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onelittlespiral · 2 hours

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Hey, it's been pretty hard to motivate myself to write lately with my new job, so I want to reward someone who's doing a great job getting his work done lately. I want to give idesofrevolution a nice musky dudebro transformation he'll really love, and hopefully the mystery transformation gives me some more free time to be horny and creative.

Subject: Order #100690

Dear Fred,

Thank you for your recent purchase from The Spiral, home for all your transformation needs! Your order #100690 has been received and is on its way as we speak. Your order includes:

(1) Bro(Musk)_From_Friend(Online; Blog)

(1) Mystery(Self)

Please note that due to the subject’s history with transformations, delivery methods may be delayed or gradual. Expect fulfillment in 2-3 weeks.

Sincerely,

The Spiral

We knew you’d come around and round and round and round…

You couldn’t wait to hear back from The Spiral, checking your inbox every couple of hours for any updates on delivery. Training was slow and boring at the new office, so there wasn’t much to do besides sit through the standard HR videos on one monitor and scroll social media on the other. That was when you received an email notification. You opened it up, and excitement turns to disappointment. Just another boring diversity video. You pop it up on the side, plug in your headphones, and wait for the stock music and graphics to start. Except, this one is different. You are watching from a first person perspective as a man walks into a room and lies down on a couch. The camera captures his enormous pecs, hiding the rest of his torso, as they flex a little. You glance around the office, nervous about who may be watching. Something must be wrong, this can’t be your afternoon assignment. But your eyes are drawn back to the screen when the door opens again and another beautiful man graces the screen. Your eyes fix on his, as he leans into the camera for a kiss. You can almost feel his heat through the screen, and you’re soon relaxed in your chair, watching the show.

As he slowly grinds against you, you subconsciously begin to rub at your own crotch, simulating his movements. You begin to feel a horny fog fill your mind as you begin to buy into the fantasy, beginning to ignore your surroundings and forget about your coworkers. It isn’t long before your dick is fully out, imaging how good it feels to have his soft hands rubbing your hardening member. You don’t even notice how much you are beginning to leak pre-cum, synchronized with when he places his delicate lips on your cock and takes the whole member in one motion. You lean back in your chair and let the waves of pleasure relax your muscles. You begin to feel so heavy, as your arms grow tired of stroking. You place them behind your head, letting this experience overtake you as you continue to have your cock expertly worked by a pro. You begin to match his tempo, thrusting in time. Your grunts are getting deeper as you begin to get close. Your partner feels it coming, and steadies his tempo. He doesn’t want you to come too soon. But the fog in your brain is only intensify, leaving you more aroused by the moment. You aren’t able to hold it in much longer.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum in you, and you better not miss a drop,” you say, and his eyes show understanding. You reach out and tug at his hair, taking control of the tempo as his eyes begin to water. But he doesn’t have to worry for too long. You are soon dumping your load in his stomach, and he cums hands free in turn, as the director gets the money shot.

“CUT! That’s a wrap.”

Your partner gets up and wipes himself down. You just grab your shorts and sit back down on the couch.

It’s going to be a long day of shooting, but you love it. At least here you get to be horny and own it. And, more importantly, get paid. Could be worse. You could be stuck at some stuffy office job. Just then your phone buzzes with a notification. One of your friends just posted, let’s see… oh, @idesofrevolution. Good thing too, you had been worried about Frost. Annnnd a second notification from your management company, The Spiral. They were sending you some confirmation info… something about the Doctor himself coincidentally enough. Seemed to be some details about a movie scene or something meant for him, so probably some mix up. Let’s see what it says…

Dr. Frost was has some background knowledge on our methods from years of research into his own transformation methods. Consequently we took a more gradual approach. Slowly, we began introducing neural waves throughout his day to prime him. In his home, in his car, on his blog, we implemented subtle messages about growth. About muscle. About musk. After all, who needs to waste so much time showering every day? When his deodorant sticks keep going missing, what was the point in buying more? After all, he no longer had much time to go to the store, as he logged off from work and drove straight to the gym every day. At first he wondered why he was suddenly so worried about his health. But as we continued to amplify our waves, he soon stopped worrying. It was natural to want to be strong. It was natural to reek. It was natural to feel good, bro. I’m in control.

As his musk intensifies, he is only conditioning himself to become more and more self indulgent. We began alternating frequencies, sending his through the roof, driving a new crop of hair growth and keeping his balls plenty full. Between his pit stench and constant gym pump, he is keeping himself at a near constant leak of pre-cum, and quickly soiling any attempt at covering himself up. Not that he cares. He hasn’t showered in a few weeks, only allowing himself tongue baths from whatever gym bro he catches staring and manages to get into his truck for a make out sesh. His memories are evaporated, nothing more than a sweat stain on his favorite cap. His brain is so high on his own supply, our neural waves had to be amplified to get through his brain fog. Hell, he can hardly form a proper sentence, bro. We have taken the liberty of updating his blog to more accurately reflect his new interests. His stories have been replaced with his thirst traps and progress photos. We are satisfied with his progress and have left him to continue his journey of his own, new and improved, free will.

You should really reach out to him sometime. See if he wants to take his modeling career in a new, more exciting direction. Could be fun to suck that musky cock…

Subject: Order #100690 Fulfilled

Dear Fred,

Your order has been fulfilled. We know you have many options, but thank you for supporting The Spiral.

Sincerely,

The Spiral

#musk #male transformation #transformation #hypnosis #bro #jock #reality change #jockification #bogo #technology tf #male tf

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onelittlespiral · 1 day

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I'd like your BOGO offer. I am the scrawny waterboy for my college. I'd like the kicker of the football team to get taken down a peg or five. I want him to be a nerd and no one else remembers him being a jock.

Subject: Order #100567

Dear (REDACTED),

Thank you for your recent purchase from The Spiral, home for all your transformation needs! Your order #100567 has been received and is on its way as we speak. Your order includes:

(1) Nerd(Assort)_From_Football(Kicker)

(1) Mystery(Self)

Expect delivery in 3-7 days.

Sincerely,

The Spiral

We knew you’d come around and round and round and round…

You had seen just yesterday that your order from The Spiral had finally come through. When you saw some nerd hanging around the practice field, you checked your inbox for the email confirmation. They had provided some details on how they had done it. As the kicker had been leaving practice, they grabbed him and pulled him into an empty supply room. They had him bound and gagged before stripping him of his cleats and cramming his feet in a pair of penny-loafers. The changes, they said, were near instantaneous. Change rippled up his legs as muscle deflated and his lower pads turned to cargo shorts. His stomach flattened and his jersey and pads changed into a sweater and bow tie. He had shrank so much that his restraints had nearly come loose, not that he would be able to fight the men holding him now.

He was already defeated by the time his new glasses were slipped on, which triggered phase two of his changes. Any and all past as a jock we’re gone in an instant, replaced with memories of his advanced mathematics degree and research projects. His memories of summer workouts and practice were now late nights in the library. Football games turned to Quiz Bowls. His mind would no longer be focused on working out his body, instead it was filled with stretches and skills for prepping himself for bottoming. His IQ was shooting up, and he could now understand exactly how to calculate an integral and when to squeeze tight around a dick to elicit the deepest grunts. The team packed up as he was left tied up, growing hornier at the thoughts of his old teammates dominating him like they did the opposing teams…

You couldn’t believe the efficacy of service. Hats off to them for the quick turn around. But you knew you were supposed to get a delivery of your own. You were tired of waiting. But as you were walking home from practice, after scrubbing out bottles and avoiding harassment from the team, you noticed something off. It was strange, but you thought you had smelled one of those jocks following you around. You turned around, worried that some guys were following you home, but the streets around you were empty. Instead, the smell was still coming from behind you, in your book bag. Rolling your eyes, you searched the pockets, expecting to find a jock or some other nasty garment as a dumb prank, but you instead find a chain, buried down at the bottom. In an instant, you feel compelled to hold in in your hands and take a whiff. The scent is metallic and cold how you would expect, while at the same time rancid and wet. You don’t fight the urge as your hands open the clasp and secure it around your neck. The feeling is electric. Your body ripples in response, and you feel your body begin to ache. The cold metallic feeling reaches into your bones and fills your veins with ice. A cold sweat breaks out of you as your body stretches taller and your muscles are filled with cool, hard lead.

I have to get warm, you think, I have to.

Your body seems to respond, as peach fuzz erupts from every inch of your chest, itchy and burning like fire. You scratch, and the hair only grows more in response. It begins to curl around your callousing hands and take root up your arms, spreading its fiery tendrils. You make the mistake of scratching your face, where it also takes root, as a beard erupts from your baby face. The hot licks of fire and freezing spikes of ice is reaching a crescendo as your body is engulfed, ready to reach a melting point and boil off all together when finally… it stops. You are left panting like a dog, sweat dripping from every pore. You knew the transformations offered were powerful, but you never expected this. You take stock of your furry, sweaty body, inspecting every inch of muscle. You feel so… powerful. Flexing your guns and let out an animalistic shout.

But then, something begins to tickle your nose. It smells like the necklace has surrounded you in that layer of stench. Except, it isn’t the necklace. It’s you. Your own sweat is beginning to dry and fill your head. Your past rolls off your brain like the sweat rolls down your washboard abs. Drop by drop you are no longer a waterboy for your football team. You hardly can even understand the sport. You have spent the last few years perfecting your reps and carving your physique. College sports? Who cares. You were lucky enough to graduate high school. You only saw those guys when they needed a personal trainer like you to give them an extra little boost. Those boys spent most of the game standing around. Real men need stamina. And you knew a cardio routine that would get their hearts racing. Bottoming for you was an hours long affair that left boys like them sore, sweaty, and moaning for more. Just how you liked them. You got up off the ground, dusted yourself off, and smirked in the mirror.

Gotta meet my next client in an hour, you think, sticking your tongue out.

In your pocket, you receive an order confirmation from some company called “The Spiral”. Whatever, probably some scam…

Subject: Order #100567 Fulfilled

Dear (REDACTED)

Your order has been fulfilled. We know you have many options, but thank you for supporting The Spiral.

Sincerely,

The Spiral

#male transformation #transformation #bro #straight to gay #jockification #reality change #nerdification #bogo

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onelittlespiral · 1 day

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Subject: BoGo Offer

Dear Valued Member,

Happy Pride Month to all those who celebrate (and all those who will be by the end 😉). We here at The Spiral want to thank our loyal customers for helping us help you shape the world to your reality. We know that there are many ways to bend reality and mold the mind, but we are so glad that you trust us to do it for you. As some of you may have already experienced, this month, we want to reward our members. So for the month of June we are offering an exclusive buy-one-get-one deal on all purchases*. That’sright! For just this month all when you buy a transformation for someone of your choice, you will be surprised with a mystery transformation of yourself absolutely free. These transformations include all standard features, including:

Head-to-toe change in muscle, fat, hair, and skin

Personality changes including mood, IQ, hobbies, friends, and routine

Enhancement of sexual drive and knowledge

And, of course, a new queer identity guaranteed

These randomly selected transformations include many fan favorites including:

College Jock, complete with age reset to 21 and associated memory and IQ losses.

Pro Athlete transformations, including football, baseball, soccer, basketball, and rugby. We guarantee adherence to a new, strict health plan, and an inability to stay away from training.

Plus, a good variety of jocks and twinks in all shapes and sizes. As always, our personality changes are all encompassing, guaranteed to stretch reality and minds to fit. And with our discreet delivery system, no one will ever be the wiser. Just look at these satisfied customers:

Jacob here bought a transformation to go back and knock his high school bully down to size. But he can’t remember being a scrawny, picked on nerd anymore. His new military background and current position as a real estate agent has him selling homes on the shoreline with a newly twink secretary he bangs on the off hours.

Or Marco, who wanted a few changes on his crush before turning him into a devoted boyfriend. He may have been surprised to find how much more fun it was to be the dominant one in the relationship, having his hunk of a boyfriend worshiping his sloppy dad bod.

So do not delay! Celebrate Pride Month in style, and enjoy your new reality.

Sincerely,

The Spiral

We knew you’d come around and round and round and round…

#hypnosis #transformation #male transformation #straight to gay #reality change

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onelittlespiral · 6 days

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FML: Loop

I woke up with a start.

My head was killing me. What did I get up to last night? I was supposed to just hang out with a buddy of mine. But there is no way this is his place. For one, the room around me is bare. Just grey carpet and white walls. I mean, he’s no designer but I would at least expect a lamp or a tv or a dresser. Something. I start to get out of bed when I notice myself. I am nearly nude, stripped down to an unfamiliar jockstrap. Definitely not a good look for me. It’s kind of tight and I am quickly growing self conscious of my body on full display. What is going on? I start to look for my buddy, but quickly realize there isn’t any door to the room I am in. The barren walls leave no means of escape. Panic sets in. I begin shouting for help, searching for any hidden means of escape. The headache is only intensifying, and before too long I am sat back in the bed.

I try to remember the night before. I had been out with some buddies downtown, we had gone to a new bar none of us had been to…what was it called? I don’t know, something that probably should have clued me in that it was a gay bar. I knew the two other guys swung both ways but I was uncomfortable the whole night over in the corner. Some guy came up to me though, what was his name? N… started with an n. Suddenly, the lights in the room go out. A strange sound begins to play, as my headache vanishes in an instant. As colored lights fill my vision, I feel as though I am falling through the air. I am aware of each moment that passes as I pass into nothingness. Then, everything goes black…

I am usually not a dreamer, and when I am they are quite simple. But something was different that night. I dreamt that night of a vast sky and a falling forest. I was surrounded by animals and trees, plummeting towards a ground that did not exist. I tried to explore the sky, but could not find a place to land. What I did find was a bear. A beast of the forest. I watched its magnificent fur streak through the sky. Suddenly, it turned its attention on me, and pounced.

I woke up with a start.

My head was pounding. Man, what happened? I scratch my face and look around. I kept scratching. My stubble was irritated, I should make sure not to cut it so close to the skin. Around me was just a bare room. No windows, no doors, nothing. I got up to look around, nearly falling over as I did so. It was so strange. I felt like somehow I was taller than I was before and- AHH- headache was hitting. I sat back down on the bed. As I try to relax, I take stock of myself. It’s only then that I notice what I am wearing. Or rather, what I am not. Only a jockstrap hangs loosely around my waist, the rest of my body is on full display. I feel a bit self conscious about showing off so much of my lanky body, so I wrap up in the blanket on the bed. I sit and try to recall what happened last night. I had been trying to go… somewhere. With… Nick, maybe? But I don’t know why, I don’t think I knew him. He wrapped his arm around me and I just felt safe. God, everything was an absolute blur. Without any other options, I shout out for someone, anyone to give me some help. And the room seems to respond. In an instant, the lights go out and a sound that I can’t quite place but seems somehow familiar fills the room. Then, the lights go harsh, blinding me as I hear a faint hiss all around me. A sweet smelling gas hits my nose, and I am falling down, down, down…

I dream that night of food and the gym, a cacophony of metal plates and frying meats. The dream feels heavy. There is resistance and strain to lift every well-earned bite to my mouth. All the while, a sweet smell wafts through the scenes, one that drives me to push harder and eat a little bit more.

I woke up with a start.

My body and head were aching. What happened last night? I looked around the room and felt a strange feeling of deja vu. This was, like, so weird. As I moved to get up, my body felt sluggish and bloated. Looking down, nothing seems out of the ordinary. I flex a little to feel my fat pecs and biceps swell. Yeah dude, this pump is pretty sick, even for the day after… after… after what? Suddenly, a migraine hits like a bus. Fuck, I’ve got to turn down the lights in here. I fumble around trying to find the switch, but I notice that the walls are bare. No light switch, no door, not even a closet. Damn, really wanted to put something on other than this jock strap… wait, what jock strap? I feel my bare body and the skin tight jock trying to hold back my cock. As I brush against it, it begins to come to life. It feels so sensitive as I gently run my hands over it, but as it continues to swell a thought enters my mind: this is all wrong. The jock, this dick, the room, my body. What is happen-AUGH! I hold my head as I fall to the floor in pain. My mind is being bombarded with conflicting sensations of pain and pleasure as my now throbbing member shoots through the pain with insatiable lust. My mind is trying to grab for memories that aren’t there. Memories of this room and how I ended up here. Memories of friends and family who I know must be there but I can’t quite picture their faces. Memories of why I feel so strange in this large, bulky… awkward… strong… sensitive body. I let myself feel my chest and rub my perky nips. All I can remember is a man’s face, pulling me into this room. As I continue to rub with my thumbs, swirling fur between my thumb and chest, the pain begins to subside. God, they’re just as sensitive as my cock now. Continuing to rub with my left hand, I move my right down to my dick as I rub the first drops of pre around my fat mushroom tip. A faint moan escaped my lips. The rest may feel wrong but this feels so right. I am forced to release all inhibitions about what may be happening. This feels sooo good I can’t focus on anything but my own body. I am about to start stroking when the lights begin to flicker. Not again!… again? I feel something curl around my left arm, holding it in place, then my right. They lift me over to the bed, where I am then locked in by my ankles. I try to fight back, pull myself out of whatever contraption I’m in, but to no avail. A helmet is coming down from the ceiling, locking my head in place and obscuring my vision. A prick at the base of my neck turns my body limp in an instant. A screen in front of me flickers to life, and the patterns it plays are so… strangely… soothing. My mind lowers resistance as I feel myself falling down… down….. down.

I have strange dreams like I never have before. Dreams of flashing lights and pulsing music. Bodies that morph and swell. Hair and sweat and muscle mingle together in a cloud of lust and musk. Years passed by in that place. Somehow I feel at home.

I woke up with a start.

My head was throbbing, begging for my attention. What was I up to last night that left it this excited? My balls were heavy and aching. I knew that if I didn’t get some relief now, it would just be a distraction all day. I reached down and pulled my pipe out of my damp jock strap. A heady scent wafted up from the soiled pouch. My cock was already slick with pre, so I slowly began rubbing my hands over my plump, mushroom tip and girthy member. It wasn’t long before I was pumping with one hand while rubbing the other up and down my pelt of fur. I found a rhythm, some short thrusts while twisting one of my nips, that was driving me wild this morning. It was not long before I busted a nut, shooting my load over my broad torso. I relished the sensation of rubbing my cum into the forest of fur on my belly. Satisfied, I got up, and walked over to the corner of the room where a fresh tank top and jeans were laid out. I slipped them on, feeling them hug my curves and fur and muscle, sat down, and waited

It wasn’t long before my helmet dropped down. I carefully pulled it on and strapped it in place. It was so safe and calm in my helmet. So perfect. As it whirled to life, I gazed eagerly into the colors and listened intently to the strange sounds. I felt a tickle move through my spine as my muscles relaxed and flexed, relaxed and flexed, growing by command. I couldn’t help it as my eyes went cross as my memories stretched and changed like putty. I remembered playing the circuit party scene, partying hard and fucking harder. I remembered cruising through my twenties, playing the apps in my thirties, all to end up with my partner now, Nicholas. He was my world, my joy, my play thing. We dated for years before I proposed in 2015. And now here we are, years later, and it was as though I was falling in love with him for the first time. But my libido was being raised through the roof, and my tender love was turning to lust. I needed him, legs up, ass lubed now. The thought of his mouth working magic on my shaft was driving me wild.

I didn’t even notice when the helmet has pulled away, I was lost in my fantasies. Until he spoke.

“You just gonna sit there babe?”

My beautiful boy was laying across the room from me. In an instant nothing else mattered, I dove across the room to feel his soft lips.

He grunted his approval, “Fuck, look at you!” He ran his hand through my fur. I flexed my biceps for him so he could feel my muscles. He playfully grabbed my nips and twisted, a moan escaping my mouth before I grabbed him,

“You aren’t supposed to do that without permission,” I growled.

He chuckled and rolled his eyes, “oh like you don’t love it.” He made another grab but, this time I caught his wrists and pinned him down under my weight,

“Try that again and it’s a rough night for you. I don’t have to give you what you want.” I rubbed my crotch against his.

His eyes went big and sad, his signature puppy dog eyes. “Please, I’ll behave,” he said before giving me a wink. He knew I couldn’t say no to him.

I pulled back and ripped off my tank top. I let him kiss my torso as I unzipped and pulled off my jeans. It felt so right to be here with him. I couldn’t imagine life any other way. I grabbed the lube and rubbed it generously over my shaft before I flipped Nick over.

“Ass up, boy. Daddy’s coming home.”

#transformation #male transformation #fml #straight to gay #daddy bear #tf #muscle tf #bear tf

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onelittlespiral · 6 days

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Don't look away. Slow, deep breaths... The air is thick with his scent. You've always loved the smell of men. The heavy odor forces you to relax. Your thoughts slow. Accept the natural pull. Sink to your knees...you know where you belong.

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onelittlespiral · 6 days

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Beary Blast

What better follow up to a smooth surfer TF than a vape triggered bearification-

Also thank you to everyone who voted in my 1,500 follower poll, probably going to go ahead and get the top two stories out next week! Best and Enjoy! -Occam

Jeremiah was a delivery driver currently on the way to his last stop of the day. He got permission to just head straight on home afterwards so he can get up early and open tomorrow, which is to say he’s looking forward to what little hours he can get to himself before returning to the endless grind once more. The last customer was in the ritzy part of town, some guy who put his name down as “Mr. A,” Jerry just rolled his eyes hoping it’ll just be an in and out job, knowing how richies can go either way.

Parking his truck on the curb Jeremiah made his way to the door, walking up a manicured sidewalk past a porch swing to knock on the door. No bell or anything, just a door knocker shaped like a bear, Jerry shakes his head and slightly grimaces before using the knocker. After almost no time at all there is a massive shadow behind the door and it promptly opens, standing there is the largest man Jerry has ever seen. In every sense of the word. Jerry’s not short but as he looks up to the behemoth of the man he’s never felt smaller. He would be beyond intimidated were it not for the unmistakable kindness in his eyes peeking out above his beyond dense beard.

Jerry can’t help but stare for a few seconds before remembering himself, “uuuh Delivery?” He then tackles on a quick and quiet apology for gawking, “so sorry” Mr. A puts his large hands on his waist letting loose a deep laugh. The bass vibrates in Jerry’s bones as he makes a point not to stare once more at the hair peeking out the neckline of the robe as it hugs his large powerful curves. He holds out the pizza, hands shaking slightly from meekness at standing opposite this titanic man. Mr. A grabs for it, neglecting to hold his robe as it spills open, letting Jerry see the tight boxers previously hidden, and the package barely concealed within.

Jeremiah wasn’t gay but this isn’t the first time he’s been moved by a man. Though by the near total loss of function in the face of Mr. A, perhaps it’s time to reconsider a thing or two. For the first time the bear of a man speaks up, “Thank ya kid. OH! Y’know what I’ve got somethin’ for ya, tips on the card but, do you vape?” Jerry sheepishly nods as the man turns to rummage for something in a desk, blasting a smell of expensive cologne and cigar smoke out the door as his robe flies behind him. Jerry’s almost shocked at the speed with which the mammoth moves, though he strains not to think too much of the man lest he totally lose composure.

Within a minute Mr. A returns, robe now cinched and hugging his form, which causes no less a blush on the delivery driver’s face. He holds out his hand with what must be a vape completely hidden in his meaty palm. Jerry reaches out, getting within an inch of the hairy mitt and retrieves the vape, not a brand he’s familiar with though he certainly is not one to complain at any act of kindness, let alone one from this, uh, hunk. Mr. A beams down as he explains the frankly bizarre handoff, “Yeah one of my, uh, cubs gave it to me. Must’ve thought it was cute that it’s ‘Beary Blast’ flavored, hah! But I stick to cigars, don’t wanna go crazy with the stuff y’know,”

Jerry finds himself politely nodding along in agreement, keeping mum, unaware of just how submissive his eyes are as they stare up at the man. After exchanging a few more pleasantries Jerry remembers that he’s off the clock now and bids farewell before struggles to walk without making it obvious that he had started chubbing from his all too short time spent at Mr. A’s doorstep. The bear watches to ensure he makes it to his car with no trouble and nods before heading back inside.

Jeremiah rubs his face hard for a few full seconds, shocked and a little uncomfortable at how totally absorbed he was by the bear. Opening his eyes to see the gifted vape in his lap he immediately takes a massive hit, he isn’t all that much of a vaper, but even more so he’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. The horse metaphor brings his mind reeling back to seeing Mr. A’s cock through his boxers as he continues drawing on the vape until it blinks and he no longer can. He sits and exhales, releasing burning cool fumes of Beary Blast that immediately fill the car as if he were hot boxing. The clouds dissipate quickly enough but the fumes continue to stick around, every ongoing breath just a wisp of Beary Blast infuses itself into his lungs.

Even so, Jerry finds the taste far too alluring to persist on whatever dregs remain in the air, what with the source so readily available. The nigh obsession he had felt standing in the shadow of Mr. A fades from his mind as nothing is, nor perhaps ever has been, more singularly important than chain hitting this vape. Really he shouldn’t be driving given how difficult it is to focus on anything besides the buzz, the pleasure, that each breath of this ichorous vape holds. Minutes pass as he drives towards his home and just after yielding to temperance to put the vape down, he notices a strange itch in his crotch as he pulls up to a stop light.

His mother always tried to hammer into his head to never scratch an itch, but in the privacy of his own car how could he not. He nervously double checks that no other driver has a sightline before stuffing his hand in his work pants and scratching like a dog. Jerry does a double take as he immediately finds that his pubes seem to have grown at a far faster rate than they usually do. He’s not seeing anyone at the moment, but he usually keeps it smooth down there in case any chicks call him up, at the moment though it feels like he hasn’t shaved in a week or two? He furrows his brow trying to remember how it looked down there this morning, continuing to scratch he doesn’t notice as they begin to grow even thicker. Before the stoplight even turns green his once clean shaven crotch now holds a bush that looks as if it hadn’t been groomed since it first started to grow.

As the light changes he jolts in his seat and starts the drive once more, gritting his teeth slightly as the itch begins to travel up above his waistline. He rolls his eyes hearing a voice in his head repeat that scratching only makes it worse, though as the itching begins to turn to a slight burn as it spreads up to his belly button and beyond he wonders if there is any other option. He takes another massive hit of the Beary Blast vape before reaching under his shirt to get at the expanding itch rising across his stomach.

His body physically jerks in shock as he feels the tickle of hairs over his abs. Not a day in his life has he been able to grow any body hair, no one in his family can. As he rubs his stomach, dragging his nails across it’s tight skin, longing to find the smooth torso he has always had, the treasure trail inching up from his pubes is impossible to deny. Adrenaline begins to rise in his chest from the shock and his heart races, his fingers trace up to his chest and he finds hair beginning to prickle in the center of his chest. Jeremiah pulls over to the side of the road, concerned that he might be losing his mind, putting his car in park however the only thought able to overcome the din, is ‘fuck, I need another hit.”

Jerry shoves his hand back in his pants as looks for where he threw the vape in his car amidst whatever this episode is. He feels his pubes thicken and curl as he scans the floorboard, pointedly not noticing as hair starts to spread beyond the center of his chest and towards his nipples. Nor is he aware of the weight that is slowly starting to amass on his arms and pecs. He’s always been fit, though not one to go out of his way to put on muscle. As he searches his dash the pecs he is impossibly starting to develop suggest otherwise. Jeremiah does notice the uniform starting to pull on his chest in a new fashion as he squirms about the driver's seat looking for the gift bestowed by Mr. A.

His right hand is still planted in his crotch digging through a jungle before he moves lower and he starts to scratch at his balls, causing two revelations at once. His eyes dart down as without a doubt in his mind he knows they are larger than they should be. He shifts his weight to confirm, moving to cup them which sends a surge of pleasure through him as both his balls and his cock surge larger in his pants, straining his already tight underwear.

Moaning to himself from the impossible pleasure of this moment, his surging cock pushes his hand into the second conclusion, the vape had been resting squarely under his package. Jeremiah stretches his neck to look past his chest, still not noticing its growth as his nipples make themselves apparent in the tight shirt and his free hand lances past the weightier crotch for the vape. Without a second thought it is in his mouth once more, the hard plastic carries a scent from its short time hiding beneath his balls, though it is nothing compared to the sheer captivation of his vape as he indeed takes another hit.

Before this sleepless nightmare his underarms had always been carefully groomed as one of the two places it was even possible for him to grow body hair. As he continues inhaling though, his thin trimmed bushes of put hair burst beyond the boundaries where they have always been contained. Hair stretches long and far out of his pits and it becomes clear that its expansion is not to stop here. Similarly he feels a tickle on his face, causing him to smirk as he continues to inhale, as for the first time in his life, he’s finally able to grow a beard. A mustache bursts out of his upper lip and he drops the vape once more as he rubs his face to feel stubble quickly shadow and encompass the entire lower half of his face. Pleasure begins to overwhelm him as between the beyond 5’oclock shadow and the still expanding bulge there are some definite upside in whatever impossible horror is happening to him.

As he starts to paw at his crotch over his work pants his hand bumps the wheel and dream or not he decides he cannot just masturbate in public. He shifts to drive away as his body continues to demand attention and grow larger. He discards his shirt as he hears the first tear of his sleeves alert him to just how tight his uniform has become. His biceps grow to a size that require constant time at the gym as hair begins to pepper them, thickening from his wrists up the whole of his forearm before crossing his elbows and launching a campaign towards his shoulders. The hair from his pits grows towards the hair on his chest as it blasts past his nipples. The thick trail on his chest discontented with remaining so confined spreads to encompass the whole of his stomach creating a rug that would evermore hide his abs. Though as his pecs and arms continue to grow he notices not as his stomach begins to press into his seatbelt, his strength similarly expands as muscle and fat begin to pile onto his waist.

His hands flex on the steering wheel as pressure continues to build in his balls, demanding immediate satisfaction. He struggles to keep attention on the road as his thighs begin to grow to strain his work pants. He adjusts in his seat to absolve the tightness in his crotch, only causing it to grow more intense as his ass takes this chance to fill out the seat of his pants. This leaves him sitting higher despite gaining no height as his ass expands into a cushion that would fill any top with desire. He shakes his head as he speeds down the road, unsure why such an idea popped into his head, and after what feels like an eternity in his mind he arrives at his apartment, gritting his teeth not to just lose it right there as he stumbles out of his car.

Jeremiah pockets the vape, unaware as it too begins to change, lengthening as the hard plastic gives way to expensive tobacco leaf as the fluid within returns to a less synthetic form. Each step towards his door grows heavier as the weight he carries continues to pile on, muscles expand, his grunts grow deeper, his stomach bloats outward now free from its confines, and his cock grows thicker as he struggles to put one foot in front of the other. The friction of his pants struggling to hold it together almost makes him cum right there, so close to the finish line. Barely scraping past this ultimate trial he reaches out towards the door handle as hair trickles further down his hand and he turns the knob before falling inside and slamming it shut.

Inside his home he rips at his pants eager to free his cock from the confines, as in the open air of his home all the hair on his body grows darker and thicker. Hair growing on his ass tickles the floor as it expands up his back and crests over his shoulders to meet the blanket of chest hair as it races towards his neck. The hair in his pits spreads likewise to create a hemisphere of hair around his nipples, as his body wants nothing more than to display just how virile, how powerfully masculine he is. The hair on his face leaves the idea of stubble behind as it thickens and expands into an impressive beard that juts well beyond his jaw as weight makes itself evident on his face.

Jeremiah lays there, convulsing his impossibly warm body on the cold floor, struggling to take in all the pleasure that this new body holds. Scratching up and down his torso and feeling the power and appeal within. He humps the air as he loses control without even touching his cock, staring at it as with each pulse he feels more himself than he ever has before. He watches as his pubes extend onto his thighs and darken them with forests that soon stain the entirety of his legs. Across his form his pelt thickens enough to completely hide the skin beneath. He gasps lying in the aftershock of the first of many releases he shall enjoy in the new life he is suddenly resolved to live. Reposing in the small entrance of his apartment as behind him it changes to erase the life once lived of this pizza delivery man, he sees in the pocket of his discarded pants where there once was a vape there now lies a large cigar.

Before the image reaches his conscious mind he is already reaching for the stogie to light it up. Neglecting to care about smoking inside, he sets it aflame and gives the cigar a large puff. The feeling of the large stogie in his mouth brings him an inner warmth that swiftly spreads throughout his body. He feels the pleasure of the smoke in his mouth glide through him as his body continues to grow. His stomach bloats large enough that his pecs don’t hang out so much as rest on his powerful gut. His massive arms lose a tad of the apparently hard earned definition but grow strength that he never dreamed he could have attained. While the massive beard on his face surges even further out making it evident the powerful jaw beneath will never see the light again as a few white hairs begin to pepper it.

Jeremiah moves off the floor, grunting with the effort of getting his drastically larger form off the floor and grumbling under his breath as he continues to mouth the cigar. The smell of smoke alongside his own sweaty body odor quickly brings his focus back to his cock as it stands to attention in its own way. He smirks as his eyes drift between the cigar lolling in his mouth and his cock as it continues bob larger in the air. Before he’s able to act on his ever-demanding cock he hears his phone chime. He grunts and his voice deepens even further as he reaches to see who’s calling, though as he sees the ID he smirks and answers, “Yello there boss.” He rumbles out in a voice that would drive any twink to their knees.

Who else could respond but the man who started this chain of events. Back in his home Mr. A is pawing his own crotch at the sound of Jeremiah’s voice, just picturing the growth that must have occurred. The man grunts as he responds, “Hey there ki- urgh, not quite a kid any more are ya,” loosing a large guffaw before continuing, “know you just up and left my place Jer, would ya mind comin’ on back now though? Got a proposition that you’d hate to miss out on if ya know what I mean.” For his part Jeremiah is already on his way back to the car, throwing on an expensive robe and nothing else as he breaks out the door. Though he remembers not the life he once lived it would be impossible to forget the mark on his psyche from standing there completely dwarfed by Mr. A, though this time something inside of him suggests that he will not be nearly as sheepish in his lust. In fact he’s got something in mind that will ensure that both of them walk away with a limp as he smirks and starts his way back to that place where he truly became a man.

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onelittlespiral · 9 days

Text

FUCK STICK (BOTTOM TO TOP; FUCKBOY/JOCK TF)

Fucking tops. It's Friday, nearly midnight and instead of dancing I'm stuck in the washroom at a gay club, hiding from some shithead.

"Tops, right?"

Next to me is a tall guy in a flannel shirt. He's pretty hot, but, urgh, he's the last thing I want to be thinking of right now.

"Yeah," I try to sound chatty, but it's clear I'm pretty annoyed "How did you know?"

He turns to me and crosses his arms, grinning, "Oh, you know. What happened? I bet you have loads of guys chasing after you"

It's true. I mean, look at this ass

"Urgh. This guy grabbed me from behind and started grinding against me. Can you believe it?? He didn't even ask, all I did was wink at him."

"Hmphh, you winked at him? Sounds like he was giving you what you wanted. You know, all you bottoms are the same. Needy. Demanding. Seeing real men as just dumb grunting animals. Maybe that guy was trying to do you a favour?"

I groan and turn around to leave "Oh, fuck you." Just what I need, another smug shithead.

He heckles me from behind. "God, twinks like you are so fucking lame. Maybe we're fed up of being nagged all the time?". He sounds kinda angry, but I ignore him, and roll my eyes.

"You know what, grab your dick."

I freeze, and my eyes go wide with shock. Why am I so shaken? That's not the worst thing I've heard at a club. I try to move but I can't, I just sputter, "Wh- what?? I'm not doing that"

He grins, "I'm not asking"

I feel something pull against my pants, but I look down and see it's my own arm

"WHAT THE FUCK! Are you... you're doing this?" My arm creeps down, playfully running my fingers over my tight stomach, and slips down through my waist band.

"Haha, yeah I am bro. So, bottom bottom bottom. What to do with you. What if I open your eyes a little?"

I, I start to shake. Something in me feels good. Beefy guys start to flash through my mind, and whatever's taken over my hand knows what it's doing down there. Athletes, wrestlers, big bulges in tight clothes...

"Here's the thing. There's enough brats like you around here bro. Someone's gotta do something. Think of it like, uh, giving back to the community."

The images in my mind start to change. The models get smaller, swapping out athletes for tight twinks in tighter shorts. Instead of biceps, I'm thinking of big, curvy asses, and my hand... I can't control myself. I wanna grab someone, anyone, and start grinding.

But then, one of my crushes slides by - Jason, a HUGE wrestler on my college team. Biggest pecs I have seen in my life. Thank fuck, finally, a real man. He looks at me with his big, brown eyes and oh my god, my heart flutters. I look up at him and in my mind I start to walk towards him

The guy in the flannels shirt is egging me on, "Go on, do it." How does he know what I'm thinking? Whatever.

I reach out, and Jason smiles. That big, goofy, handsome grin... and then he turns around. He gets down on the mats, on his hands and knees, raising his big, firm ass into the air. I'm looking right at it.

tumblr

I squirm. "Oh god. No. No no no no no"

"Uh, actually, yes." The guy in the washroom grins. "I want you to be a dumb, grunting animal, you will do that for me. Are you starting to understand?"

I lean down over the sink, but in my fantasy I fall against Jason. I hold him tight, pinning his big sweaty form down against the mats. At first, there's barely anything I can do to control him - he's WAY bigger than me, but soon I start to feel... bolder. Firmer. He tries to roll me over, but I slip my arm around his shoulder and a vein pops up over my bicep. My legs strain and my glutes start to stretch. Fuck, my whole body is throbbing.

I grunt, and slam him downwards, which gives moment to catch my breathe. Does he feel less sweaty? I wipe my forehead. Wait, am I more sweaty?

"Yeah bro. I know what you're thinking, I know how much you love guys after they've worked out. Damp clothes, that manly smell... it's exactly what every bottom wants these days. Now it's yours"

We twist around each other, and I reach my arms across his body. Wait, all the way around? His shoulders have gotten smaller, thinner... twinkier. And, well, mine are the opposite. He lunges, but I grapple him. All the mass has gone from his legs, meanwhile, my biceps are big enough to crack a skull.

"I want to make you a real fuckboy, you know? Someone who just thinks with his dick. Gym, sex, gym, sex, gym, sex... I want you to always be turned on, I want it to control you, I want you to never get a break."

I've got him, firm between my legs. Jason's tiny now, the same size I was 2 minutes ago, and I start to grind my bulge against his soft, bubbly ass. Fuck. Fuck! It's so good. This is the best fantasy I've ever had in my life. I want to fuck him so bad.

My whole body is throbbing, shaking. Blood is pulsing through my, through my everything. Fuuuuuck. I feel almost dizzy. Everything about this almost feels real. I go to lift up my shirt, but it's gone, and I run my other hand over my stomach. It's like I can really feel the abs

I cum. Oh my god, did I just cum in a... a washroom at a night club? And, I was thinking about topping a guy??

"Ahem". I turn to stare at the guy next to me. He looks pleased with himself. Very pleased.

"There bro! How do you look?"

I look in the mirror, and it hits me like a fucking brick. My body... my clothes. Oh my god, everything's gone. THAT WAS REAL? I look like some stupid fuckboy. Am I a stupid fuckboy? Is that a JOCKSTRAP? My jeans are gone, now just a pair of shorts. Very short shorts. Is that it? Is that all I'm wearing? Over the top of my huge pecs I see my converses are gone too, swapped out for some worn down gym shoes.

This can't be real. If it is, my boyfriend is 100% going to break up with me. How do I even explain this? That I'm like, ripped now? No, wait... that's not it. I try to imagine him topping me but, but, fuck, it feels so gross. A total turnoff

"Of course you don't want to let him top you. You're not a bottom anymore... that's kind of the whole point."

But he would never let me top him. But maybe we don't need to have sex for a while. That wouldn't be so bad, would it...

"AHAHAHA, sorry, with your new sex drive? What part of a fucking animal don't you understand"

There's no way he would want to stay with a horny fuckboy, but, but...

what if I am a stupid fuckboy? I'm already thinking of a nice, tight twink. I'm not that interested in him anyway - he's too tall, too beefy. All the guys I saw earlier are racing through my head. The skinny guy I danced with with the great ass, that cute short one by the bar... urgh, he had those perfect legs, that cute crop top, tight stomach... I bite my lower lip and reach down...

"NO!!"

I start hyperventilating. "This isn't me. I'm not a jock, I am ABSOLUTELY not a top. And," I lift up my arm, "there's no way I actually smell like this"

He laughs, like he's having the fucking time of his life. Maybe he is. "HAHA, sorry dude, yeah you do. And, yeah, you are. Think of that fuck stick like a gift, not just to you, but also to every cute boy you see on grindr. You'll get used to it, trust me"

His words flood my head... I imagine scrolling through the app in bed later, looking at the sea of boys all desperate for me... I reach down again...

"NO! Fuck! Make it stop. Why are you doing this to me?!!"

He pauses for a moment, then sighs and shakes his head. His expression... he's looking at me like he thinks I'm stupid. Does he think I'm stupid? No way - this motherfucker!

"Really? I know I fried a few wires up there dude, but you cannot seriously be asking that. Why do you think I'm doing it?"

"I - I..." I can't find any words. I really don't know. I just don't fucking get it. He's ruining my body, my LIFE, and for what? Fun? Revenge?

But he laughs, and looks at me. I'd think he was being pitiful if he wasn't grinning so fucking hard.

"Bro," he says, "I'm doing this because I think it's hot."

My heart sinks. "You're doing this because, because it fucking turns you on? Don't you give a shit about me at ALL?? I'm going to lose my boyfriend, I'm trapped in this horny, sweaty, disgusting body..."

"Just stop complaining. You know, so what if you don't get in a say in this! Sometimes you just gotta take what life gives you, and right now that's a huge fucking cock"

I feel like I'm about to burst out crying. He grabs my new, boyish face, and pulls it up towards his. "So, yah! Glad I could clear that up," he laughs, "Look, ok, this isn't gonna work if you're gonna be such a fucking loser about it. It's also not gonna work out if you don't work out - you gotta be going to the gym from now on. Those biceps, those pecs... you're chiseled like a statue and I'm not gonna let those new muscles go to waste. You need to be in there DAILY."

He gives my cheeks a squeeze, then lets me go. I clutch my face. It feels different, unfamiliar. Am I crying?

"URGH, bro, will you just quit looking at me like that. Puppy dog eyes, I shouldn't have made you so fucking handsome... Look, I'm gonna give you one last chance, ok: cheer up, right fucking now, or else I'm gonna have to do some rewiring. Right now, all your decisions are being made up there", he flicks my forehead, and then he smirks and grabs my crotch. "But, if I flick the switch, this guy gets to do all the thinking. You'll be so dumb, so horny, HAH, you'll be drooling over your own dick. A real fucking animal. Got it?"

If I don't get a grip, it's over for me. But what do I do? I gulp, and try to swallow my tears. I wash my face a little in the sink. He stares down at me, and the two of us stand in silence. It feels like forever, but it must have been just a minute.

I look up at him, and let out a squeak. "Yeah. You're right. I got it"

"No." he says "I don't think you do."

Damnnnnn, look at these pecs. Fuck, what was I doing? Whatever, I gotta get back out there. See if that blonde guy by the bar is taken. Just thinking of him and his ass makes me wanna... I grab my crotch, and let out a moan.

Wait, is that cum? Yoo how did I not realise. I clean myself up and slide my waistband back over my jockstrap, letting it snap into place against my cum gutters. I flex, and light shines off my glistening, sweaty muscles - if someone were to see me now, they'd think I was a greek statue. These strong, firm thighs, the perfect curve of my glutes... these shoulders look like they were made by fucking Michelangelo.

Nah, I'm way better than that. A statue doesn't have a dick. See you at the club, bro

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onelittlespiral · 18 days

Text

The rings: Jake

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you ready?" he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

Nothing.

Huh? What the fuck?

Okay, this is kinda weird.

I need to get rid of this ring.

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

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

Hey nerd, you hear me?

No response. Fuck.

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

Maybe I should just try the telepathy again.

Hey Jacob, say something!

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

"something"

You've gotta be kidding me.

Uh, let's try something else.

Jacob, jump!

Without skipping a beat he jumped.

This is kinda awesome...

Jacob, explain what your plans were with these rings

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

Explain what you mean with transform

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

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

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

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

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

I realized that with these rings I could do anything.

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

Time to get to work.

Strip

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

I could not help but feel pity for the guy.

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

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

Jacob, add a couple more inches to your cock

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

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

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

Adjust your body fat percentage to 7%

His already slim frame now became quite boney.

Add 40 lbs of muscle mass

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

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

The changes didn't stop there, however.

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

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

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

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

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

You've always worn a size 13

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

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

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

Now, flex for me

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

----

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

Ah, wait.

You will wake up

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

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

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

Don't move

Without missing a beat Jacob froze right in his tracks.

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

"Stupid jock, huh" I mocked.

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

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

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

"Wait no! Please-"

You've always been a dumb

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

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

You have always been called Jake

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

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

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

Oh, and you may move again

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

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

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

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

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

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

A bro is never afraid of a little bromance

A little fire in his eyes lit up.

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

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

"Ready?" I asked.

3.. 2... 1..

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

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

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

I put the rings on the nearby coffee table.

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

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

"Of course bro, always down"

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

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

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

"You think you can help a bro out?"

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onelittlespiral · 27 days

Text

FML: Sealed

The plan was simple, if time consuming. Rent some apartments out, and wait. Of course, there were some preparation required. First, buy an old apartment building, something not too expensive and not too flashy. Make some small changes to the central air system and temperature control. Bring the whole thing up to code and install a beautiful, in building gym. Hire a team of savvy young women to help manage the apartments. Then, carefully and selectively rent out the one bed, one bath apartments to single, young men who showed promise. Some were just graduated 20-somethings, with a bright future ahead in STEM careers. Some were trust fund kids moving to the city for the first time, drawn to the quickly gentrifying downtown. Some were just personal pet projects that I wanted to see grow into their potential. Like this fellow:

I wanted to see what would happen on a bit more of a bear-ish body type. We set him up in Unit 514. Or this bro:

He was already pretty close to what we wanted our final results to look like. But I wanted to see how much we could push him. Unit 112, low and close to the gym. Good eye candy for some of the twinks we set up on the sixth floor. After about 3 months, every unit in the building had been filled, all eight floors. It was the first of June, around 4 a.m. when we had verified all residents were home. The overnight receptionist was sent home early for the day as upstairs, all door locks were remotely engaged, power was cut, and the new air conditioners kicked in. All subjects were sealed in their experiment chambers.

Slowly but surely, a thick fog billowed from each bedroom’s vents. It was a thick, sticky vapor, smelling like sandalwood and cool like peppermint. Subjects’ rooms were soon filled as they began breathing it in deeply. Some began to toss in their sleep, subconsciously fighting the mist, while others just huffed away and began the absorption process. One fellow on the second floor managed to toss himself awake, but was quickly sedated by an extra pump of vaporized melatonin added to his room.

As the men all settled down and opened up, the mist began absorbing into their bodies through any gap available: mouth, nose, pores, cocks, and asses. Within thirty minutes, the last of the gas has been administered, and all subjects were once more peacefully at rest. Bodies began twitching and pulsing as faint moans emitted from some of the smaller men’s mouths. The experiment had began.

The first to wake up in the morning was a subject in apartment 211. His transformation was among the more subtle. The lanky guy had put on a few pounds of muscle as his beard thickened and some hair grew in. He immediately began to sense something was off, as he felt his body and now bushy beard. He tried to check his phone. Dead. He gets up and tries to walk out into the apartment. Locked. A look of confusion sets in as he sits and tries to think of what to try next. That is when it catches him. With the power out and the sun rising, temperatures were rising. And as he began to sweat, he began to smell:

The gasses that seeped in last night were slowly beginning to seep back out, causing more radical changes. But this second exposure is different. It is coming from inside him, and carries his unique pheromones with it. This gas is heroin to him, designed to addict his body to its presence and slowly bring out the best in him. And as the smell fills his nostrils for a second time, he is fighting the urge to give in. Give into himself and what he is becoming. He knows that the smell is rancid, musky and earthy with notes of spice that burn his nostrils. But it is a lost cause. As he huffs away at his own funk, he glides his free hand down his chest, feeling thick, matted hair and slick abs. He takes a moment to feel his muscles twitching and stretching as his skin becomes sensitive to the touch. He wraps his sweaty, calloused hand around his cock, and begins to pump.

Once he begins to pleasure himself, there is very minimal risk of a reversal. The changes are rapid and extensive his body grows to match the smell that now saturates the air around him. Muscles swell, bones crack and reshape, feet stretch, and his eyes roll in the back of his head as he starts to drool. The fog settling into his brain leaves no room for inhibitions as he starts to self worships his pit, devouring his own sweat. Our scanners also begin to detect deterioration in brain activity. The pleasure center is growing, eating into non-essential regions like memory and comprehension. No part of the original subject is left unchanged as he continues to evolve into a sweaty, smelly, hairy beast of a man. And as he reaches climax, he lets out a deep roar as all inhibitions about his new form are shot out the swollen mushroom tip of his cock. He rolls his foreskin back up and shoves his filthy cock into a pair of sweatpants.

He stares at his body, flexing and feeling up his muscles. Experiment 211 has been a success, able to turn a scrawny nerd into a horny, sweaty, smelly gym bro with an insatiable need to fuck. Now we just need to test how powerful his sperm and scent are. He hears a click as his chamber is unlocked. We pulse the lights in the room with a code his mind will understand. He now knows his mission is to go over to Apartment 212 and begin round two of testing…

It is a bit later in the morning now and subjects all around are beginning to wake up and face their new reality. Through our camera network we watch as their transformations are slowly taking place, as muscle, fat, and fur are packed on and a cloud of musk begins to cloud the room.

And slowly as men finish their first rounds, their chambers are unsealed. They begin to wander and find their neighbors, mixing musks to help each other grow and change even more.

The experiment will run sealed off from the general public, at least until new subjects are needed to collect additional data points. Interested parties are encouraged to apply now to our waitlist. Otherwise, we expect to host an open house next month, with all subjects free to leave the complex and continue experimenting as they see fit. I can already tell that our friend we started with in Unit 514 will be popular.

Thank you for your time today. We expect to see you again very soon.

#male transformation #musk #straight to gay #jockification #reality change #jock #fml #mass tf #transformation

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onelittlespiral · 30 days

Text

A True Bromance

“Are you sure about this Mark?” I asked hesitantly. “That potion smells pretty disgusting babe. Whose underwear did you steal anyways?”

I pointed to the bubbling, dark green potion in my boyfriend’s hands as he took a whiff of its contents. He had just concocted another transformation brew and I was looking forward to seeing its effects in just a few moments.

“That’s just the way I like it - you know that bear. And hell if I know. I grabbed the first pair of boxer briefs I could find in an unlocked locker. Should make for an interesting shift this time…”

“Just promise me you’ll behave yourself this time. I know you like to get carried away when you shift.” The power to become someone else at your whim is truly an intoxicating power and I loved every moment he got to use it.

“Of course, bear.” He says with a devilish smirk. “I’m beginning to be a pro at this.”

With one smooth gulp, Mark downed the musky green potion and let out a satisfying burp, followed by a louder belch.

“Oh fuck…” Mark started to groan as his skin bubbled up and changed, starting with his arms and spreading across his torso and belly, before making its way down his legs and up to his face. Mark quickly stripped his body of his clothes, standing nude in our living room. I watched in horny disbelief as his features and his body proportions changed. His belly shrank down, becoming a nice set of toned abs. His body blossomed with copious amounts of body hair that began to materialize on his chest, abdomen, arms, and legs. He was pretty hairy before, but this was something else.

I watched as his face suddenly began to change, becoming unfamiliar to the cute adorable boyfriend that I’ve always loved. His beard more or less stayed the same, but his eyes, mouth, nose, and chin all began to reform. The final changes made their way over his body until I was left staring at the body and face of a very HOT and hairy gym bro.

“Mmm, how do I look bear?” Mark asked me in a completely unfamiliar voice. He looked down lustfully and rubbed his new hands along his hairy torso and pits before grabbing his new cock and jerking it a bit. “Or should I say *bro*?”

I looked in awe as my new boyfriend began exploring his new jock body, admiring his new features in the mirror. He began flexing and posing as if he really was the man he was impersonating. He completed his look by putting on a necklace, sports cap, and his own earbuds.

“You look fucking amazing babe. How do you feel?” I say, trying to hide my growing erection. "What should I even call you anymore?"

“I feel fucking fantastic bro... It’s incredible what that potion can do. I’ll be in this form for at least a week… maybe more. I got a lot of his essence from those boxer briefs. It’s sexy this dick was getting sweaty in those.” Mark grabs his erect cock one more time and playfully teases it in front of me. "And you should keep calling me Mark - fuck if I know his real name."

“Yeah… fuck, we’re going to have to explore your body more in the bedroom. I’m leaking just looking at you right now, bear.”

“Oh I agree bro. But first you need to drink your potion, don’t you? 😈”

-------------------------------------------

To be continued... This was my first time writing a story in a while! I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did writing it!

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onelittlespiral · 30 days

Text

Turkish Delight

——————————————

Cory quickly realised he’d made a mistake.

He just couldn’t help it. Cory was enjoying an evening coffee at one of those small classic neighbourhood coffeehouses in Istanbul, the kind frequented mostly by aged locals, not young tourists like him. He felt and looked out of place, sure, but it was fine. Sitting at a far corner of the cosy establishment, no one bothered him and he bothered no one. It took him a little while, but Cory was just starting to feel at ease.

And then he entered. Clearly a regular, judging by the way he swaggered in and interacted with the owner and other customers. But he stood out among the others in that he wasn’t old like the rest of them; in fact, he and Cory seemed to be the only men under 40. He sat at a table at the other end of the place, placing him on Cory’s line of sight.

Cory was immediately captivated by this stranger, not fully understanding why. Maybe it was because the guy contrasted so strongly with himself. Not that Cory wasn’t attractive — of course he was — but something about the man transfixed him. “Fuck, he’s hot,” Cory thought. Maybe it was the gleaming light brown eyes to Cory’s own icy blue, or the meticulously-groomed heavy stubble the guy sported that accentuated his sharp jawline; maybe it was his athletic physique, his well-defined body betrayed by a shirt that was clearly a size too small, or maybe it was how hairy he was, the dark hair very conspicuously thickly covering his sturdy legs and arms offering a stark contrast to Cory’s blond hairs barely visible from a distance… Whatever the case, Cory just couldn’t take his eyes off that Turkish guy. He wanted him, to feel him, to taste him, and imagined all sorts of scenarios.

That’s when Cory realised: he was shamelessly ogling the man. Snapping out of his reverie, he noticed the hairy hunk staring right back at him, completely emotionless. Shit. Flushed and embarrassed, Cory hurriedly paid for his coffee and left, all the while the man continuously and intently observed his every move. Just as he exited, the guy whom he mentally violated also got up to follow him.

His cheeks still ruddy and warm from the unfortunate encounter a while ago, Cory briskly made his way through the labyrinthine streets of the hilly city, desperate to return to his accommodation. The Turkish guy wasn’t too far behind him; Cory meanwhile sensed he was being pursued so he quickened his pace. In an attempt to throw him off the trail, Cory turned a corner into a quiet narrow alleyway flanked by an empty lot and vacant buildings.

Right then, a deep voice called out from behind Cory.

“Hey, you.”

Cory froze, his face drained of the redness. He stood in silence, not knowing whether to respond or run away. He was terrified and felt faint. Only the fresh cool evening maritime breeze kept him on his wobbly knees as he shuddered, half because of the chill, half because he feared what would happen next. Ultimately, after a tense while which felt like an eternity, Cory turned around to see the man approaching him. Although Cory still was scared, he weirdly felt an emergent sense of excitement as well.

Soon, Cory stood facing the Turk. A dimly-lit streetlight was the only source of illumination through which Cory could better appreciate the figure before him. He noticed how the guy was even more hirsute than he realised, with chest hair spilling over his too-tight shirt. Cory’s cock twitched.

“I saw you look earlier,” the guy drily said, maintaining intense eye contact with Cory.

“Ye… No! I mean, yeah, I was…” Cory stammered sheepishly. Fuck, why was he getting turned on all of a sudden?

“Like what you see?”

Cory gulped and nodded. His knees were about to give in when the hunk suddenly grabbed Cory by the shoulders with his hairy meaty hands and yanked him close to give him a forceful yet passionate sloppy kiss. Cory was taken aback and screamed internally, but at the same time, he liked what was happening. Wasn’t this what he wanted in the first place? He didn’t resist the surprising advances; he simply couldn’t resist. He reciprocated, their tongues roaming each other’s mouths. As the Turk continued to shove his tongue in him, Cory felt like putty — he’d let the guy do anything to him, he’d be happy to be used by this gorgeous hairy man in whatever way.

The man’s stubble scratched and tickled Cory’s soft skin around his lips moistened by the wet kisses. Cory felt strong itching sensations in the same area. He normally kept himself clean-shaven, mainly because he could only manage to grow some wispy hairs on his face. As the Turkish guy momentarily pulled away from the kiss though, the area around Cory’s mouth was substantially darker than it was just a minute ago, the beard growth process being accelerated. Cory ignored the itch and continued making out.

After a while of spit-heavy lip-locking, the Turk pulled down his shorts and grabbed Cory by the shoulders, pushing him down to his knees. Cory, at eye level with the guy’s cut 8-inch cock, was completely mesmerised by the sight and especially the scent; the pubes were so dense, they trapped and collected all the musky sweat and oozing precum. The smell was rather pungent but Cory didn’t mind at all. If anything, the odour had a simultaneously captivating and relaxing effect on him and he felt compelled to inhale it more.

Cory piggishly sniffed the ridiculously hairy crotch, even licking the beads of moisture off individual strands of pubes. While doing so, the hair on his temple grazed the guy’s leaking member, some of the precum sticking onto his blond hair. His hair absorbed the pre almost instantly and began to darken, the change in colour spreading from where the precum had been smeared. The hair on Cory’s scalp lost its sandy hue but retained its sheen, turning browner and darker as the pigmentation spread from the roots to the tips. His face still buried in the thick pubes, Cory felt the man jerk himself, squeezing out more pre from his throbbing cock. “Suck,” he commanded. Cory swiftly obliged.

Cory was dazed; the public setting, the man’s body and scent, his own eagerness… all that was happening was wilder than anything he’d ever dreamt of. After admiring the juicy rod bobbing up and down in front of him, Cory closed his eyes and got to work, savouring the taste of the musky cock with a faint taste of piss. He took the whole length in his mouth and down his throat, blowing to the best of his abilities. He eagerly lapped up the copious amounts of pre from the Turk’s slick pulsating member, coating his tongue.

The more he sucked and swallowed, the more hairs grew on his face. The itch intensified above and below Cory’s lips, little needle-like black hairs pushing out from his smooth skin and multiplying below his nose and on his chin. The beginnings of a luscious beard then steadily migrated outwards, short pointed hairs breaking out all over Cory’s cheeks and linking with his tapered sideburns. By now, Cory had grown a remarkable designer stubble which grew in thicker by the minute and slowly crept down his chin. At the same time, his face took on a slight tan, darkening independently of the hair growth that took over the whole lower half of his face. Cory’s jaw looked more rugged too, becoming more square and masculine.

Cory carried on blowing his new acquaintance, completely oblivious to the changes affecting him. “You like?” asked the man. “Mmhrrrgggmm,” Cory could only nod and let out a gurgled hum of approval to affirm. The Turkish guy then forcefully rammed his cock down Cory’s throat, making him gag. Just as he did, Cory’s Adam’s apple jutted out more prominently. He opened his wet eyes to look up at the hunk; as he blinked away the tears, his blue eyes lost their iciness as the colour shifted from a cold blue to a warmer mixture of green and brown with flecks of gold. With his new hazel eyes, Cory saw the guy with a smirk on his face for the first time.

Cory’s body continued to change. He felt bulkier, the clothes he wore starting to strain against the muscles growing on his formerly slim frame. He also felt so much warmer despite the breeze; he felt heat radiating all throughout his body from the pit of his stomach and was sweating profusely as a result. He also felt his whole body itching uncomfortably by now. Watching the Turk strip and bare his gloriously hairy body, Cory did the same — he certainly wasn’t as hairy as the guy. Yet. The hair growing on Cory’s face continued to travel down, prickly hairs sprouting on his neck, past his collarbones and on his chest. Cory initially only had a faint patch of barely-visible hair right at the centre of his chest, but as the hairs darkened and thickened, they fanned out towards his pits, forming whirling patterns around his nipples and covering his whole chest with stubbly black hair, like a freshly-mowed lawn. The prickly sensation migrated south to his midriff, a trail of nascent coarse hairs sprouting from his chest down to his navel and then his crotch. From there, the newly-formed treasure trail widened and began to spread outwards in all directions, hairs multiplying rapidly until Cory’s whole torso was blanketed in a field of short hair which connected his stubble and still-sparse pubes.

After a few minutes of Cory sucking, slurping and gagging on the fat Turkish cock, the guy made him stop. Cory reluctantly agreed. The guy then grabbed Cory by his wavy, shiny black hair and got him up back on his feet. Cory was in a state of utter bliss, drunk on pre and musk, drooling uncontrollably. The Turk lifted his arm, exposing his smelly pit completely covered in tangled wiry hairs. The dark hairs were so incredibly dense and tightly-spaced that Cory thought he was staring into the void. “Sniff and lick,” he told Cory. Who was Cory to say no? He stumbled forward, faceplanting right in the sweaty jungle of pit hairs. The pit musk was surely at least ten times as potent as the musk from crotch! The pungent scent was overwhelming; it burned Cory’s nostrils, and yet his cock throbbed even harder, dripping pre all over. What would have been torture felt more like heaven to Cory. He grunted as he took a deep whiff of the rank musk and licked the matted hairy mess soaking wet with sweat. It was absolutely acrid, and the sharp sourness also scalded his throat, making him cough. Cory was immobilised though, his head held in place in the Turk’s reeking hirsute pit; he let out muffled moans, struggling to breathe. Inhaling the musk and gulping down obscene quantities of rancid sweat accelerated Cory’s changes.

Cory’s body ached all over as he increased in size, growing a few inches and gaining muscle mass. His muscles pulsated and expanded; it really looked as if someone was blowing air into him. His chicken legs inflated to become sturdy trunks, with hard thighs and bulging calves. His arms too grew larger, the veins protruding, his forearms thickening along with his biceps and triceps which doubled in size. Cory’s shoulders and chest broadened, providing him with a more robust, rugged physique. His abs also became prominent, the tight muscles emerging with several popping sounds. Cory was granted a temporary reprieve from piggishly eating out the Turk’s pit, leaving him to gasp for fresh air. The guy then tugged sharply on Cory’s nipples, making him let out a simultaneous yelp and low moan. As if some mechanism had been activated, Cory’s pecs ballooned and jutted out forward, his nipples looking thicker, longer and juicier than the goose-pimple ones he had before. Along with his pecs, his ass also expanded; what was once fairly flat and sad-looking was now globular, the firm cheeks jiggling with every move.

Cory’s puppeteer shoved Cory back into his other, equally hairy and musky pit. With his face buried in the nasty armpit, Cory panted and grunted as the intoxicating scent continued to work its magic. Cory’s brows became wider and bushier. The stubble on his face grew darker and thicker, the hairs coarsening and lengthening as well as multiplying in greater numbers. Starting from under his nose, more hairs poked out to give him a moustache which covered his whole upper lip. The hairs on his chin grew out in all directions, growing unruly and tangling up as Cory rubbed his face in the Turk’s manly pit. His cheeks underwent the same treatment, thick beard hairs pushing out from the follicles and cascading down, following Cory’s rugged jawline and covering the entire area of his face below his nose, the new bushy growth connecting with the moustache and the hairs below his lips. The growth continued to give Cory an incredibly thick medium-length beard that he’d only ever dreamt of having, now coated with a layer of musky sweat and Cory’s own saliva owing to his ravenous worshipping of the Turkish man’s pits. The man held Cory firmly in place, as if to cure the scent onto him.

This second explosion of hair travelled down Cory’s heaving body. Where the first wave of hair growth resulted in hairs which looked trimmed, the wiry, curly growth this time gave him a natural look, the hirsuteness of a man who had never shaved in his life, possibly unable to, due to how densely and much the hair grew. Coarse hairs burrowed their way out of Cory’s shoulders, leaving a forest of curly fur surrounding his neck, and flowed down his swollen upper arms and to his forearms, forming whirls and wave-like patterns, the wild, dense growth of black hair obscuring the view of the skin underneath — his arms looked as if they were wrapped in steel wool. Cory’s hands cracked and popped as they grew meatier and burlier, his fingers rough and calloused and speckled with thick hairs, giving him an almost beastly appearance.

The rapid growth of hair continued unabated, Cory feeling an intense itch under his arms. Soon, dark pinpricks appeared in his shaven pits, increasing exponentially. From those black dots, long wiry hairs shot out, growing thicker and longer, seemingly watered and fed by the sweat that had accumulated in his pits all this time. Radiating from the centre of the pits, the hairs blanketed a larger area, connecting with the hairs on Cory’s chest. Much like the Turk’s pits, Cory’s pit hair grew unwieldy and matted, the strands twisted and twirled from both the growth and the dampness. The moisture trapped under the massive tufts of pit hair emanated a smell. Indeed, accompanying the growing hairs was a stink, the same kind of rank smell that Cory had been inhaling for some time now, which grew increasingly more powerful as the fur grew in. Cory’s chest hair also began to lengthen at the same time, the hairs coiling out and curling and bunching up. Any remaining empty space was filled with thick wiry hair springing out in rapid succession. The amount of hair was grotesque; the eruption of wiry black hairs created a rug of fur on Cory’s toned body, completely enveloping his torso such that his pecs and abs were hardly visible at all, only his engorged nipples barely poking out from the dense field of hair.

Together with the massive hair growth and coupled with the increased pigmentation in his hairs, the light tan which had developed on his face also migrated down. Cory’s pale complexion on his face was already completely replaced by a natural tan, a light sun-kissed brown. The colour seeped down his neck, his back, his shoulders, like someone had dumped a bucket of oil on Cory. The dim orange streetlight made his tan appear darker, what little bits of skin peeking out through the dense hair glistening with the light reflecting off the sweat. Soon, all of Cory’s skin was a luscious earthy tone, not that much of it was visible under all the fur carpeting his whole body.

Cory’s raunchy pit sweat guzzling was interrupted when the Turk made him turn around and stand facing the wall of the vacant building. “Ass out,” the guy ordered. Cory immediately obeyed, panting like a dog that’s had too much sun. He was excited by the prospect of getting railed by this hot Turkish hunk, not having realised all the changes that affected him. Beads of precum dribbled out of Cory’s aching cock, which in the meantime had also darkened to match the rest of his complexion. His balls, larger than before, also churned. Cory felt the Turk holding him from behind, grinding his wet slick cock against Cory’s ass crack filling with hair. “Ready?” asked the man. “Fuck yes,” Cory responded. The guy spat right onto Cory’s tight puckering hole. Wiry black hairs blossomed around the pink ring, spreading out alongside the hairs growing on his crack. The light dusting of hair on his bouncy glutes was swiftly overtaken by curly dark hairs.

The Turk slowly inserted his cock lubed up with Cory’s saliva and his own precum into Cory’s inviting hairy hole, making Cory emit low moans and animalistic grunts sounding deeper than the previous ones. The man thrust in and out of Cory in a rhythmic fashion, Cory’s hole wrapping around his cock, basically milking him of his pre. With every thrust and pound and depositing of the Turkish guy’s precum in him, Cory changed further. His furry mounds ballooned even more. Pound. Fuzz grew in from the area of his coccyx and crept up the entire length of his spine, connecting with the thick curly hairs on his shoulders. Pound. The same fuzz then fanned out from the backbone, coating the lower back and colonising the previously hairless area of the shoulder blades. Pound. The wispy hairs on his whole back turned darker, growing longer and thicker, thousands of individual strands unfurling as they burrowed out of Cory’s smooth skin with great strength, leaving him with an impenetrable pelt of fur on his back. Pound. The wiry hairs erupted in greater quantities on his legs and snaked down, growing all over and wrapping around his thighs and calves and shins. Pound. The midnight black hairs on Cory’s legs thickened considerably that they were now visible from a distance, in stark contrast to before when he still had barely-visible light hairs against his pale white skin.

The pounding increased in speed, the Turk’s hairy low-hanging golf ball-sized balls slamming and smacking sonorously against Cory’s voluptuous hairy ass, also making his balls increase in size to those of tennis balls. Each frenzied slap caused Cory’s bush to fill in and spread beyond its confines at the base of his penis. He had previously kept his crotch trimmed, but that was history now; his pubes more closely resembled black fur due to how dense and tightly-packed it was. It was impossible to see the skin underneath the bush which had basically spread to the navel and also around Cory’s hips, even having crawled a little bit up his shaft. The wild, unkempt matted fur on his groin, much like the coarse tufts of hair under his arms, collected both musk and moisture, rendering it damp and especially pungent. It was only this time that Cory realised how much he reeked, with his arms outstretched to prop himself against the wall as he was fucked by his dream man. He didn’t care that he stunk; no, it turned him on, even. His dick responded accordingly, pulsating painfully — as the Turkish guy continued to thrust rigorously, Cory’s leaking cock grew larger incrementally, as did his balls which were engulfed in wiry hairs, and Cory produced more and more pre which trickled down his shaft and onto his extremely tangled mess of a bush, stinking it up even more.

Very little of Cory as he once was at the coffeehouse remained. At this point, he resembled an extremely hairy, beefy Turkish man, handsome and masculine, oozing testosterone out of every pore, blessed with the perfect manly genes such that luscious fur carpeted his body front and back, head to toe. After a few more thrusts and plunging and poking, the Turk erupted with one drawn-out growl and heavy panting and flooded Cory’s insides with his hot, sticky seed, depositing load after load in him. On Cory’s part, he too was close to cumming. As his cock reached a fully erect length of at least 9 inches, his foreskin retracted down his pulsing shaft and vanished altogether, leaving him with a newly-cut slab of meat. Cory blasted — hands-free — at the same time as the other Turk, leaving a puddle of splooge on the ground and painting a fair bit of the wall he propped himself up against. As he came, so came out the last vestiges of his former whiteness, his balls now filling and churning with Turkish cum.

The guy pulled out of Cory with a shlorp, cum dribbling out of Cory’s manhandled hairy hole and clinging onto the thick curly hairs on Cory’s ass and legs. Both men were breathing heavily, completely spent. They momentarily stood in silence punctuated by the sounds of buzzing insects and the occasional evening breeze. The other Turkish man, now slightly smaller in build than Cory, pulled Cory close for a kiss, gently and tenderly this time, not minding the pre and drool that had stuck and dried onto Cory’s majestic bushy beard.

“What’s your name?” the guy asked, thumbing Cory’s still-hard protruding nipples. Cory opened his mouth to respond but he hesitated. He suddenly realised he didn’t remember his name — what was his name? What a strange thing to forget! He knew it started with a C… no! It wasn’t a C, silly him. It started with a K, of course, and there was an R in there. K… Kor…? Ker…

“Kerem,” he finally answered. Yes, Kerem; that was his name, the name that he’d obviously had all his life. He’d always lived in Istanbul, hadn’t he? He liked the sea and the hills, his native culture, and the men, especially the men — those hirsute and masculine like him, of course — how happy is he who calls himself a Turk!

“I’m Semih,” said the other man who had followed Kerem all the way from the coffeehouse in the hopes of having fun with him. He certainly did get lucky, even out in public like this. “Evimde bir kez daha?”

“Peki, kanka.” Kerem was so ready for round two with Semih.

—————————————————

Hi all, decided to upload something for a change. Kudos to @hairyjocktf for the encouragement!

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onelittlespiral · 1 month

Text

I strongly support this message. Please exercise common sense and protect minors.

THE TF COMMUNITY IS NOT OPEN TO CHILD PREDATORS.

WRITERS: STOP WRITING STORIES INVOLVING MINORS THAT HAVE SEXUAL CONTENT IN THEM.

READERS: STOP REBLOGGING THOSE STORIES. STOP GIVING WRITERS A FREE PASS FOR WRITING THAT SHIT.

IF YOU SEE A STORY INVOLVING AN ADULT SWAPPING INTO OR POSSESSING OR BEING AGE REGRESSED INTO THE BODY OF A TEEN AND PERFORMING SEXUAL ACTS EITHER TO THEMSELVES OR WITH OTHERS, THAT CONTENT IS INAPPROPRIATE AND SHOULD BE REPORTED.

GET CHILD PREDATORS OUT OF OUR GODDAMN COMMUNITY, OFF OF TUMBLR AND INTO JAIL. FUCK OFF.

#not a story

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onelittlespiral · 2 months

Note

I’ve been looking for a fraternity to join at my new college, but none of them have really been letting me in. The only one left seems to be full of horny jocks that are dumber than a bag of bricks. Think you could help me… fit in?

FML: In

As you laid it all out in front of your friend, your plans, your goals, your desires, he just kind of shook his head in disbelief:

“I know that I’ve only known you for a few weeks, but damn that’s disappointing.”

“What’s so wrong about wanting to pledge?” you replied, “It would just make getting connected the university so much easier. Plus, the parties are legendary.”

“No I get it,” he scowled, “but really? Pi Kappa Epsilon?”

“Listen, they weren’t my first choice either. I would have preferred a group a little less… dim.” I knew he wouldn’t leave it there.

“Dim? Dim still implies some light on upstairs. You can just call them what they are: brainless frat bros. They think with their dicks and muscle their way through academics. I can’t believe you’re asking me to use my power for this.” He began walking towards the door.

I called after, “Look, I’ve seen you do crazier shit than this. You turned the guy upstairs into a dog for a week.”

He stopped in the door frame for a minute to chuckle, “If he was going to call the RA a bitch he may as well get first hand experience.”

“Please dude.” I stared at him.

After a moment he relented, “Fine. But are you sure you want this? You want to change for this? A frat?”

“Yes. And I promise I’ll get you into any party you want!”

“Fine. Give me a bit. But remember, you asked for it.”

He returned in a bit and tossed me a necklace from across the room, “Here’s your frat solution. Wear this to your next thing with them at their house.”

You inspected it. It looked like a basic chain necklace like you had seen other guys wear around “And do what? What does it do?”

He rolled his eyes, “And do nothing. It will help you fit into the frat, I promise.”

“No magic words or anything?” I asked.

He grinned, “Oh come on, think of me as better than needing all that crap. Now put it on so you don’t lose it.”

It fits well around your neck, “I’m headed over there tonight, I think it is the last event before they drop everyone. You sure this will work?”

“Trust me,” he says, “You want in the frat? You will be in the frat.”

When you arrive at the frat house, you do feel the necklace almost pulling you inside. It feels warm against your chest as you wander around, talking with some brothers and checking in with your fellow pledges. You get a sense of magnetism from it, like the necklace is pulling the frat house around it towards you. As the party kicks into gear, you focus less on the chain and more on socializing. But whatever it’s effect, it seems to be working. Brothers and other pledges are seeming to stumble over themselves trying to talk with you. Even the pledge master gives a knowing glance and tilts his head in approval. In a little under two hours, you begin to feel more at home in the house, more comfortable in the crowd. Maybe for the first time you feel a sense of brotherhood. So it is a shock when you step into the bathroom to take a piss and take a look in the mirror.

You don’t recognize the face that stared back. You blinked in confusion, assuming you had too much to drink. But no. The stranger in the mirror stared back into your eyes, copying your every move as you tilted your head and inspected your face in awe. The trance broke as you glanced down and saw the truth. Your polo shirt stretched against your chest as two pectorals firmly pushed out, flexing with each breath. Your pants had grown tight around my quads, now a good few inches short. They hugged your ass so tightly you were surprised they hadn’t ripped. Tattoos flowed down your arms, newly ripped and well toned. You noticed for the first time the power you felt coursing through your veins. You could almost feel your skin taut against your muscles as they slowly swelled. You pulled your top off to get a better look at the action.

‘Damn I look good’ you think as you admire the new cum gutters and still developing 6-pack. You try out a few poses in the mirror, just to see the muscles move. The necklace is no joke. No way PKE would drop you now, you looked like you fit right in. But, at the same time, you figured it may be time to get the necklace off. You didn’t want to change too much, and no telling how far it would go. You go for the back of your neck and and start to fiddle with the clasp when the necklace suddenly starts to warm up.

You feel the odd magnetism is no longer subtle. It feels as though the necklace is pulling against the frat house you, drawing it’s very essence towards you. At the same time, the growth within your body stops as the necklace channels all its energy towards your head. The sudden spike hits like a migraine, as you let go of the necklace and go to hold your temples. The necklace wants to finish its work. Your senses are sharpened to a point, as you feel the heat of the bros downstairs, taste cheap beer and seltzers, hear every footstep, see every muscle and bulge, and smell 100 horny men all at once. You feel the pure energy of the fraternity pull through your body as it shapes you. Beneath the pressure, your mind buckles as false memories push their way in. Memories of watching college football on TV. Working out during the summer to become a fucking stud. Playing the field as soon as you got to college. Meeting up with some brothers to get a foot in the door. Getting called a fuckboi for the first time on Tinder. Wearing it like a badge of pride.

Your brain throbbed as the energy reshaped your memories and personality, but your balls churned as it began to adjust your libido. They ached as they swelled to the size of golf balls. Your cock was rigid at attention as you grabbed it with both meaty hands and started to pump. Your body writhed as every stroke only makes the pleasure more intense. You are soon hot with the effort. An aura of testosterone and sweat formed around you as a frat funk sets in deep: a mixture of booze, yesterday’s workout, and cheap cologne. The smell only drives you more wild, and you start to feel your brain short circuit. Your mind, consumed by pleasure, gave into the pressure and lost any remaining will to resist. The necklace pulsed in time with your throbbing cock as it buried the old you. As you reached climax, you knew there was no going back. As you shot your load across the room, a new you was released. A dumb, horny frat bro ready to pledge PKE.

And then the door behind you opened.

The pledge master, apparently worried by how long you had been in here, walked in on your afterglow as you tucked your cock back into your pants.

“Hey man, you okay?” he asked before recoiling a step. You watched as he smelled your rank funk and nearly gagged. You took a step closer.

“Yeah bro, better than ever. What about you? You look like you’re about to vomit.” you said, leaning in a bit closer. You flex your muscles and let your pit stench join the lingering cloud. You feel yourself start to harden again as he tried not to react.

“Bro, you are fucking rank. You smell like a… like a-”

“Like a frat house should?” you taunted. He had stopped recoiling and seemed now to be fighting a different urge.

“I don’t know bro, you should get- get that looked at.”

His eyes were focused on your muscles as you slowly flexed them rhythmically to the music downstairs. I felt the necklace pulling him closer as he fought the urges he is having. Fuck, you remembered that feeling, that pull towards desire. You knew how to help him out though. You grabbed the back of his head and pulled his lips to your pecs. As his lips connected with your flesh and tasted the beads of sweat that rolled down your chest, he wrapped his arms around you and began worshiping your muscles. As he kissed and licked every inch of your chest and washboard abs, he gently rubbed against your rigid cock. It wasn’t long before he was licking at the fabric separating his mouth from his prize. But as he reached for the elastic band around your waist, you grabbed his hair and pulled him up.

Your mind reveled in in the power you held in your hands and the pleasure your new frat bro could cause with his mouth. But you only had one thing left on you mind:

“I wanna be in the frat bro.” You said.

He mumbled as his mouth still searched for your flesh, “Yeah man, sure thing. I’ll make it happen. You can be a frat bro. Just please let me suck on your-“

“No,” you boomed. You pulled him out of the bathroom and into the nearest bedroom, locking the door behind you. You grabbed his ass as he grew limp in your hands, “I want to be in the frat bro.” You slip your hand beneath his gym shorts and begin slowly finger fucking his tight, straight hole.

He understood his place as he slipped off his shorts and underwear, leaving his cheeks on full display.

He moaned like he was in heat, “Yeah bro. Please. I would be so honored.”

You bent him over and spat in his quivering hole before you pressed your cock against him. You didn’t wait for him to relax as you slammed your cock as deep as you could and watched him yelp in surprise. As you slowly sped up and heard him start to moan, you felt the necklace once again start to warm against my chest as its power flowed through your cock and into the bro beneath you. He too began to sweat with the funk of the frat as was remade in its image under your guidance. He was going to become just as unified with PKE as you were.

#musk #straight to gay #jockification #frat bro #jock tf #dumber tf #frat tf #male transformation #reality change #fml

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onelittlespiral · 2 months

Text

Tenor Troubles

Masculinization spurred by a going from a Tenor to a Bass, bit of an odd one but hope you enjoy! -Occam

Max probably should have read his contract more closely. He knew that grad students across the board were getting shafted, but the agreement he has with the College of Fine Arts was some next level exploitation. He prided himself on his voice, being able to sing higher than even most of the Altos he has previously studied alongside. But his degree plan on the already signed contract suggests he is going to be enrolled as a Bass in the graduate program. Clearly there has been some misunderstanding that he’ll just need to work out with the department.

He knocks on the door of his advising professor and without waiting for a come in he bursts through the doors to see the man who is both his boss and professor staring at him less than pleased. Max’s face reddens in embarrassment and before he can even open his mouth to speak, Dr. Reyes addresses him.

“Maxwell is it. I trust you have a reason for barging into my office? I ask that you take more care towards decorum in the future.”

Max stumbles through an apology before getting to the matter at hand. “Y- yes of course I’m so sorry doctor it won't happen again, I swear.” He raises his eyes to his professor’s stern gaze, flinching back slightly as he goes on, “it’s just that, um, it looks like there was some kind of mix-up with my enrollment, I mean clearly you can tell I’m a Tenor right?” He raises his tone slightly and smiles awkwardly as he tries to make it clear to the man across from him that he certainly does not have the range.

Dr. Reyes rubs his beard, briefly covering his own mouth and wiping a smile from his face. “Well now Maxwell, there does seem to be a mismatch between your vocal training, and your preferred classes and yada yada,” waving his hands dismissively as Max’s face stains a deeper shade of scarlet by the second. Reyes goes on, “I'll see what I can do but all these changes take time If you must change your plan it’ll be at least a week. Until then if you could see to it that you fulfill the TA demands asked of you and attend your classes hm? You are under contract are you not?” The image of his signature at the bottom of contract feels burned into his retinas as he starts to reply, “well yes but-” An alarm goes off on the professor’s desk. “Very well Maxwell, if you would excuse me.”

Dr. Reyes makes his way to the next class smiling as he too thinks of the fine print of Maxwell's contract. ‘The student will become what the program asks of him.’ What a dunce one must be to sign that without an inquiry. Giving one last glance behind him to see the small student shaking with rage at the series of events, veins appearing to bulge out of his neck as he thinks about chasing after his professor, almost taking a step before grasping at his head. Max doubles over and grunts, after a painful second he rises once more and sees his advising professor enter a classroom. He exhales through his nose and walks to the concert hall with the undergraduate Bass students, the course he is, both legally and otherwise, compelled to assist with.

The Next Week

Max is inches away from just dropping out. He was well-prepared to be constantly stressed from grad school but the wrench of working with students who don’t respect him and professors that are expecting him to sing alongside the rest of these professional bassists, it’s impossible! Dr. Reyes must be doing some sick joke on him, there is no reason it should be so difficult to fix this! He shouldn’t be graded for the university’s mistake. Beyond the looming threat of flunking these courses for his inaptitude he is also constantly hungry. His stomach rumbles and sends pangs through his body as he sits through each course on vocal instruction. He succumbs to stress-eating assuming one plate must fall and it may as well be his waistline.

Every time he indulges in his hunger he finds weight almost immediately piles on. Alongside his meticulously honed falsetto he has always enjoyed just how tight and small he kept his twinkish figure, though this begins to slip as he finds himself straining his tight pants and his stomach showing through his button ups.

The final issue lies precisely in his private vocal practice, in lieu of the training his program should guarantee. As he goes about practicing the arias and vocalizations that he typically uses as warmups he finds himself struggling to hit the highest notes. He works his way through them slowly and slips up, finding his range is peaking out much lower than it ever should. He grimaces and refuses to deign and see if his range has increased in the other direction. He goes note by note, taking his time to feel the stress and vibrations of his vocal chords. Reaching the pinnacle of the piece he strains to hit the high note and his voice promptly cracks. He feels a tear. He coughs and gasps for air concerned that he has truly injured himself.

When no blood or further pain reveals itself Max finally clears his throat and drinks a glass of water. He tests his voice, “Uhhhh-” forcing his hand over his mouth before even getting a full syllable out. Eyes watering as he hears his voice is unmistakably deeper than it was not a minute ago. This spurs him to action as he storms to the college and bangs on the door of Dr. Reyes.

For his part Reyes is sitting at the desk finishing an email and grinning as he hears the banging grow only more fervent at his door. He finishes his email almost laughing at how effective he is at controlling the man at the door. Knock as he may he could not storm in if he wanted to, as he must desperately. Closing his laptop and reaching to grab a tea bag from within his desk he calls to allow Max entry, “Do come in Maxwell.”

Stomping into the room, unaccustomed to the new weight he carries, which Dr. Reyes is all too pleased to notice. He takes a deep breath as he prepares to shout at the professor, his chest growing as his already prodigious lungs expand. Before finishing though Reyes raises a finger and strikes him passive and mute. “Now Max, why don’t you have a seat.” He clenches his hands with a furor and sits, stewing in his mind while also rapt with attention. “How have you been liking your classes?” Max continues to sit silently watching as the prepare a pot of tea, beginning to forget his ire as he looks on in confusion at the man. Reyes turns once more and rolls his eyes, “Well go on.”

Shaking out of it Max finally starts clearing his throat a few times hoping the voice he has worked so hard to protect and train will return “I, ugh- Sorry it’s ugh!” Dr. Reyes leans against his desk and steeps the tea bag, eyebrows raised with a thin smile on his face. Failing to speak as he so wishes the rage returns to Max and he shouts out, “It’s my fucking voice! I came here to learn and all these classes are just a waste of my fucking time!”

Reyes pours the tea into a large mug and sets it in front of his student, “Now now, if you were having voice problems why didn’t you just say so Max. I am a professional after all! Have some of this and I’m sure it will set you right as rain.” The professor watches as Max grasps the mug and stares into it. He remembers that Reyes was already preparing it when he came in. But it’s not as if his advisor would do something truly untoward right? Sensing the hesitation Dr. Reyes’ eyes darken and he commands, “I did say to drink it did I not.”

Max quickly raises the glass and sips. His eyes remain dark and he continues, “what seems to be the problem with your voice young Maxwell?” Taking a break from drinking he starts to explain all of his troubles to the man who should be looking out for him. Gesturing to his clearly larger body, Reyes notices beyond the weight gain that the sitting man is adjusting himself as his pants begin to grow even tighter, his ankles growing exposed as if his legs were lengthening.

He continues to stumble onward with his recollection, forgetting what exactly bothered him enough to storm in. Reyes half-listens and takes care to refill the tea cup as needed, taking in the physical changes to the man rambling and wondering just how far they will be able to go. Eventually Reyes speaks up, “you were having trouble with your voice, yes Maxwell?”

Max’s eyes glimmer with recognition and he almost jumps with a start, “Yes! That was it I couldn’t sing the part I auditioned with in Nessun Dorma and I was-” His professor interrupts as he takes a big swing at Max’s psyche, “Is that so? What were you doing singing that Maxwell, that’s for tenors.” As if a grenade went off in his mind Max struggles to reconcile and remember what his problem was, did he not audition as a Tenor? But he couldn’t sing high to save his life right? Or no.

Reyes watches as Max’s brow grows sweaty in his inner struggle. He physically raises the cup to Max’s mouth helping him finish the entire pot of tea. Confident that the man before him is far enough gone to only latch on his words, Reyes offers him a bone, “which side of your range are you struggling with boy.” Feeling emasculated by the professor infantilizing him he feels an urge to test his lower range. Reyes sees the resolve in Max’s eyes and challenges him, “Go on, sing your lowest note, now.” Max takes a deep breath and produces a sonorous note sustaining it far better than he would have ever expected himself to.

Reyes smiles and shoots to plant another seed, “Well now Maxwell, I’m not quite sure what the problem is then. Your range seems to be what any trained Baritone’s should be.” The word Baritone echoes through Max’s head as he once more grows paralyzed in his own mind. He ekes out a “B- Baritone?” his voice cracking even deeper as he freezes. Reyes watches as his eyebrows knit together in confusion, they seem to grow thicker as they near each other.

Vocal range and masculinity don’t inherently match one-to-one but the professor is more than happy to allow it, staring as the weight from Max’s stomach begins to slightly redistribute itself, it slides up his chest, straining the buttons near his collar. Reyes shifts to look at Max’s face, eyes lingering on the Adam's apple making itself unmissable on his neck. He sees peach fuzz growing on Max’s upper lip and sideburns. Thoroughly pleased with the acceleration he has achieved today an alarm once more goes off on his phone and he readies to send his protege off.

“Maxwell dear, I thank you for your patience. Of course I know that you’d prefer to be with the other Baritone student’s though I am sure you are learning valuable information working outside your comfort zone hm? I’m sure we’ll have this snafu fixed by next week.” Max just stares in a stupor as he stares at his professor, the empty mug of tea still in his hand before he sets it down to scratch at his tighter shirt. Dr. Reyes offers him a kerchief to wipe the drool from his mouth as he leads him out of his office, “Why don’t you try your warm ups, I’m sure they’ll set you right as rain.”

Just as he did last time he takes one last look at his growing student as he begins to wander down the hall, his pants swiftly turning from slacks to tight capris. He hears the echo of the man humming to himself as he walks down the hallway to his own office hours. He’ll need to be ready for whatever his Bass performance students need right? Can’t have them out showing him even if he’s still working outside his comfort zone. Just one more week of this and he’ll get to show off to the Baritones, once more with his choral cohort.

The Next Week

Dr. Reyes stays abreast of how his star pupil is doing this week. He visits during private lessons and checks into lectures on music theory and rehearsals. He hears the man force his voice to be stronger. After any challenge he hears the man force himself to be louder. When struggling with curriculum, surely impeded by the doctor’s manipulation, he clutches at his head as his body surges larger, tightening clothes that were already sizes too large when he started his education here.

He sees Max looking at his reflection in the mirror of a practice room. He checks his beard from every angle, tilting his head up to see his large Adam's apple and smirks watching it vibrate as he hums. He unbuttons yet another button of his shirt, allowing an even greater view of his pecs as thick chest hair spills outward. Reyes hears his voice power through the soundproofed room as he approaches. He has clearly decided to leave Baritone behind without any prodding as he endeavors to show off his talents despite ostensibly singing to himself.

Dr. Reyes knocks on the door of the practice room and like an eager dog Max falls over himself to answer it. He now stands taller than his professor whose head now lies directly at the hairy pecs spilling from his opened shirt. Max’s eyes glimmer as he looks down to the smug face of the professor. He quickly sits down to lower himself below the doctor and eagerly awaits whatever is soon to spill from Reyes’ mouth.

“I must say Maxwell, you have truly outdone yourself. Truly you hold one of the most powerful Bass voices I have heard in my time.” Max sits quietly, his heart racing with excitement from such kind words. He struggles to stay silent, lest he speak out of turn, though he cannot hide the rumble in his chest as his deep breaths accelerate. The doctor struggles to keep it together as he sees a pulse in the unmistakable, currently growing, bulge in Max’s pants. He briefly wonders if he’s gone too far, before looking back to the man’s face, seeing his eyes still staring directly into him waiting.

Perhaps he can go farther. “Is it not a shame though, my dear Max, that you’re not a true Basso Profundo?” There is a loud tear in the room as Max’s body surges larger. He shoots up inches more in height revealing a hairy stomach and pubes that already spill beyond the bounds of his pants. Reyes hears a catch in his student’s breath and watches as his Adam's apple bulge even further from his throat. His cock bursts the zipper of his pants and Max moans loud and deep enough for the professor to feel it in his chest. Reyes can’t take his eyes from the hair covering his chest grows even darker, curling as each strand grows thicker.

Before losing control of himself and his desires Dr. Reyes forces one last statement through Max’s mind, “You know the department has always wanted a basso profundo coach. How would you feel about being an assistant professor, Max?” In response Max can only sit in awe as a look of what can only be described as pleasure stains his face, mouth lolling open as his eyes grow crossed. His hands clench the sides of his chair as he struggles to not lose control over himself and the professor. Thinking of staining the practice room only makes it more difficult to keep it together.

Reyes feels a hunger within himself as he stares down at the massive man seconds away from cumming all over himself. In time he too will only know Max as the powerful man he is now. At this juncture however the doctor sneaks out of the practice room and heads to return to his office to prepare for office hours, what kind of a professor would he be if he wasn’t there for his pupils after all.

Walking down the hallway he hears the man in the practice room lose control, his voice echoing down the hall before hearing him run out and to the nearest bathroom. He prioritizes increasing the soundproofing of the practice rooms before turning to see the new Assistant Professor sprint down the hallway towards the nearest restroom. Struggling to move swiftly or quietly in his far-too-strained clothing. Reyes returns to the desk and smiles once more to himself as he thinks of a future for himself, his program, and his new star Basso Profundo, before hearing yet another knock at the door.

“Do come in.”

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onelittlespiral · 2 months

Text

Machismo Musk

Finishing up his skincare routine Valentino smeared his face mask over his already supple skin. Waiting to be able to wipe it off he pulled out his phone and began planning the next time him and his best friend can go hangout again! Opening his texts he sees that he has left his best friend on delivered, looking at the text from Edgar it read, “Yo Val! We gotta hang again bro! I met this guy at the gym today and I think he can really help you get out there again!”. It was odd to Valentino that Edgar was calling him Val and bro, but Edgar was right, ever since Valentino and his boyfriend split three months ago he hasn’t put himself back out there at all. “Okieeee” Valentino texted back, “just tell me when he is free and I'll be there”. Within seconds Edgar responded with “Dudeeee he is free tmrr! Shld I give him your addy”, being more weirded out by his language but thinking it's just a bit, Valentino tells Edgar to give the guy his address and tell him to come over at one tomorrow afternoon.

Hearing the knock at his door Valentino lifted himself out of his bed and looked at the clock. “Weird” he thought to himself “it's barely even 11:00 A.M. I wonder who that could be”. Rubbing his eyes he got up and went to the door not bothering to brush his teeth or really do anything to get ready, expecting it to be a package or just some kid being a punk. Opening the door he was met face to face, or really face to pecs, with a hunk of a man standing on his welcome mat.

A little shocked Valentino asked hastily “Who are you!?”, “Wow don’t sound too excited to see me brochacho” the hunky man said, “Im Angel! Your friend…uhhh Edgar told me to come here!” Angel said with enthusiasm in his voice. “Uhhhhh Angel is it…yea it’s nice to meet you but you are two hours earlier…”, “Oh am I?”Angel responded earnestly, “I thought you wanted me to come over at eleven.”, “No no no, I told Edgar to send you at one o’clock”. Valentino corrected. “Oh my god Im so sorry” Angel apologized “I’m horrible with numbers and you know Edgar huhuhuh, he is utterly simple-minded…more so than me huhuh!” Angel chuckled out. “What are you talking about? Edgar is one of the smartest guys I know” Valentino questioned, assuming that Angel had mixed two guys up in his own head. “Well are you gonna make me wait here for two hours?,” Angel asked rhetorically, completely ignoring your question. Not want to seem rude on the first meeting

Valentino invited him in, bringing him inside and shutting the front door. Valentino asked as they still stood next to the front door, “Oh do you mind taking your shoes off here?”, “Oh you don’t want me to do that little broooo!” Angel responded.

Slowly Valentino could, as if on cue, smell a masculine funk began to fill the room, contaminating the air with a stale, musty smell.. Valentino, trying not to cover his nose or bring out the Febreze, told the potential partner “You came so early haha I didn’t have time to get ready! I will be back. Do you mind waiting here?”, “What didn’t you do? You look ready to me?” Angel said with a hint of a flirty tone. “Oh ya know I ummm…didn’t get to brush my teeth or wash my face or even put on any deodorant…hahaha” Valentino let out a laugh trying to hide his embarrassment “I promise i'm normally more put together”. Angel responded with all seriousness and said “I don’t mind huhuhuh. If it makes you feel better I never wear deodorant” Lifting up his arm and exposing his hairy and damp cavern of musk. Not being able to contain his gagging, the miasma of B.O. began pumping into the room and into his nose. Between an orchestra of gags, Valentino tried to excuse himself once more, “I want to get uhhhh nice and get ready for you…”. Seeing through this white lie grabbed the back of Valentino’s head and muttered, “It’s rude to react like that. It’s time to help you realize the beauty of tapping into your inner machismo”. Valentino tried to pull away, confused by what this stinking hunk was saying, “What the fuc-?” Valentino’s profane response to Angel’s comment was interrupted by a face full of sweaty, pungent, armpit hair. Being pulled into the source of Angel’s “machismo musk” as he would call it, Valentino’s brain immediately fogged up making him weak and incapable of thinking rationally or with any semblance of his normal intellect.

As Valentino pummeled Angel's torso with blinded, wild blows, his already weak punches grew weaker and weaker with every second in the pit. At the same time Angel could hear Valentino’s confused, angry, mumbling slowly fade at the same time. By the time 30 seconds had passed, all that Valentino could say in protest was a light moan that was still an arduous task for his musk filled mind, and all he could do was gently raise his hand and push back with so little force that he couldn’t even be able to push around a piece of paper if he tried. Feeling what felt like growing pains in his feet Valentino let out a loud groan which swiftly dulled into a soft, constant, moan. Valentino felt his feet begin to crack as if the bones were breaking and shifting, he felt as his toes were being forced outwards and the soles of his feet began to grow larger both in width and length. Valentino incapable of picking up on any scent other than Angel’s B.O. could only feel the changes not smell them, but Angel could smell a cloud of buttery funk mixed with the smell of fermented cheese rise and help fill the room. Valentino began to feel his legs inflate, leaving him with nice, tight calves and two massive thunder thighs. Like any good himbo Valentino felt his perky little twink ass inflate into two pillows which jiggle and bounce with every step. Angel had to lift his arm a little higher and take a step back for the newly acquired height of the 6’1 Latino. Valentino felt the readjustment and unconsciously made sure his own nose never left or got too far from the source of the funky scent. Feeling a rumbling in his gut Valentino felt his tiny little gut and naturally cinched looking waist expand and turn into a stomach with the making of a 6 pack but with a nice, soft, layer of fat keeping the chiseled statue still encased in a little bit of marble. His pecs began, much like his ass, to inflate without his permission or full knowledge as they became a gorgeous rack of pure man mass.

The next transformation happened to his arms, becoming nice, soft, tendrils of unthreatening muscles but as soon as he flexes the soft edges harden into sharp, cutting muscles. Above the transformation in his arm, his armpits became much like Angel’s, filled with a foul-smelling, putrid, jungle of long dark hair, absolutely contaminating what little fresh air was left in the apartment. The final changes came in the form of his face growing a bit more masculine and alluring, stubble growing in and his hair shortening a little.

Being pulled out of the malodorous prison that just turned the neat and clean twink into an unhygienic and dirty himbo, Valentino caught his breath. Looking at the work of art in front of him Angel asked “How are you feeling bro?” and in a much deeper voice that shocked Valentino he replied with “W…what did you…do to me?”. Angel, needing to finish the newly minted himbo’s transformation, brought Valentino over to the couch and sat him down and then saddled on top of Valentino’s hips, trapping him in place. “Shhhhh you will be finished soon, pretty boy,” Angel said. Hearing the words “pretty boy” dance out of his mouth, felt like a static shock swept through Valentinos brain, assisting the dissipating B.O. that was keeping Valentino dazed during the transformation. As the static shock shot from ear to ear he felt his own head fall back against the couch and his mouth become unbarred of his lips and be left agape, losing the power to keep his lips fully shut. Angel, knowing that it is time to complete the sweaty hunk he is mounting, removes his sneaker, brings it up to his own nose and takes a whiff.

Shuttering out of pure pleasure and excitement Angel moans out “I stink so goddamn good! You’re gonna love this part dude!”. Lowering the shoe over Valentino’s face, covering his mouth and nose with the outpouring of foot funk rapidly escaping from the heavily used shoe, Angel watches as Valentino’s eyes roll into the back of his skull as if he is trying to watch his own brain transform. The stench, bolting out, trying to escape the shoe that kept it trapped like a genie in a lamp, forced its way out of the shoe to find a new home. Being met with an open mouth and two nostrils the rank air shot into Valentino’s lungs and brain. In his brain Valentin felt as his thinking got, somehow, even slower, he could feel his thoughts, starting from his most recent, begin to evaporate into the stench. As the wave of foot funk continued to alter Valenti’s mind he could feel his years of going to bookstores and quaint little cafés with Edgar turn into years constantly hitting the gym and playing soccer with Edgar. Valent felt the memories of learning how to take care of himself and keep a neat ship from his loving sisters turn into him and his brothers leaving dirty laundry everywhere, ripping ass constantly in each other's faces, overflowing their kitchen sink with dishes and passively hotboxing their rooms with their own foul funk. Helping tutor kids after school while Valen was in High School turned into needing to get a tutor for every subject, no one would take him because they couldn’t bear the stench. All of these memories of being a responsible, smart, and clean functioning member of society turned into memories of an irresponsible, total airhead of a jock who only filled his head with the scent of him dutch ovening himself for fun and the funk of his never washed armpits or feet. Vale struggled as he tried desperately to hold onto his memories but for whatever reason these new stink filled memories seemed just so much better in every way, life was easier, simpler, he loved hanging with his best bro Edgar even more, and he never needed to clean up after himself. I mean if he or his friends didn’t mind the stink constantly hanging in his apartment, and knowing that his friends amplify the stink whenever they come over he knew they didn’t mind one bit, then why would he need to get rid of his own hard work? And Val never got rid of his “hard work”, all over his apartment layed piles of damp piles of clothes that stink to high heaven, and the stupefying scent of the shoe rack at the front door will make sure that any non-jock coming in, or even any jock coming in, will leave a little bit stupider. Whenever Val has a guy over he always gets a little annoyed when the twink he takes home won't stop complaining about the lingering smell but he doesn’t mind it anymore because he knows that just one whiff of his bedroom will render their minds incapable of thinking of words for at least an hour.

Angel feeling a wet spot spread out across Val’s crotch knew that Valentino was never coming back, Val was here to stay. Removing his other shoe and throwing them both on the ground at the foot of the couch, Angel got off of Val and sat next to him with his arm around Val’s shoulder. “You and your friend Edgar transformed nicely into your true, machismo forms.” Angel mumbled to himself. Angel then asked you “Hey bro after we fuck do you have any twinks that I can uhhhh…help realize their true potential.” “Uhhhhhhhhh” Val thought for a long time trying to get a thought to bubble through, “Oh! My friend Bruno is single right now!”, “Perfect. Text him and say that I will take him out tomorrow at 1:00” Angel requested of his new macho gym bro.

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onelittlespiral · 2 months

Text

Be of Service

Round of applause to @mrrharper

I dumped my uniform and bag into the locker, my partner John doing likewise beside me. After a graveyard shift, the two of us had decided to hit the gym bright and early in the morning before sleeping through our day off. John and I had been partners since we had first joined the police force. As officers, we had done a lot together; rode together, drank together, laughed together. One time we were even in a foursome together with two chicks we had picked up at a bar.

Now in our early thirties though, we had begun to take life a little more seriously. Start choosing wisely, acting responsibly. Working out had been my idea, and after six months it had already shown some results. Both of us were average height and had gained some pudge over the years, but now we both had notable definition. I could not help but flex a little in the mirror, impressed by the beginnings of my triceps.

“Looking fire, broski!”

My eyes shifted over to one of the three football jocks who sauntered into the locker room. I was immediately annoyed by the trio of obnoxious meatheads, and I could tell John was as well.

“Have you been coming here for long?” the first asked. “We haven’t seen you around.”

“We come when we can,” I replied. “Working for the law gives us busy schedules.”

“Woah…so are you guys like, officers or something?” the second guffawed.

“Officers, yeah.” John was irked.

“Huhuhuh…cool bruh!” the third jock inserted. “You two should totally join us!”

Before we could respond, the first jock piped back in, “Yeah dudes! We could have a great sesh between the five of us. Brock here is stellar at arms, and Duke is the best at working those legs and glutes.”

“Jalen’s a pro with chest,” the second jock, Brock, finished. “And you two officer bros, what are you good at?”

I grunted, “Knowing how to refuse an offer.”

It took Brock and Duke, the third jock, a second to process what I had implied, their mental capacities obviously slower than the average male. Jalen was a little faster however, putting on a dumb smile.

“Your loss bros, but totally understandable,” he shrugged. “In case it wasn’t obvious, we’re on the football team at the local college, so let us know if you need any workout tips or exercises.”

I barely nodded my head, offering a blunt, “Ok, thanks.” John and I then made our way past the bulky jocks, the three of them each larger than either of us. I took a breath as soon as we exited their collective earshot.

“Three cocky dicks,” I snorted. “No better way to start the morning.”

John mockingly agreed. Our workout was brutal, our bodies already tired due to our unusual sleep schedule. This, along with the occasional stare from one of the jocks, only encouraged us to work harder. Nothing was spared from our exercises, we utilized machines that hit multiple areas at once. Arms and chest, legs and back, abs and quads. At the end, we hit the treadmills for a thirty minute run, sneering back at the trio while they stood in front of one of the many mirrors and flexed their pumped arms, taking pictures for social media.

Eventually, we were back in the locker room cleaning up, both expecting the jocks to ambush us again. Fortunately, the lumbering footballers never arrived. John had joked they were probably still drooling over their own muscles in the mirror, and I had replied better they were drooling on themselves then us. I did not want their narcissistic, dim-witted reek all over me, and neither did my partner. We both opted to skip showers; we could take them back at our respective apartments before crashing into our own, cool beds.

As we left the locker rooms and headed towards the exit, we were immediately swarmed by our unwanted acquaintances.

“You know, bros,” Jalen swung a beefy, sweaty arm around both of us. Brock paced behind me, and Duke followed suit with John. “We never caught your names? We’d like to thank you for your service, officers, whatever it is you do."

His tone was a little menacing, but I knew he would not try to pull something in broad daylight. “Darren,” I responded. “and John.”

Jalen grinned, moving his arms to pat the back of our necks. I felt a little sting at his touch, almost like an electric shock.

“Now c’mon bros, how about you come join us at the frat house where we can properly use your services.”

John frowned, and I retorted with, “I think you boys have had your fun.”

Brock chuckled, “Fun’s not even started broski.”

Duke’s response was even deeper and dumber, “Huhuhuh...dudes aren’t even ready.”

We had finally made it outside, the sun just beginning to rise over the horizon. I noticed our squad cars parked up front, we would be out of this mess in just a moment.

“Alright, this is our stop,” I exclaimed, making sure the three got my message. Suddenly, a piercing jolt was sent across my spine, traveling all the way from my brain to my toes.

“Our stop is actually over there, officers.” Jalen pointed to the two trucks past their cruisers. “Darren, you can come with me and Brock, Duke here is gonna take John.”

Robotically, my body followed Jalen’s command, tracing behind the first two jocks to their obnoxiously big vehicle. Although I could not turn my head, I could tell John’s body was following the orders as well.

“Disengage Operation Mode, security bypass JALEN, sleep.”

— —

“Engage 25% Operation Mode, security bypass JALEN, wake.”

My eyes fluttered open. I was standing in an empty room, not rigid but not slouching either. To my right, I could sense my partner’s presence, familiar with John’s aura. We were still in our dirty gym gear, although our body odor was nothing compared to the three jocks standing proudly before us. Through the windows behind them, I assumed it to still be some time in the morning, but that was the only piece of the situation that I could try to fathom.

“Bet you’ve never had a mind control chip implanted, have you, officers?”

I tried to respond with something snarky, but my mouth wouldn’t let me.

“We were just trying to be friendly, help some bros out, but you two insulted our kindness.” Jalen stepped a little closer, even from a distance I could feel his large, masculine presence. “Maybe next time you won’t mess with the son of a government-funded millionaire.”

Jalen pointed his fingers at his two goons. Brock and Duke each stepped forward, crossing the distance between them and John and I. They removed our shirts, and although I could see or move my feet, I realized my shoes had already been taken too.

“My dad gifted me some leftover mind-control chips he had built for the military, said I could use them if I ever needed them. Something along the lines of "accessing the nervous system" and "reprogramming capabilities". Didn't matter to me bros, it was all nerd-speak. I just needed the commands.”

If I could have, I would have gulped. Jalen stepped closer as the other jocks discarded our clothes.

“MC 1001, 50% Operation Mode.”

Suddenly, the feeling was restored throughout my body. I did not bother with attempting an escape, recognizing my body was still glued to the floor. When I turned to my partner, I realized John had not been released.

“What’s the plan, Jalen?” I spat.

“You were so rude to us back at our gym when you are employed to be of service” Jalen smirked. "The bros and I thought we should remind you of your duty, and what better way then by dispatching you as our new security guards who obey our every wish and command?”

“So what, you’re going to 'reprogram' us?”

“How about you see for yourself?” Jalen then turned to John. “MC 1002, engage Modification Mode, security bypass JALEN.”

“MC 1002, Modification Mode engaged, security bypass confirmed." It may have been John’s mouth that had opened, but I knew it was not him who was speaking.

“Brock,” Jalen invited. “How about you take the first swing?”

Brock laughed and scratched at his crotch, “Get him jacked bro.”

Jalen turned to Duke, “Anything specific you’d like to add?”

To my surprise, Duke did have something to add–a lot to add: “Make them former rugby players bro, cause rugby is for idiots and rugby players should serve football jocks, the real alphas.”

Jalen raised his eyebrows, a bit surprised too. “Works for me. MC 1002, enter in keywords ‘Rugby’ and ‘Jock’ to the personality frame and set both at 88. Raise ‘Muscle’ by 40 base points and remove any post-secondary education from the mainframe.”

Watching the football neanderthal list off a series of programming commands put our situation into a new perspective. My eyes grew with fear as the changes installed into John’s body. It was like watching a horrible balloon inflation, his body contorting as it expanded. John’s once meager chest bloated into two massive pecs supported by two trunks of legs. His arms cartoonishly bulged until they were practically circular, his pits filling with hair as a tattoo wrapped itself around his right bicep. His face thickened too, adopting a square shape along with a wider nose and thicker stubble.

“Keywords ‘Rugby’ and ‘Jock’ successfully installed.” John’s voice was now deeper, gruffer. “‘Muscle’ upgraded, post-secondary education deleted.”

Jalen nodded, “MC 1002, add 10 base points to his age as well.”

“Adding 10 base points to ‘Age’.” To my shock, I helplessly observed my partner grow older beside me. The skin around his body tightened, pulling in to reveal the more delicate details of his veins and tendons. Wrinkles began to develop across his body along with other age marks. It was painful to watch his hairline slowly pull back, his scalp thinning out into a well-maintained crew cut.

“Here’s the fun part,” Jalen mocked, noting my face of terror. "Lower cognitive abilities by 20 base points and independent identity by 30 base points. Install the ‘Security’ package to the mainframe and boost the ‘Obedience’ category to max potential."

Although there were no visible alterations, I could have sworn the light went out behind my partner’s eyes. “All actions executed, please confirm modifications to MC 1002.”

Jalen smirked, making direct eye contact with me. “Confirm MC 1002, disengage Modification Mode, reengage total Operation Mode.”

To my delight, I watched as John’s body reanimated completely, indicating he now had full control over his body. But any hope I had was immediately crushed as soon as he stood at command, dumbly grinning with his arms crossed over his chest.

“How can I be of service, sir?” John asked Jalen.

“Go do a full sweep of the yard of something, bro.” Jalen tossed John a pair of sunglasses, not even bothering to hand him any other clothes. Apparently his now too-tight joggers were enough. “Oh, and by the way, you go by Hammer now.”

“Hammer…” John processed. “Yes sir, thank you sir.”

I watched as my former partner stomped out of the room, out of our reality.

“Why ‘Hammer’, bro?” Brock piped in from behind me.

“‘Cause he’ll be laying down the law of the land.” Jalen then shifted back to me. “Our other friend here will be ‘Brute’.”

I heard two empty-headed laughs from the two empty-headed jocks behind me.

“He’ll be nothing more than a wall of meat,” Jalen taunted. Before I could insult him back, he instantly shut me up. “MC 1001, engage Modification Mode, security bypass JALEN.”

“MC 1001, Modification Mode engaged, security bypass confirmed." My mouth was out of my control. I tried to fight back, reanimate myself by any means possible.

“Alright Duke, it’s your turn.”

“Same thing as last time, bruh.”

Disappointed, Jalen shifted back to Brock, “Got something else?”

I prayed Brock would not say anything too damaging “Make him huge dude,” he requested, putting me at ease before following up with: “And make him like a butler too.”

Jalen laughed, and if I could have I would have cried.

“Oh MC 1001,” Jalen merrily instructed. “Copy MC 1002’s personality frame and mainframe, and enhance body and clothes proportions to 1.5. ”

“Modifications downloading,” I stated, a sudden sinking emerging in my stomach. In moments, I sprung upwards towards the ceiling, my height soaring above the jocks to an astonishing six and a half feet. Muscles exploded out of my body, bloating me thick with bulk. My arms were plump and my hands meaty. Two juicy pecs larger than my head were now carried by my absolute barrel of a chest, stretched out and taut. My legs were colossal, so dense that I would permanently be forced to take wide, swaggering steps. Even my neck thickened, supporting my newly masculinized skull.

“Copy and paste procedure successful.” My voice was husky, low, deep and booming. “Body and clothes proportions at 1.5.”

“Look at his socks, bro,” I heard Brock snigger behind me. “Whattya think those stompers are?”

“Huhuhuh…I don’t know dude…maybe Size 15?”

“Looks like I missed something,” Jalen appeared disappointed. “MC 1001, reduce reproductive size to 3.”

“Redacting 4 base points from ‘Reproduction’.” I screamed, pleading for this to stop. But no words exited my mouth. Instead, I remained painfully silent as I felt my cock and balls shrivel down within my shorts.

“Helps with the obedience factor” Jalen stated. “Now, let's lower cognitive abilities by 40 base points and independent identity to 15 base points. Install the ‘Security’ package to the mainframe, boost the ‘Obedience’ category to max potential, and add in keywords ‘Respect’, ‘Humility’, and ‘Subservience’."

I would not give up, I would not cave in. “Please confirm modifications to MC 1002?”

Jalen was finished with his game. “Confirm modifications, disengage Modification Mode, reengage total Operation Mode.”

After a moment, I blinked. My head felt fuzzy, empty, as if some great weight of responsibility had been removed. I dumbly chuckled to myself.

"Feeling good there, bro?” Jalen smiled. “Excited to serve us jocks?"

"Uhhhh, yeah bruh…be of service."

"Well said, Brute."

"Brute?" I smiled lazily. “What can I uh…do bro?”

"First, let’s get you in uniform.” Jalen signaled to Duke, who then tossed a black cap to me. I secured it backwards onto my head proudly.

“Now, clean the frat house from top to bottom. I’m talking dirty laundry in the machine, trash taken out, floors scrubbed–the whole deal. I want this place looking slick before the party starts tonight. Once you’re done with that, you can go patrol the lawn for any feds. Got all that?”

It took a while for me to process everything, but eventually the dumb grin came back to my face.

“Yeah bruh…whatever you need.”

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onelittlespiral · 2 months

Text

FML: Urged

I think this was the photo that got me in. Of course I get the appeal now. But at the time I thought I was just messaging some other random torso on the apps. I was supposed to just be in and out, no strings attached. After all, he wasn’t my usual type. Looked like a roided out gym rat: bit of a gut; dark, wiry hair; and thick muscles. But muscles weren’t the thickest thing about him, and who was I to pass up a good time?

So I went over to his place. I wasn’t surprised when it was a loft above a small gym. Seemed like the ideal spot for the kind of guy. What I was not expecting was the apartment itself to be so…nice? Normal? I was prepared to get fucked on a twin-sized mattress on the floor, no frame, with sweaty clothes rotting around me. But the apartment had some character. He even offered me something to drink before we got started, in an actual glass. Maybe I needed to raise my standards. We chatted, flirted a bit as I finished my water and let things get hot from there. We kissed in the kitchen, made out in the living room, and worked our way back to his bedroom as sweatshirts, belts, shirts, pants, and straps trailed behind us.

As I positioned a pillow under myself, he took off his wife beater, the last barrier between us. The shirtless torso that seduced me was on full display as I rubbed his chest. As he leaned in to kiss me, I felt engulfed by this bear of a man, skin electric where I felt his hair ticking my bare chest. My senses felt heightened as I tasted cheap beer on his breath and smelled a deep musk of sweat, cum, and Old Spice, more in line with what I had expected from him. He ran his calloused hands over my chest and abs before finally taking up position over my trembling body. I wanted him in a way I hadn’t felt since I was a teen. Normally I would want to talk a bit more, at least give a safe word. But as he surrounded me and I felt his presence, my brain flipped a switch as my body instinctively relaxed for him. There were no thoughts to be had as my mind was consumed by his rich scent, the pleasure of his cock slowly stretching out my ass, and his intense gaze set on my fluttering eyes. At last I felt his bush pressed against my clenching ass. He lingered for just a moment, every throb of his member sending shivers through my body. He leaned in and whispered, “You feeling good, baby?”

I could only moan a bit in response. Feeling his weight bear down on me and his cock in my ass left no room for words. He shoved his pit in my face and I instinctively took a deep huff. Any resistance and tension left in my body released. I felt filled by him, just a vessel for his use. I was about to stick out my tongue when he pulled back and repositioned himself. He held my shoulders as he began moving his hips.

As he slowly began to fuck me, I felt him reach new depths within myself.

“There you go, much better. Let yourself just float”

I couldn’t resist him even if I wanted to. His cock methodically jackhammering my hole had my body riding wave after wave of pleasure. Then, I felt him tense up a bit as his cock swelled just a bit more telling me what was to come. He buried it deep as a pressure built within myself. A few more thrust from him and I shot my load over his furry chest. My mind could no longer handle it. I slipped off into a void of pure bliss, as this stranger collapsed on top of me, feeling his damp fur against my body and filling my senses once again with his musk.

I woke up the next day back in my own bedroom. No one else around. No signs of trouble. No clue how I got back. If the whole experience hadn’t been so vivid, I would have thought I dreamt the whole thing. But as I rolled myself out of bed and into the bathroom, one change became very clear.

Seemingly overnight I had lost my smooth skin and dirty blonde curls. In its place was hair. Thick, dark, course hair. It covered my chest, my arms, my back, even my crotch. I was shocked but, also, something else began to tickle at my brain. I took off my tank to get a better look at the forest. I flexed my muscles and admired the way it coated my chest and seemed to exaggerate its size. I hit a double bicep pose and smelled a familiar scent. The scent of sweat and heat and masculinity. My mind flooded with images of that night as my cock stood at attention. I shoved my face into my own pit as I bagan jacking off in front of the mirror, admiring my new body. It felt strange but satisfying, watching this stranger in the mirror mimic my every move as I lusted for him. I didn’t realize how far I had gone until I saw the stream hitting the mirror. It was hot, but something still didn’t feel right. As I cleaned up the restroom, I picked up my razor and considered cleaning myself up a bit. But as I lifted it to my face, I noticed my newly hairy pits. Exposing them, the scent of last night invaded my mind again and I couldn’t follow through. I finished getting dressed and I left for the day. With a busy schedule, maybe I could get some answers tomorrow. I think that was the last chance I had to do something, divert from the path laid out for me. But looking back, I don’t know if I would have changed a thing.

No day was as sharp a change as the first, but each morning as I looked myself in the mirror, something was a bit different. Maybe it was the sharpness of my jaw. Or were my pecs always this swoll? One week I swore my feet were growing larger. There is no way that they always slapped the ground like that. But my shoes always fit perfectly. Heck I may even need a new pair soon. My joggers were beat up as hell and reeked when I took them off after my Saturday runs. But soon it was the days that I couldn’t find anything that looked different that began to worry me most. Had I always thought so much about the bodies of the men around me? Did people always talk so fast? But as life slipped back into routine. Soon I began to question myself. Why had I worried so much about any changes? Things never actually seemed out of place, and I worked out hard to get these gains. I had been going to the gym for years and had spent tears perfecting my splits. After about two months. I stopped worrying at all. Until finally, one day I woke up and looked myself in the mirror, I saw the same man who greeted me for years.

I was a sweaty gym rat. Always had been. Always would be. I took a deep huff of my own funk, and rubbed my muscles. But everything fell into place, something felt missing. I shouldn’t have to keep this godly body and musk to myself. For the first time in a while, I hopped onto the apps and started scanning through. God, all these old matches were terrible. Why did I used to have such a thing for those muscled-up college boys? They couldn’t grow a beard if their lives depended on it. Besides, I think I wanted someone a little more…submissive. Scrolling through, my eyes caught on this young 20-something twink. Something about him reminded me of someone…someone I used to know. His lithe body, tight curls, and skimpy clothes told me he was a bottom before I clicked on his profile. A few messages back and forth, and he was on his way.

He walked in the door and it was all I could do to contain myself. Something deep within me wanted my seed deep in his ass. I needed him to worship me. I wanted him to become just like me. I had no patience as my body acted on instinct. I stripped my shirt and calmly approached, placing my hand against the wall behind him. As my masculinity and musk washed over the twink, I watched as his eyes fluttered a bit and knew his mind was submitting.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” I asked plainly.

“Ye-yes, sir.”

I grinned as I understood fully now just what had happened to me, and the power I held. But watching this twink practically trembling in front of me, maybe I was even better than my captor had been.

I gave him a quick kiss as I lead him to my bedroom. I couldn’t wait to make another man in my image.

#male transformation #transformation #reality change #musk #bro #hypnosis #fml #muscle tf

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