like really so bad."

"Thank you, sir."

"You are a pain to be around and a bully," said a freshman, which stung the most.

"Thank you, sir."

Some of the players gave him looks of bewilderment, like they didn't know why they were obeying Coach like this, but some looked at him with disgust, like they truly believed he deserved this punishment. He would have crumpled to the floor if it weren't for the stranglehold the hypnosis had over his body.

It felt like hours, but eventually his teammates had each insulted him and shoved their game clothes into his arms, leaving AJ alone with the coach and a giant hamper of smells. His body was still standing tall, but he couldn't hide the wet streaks running down his cheek.

"You better get a load started," Coach said with an amused giggle, "The waterboy told me it usually takes him a full day to finish laundry."

"Yes, sir," AJ answered, though he wished his mouth would shut up. He hated hearing his voice. He sounded more like a pussy than ever.

"Don't worry, AJ," Coach said, putting a hand on his frozen shoulder, "You might be stuck here all weekend but I won't let you drive yourself crazy. You're going to be happy. You're going to love every second of scrubbing toilets and mopping floors in this empty gym."

AJ's migraine began to lift. The weight and depression of the night was rising off his shoulders. He knew it was the god damn hypnosis, but it felt like a drug. He really was starting to feel happier.

"Sure, you'll be doing some of the nastiest crap in your life, but there's nothing you'd rather be doing, right?"

"Yes, sir," AJ was beginning to mean it.

"You know you deserve it. You are going to replay the game over and over in your head and think about what you did wrong. You aren't going to choke on that field again, boy. Right?"

"Yes, sir."

He was already thinking about the first snap, imagining how he could have been more decisive, more aggressive in that moment.

AJ barely noticed as Coach gave him a slap on the butt. He was lost in concentration, meditating on the game he'd lost a few hours earlier, and he began pushing the squeaky metal hamper in the direction of the laundry room. He no longer felt upset, degraded, or alone. He only felt grateful to Coach for pointing him in the right direction, for giving him this opportunity to think on his mistakes. He really did deserve this time as a janitor.

He might have been exhausted and uncomfortable, wearing that sticky uniform in the hot gym, but he only felt peace as Coach locked the door on his way out. He had an entire weekend of self reflection and menial labor in front of him!

AJ was finally alone and free to do Coach's bidding. His lips didn't smile and his steps didn't have any pep, but inwardly he couldn't be happier. The gym was still ripe with the smell of his jumpsuit and the team's jerseys, but he didn't mind breathing it in. Coach had made him understand that he deserved every second of this nasty punishment.

He was the disappointment after all.

#hypno story #mind control #blue collar #humiliated slave

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bluecollarmcandtf · 3 months

Note

My little brother wants to know what it’s like being older, he wants to experience life inside of my fathers body as well as our next door jock neighbor. I was wondering if you could help him out with that?

Be careful what you ask for! Your brother has a reputation for being an irresponsible troublemaker. Who knows what he'd get up to if he had those bodies at his disposal...

"Holy crap!" your brother shouts, seeing his body in the mirror. His jaw hangs open as he runs his fingers through unfamiliarly thick hair, "I'm him...I'm the hot neighbor!"

For as long as you can remember, your younger sibling has lusted after the guy next door. Charlie would spend most of his time peaking out of the window and into Diego's garage, giving him a front row seat to every one of the hot neighbor's workouts.

You always called Charlie a creep for staring at the neighbor, but you secretly understood why he did it. Diego was built like a god. His body was so lean that every vein was visible even from across the street! And now that body is standing in your brother's bedroom, eyes wide with so much disbelief it was comical.

"I'm Diego," Diego gasps softly, a tear of joy coming to his eye, "I don't know how. I was just thinking about him and then..."

"Charlie?"

Diego's head darts away from the mirror and stares at you with glee, "Yeah, it's me idiot! You think Diego would ever be shirtless in our house?"

Your brother turns his gaze back to his new body, licking his lips as he examines the thick round pecs hanging off his new chest. You watch as Charlie raises Diego's heavy arm and gives his muscle-tits a few squeezes. The real Diego would never grope his own body like that. In fact, the real Diego would probably kill Charlie for doing that with his body.

"I think you should give our hot neighbor some appreciation," Charlie purrs, flexing Diego's arms overhead, "I know you like his body just as much as I do big bro."

Your brother is right. Charlie might pull out the binoculars to watch the hot neighbor lift, but you aren't much better. Just last night you were wanking off to the memory of Diego giving you a casual wave as you got home.

"Charlie, this is insane," you try to stay calm, "We need to figure out what's going on."

"What's going on?" your brother uses Diego's sharp voice against you, "What's going on is I have the neighbor's hot body now, and you aren't appreciating it!"

"Please..." you ask your little brother to calm down, but it doesn't do any good. He's only getting more and more assertive with his new body, and it's messing with your head. You have to remind yourself that this is actually your dork of a younger brother and not the incredibly intimidating boy next door.

"Shut up," Charlie snaps, giving you a shove that throws you against the wall.

"Charlie!" you groan, "Don't push me ar-"

"Call me Diego."

Your younger brother swaggers over and sneers down at you. In Diego's body, you have to look up to meet his face, and he seems fed up. Already, he's got a muscled arm pinned against the wall over your shoulder, and already, you feel trapped under him.

"Char-"

"DIEGO!" he barks, slamming his other arm against the wall.

"Diego," your voice shakes, "Aren't you even just a little bit worried about the real Diego?"

"Oh, kiss my ass!" he snorts, "I just liked his body, and now it's right here for me to enjoy."

"But..."

"I told you to kiss my ass, big bro," Diego's intense glare tells you he's not joking.

Your legs feel weak. Somehow your little brother has gone from a loveable rascal to domineering bully! All it took was giving him Diego's shredded body and he's bossing you around like you're his bitch.

He doesn't wait for an answer. Charlie takes Diego's strong arms and pushes you to the floor. Before you know it, he's turned around, and you are face to face with your neighbor's tight bubble butt. You don't want to just give in to your baby bro, but Diego's assertiveness is impossible to ignore. Your face is drawn to that ass, and you lose yourself as you kiss the sculpted glutes beneath the mesh shorts.

"That's more like it," Charlie smirks, "Now that I'm inside Diego, I want some ass kissing from you everyday."

You don't respond. Your lost in the pleasure of the hot neighbor's body, his ass pinning your head against the wall. Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad life, after all...

A sudden vibration jolts you out of it. The walls shake as the door to the garage is raised with a buzzing motor. Dad is home!

"Shit," Charlie says with Diego's mouth.

"I'm telling dad what's going on!" you cry, rising to your feet.

"What! No, I was just kidding about the ass stuff," Charlie panics, "Dad won't understand!"

"I don't care!" you shout and stomp out of the room. Your ego is slightly bruised by how quickly you folded for Charlie. It doesn't matter that he's wearing the bulky neighbor like a costume. He's your younger brother, and you just kissed his ass, literally!

Maybe your father can make sense of all this Freak Friday nonsense! He always has a calm decisive answer to everything.

"Hehe, beat you to him, bro!"

Your jaw drops when you see your father in the living room. The man just got home, but he's already waiting for you with his shirt ripped off. His entire beer gut is hanging out in the open, and he's shaking his torso around like he's trying to show it off.

You can't help but recoil from the sight. Your father hates taking his shirt off. The man wears shirts in the pool to keep people from seeing him like this! Yet, now here he is, without a self-conscious bone in his body.

"Dad, what are you-"

"Ooh I like it when you call me dad," his voice lowers, like he's trying to be playful.

"Wait, Charlie?" you gasp.

Your father throws his hands on his hips and smiles at you. He's the kind of guy who's only ever smiled when you scored in a sport or won a game. You can't help but feel like you've earned his approval when you see that grin. It really sucks that this isn't actually your dad.

"How did you even..?"

"I don't know, bro! I just really didn't want you to tell dad, and then I blinked, and then I was here: inside him!"

"Well get out!" you say firmly. Charlie wearing the neighbor's body was one thing, but this doesn't feel right. He shouldn't be playing around with your father like this.

"What, no!" he snorts, "Dad's even more fun to be. I feel so fat and hairy!"

"Dad's not that fat or hairy," you retort sternly.

"Oh come on," your father's voice purrs, "Look at the flab on this guy!" Charlie grabs the bloated stomach with Dad's arms and gives it a playful shake. Your real dad would be mortified if he saw how his body was acting!

"Charlie, don't do that to him."

"Shut up! I feel so big and manly in his body," he explains, "And he's still sore and sweaty from work too!"

You watch in disgust as your father raises his arm and takes a long whiff from his armpit. The real man would normally jump in the shower the second he got back from his day at the construction yard, but Charlie obviously enjoyed Dad's smell of hard work.

"I think I've had a long day of work, son," Charlie suddenly announces, lowering his voice in a cheap attempt at dad's typical monotone, "Grab your old man a beer."

"No," you pout, rolling your eyes.

"No?"

Suddenly your father pounces on you, locking you into a tight headlock with his meaty arms. You try to slip out. His bare skin is slick with sweat, but your little brother holds you there with an unyielding grip, laughing with dad's deep voice.

An hour later and you're washing dad's truck. Charlie released you from the headlock, but only after he'd told you how excited he was to manhandle you again. Apparently, he couldn't wait to use dad's body to keep you in your place.

You grabbed him his beer and massaged his shoulders like he told you, but you didn't do it happily. Your own father was now bullying you around because your stupid little brother somehow managed to hop in his body. He wants you to go upstairs and clean his bedroom next. It's getting late, but you don't want to make Charlie angry, especially now that he's put a few beers in dad's belly. Who knows what your power-drunk little brother will do when he's inebriated!

You just have to accept it. Charlie has your dad's body and you have to do what he says. This is your life now...

These amazing images were generated by @bodyhopper-files

#gay ai art #gay possession #bodyswapper #story

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bluecollarmcandtf · 3 months

Text

Monkey Business

Thanks for the Ask, Fetifiction

I heard you've got a crush on your gym buddy. You said his name was Amir, right? I know you like his personality or whatever, but he's not exactly your type. Is he? So, I sent you some experimental protein powder. It's called Ape Mode. Slip some of that in his drink...I think you'll like what happens...

"Oh, hey dude," Amir gives a friendly nod, "I almost thought you weren't coming. Did that professor hold class after the bell again?"

"Yup!" your voice shakes as you answer.

It's a lie. You just spent the last twenty minutes trying to spike his sports drink in the locker room. It was hard enough to find the damn thing, but you had to make sure it was definitely his. Luckily, his gym bag is bright yellow. It's pretty hard to miss, so the half empty bottle sitting next to it had to be his.

"He's a real douchebag," your friend complains, "Come on. I just started stretching."

Nervously, you sit beside Amir and try to keep up with his stretches. He asks you about your day and wonders if you need to vent about school. You just shake your head. Amir's caring personality is the best thing about him, but it's also making you feel really guilty for lying to him. Hopefully, that powder doesn't screw him up!

Amir ends the warmup and climbs to his feet. You watch as your best friend walks over to the locker room and pulls out his drink: the one you spiked. For a brief moment, you feel a flash of regret and almost shout out for him to stop, but it's already too late. The moment has passed. Amir is gulping down the entire contents of his bottle. All you can do is stare at him and wait.

"You good, dude?" Amir asks, snapping you out of your daze.

"Yup! Totally...um... let's workout!"

Amir claps you on the back and heads over to a treadmill. The guy is always doing cardio, leaving him thin and nimble, but you'd rather he looked a different way. You want to see him big and brawny like the man of your dreams. Hopefully, by the end of this workout, he will.

It's hard to act normal, but you swallow your anxiety and walk over to a weight machine. It's in the perfect spot to keep an eye on Amir. You want to know as soon as the changes start happening. A small part of you still doubts whether or not Ape Mode will actually work.

30 minutes later...

"Dude, I don't know what's happening! I was just running on the treadmill like normal, but..." he glances down at his swollen arms in disbelief, "well look at me!"

"I don't know either," you tell him with your most convincing voice, "but you look great!"

Amir takes another look down at his biceps. They've easily expanded to twice the size they used to be, but that's not the only thing that's changed. You've been staring at him on the treadmill for the last half hour. His whole body seemed to expand! His thighs thickened and his shoulders broadened. You think he even got taller! Not to mention the dense layer of stubble that's sprouted all over Amir's face.

He hasn't seemed to notice it all yet, but every part of his body seems to have shifted in some way! Seeing your friend transform into your wet dream is a lot more stressful than you imagined. You might be hiding a raging boner, but you're still worried about what will happen when Amir looks in a mirror. What if he doesn't like the new him? You wonder for a second if you should just come clean and tell him about the powder.

Amir flexes his arm, staring at his bulging bicep with a worried look, "I don't know, dude. Should I be worried?"

You look into your friend's vulnerable eyes, "Nope! Let's just get back to our workout."

Amir nods and lowers his tense shoulders. He trusts your judgement and brushes off his concerns. You watch with a mixture of guilt and excitement as Amir saunters back to the treadmill. His ass has even filled out, too!

"Dude!" a deep voice moans behind you.

"Woah!" your jaw drops at the site of Amir. His voice has lowered several octaves to the point where you couldn't even recognize it. His appearance is just as drastically different. The big hairy man standing before you looks only vaguely like the friend you know and love.

"What, is it bad? I don't feel good..." Amir groans, "Buh-UUuurrrp!” A low gutteral belch voices out of his stomach.

You don't know how to react. His transformation is progressing wildly, and you're almost too turned on to comfort him!

"I was just running, but my steps just kept feeling heavier, and I was feeling itchy all over, and my shirt is pinching me, and..." he trails off as he scratches his gut absent-mindedly.

It looks like he's gained sixty pounds, so it's no wonder that his shirt is feeling tight! Some of that weight isnt muscle, either. Amir has a bit of a gut, now, and with his shirt soaked in sweat, you can see how hairy his new chest is. His entire body seems to be sprouting fur like he's some kind of animal!

"Don't worry about it," you say, grabbing Amir's hand in an effort to calm him down. You might as well commit to his transformation at this point! It's obviously working!

"But, I'm so fat and hairy," he grunts slowly, "And I can't move ten inches without sweating like a pig!" his stomach growls before his bubbling up his chest, "Buur…brrruUuUUUP!”

"Hey these changes are normal, big guy," you pat him on his big meaty back, "I like the new Amir."

Amir frowns and rips his hand away from yours. Before you know it, he's stomping back over to the treadmill with heavy steps that shake the floor. He seems to have a little less patience than he used to. Maybe he's just frustrated by all the changes?

"Amir can we go now?" you ask for the third time in a row, "You've been staring at yourself in that mirror for an hour now!"

He doesn't seem to hear you. Amir has packed on so much fat, muscle, and hair that he looks completely unrecognizable. He almost seems more like he's an animal than your old friend.

He's been watching the final touches of his transformation take place in his new form, only pausing to occasionally scratch his ass or sniff his pits. Of course, the entire gym is giving him angry looks. A cloud of strong BO is wafting off of him, and it doesn't help that he keeps burping and farting loud enough for everyone to hear. Amir seems totally oblivious to how uncomfortable he's making everyone, so you're left to feel all the social awkwardness.

"Amir, come on," you tenderly grab his hairy forearm.

"GrrrUH!" Amir growls and rips his arm away again.

You roll your eyes and shake your head. You wanted Amir to look like a hairy beast, not act like one! How the hell are you supposed to get him out of here, let alone fall in love with you? He's acting like a big stupid caveman!

Feeling defeated, you stumble over to the locker room. If your going to leave, you at least want something to cover the tent in your shorts. Amir's bright yellow backpack would never fit on his massive frame anymore. He probably couldn't even remember how to put it on. With a sigh, you pick the thing up hold it close to your waist.

"MmnNanna?" a curious grunt comes as you reenter the gym. Amir, the huge hairy beast is staring at the yellow backpack with hungry eyes. "Nanna," he growls more definitively.

"You want a banana?" you ask gingerly.

"Mmmmngh!" he nods emphatically, licking his lips.

This is yellow backpack must be your ticket to controlling him! "Follow me," you smile, finally understanding how this beast of a man.

With lumbering steps, Amir stumbles behind you. It's a good thing he's hot, because he's lost all the intelligence he'd had before. All you had to do was say the word banana and now he's following you out to the car, drooling the entire way. You can't help but chuckle at your gigantic friend following behind you like a big dumb animal.

In the car, you toss the yellow bag as far back as you can. All three hundred pounds of Amir jumps inside and you slam the door shut behind him. Now you just have to get the guy home with him getting too angry.

"BuuuUughHnnannNnaAH!" he bellows, beating his chest with wild fury.

"Ok, ok! I'll go buy a damn banana."

"Nnngh!" Amir clenches your wrist before you can get out of the car. "...nanna!" he grunts, staring at your crotch like it's his first meal in weeks.

"Oh," you gasp. You didn't know he meant that banana. Amir's transformation might not have been what you expected, but you couldn't deny that you were enjoying your new friend. This is going to be an interesting car ride...

#transformation story #gay ai art #gay beast #mind control #gay mind control

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