Inanimate - Tumblr Posts

Hey man, loving the stories! Any chance you'll do some inanimate TF soon?

Hmm. I haven’t really tried my hand much at inanimate before, but it’s not outside of the realm of possibility. Was there anything in particular you had in mind?

Actually, you know what? I think I have an idea. It’s the funniest thing. You know those statue performers you see around on the streets, right? Well, it’s a bit embarrassing, but before I actually get into the story, I should probably give you some background.You see, I happen to be a master of transformation. I don’t know how I got this power. I just know that it exists. It sort of lurks inside of me. I’ve tried to access it deliberately, but the farthest it’ll go then is give me inspiration for my stories, allowing me to view transformations as they happen to other people in other worlds, or even in our own, if I have the right kind of luck. How else do you think I manage to get such detail in my work?

Now, the thing is, this power sort of … lunges out of me at times, usually when I’m frightened or startled. If the scare is big enough, the power goes to work, and I can’t stop it, no matter what. The first time it happened was when I was 13. It was one of my last years trick-or-treating, for good reason. You see, at one of the houses, a few adults had dressed up in scary masks to help get in the season and allow us to have a bit of a playful scare. The problem is, one of these individuals decided to get uncomfortably close and continually follow me around the yard as I went to pick up the candy and then make my way to the next home. He said hello, and continued to follow me. When I turned again, he was just an inch or two away from me, possibly less. And he towered over me at the time. My innate fear of the dark was already stoking my fear factor, so it was nearly ready to burst at this point. And, well … the man was the unfortunate person to burst the bubble. His face is horribly disfigured now. It’s covered in ugly red scars that crisscross over his face. His eyes are so large that they’re practically bursting from his sockets. I’d … rather not go into further details. His screams still haunt me. I’m … not proud of what this gift can do to people. It can do good, yes, but more often than not, it causes great harm.This other encounter happened in the middle of a park, where street performers lined up to offer their services. Unfortunately, in this case, I was startled by an exceedingly convincing man covered in a weathered bronze paint. He blended right in with the military memorial as he crouched before a pile of mortars waiting to be loaded into cannon by the other two soldiers. His old military helmet lay cocked back on his head, exposing the carefully gelled and dyed hair combed back in distinctive rivulets to mimic the style of the era and his fellow soldiers. His military fatigues and tight shirt hardly moved, most likely the effect of paint and starch. My friends and I had just stopped to take a picture together, and I was in front of our posing friend. The first few pictures were fun. And then the game was up, when he suddenly moved, clamping his hands on either of our shoulders.I screamed. … And then the power went to work. The man was hasty to apologize as he stepped down from the platform. He hadn’t mean any harm. Of course he hadn’t. It was his job to pretend. Even after the others had calmed down, though, I continued to watch in horror, because I knew what I had done. The others looked on at me in concern, even as I watched the staying hands of the mortar specialist twitch. I saw the loader turn his head to bore his gaze into me, and then into our fake soldier’s back.My whole body went cold. I watched helplessly as the two walked from the memorial’s dais one after the other. Their heavy feet clanked against the cement as they marched in perfect unison, coming to rest behind the performer.“Can I help you, gentlemen?” the performer asked after gathering his wits once again. Naturally, he had reasoned these two were also fellow actors. That assumption was his undoing. I watched helplessly as metallic hands grabbed his arms in a grip harder than iron. Yes, I know the comment is ironic, and no, the pun was not intended. Metal ground on metal as the two soldiers turned their heads to gaze at the man with those same immutable expressions. They pulled him forcefully towards the platform once again.It was when the performer began to struggle that he finally realized the cold, horrible truth of his situation. When he tried kicking one of the men in the shins, all he got for his trouble was a yelp of pain out of his own mouth. I watched as his eyes widened in fear. I watched as my friends struggled fruitlessly to get the statues to let go.The park was alive with screams in a matter of seconds. The performer tried going limp, dragging his feet. Much to everyone’s horror, the gentle sound of scuffing rubber soles soon turned into the heavy grating sound of hard cast metal on stone. He pulled at his legs with obvious effort as he screwed his face in consternation. He could hardy bend a knee. The weight only increased as his legs became more and more stiff.“Oh, god no,” he gasped. “Please, no!” His screams are still vivid in my mind. He sobbed, and tears formed in his eyes. That made it even worse. Instead of falling down his cheeks, the tears took on a dull metallic sheen, and I watched as it covered his irises. He blinked once, twice, and then blinked no more. Instead, a perfectly set pair of metal orbs stared out at the world with a grim, stormy expression. The very air radiated the sounds of fear and hysteria. And all I could do was watch dumbly as His hardened legs clanked up over the lip of the pedestal on which the monument stood. His head was a blur, turning left and right as he beseeched and implored.

Left.

“Please. L-let me go.”

Right.“You want my money? You can have it. I’ll donate to the veterans fund every week!”

Left.

“D-don’t do this!” His head was starting to slow, and I heard the beginnings of the telltale grating.

Right.

“Please.” It was more of a harsh whisper than a proper plea.

A slow turn to the left.

“I … I’m not….”Unblinking eyes met unblinking eyes. The breathing was short now, shallow, more of a hollow rasping as his chest rose, falling less and less each time as shirt and flesh began to blend into one solid surface. His helmet strap had already stopped swaying as he moved.

Again he turned right, and I watched his cheeks and lips twitch with the strain of it as the metal his neck and shoulders had become grated once more.

“I am … I … can’t move … my lips….” He struggled to speak, and I watched as his mouth settled into that grim set line of a soldier intent at his work, never to move again. I remember hearing one final rattling exhalation out his nostrils. And then the breathing stopped.

The two soldiers turned to look at one another and nodded. They released their grips and clanked over to their former positions, lining up with the imprints they had left behind before freezing into position.

One of my friends had enough presence of mind to try to pull the poor man away, now that he had been released, but I already knew it was too late. He pulled at the man, cajoled him.

The performer wouldn’t budge. He turned his head and peered with that same piercing gaze that only a battle hardened soldier could manage, captured so perfectly in his new sculpted features. He grasped my friend by both arms, lifted him in the air, and walked him to the edge of the platform, then dropped him.

With that task accomplished, the performer turned back towards the pair of soldiers, now his compatriots, who stared at him mutely. He marched into position, saluted them, then turned and crouched down in front of the mortar pile, gazing straight ahead. Metal bent and warped, flowing into place, then hardening to the point where one couldn’t tell he hadn’t been a part of the initial casting.

The performer was no more. Now, another soldier gazed out at passersby, a solemn reminder of a war that he would now forever be a part of.

As I said, I’m not proud of my gift. It can help others, yes. But more often than not, it hurts them. It’s best if you leave now, before it lashes out again. I don’t want to hurt anyone else.

…

Why are you looking at me like that? What’s in that bag? What are you…? No. NO!

This sequence is an old favorite of mine. I’m a sucker for muscle growth and mental changes. It also formed the basis for a transformation I wrote for my Omnistore universe.  As such, I thought it only fitting to post that story here under the very sequence that inspired me in the first place. Please, Enjoy.

The Ring is the Thing: An Omni Store Tale

Benjamin Taurus panted painfully as he leaned on a corner street pole, gasping for air in the late summer heat. The angry cries of his pursuers bellowed behind him as his arms and legs shook from exertion. His carefully combed hair had become a matted sopping mess on his head, though the part he’d put into it that morning was making a valiant effort to hold on, even as the pomade he’d used to sculpt his hair for school pictures ran down his face and back in rivulets. The sweat burned his eyes as it flowed down the length of his short light brown square muzzle to his rubbery pink snout, and his ears dropped low behind his head, while various passersby looked on with disdain at his shirtless torso and frayed blue jeans.

Unlike the majority of his species, poor Benjamin was rather diminutive. His frame was slight, with barely enough mass to hide his ribs, and his arms were thin and wiry. While the young bull had no real fat to speak of, his lack of muscle mass made him an instant target for his fellows in Boulez Penne’s School for Gifted Bovines, or as most outsiders rightly called it, the Bull Pen. His eyes darted nervously from one street to the other as he struggled to get enough oxygen to his brain to think of his next move. Fortunately for him, being smaller gave him the advantage of maneuverability and blending in with a crowd. Unfortunately, his pursuers had bulk and endurance to make up for the difference. He glanced back nervously to see the flash of yellow horns and a bright red mane, and he knew his rest was over. His tail swished anxiously behind as he raced off again, even as he heard the sounds of men and women alike voicing their stern disapproval as they were shouldered aside by the bulk of his pursuers.

“Taurus! We’re not finished yet, you little runt! Get back here,” the bellow sounded. Ben shuddered as he remembered how easily Stephen Minot had torn his shirt to shreds, while his two best lackeys watched. With every day, more members of the class seemed to fall under his thrall, and he reveled in it. First rule of the Bull Pen, first rule of the herd: The strong rule, and the rest follow. Ben wasn’t willing to follow that template, and now he was paying the price.

Even as he ran, Ben couldn’t help but shudder at the sound of Stephen’s deep baritone. Part of him wanted to obey, to sit back and take his punishment. Instinct demanded it. His tail twitched in anticipation at the thought. And to think, all this because he wasn’t willing to go shirtless, like Stephen had ordered. Was there something wrong with choosing to have a little decency? It was bad enough getting made fun of for his figure with his clothes on. He didn’t need to show it off for the whole school to mock.

Ben tore through a street fair and turned down a side alley as the rowdy bulls charged from behind. He cursed to himself as he leaned against the cool, rough brick wall. This was definitely not the place for him to stay in a situation like this. A quick glance down to the other end of the alley revealed the dead end that awaited him. A single door with a worn wooden sign over the top stared back at him. He could barely make out the warped image of the OPEN sign behind the thick panes of glass. He snuck as far back into the shadows as he could manage, and took a moment to breathe as he rubbed his forehead in consternation, brushing against the tiny nubs of horns poking out the sides of his head. Why did it have to be him? Why did they have to make such a big deal out of choosing to be more modest? He just wasn’t that into the whole bovine alpha urge. Wasn’t the whole point of modern society supposed to be getting away from living by instinct? Things would be different, if he were in charge, that’s for sure.

“Taurus!”

Ben turned slowly to see the hulking Red Angus and his two Belgian Blue flunkies cracking their knuckles as they tossed their unruly heads and snorted angrily. Their fur coats glistened as their well-built chests heaved from their exertions. Even from the other end of the alleyway, Ben could smell the pheromones pouring off the three goons. His nostrils flared against his will, drawing more of the scent in as Stephen approached, while he fixed Ben with a venomous glare. His red fur glinted like copper as he drew closer, and the cream fur of the two Belgian Blues blocking all sights of the fair behind them only emphasized the fact that there was no escape.

Stephen stopped a couple of yards from the young bull. “Come here, Taurus, and maybe I’ll go easy on you,” he growled as he extended a hand, and motioned the approach.

Ben trembled as he gripped the handle of a trashcan nearby. His tail twitched agitatedly, his muscles wanted to move. He felt the urge, the power, the desire to obey, to fall in, to be one with the herd under a powerful leader, a true leader. The blood surged through his ears, muffling the scuff of his foot as he took his first step forward.

“That’s right, Taurus,” Stephen sneered. “Step over here, like a good little short horn.” His flunkies chuckled to themselves at the insult as they waited for the inevitable.

Ben’s body wanted so badly to move, to listen, so he let it. He clenched his hand around the trash can’s handle, and threw it as hard as he could manage. Fire arced across his right arm, shoulder, and pec as he released, but he didn’t care. He didn’t have time to care. The can made contact, and Stephen let out a bellow of surprise as the impact knocked him back a couple of paces into the waiting arms of his guards. Trash burst out of bags to litter the floor, and embed itself in Stephen’s fur and hair.

Ben knew he’d done it now. Stephen would beat his sorry hide to a pulp, if he got a hold of him. Knowing this, Ben nursed his still-burning arm, gritting his teeth as it hung limp at his side, before running for the door. At the very least, he could call for help, ask the owner for sanctuary, something along those lines. It was worth a shot. Maybe there was another door somewhere he’d be able to run through to buy some more time. Anything was better than waiting for the doom he knew was coming, if he delayed much longer. The angry bellows soon confirmed that as he hastily shoved the door open and slammed it shut behind him, then threw the bolt and handle locks with a timid click.

“Not that they’d do much good,” he thought to himself.

“May I help you?”

“No, I’m pretty sure you–whaaat the crap?”

 Ben swore as he turned around to see a literal impossibility. The humble entryway opened into what had to be one of the most impossibly large warehouse mockups he had ever seen. Everything ranging from groceries to non-perishables, toys, and so much more stretched on into the shadows beyond sight.

“Wow. So that’s how it feels. Not quite sure what The Doctor sees in it,” a fox in a simple business vest and slacks said. His red fur and white underbelly shone in the sunlight that poured in from the open skylights above that shouldn’t have been there in the first place. His black-furred hands reached out as he smiled. “Welcome to Omni-store, the market stall that has it all. I’m Omni Kitsune, the sole owner and proprietor of this establishment.”

“This place. It’s–.”

“Impossible? Huge? Bigger on the inside? Weird? I could go on and on,” the fox said. His black-rimmed red ears twitched, and his face scrunched irritably at the pounding slamming against the door. “Honestly, I just finished opening up for the day. If you want to come in that badly, use the door like a proper person,” he chided as he rolled his eyes.

“Don’t let them in here!” Ben practically shrieked. He quickly cleared his throat. “I … I mean, they’re … not nice people?”

The proprietor took one look down at the young bull, then sighed. “Well, since you’re my first customer today, I might as well give you a freebie. Come on.” He motioned towards a teller’s cabinet, where a segment with a red cross had been set aside for medical treatment. “I know an injury when I see one.”

“But the door!”

“What door?” Omni asked with a playful smile.

Ben turned back, and his eyes widened when all he saw was a wall that had been covered in advertisements for what looked like exotic vacation packages in the strangest places: under the ocean, up on Mount Everest, and he couldn’t even tell what that last one was. It looked like some sort of cartoon with cat people, robot bears, and a whole lot of other weird stuff.

“My store, my rules,” Omni said simply. “Now then, I believe it’s time we had that arm of yours looked at, hmm?” He raised an eyebrow and smiled at Ben’s bewildered expression. “I’ve been in my fair share of fights, young man. I know the signs. Come, take a seat. We’ll get you fixed up in no time, I guarantee.”

“But … the door. How did–?”

“Magic, obviously. Or didn’t you notice my tails?” Omni asked as not one, not two, but three bushy fox tails greeted Ben’s gaze.

“I–.”

“Need to sit down. Yes, yes. Like I said, over here. And please don’t go into the whole freak-out scenario. Seeing it once already was more than enough for my tastes, thank you very much.”

“Seeing?” Ben felt dizzy as the fox … no, the kitsune led him by the hand to the table. For such a lean creature, he was surprisingly strong.

“Part of my magic.” He shrugged. “It’s a bit of a gift and a curse. I can see things, visions of the past, present, even the future. The first two aren’t so bad, but the last one is absolute murder,” he said as he rolled his eyes and took a seat in the bench opposite Ben’s. “The future is an infinite list of possibilities. One tiny decision can alter a major course in history’s progress. I literally have to sort through each and every possible future to find the one that I want, and then I have to try to make that future happen. Well, if I want that future to happen, anyways. Most of the time, I respect peoples’ free will, and just warn them where their choices will lead.”

“Won’t that just create a whole new list of possible futures?”

“Depends on how the actions are guided. Fortunately, I know how to suppress it most of the time with minimal interference from future sight.” He shrugged. “Now then, let’s see that arm of yours. Can you move it?”

Ben hissed in pain as he shifted his arm onto the table to rest.

“Hmm. I see,” Omni said as he examined the arm closely. “It appears you’ve pulled and strained several muscles. Just a moment.” He lowered his hands over the forearm and closed his eyes briefly as he took a deep breath. Then he released, and a series of golden specks began to fall from his hands onto Ben’s arm. “It’s a basic healing spell, in case you’re wondering,” he explained. “Not harmful, and very useful for minor injuries.” His brow furrowed as he ran his hands up the arm towards the shoulders and pectorals, and he frowned. “I see. So this Stephen is trying to prove his dominance over the rest of you, and your biological makeup makes you susceptible to such shows of dominance to the point where you become a willing servant, if not outright slave.” He shook his head and tutted sadly. “I would’ve thought such a crude system of patriarchy would have been done away with by now.”

“… I don’t know whether to be relieved someone else finally gets it, or scared at just how accurate you are.”

“Don’t worry, that’s a normal reaction,” Omni promised. His blue eyes hardened as he continued to heal the injury. “Now that’s not very nice at all. That shirt was a gift from your mother, wasn’t it?”

“I can get another,” Ben said timidly.

“But not another life,” Omni pressed.

Ben suddenly found the floor’s design very interesting.

“It must be tough living under a family name like that,” Omni continued as he massaged the injured pec. The golden glow sent a calming warmth through Ben’s chest, but he couldn’t help but blush at the contact. “Even harder without your mother around to soothe things over.”

“Could you please stop doing that?” Ben flinched at the mention of the cow. Sure, it had been a couple of years, but that didn’t mean he didn’t miss her anymore.

“Sorry,” Omni sighed. “Believe me, I know what it’s like losing a parent. I actually lost both of mine in a war. I was pretty young myself, just a few years older than you are, come to think of it.”

“What happened?”

“It’s a long story, but the gist of it is the bad guys wanted to remove my family from a position of influence. My family fought back to protect ourselves and the people we served. Ultimately, they had to invoke a power that cost them their lives to protect the rest of us.”

“I’m sorry to hear it,” Ben said sincerely.

Omni shrugged. “I’ve made my peace with it. It happened millennia ago, so much so that most people forgot it. I did, too, after I reincarnated.” He chuckled. “Let’s just say some special events brought those memories back for me and some rather close friends from that time.”

“You all remembered?” Ben asked skeptically.

“I had a little extra help from an item designed to unlock those memories for us.”

“Magic?”

“Magic.”

“So that stuff is actually real?”

“How else do you think your ancestors took on the name Taurus in the first place? He and I are on very good terms, you know. He appreciated the strength and leadership your ancestor showed in a trying time, and granted him power accordingly.”

“Get out of town!”

“No, seriously. I know most of the constellations’ embodiments fairly well. Comes with the territory of that position of power my family held.”

“Yeah, right,” Ben said as he rolled his eyes.

Omni removed his hands from Ben’s arm and sighed. “I kid you not, but that’s up to you to decide whether to believe for yourself. Let me give you a rundown of my store’s rules. It’s pretty simple, truth be told. You have something you want desperately. My store will guide you to something that can grant your desires. However, as it always is with all things magical, there will have to be a price to pay. So, the question is, are you willing to pay that price, should you find what you’re looking for?” He shrugged as he laid back on the bench. “No pressure, of course. I could easily let you off wherever you want me to, and you can go on with your life like this never happened.”

“And … should I agree to this, what’s the catch? What is this price?” Ben asked cautiously.

“That depends entirely on the effect the magic has, and how much magic it takes.” Omni shrugged again. “I can see a variety of possibilities ranging from errand running to store service. I’m not some cruel trickster trying to twist people into my pets or servants. I’m just a magician who wants to help. However, you should be warned that magic also has a life of its own from time to time. I won’t try to change and twist you, barring personal request, of course, but it might. It’s ultimately up to you to make your choice. I can’t and won’t make it for you.”

The kitsune snapped his fingers, and two glasses of water appeared in front of them. He took a swig, then let out a sigh of contentment. “So, I’ll ask you again,” he said as he watched Ben experiment with his arm, “will you try your luck with my store or will you choose to leave some place far away from those bullies? … No pun intended.”

Ben sighed. “There’s a reason that word was invented,” he pointed out as he took a grateful sip from his own glass. The water was crisp, cool, and soothing as it passed down his throat. After all that running, it felt good to hydrate again. “So, if we do go with service, what would that entail?”

“Basically, you work for me, until the debt is deemed paid. As to what capacity, that depends entirely on the end result of the spell or trinket you use. You’ll still be able to live a normal life. You could just consider this like a part time job.”

“And how would I find this place again?”

“It would likely find you. Of course, I could always give you a key or some sort of punch card to call up the entrance, when you’re ready to work. In case you haven’t noticed, my store isn’t your average run-of-the-mill pavilion. My services span multiple dimensions, universes, etc. across space and time, and we cater to a variety of clientele. I prefer to serve the good ones, but, unfortunately, one cannot always get what one wants in life.” He sighed. “Fate and destiny are funny that way. Sometimes, the only option is to help the bad guys, in order for the better future to come to pass.”

“Seriously?”

“Like I said, future sight can be a curse just as much as it is a gift.” Omni sighed heavily. “But enough about that. You have a decision to make, and my time is precious. Will you peruse my wares or cast this opportunity aside? The choice is yours, and you must make it quickly.”

Ben looked around the strange store. This place could be filled with wonders. The potential was limitless. He might even get the chance to learn a little bit about this so-called magic himself, should he agree. On the other hand, the kitsune had clearly outlined that taking the offer could prove dangerous. Was it really worth the risk? Was he really willing to give anything to get the chance at what he wanted most? And what did he want most of all? He knew he wanted people to stop looking down on him. He wanted his dad to be proud, to stop feeling like he couldn’t measure up. And he definitely wanted to teach Stephen and his gang a lesson.

“Seek, and ye shall find,” Omni’s voice echoed as laughter carried through the room. “But I wonder what you will find. Better get started, young Benjamin.”

Ben jerked out of his musings to the other side of the table, but the kitsune was gone. He sighed, and shook his head. “Guess I’d better get moving.” He rose to his feet, and began to walk through the store. Paths and segments wavered like a mirage as he passed through, causing the grocery sections to disappear. He wondered idly if the same might happen to him, if he didn’t move quickly enough. It was not a pleasant thought. It also didn’t help that the kitsune’s voice didn’t speak out to console him on the matter, which meant it could very well be a real possibility.

He gulped as he continued the search. T-shirts, loincloths, guns, bows, arrows, axes, costumes, crowns, accessories. The racks, shelves, and hangers seemed endless. Sizes ranged from triple extra small to practically giant size. “A little something for everyone,” he murmured. “Guess that’s why it’s called Omnistore. Or was that Omni’s Store?” he mused as he passed through the shelves and a thick glass stand filled to the brim with spray bottles of cologne. At least, he hoped it was cologne. If those were potions of some kind, he really didn’t want to think about what they might do.

As he continued to pass through the maze that the store had become, he eventually happened upon an open clearing of sorts, where various styles of clothing clung to moving mannequins that flexed and posed as he passed. He shuddered as he could almost hear a groaning whisper, “Come join us.”

“So beautiful …”

“So perfect….”

“Flawless.”

As Ben looked on one of the figures, he could just make out the barest hints of smiling feline facial features slowly smoothing into seamless, shiny fiberglass. “I am beautiful. I am perfect. I am shiny. I am flawless. . ..” As the voice continued to repeat the sayings of its fellows, its arms and body gained further mass, emphasizing the fashionable clothing it wore in all the right places. Then the new mannequin began to flex and pose in jerky motions as the surfaces along the crooks of its arms and legs, and the area around the pelvis shifted and parted to reveal hinges and joints for bending and moving in accordance to various set patterns, just like its fellows as its voice took on that same disembodied whisper.

Ben gulped, and quickly moved past with a hastily mumbled, “No, thank you.”

The next area he encountered reeked of cologne, shoe polish, and cigar smoke. Suits, ties, tuxedos, tie clips, pins, rings, pagers, wallets, cell phones, and other business paraphernalia lay stacked before him in carefully organized piles. A large convex business table lay in a central display with many empty chairs. Two figures sat near the head of the table with laptops wide open and phones at their sides as a projection played on a nearby screen. The first was a paunchy human in a shabby hand-me-down suit. The light from his computer screen reflected off what appeared to be some form of plexiglass headpiece that scrolled code, images, and notifications in front of his face as he typed away at his keyboard. Occasionally, a heavy sniffle would sound, followed by a sneeze as he stared at the information with bloodshot eyes. The other figure was a fairly diminutive sheep. His glossy wool coat had been carefully groomed, and his head fur had been coiffed into a stylish pompadour that shone almost as brightly as his carefully polished horns as he hemmed and hawed over the phone with a customer. A heavyset grizzly posed with a cigar in his mouth and his back turned towards the table and the curious Ben. A block of a cell phone clung in his hands as he growled.

“Listen, Zsiash, I frankly don’t care about your excuses. You promised us a steady supply of dragon scales from your master in exchange for your transformation into a proper Kobold. It literally brings you pleasure to help him shed each time he’s ready to molt. Don’t go trying to readjust the deal. If your master is off his molting schedule, just tell it to me straight. We’ll put you off the shipping list for a while, but we expect interest with this extension, understood?” He paused a moment. “What will we do if you don’t have the goods?” A deep rolling chuckle rumbled through the air, and Ben shuddered at the sound as a cloud of smoke circled the predator. “You’ll face the consequences, of course. You’d make a lovely addition to the pet store.”

Ben could almost hear the sneer as the bear listened to the response.

“That’s what I thought. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Zsiash.” He turned to face the suited figures on the computers.

“Um … Sir, wasn’t that a little harsh?” the sheep asked as he placed a nervous hoofed hand over the receiver.

The bear glared down at him. “Tell the customer you’re going to have to call him back, Darius. I think it’s about time you and I had a little chat.”

Darius gulped as he gave a trembling apology, and informed the need to call back in a few minutes. All the while, the bear toked on his cigar, and glared as he folded his arms, and tapped his foot impatiently. Finally, Darius finished the conversation, and hung up.

“First rule of business, newbie,” the bear growled as he forced the chair to spin around and face him, then leaned down to puff a stream of smoke in the sheep’s face, “is eat or be eaten. If we don’t get our clients to pay up on their debts, then our store would default, and everything the boss works so hard to do for these people will go up in smoke, along with our living. Tell me, newbie, do you want that?”

The sheep pulled at the neck of his shirt, and gulped, even as his eyes watered, and he struggled not to cough. “Um, n-no, Sir. I d-ON’-t,” his voice cracked as he pulled farther at his tie, and began to pant.

“Then enough with being the sheep.” The bear narrowed his eyes. “Show me the wolf.”

The sheep’s breathing grew heavier as his hands began to shake, and his hooftips trembled. The smoke hovered around his head as the thick, curly wool began to recede, and his muzzle stretched out further, becoming more angular and pointed as his teeth began to sharpen. He groaned as he leaned over in his chair, and his shoulders heaved as his tail lengthened, and the cute little puffball developed into a long, sleek, black bushy tail. The bear tapped his cigar, and dropped the ashes onto the floor as he pulled out a tiny glass spray bottle, and depressed the release trigger, spraying a fine mist into the sheep’s face. He coughed a few times, then shuddered as his groans soon turned into a low growl that rumbled through the air. Rather than fall off, his horns thickened, and darkened as they curled, growing longer and more prominent, while his nose turned black, rubbery, and wet.

“That’s it, kid. Let it out,” the bear encouraged as he pulled out a flask from his pocket, and removed the stopper.

The growl grew louder, more threatening as the hooftips scraped against the table, digging up the varnish as the solid masses softened and shifted into thick, meaty fingers with powerful claws. His breathing grew heavy and labored as he gained in height, and the beginnings of a golden mist began to waft out from his mouth. The more he panted and growled, the more the mist poured out. Rather than dissipate, it flew into the waiting flask, and swirled within as the bear looked on with a sneer.

The phone next to the former sheep’s computer rang, and he quickly grabbed the receiver to answer. “Omnistore, customer management speaking,” he rasped, even as his eyes began to glow red. A hint of a smirk began to tug at the corners of his mouth. “Remmy, baby, good to hear from you.” His tail twitched back and forth as his new longer tongue licked his now-rubbery lips. “How’s our little … acquisition coming along?” He paused for a time, and then the growl returned with a vengeance. “Now listen here, you little weasel. We had a deal, a magically binding contract. You break it, and you’re gonna be in for a hell of a bad time, and I do mean hell,” he snarled as smoke began to rise from the edges of his suit. The mist poured out from his mouth like smoke from a stack as his form began to expand with muscle. His carefully combed pompadour developed crimson streaks. “Now I don’t care if you’re afraid of getting on this sorcerer’s bad side. You signed up for the life of a master thief, and now you’re going to pay us back. Figure out a plan with your little gang, and get to work. You have forty-eight hours, capiche?” He slammed the phone back down, and sneered as he looked to his boss. The two were much closer in height now, and while the new hellhound had a more toned appearance, both gave off that same menacing aura that warned against messing around.

“Now that’s what I call one hell of a performance, kid. Told ya you were a natural,” the bear congratulated, even as he stuck a stopper into the now-golden flask, and returned it to his pocket. “You just have to remember the first rule.”

“Ya know, I can’t even remember why I was so worried in the first place. Those mortals are pushovers,” he growled. “Apply a little pressure, and they cough up the due. And if they don’t. . ..” The chuckle that followed was truly vicious.

“Damn, son. Even I got chills from that one. You’re good.”

The new hell hound laughed as his smirk broadened into a predatory grin. “I learned from the best.”

“Damn straight. Now why don’t you call that last customer back, and show him who’s boss, hmm?”

“Oh, this is going to be fun,” the hound rasped as he picked up the receiver, and began to dial. As he did so, red smoke hissed up across his face, hands, and body as a final golden sputter popped out from his mouth. A complex series of patterns and symbols began to etch themselves into his fur as the black dyed to red, finishing with two demonic seals on the backs of either hand and a black aura that surrounded his horns as his eyes glowed red with naught but blackness surrounding them.

“That’s my boy,” the bear praised. “Keep this up, and you’ll make employee of the month in no time.”

“Screw your employee of the month. I just want to hear them squirm.”

“Intimidating, sadistic, and enthusiastic. I’m surprised I don’t let out a few more contracts to you demon types. This work seems right up your alley.”

“Be careful what you wish for, boss,” the new hell hound chuckled darkly. “You might just get it.”

“Status alert: Employee information upgraded. Employee name: Judas Scarymutt. Species: Hellhound. Equivalent exchange complete. Debt payment has reached sixty percent.” The tone the human used was dead, and tired-sounding as he gazed into his screen. His eyes were glassy as he sneezed violently. His fingers twitched with precision as he entered the data from whatever research he may have been conducting.

“My my, Johnson. You don’t sound so good. Perhaps you should take a break. Go home for a little bit, hmm? You sound like you have a cold.”

“Negative,” the man now identified as Johnson said as his eyes jumped from screen to screen on his HUD. His slick blond hair shone in the overhead lights as his suit clung to his body, emphasizing the pudge and extra mass. “Not until I finish this processing.”

“What’s the holdup? You’ve been at it for hours, you know. That’s not like you, Johnson. You’re supposed to be the world’s greatest computer expert, are you not?” the bear growled.

“The system appears to be lagging.”

“It doesn’t seem to be the only thing,” Judas snarked.

“Watch it, mutt. My brain could run circles around yours any day of the week,” Johnson hissed angrily.

“Mutt?” Judas snarled as smoke began to rise and the light around him seemed almost to be consumed in shadow.

“Perhaps you and the system have a little something in common, then,” the bear said as he laid a staying hand on the hellhound’s shoulder. “I would assume some sort of virus. A cold for you, and perhaps something a little more … unpleasant for the system. I’d like for you to run a scan.”

“But sir, that could take hours to run over the whole network.”

“Oh, I don’t think it’ll take all that long. The system is very quick to adapt. You could almost say its protection is like an immune system. Go on, Johnson. I insist.”

“But, Sir, I–.”

“I said I insist, Johnson.” The bear’s tone was level, but the intensity behind it made his point quite evident.

Johnson sighed. “Yes, Sir.”

“And make sure to include your viewer. We don’t want to risk any tampering with our technology.”

Johnson rolled his eyes as he altered the parameters. “Yes, Sir.”

“Excellent. Begin when ready.”

“Engaging scan now, Sir.” A large progress bar sprouted up on his HUD, obscuring the rest of his windows as the scan progressed. A dim chime and a furrowed brow drew the bear’s attention as he approached the human.

“What’s the matter, Johnson?”

“It says it’s picked up a foreign program, Sir, but it’s not a name I’ve ever heard of for a virus before.”

“Well, what are you waiting for, then? Do your job. Quarantine it, and delete it.”

“Or is that beyond the brain of the great Johnson?” Judas sneered.

“Shut up, mutt, or would you prefer our systems to suffer a critical meltdown with the autumnal equinox drawing closer?” Johnson pressed a few keys, and the machine let out another chirp as the progress bar progressed. “There. Quarantine and file elimination has begun. Executing database analysis and viral update now.” A spark jumped from the computer board into his fingertips. “Ow!” he shouted as he shook them, before resuming his work. He sniffled a few more times, before his breathing became clear, and he sighed in relief as he continued to work. The tempo of his typing became faster and faster as he sat there, and stared at the screen through his HUD. “So much data,” he gasped as he continued to type. It’s … beautiful.”

“A face only a motherboard could love,” Judas said as he rolled his eyes in annoyance.

“I wouldn’t expect someone like you to understand. The coding is so complex, yet elegant. It’s moving so fast, I can hardly keep track of it. It’s almost as though the system were replicating itself, expanding,” he noted, even as cascades of 1s and 0s ran down his eyes. “Yes … expanding.” His breathing became steadily slower

“Seeking out viruses, and eradicating them,” the bear whispered.

“Seek out … and eradicate … yes.”

After all, a machine must run at absolute peak condition. Isn’t that right?”

“Maximum efficiency,” Johnson corrected as the edges on the plexiglass of his HUD unit began to glow, and the surface to darken as it drew closer to his face, curving around his head and chin like a fish bowl. “Must ensure maximum efficiency,” he repeated. “Rogue program: E-Mot-10-N detected. Placing in quarantine now.”

“Delete it,” the bear ordered.

“Initiating deletion.” The keystrokes sounded like the rattle of a machine gun. “Rogue program terminated. Upgrading firewall now. Countermeasures have been integrated for future threats. System purged.” His face relaxed as he continued to stare into his screen, while his fingers flew across the keyboard.

“So when do we purge him?” Judas jabbed.

“I cannot be purged,” Johnson said matter-of-factly, “I am of too much value to the organization.”

“Not from where I’m standing,” Judas grumbled.

“Irrelevant,” Johnson said in the same dead monotone. “I am here to maximize efficiency. Until proper authority is invoked, I will continue to fulfill my duty.”

“That’s right. Now let’s see you really kick it in gear. Process those files, double time,” the bear ordered. “I don’t care if you’re still scanning. If a computer can multitask, you can multitask. You say you’re efficient. Now prove it.”

Golden light spread from the seams of the display helmet as it clung tighter and tighter. The glass had tinted itself to a complete black as it reshaped to form a perfectly rounded sphere. A sharp click sounded, and Johnson reached over to the console, where a USB cable had been plugged into the computer. He then proceeded to run out the other end of the cord, and connect it to the headset. “Connecting to server,” he droned out. His voice was muted by the glass, and Ben couldn’t help but wonder how the man could breathe properly. It didn’t look like there was room for ventilation. The progress bar continued to move along the screen as the man typed madly on his keys.

“Good. Now process program 0-B3-Y.”

“Accessing.” The dim whirr of a fan sounded from the headset, and Ben sighed in relief. So there was some ventilation. “Processing.” Johnson paused for a time as his head twitched, while various symbols appeared on the surface of the HUD, before coalescing into a loading spiral. As it did so, his body became ramrod straight, and his elbows rose to be perfectly level with his hands. The tempo increased yet again, and Ben winced as he thought how uncomfortable that position must feel.

“How are you feeling, Johnson?”

The loading spiral grew a little larger on the headset.

“Johnson? I asked you a question.”

Johnson didn’t say a word.

“Johnson, answer me,” the bear growled.

“I feel … nothing, Sir. It is … a curious sensation,” the voice crackled through as holes opened up on the sides of the new helmet. “I am connected to the server. I feel the data flowing across my visual output, but I am experiencing no sense of excitement, no joy, no disappointment. I am simply … fulfilling a task … fulfilling a task … fulfilling a task …” With each repetition of the words, the spiral on his screen grew, spreading out to cover the entire surface. A burst of static and scratching sounds came out, before the monotone returned again, sounding less human, less organic. “I … must fulfill … must … obey ….”

“Say that again,” the bear ordered.

“I … must obey …”

“Again.”

“I must obey.”

“Again.”

“I must obey.” The man’s fingers twitched and cracked as skin dried and warped. Pulsing lights flowed upwards from his fingertips and beneath his suit as joints snapped and cracked, and a curious hum began to emanate from the chair. Before Ben’s eyes, the man’s skin parted, breaking apart to form interlocking segmented flesh-colored plates that rapidly shifted to a shiny chrome as blue pulses of light thrummed through the cracks.

“Excellent. Activate artificial pleasure sensors and your emotional chip. You deserve a small treat for being so compliant. And besides,” the bear sneered, “you did ask for this.”

A rush of white nearly drowned out the blue as the rapidly changing human jerked in his chair. The suit began to strain as blocky geometric patterns bulged against the shoulders and torso of the suit. A loud tear clearly indicated the destruction of the leggings below. “Oh my -REDACTED-!”

“Ah, good, the language protocols are activating. You know how the boss feels about that sort of thing,” the bear said.

The image of a thermometer appeared on the former human’s display. The liquid inside rose rapidly, then burst out the top in an explosive release as the energy continued to thrum through the man’s rapidly changing body.

“And since this is part of the process you asked for, I am contractually obligated to order this next portion, though it will not remain a permanent feature. Boss won’t destroy free will, and I don’t blame him. Without a human element in there, you’ll just be another dumb bucket of bolts. Gotta have at least some of the old you left over.” He shook his head. “Honestly, sometimes I just don’t get these humans”

“Oh, trust me, this is just the tip of the iceberg for some of their kinks,” Judas assured him. “Compared to what I’ve seen in the pits, this is nothing.”

“Well, let’s get this over with,” the bear said as he adjusted his waistband. “Johnson, activate your individuality suppressor. You wanted to be a machine, so be the machine.”

“Wait, what? No! I– ERROR! I’m–ERROR! I–ERROR!”

“Remember, you’re a machine, kid. There is no I, no she, no he. You are an it.”

“Acknowledged. Processing new data input,” he droned. Then the voice crackled back again. “Wait! I–ERROR! Does not compute.” A pair of digital eyes widened on the display as they began to fill up with streams of binary. Meanwhile, the chair began to creak under his increasing weight as skin and bone were replaced with metal alloy, and muscle and tissue were replaced with wires and synthetic parts. Buttons popped off, and flew in all directions as his torso continued to expand, shredding through the fabric to reveal a pulsing blue energy core beneath, surrounded by a protective layer of bulletproof glass and metal. New servos and joints hummed and whined as he turned desperately to either side, while his waist and legs remained rooted to the spot. Shoulder pads tore apart to reveal thick armor plating and compartments that rose up to expose a positive horde of loaded darts. “Running systems diagnostic. Sedation delivery system at full capacity.” Energy crackled along the former human’s hands, and sharp needles extended from each fingertip. “Secondary system fully functional,” it reported. “I–ERROR. Unit Function: Systems Maintenance and Security. This unit is a machine. This unit must obey. There is no ‘I,’ no ‘she,’ no ‘he.’ Updating vocal pattern parameters.”

“That’s right, just a bunch of circuits and metal. Machines follow their programming, and you will follow yours by obeying us, and tracking all the data for computation and collection, ranging from employee profiles to customer files.”

“Confirmed. Disconnecting backup port from system. Activating primary uplink.” The machine that had once been Johnson pulled the USB cable out of its head and rose to its synthetic legs with a loud clank. A tiny icon portraying a radio tower appeared in the upper right portion of its digital face display. “Primary uplink established.”

“Good. Now report to the server room and be the good machine you’ve always been, J-04N.”

“Orders received. Unit designation J-04N will report to the server room for its cycle of rounds. Thank you for choosing Johnson security.” The new bot walked off without another word, silent and obedient as the pair of executives chuckled wickedly.

“How long are you planning on keeping him artificial?” Judas inquired.

“Oh, I don’t know. Let’s see how much his performance increases without all that scatterbrained daydreaming for a while first.”

Judas sneered. “I knew there was something I liked about you.”

Ben stumbled away from the scene as he struggled not to be sick. He had just witnessed a man stripped of all that had made him organic and human, and the employees just sat back and enjoyed it. Not only that, it was clear the magic of this store exacted more than just your average price, if Judas’ transformation was anything to go by. This place changed more than just form. It changed personality, erased memories, wrote new ones in their place. This just felt … wrong.

“I’ve gotta get out of here,” he muttered.

He turned, and ran as fast as his legs would carry him. Unfortunately, despite his searching, there was no sign of any form of entry or exit. No matter how far he traveled in the store, the walls never drew closer. The few doors he found led to changing rooms, and he wouldn’t be surprised if the change was more literal than metaphorical. Had he passed that clothing rack before? He couldn’t remember. Everything was so mixed up. It was almost as if the store jumped up and shifted itself every few minutes, just to keep him guessing.

Unfortunately for Ben, this ultimately led to his not watching where he was going as he raced blindly through the aisles, and tried to avoid any and all patrons, especially the ones that tried to offer him advice. He’s just finished escaping what looked to be a whole fraternity of satyrs drinking themselves senseless, when he slammed into a mountain of gold, silver, brass, jewels, bottles, clothes, armor, and who knew what else in all that mess. In a matter of moments both he and the materials were strewn all over the hard marble flooring with a tremendous clatter. He rubbed his rump near his tail, and hissed as he worked out the flare up from the impact.

“O-oh my. I’m so terribly sorry,” a timid, yet chipper voice chirped in a British accent. “You’re not hurt, are you, good Sir?”

Ben wasn’t sure if he had a concussion or what, but when he looked up, rather than the stuff he’d smashed into, what looked to be a tiny statue carved from clay extended a hand to him. Its hair had been carved to appear combed back with spikes at the ends, and its thick cheeks had been chiseled for a squared off jaw with just a hint of a round on its edges. “Wha-?”

“I’m one of the staff. I help return used goods to the shelves, when customers decide they don’t suit their purposes. They call me Restituere.” When he noticed Ben’s flinching, he frowned. “Ah. You’re one of those types of customers. Let me guess. You stumbled across some of our more … enthusiastic patrons?”

Ben gulped.

The creature sighed as it shook its head, and the goods began to pull towards his body once again. “Honestly, you haven’t anything to fear from me. I’m a naturally born, fully sapient golem. My whole purpose is to literally help maintain this store, and direct customers. I’m not here to sell anything or steal your soul, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he added with a prim sniff as the gathered items swirled around his waist, and lifted him in the air, before coalescing into a pair of longer, thicker legs. They then proceeded to do the same for his arms, torso, and upper body. “Ah. There we go,” he said with a smile as he stretched his new additions like they were his originals. “Hmm? What’s this?” He leaned in closer, and stared at Ben. “Oh dear. Master’s not going to like this.”

“L-like what?” Ben finally managed to stutter out.

“Oh, that’s right. You’re still in shock. Allow me. I think I have a mirror somewhere in all this merchandise.” Restituere reached into himself with a gigantic hand, and fumbled around in his torso. It took a few seconds, but he finally let loose a cry of triumph as he withdrew an ornate hand mirror with a gold-rimmed ivory handle and jewels mounted in a latticework design around the ovular surface. “There we are. Go ahead. Take a look. The only magic this mirror’s good for is scrying, so it won’t do anything to you by looking, unless you want to spy on someone or review the past.”

Ben looked hesitantly at first, then much more intently as his eyes fell across the glint of thick metal. The polished white gold was positively radiant as he gaped at his reflection. “How–?”

“–Didn’t you feel anything?” Restituere finished for him. “One word: magic. That there is a very powerful magical artifact known as the Ring of Desire. It remains inert, so long as it stays in its case. Unfortunately, once it’s been exposed to a host, it bonds with them, before fulfilling its purpose.”

“Which is?” Ben asked in a tremulous voice.

Restituere shrugged. “To give its owner what he or she wants most, truly wants most. It’s strong magic. Very difficult to come by. Even harder to craft yourself.”

“No wonder your master would be upset,” Ben noted as he reached up and touched the ring gingerly. It felt surprisingly warm, and while the sensation of the metal against his nose was unusual, it wasn’t all that unpleasant. In fact, the contact left him feeling sort of giddy. Then again, it’s possible that was just his mind breaking after all the trauma he’d been through today.

“So what do you want most, little bull?” Restituere asked.

“Want?” Ben asked somewhat dazedly as he pulled his hand back. The ring had begun to pulse gently, and a strange tingling passed through his nose and up into his head. He snorted a few times, and shook his head as it became harder to breathe through his nostrils, almost as though the ring were growing. The tingling grew more insistent, and he opened his mouth to breathe. His nostrils flared, and the warm metal just felt so good pulsing against his snout. He chuckled as he looked in the mirror. His nose looked bigger, and he looked so funny with his mouth gaping open like that.

“Indeed. What is it you long for the most?” Restituere asked curiously. “Whatever that thing is, whether you tell me it or not, is going to be what happens.”

“So much. . ..” he uttered with a drunken chuckle. He felt so lightheaded, and the blocked nasal passage forced him to speak more from his mouth and throat, making his voice stronger and deeper as he projected from the diaphragm. Weird … he wasn’t one for opening up to strangers about stuff like this before, why did he…?

A bolt of mind-numbing pleasure shot through him, cutting off the thought, before it had time to finish forming. The tingling seemed to have concentrated at the base of his horns, and he continued to gape at his reflection as the ring glowed a light purple. As it did so, a piece of that light jumped into the mirror’s surface, and the glass grew cloudy, before its surface began to spin in a spiral of purple and white smoke.

“Tell me all about it,” Restituere instructed gently.

The longer Ben stared into the swirl, the more difficult it was for him to think of anything else. His shoulders slumped forward as his eyes began to reflect the swirls from the mirror. “Make my father proud.”

The smoke parted to reveal a thick, imposing black angus standing a good nine feet tall with large polished white horns. A tight muscle tee clung to his torso with PRIME BEEF imposed over his pecs and abs. A pair of massive dumbbells clung in each hand as he performed curl after curl. His red eyes burned with testosterone and aggression as he continued to pump.

“You want to make a difference in the world, Son, then you have to be strong,” the gruff voice grunted. “Bulls don’t care how smart you are. They never have, they never will. Strength is what matters. Strength is always what matters, and it always will.”

“But Dad, just think about it. We’re always being stereotyped for the muscle. People don’t respect us. If we don’t learn to adapt, we’ll be stuck in lower class jobs for the rest of our lives.”

“You calling me a failure, boy?” The angus turned and leveled an accusing gaze at the mirror’s display, even as Ben’s voice continued to echo from the memory the mirror had conjured.

“N-no.”

“No what?”

“No, Sir,” Ben’s voice said quietly.

“I own an entire chain of successful gyms, and a line of popular fitness products. Your Uncle Pietro is one of the most successful contractors around, earning hundreds of thousands of dollars a year. Your cousin just got drafted into the NAFL[1] for a whopping fifteen million for just this season alone. Strength talks, Ben, a lot more than talking or grades ever will.”

“But–.”

“But nothing, Son. For gods’ sakes, you’re a Taurus! Start acting like one!” That final snarl echoed over and over as the image receded into the aether of the spiral cloud.

“Start acting like one. . ..” Ben repeated numbly as his bushy hair began to retract and darken. The part in his hair disappeared, obscured by a sudden surge of growth in his horns as the bases broadened, and they shot outwards by a good couple of inches. He panted as a warm sensation filled his body, and his skinny arms and torso began to broaden and expand. His flat chest took on definition as two solid outcrops began to form just above his abdomen. His cheek bones began to expand, adding the beginnings of a familiar masculine jawline as a hint of a brow ridge began to form beneath his horns.

The mirror shifted again, this time to reveal a fitter Ben sitting barechested as he pushed up against a barbell, while his father spotted. A proud smirk on the angus’ face widened into a grin as the Ben in the image let out a primal shout, finishing the last push of a set, before the bar rested safely down in its rack.

“That’s my boy!” Ben’s father reached down and seized Ben’s hand to pull him up off the bench into a rough embrace. The Ben in the mirror and in the store both seemed to flinch momentarily, before their nostrils flared, and then they grunted. The Ben in the mirror returned the hug with a manly whack on his father’s back, which the angus returned in kind, before resting a meaty hand on Ben’s shoulder, and pushing him back to take in the young bull’s body. “A Taurus never settles for less. He always pushes his limits. I’m proud of you, Son.”

The Ben in the mirror grinned as both the image and the Ben in the store responded with a cocky smirk. “And you said I couldn’t study and get big.”

The angus rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I still think it’s just a phase. If you want to be a real leader, you’re gonna have to be bigger than that. Come on. Let’s get you a protein shake.”

“Strawberry?”

“You know what? I’m feeling adventurous today. Let’s go neapolitan.”

The mirror fogged over, and opened to a wide black quartz sports bar, where the two were busy drinking out of tall glasses with extra wide straws. The same white shirt clung to Ben’s father as he spread his legs on the stool, emphasizing his bright red shorts and the bulge that lay at its crotch. Ben mimicked the posture in his shiny blue shorts as the two cooled off together.

“You know, Dad, I don’t think we’ve been able to talk like this since … well, you know.”

Ben’s dad nodded as he frowned slightly. “It’s just not so easy to talk about it, you know? She meant everything to me, and now she’s gone.” He rubbed over a gold band on his ring finger. “Now we’re all we’ve got left of her. I just … I want to give you the best life you can have, Son, for her. That’s why I push you so hard. Out there, your peers will trample you under their feet faster than you can throw a punch, if they can. I know. I’ve been there. Every Taurus has.” He sighed. “I guess that’s why I’m so gruff all the time. The way things are right now, I can’t afford not to. My strength’s all I have left, but, in the end, it wasn’t enough to save her. The least I can do is give you some for what’s to come. I don’t want some wannabe alpha walking all over you.”

Silent tears flowed down Ben’s cheeks as he watched the scene unfold, even as he continued to gape, and the spirals turned.

“Thanks, Dad.” The mirror Ben took a long draw from his straw as he looked pensively at the other end of the bar. Then he let up, gulped down what he’d taken, and turned to the angus once more. “I’m just glad we’re together. I don’t want to think what it’d be like, if we couldn’t talk like this.”

“Me, too, Son. Me, too.”

“Dad … I love you.”

Ben’s dad snorted, and broke out in a sad smile. “I love you, too, Son. Always, and forever,” he promised as he leaned in, and pulled Ben’s head gently to his own. The two sets of horns rapped lightly against one another, and Ben reached up to rub his swelling horns as the image came to a close, consumed by the spiraling smoke once again.

“Dad, I … I didn’t know,” Ben whispered as the spirals in his eyes began to waver amid the tears. Then the ring pulsed, and his pupils flashed purple for a moment. “But … I do know? Wh-what…? Why can I remember like … like …? Uhhhhh….” The ring flashed again as his eyes grew distant, and the mirror’s surface glowed with renewed magic.

“It would seem the ring senses something more in your desire,” Restituere said. “How curious. I’m certain Master will be wanting an in-depth report when this is complete. Tell me, what else did you desire to make the ring react this way? I always thought it only granted one wish.”

“Be free … of control,” Ben droned. “No more … giving in.”

“Giving in?” the golem asked confusedly.

“Big bulls command. Small bulls … obey.” He snorted again as the purple energy from the ring rose to form a circle around his head. The cloudy spiral in the mirror parted to reveal Stephen and the other bullies from earlier throwing their weight around some of the smaller freshmen. In a matter of seconds, they had them kneeling on the floor, lowing. Ben was among them. The mirror clouded again, and cleared to reveal a gym, where each of the young bulls was hard at work at the weights under careful supervision from their superiors, lifting and pushing in time with the bigger bulls’ commands. With each thrust, each acknowledgement of obedience, their smiles widened, their eyes dimmed. Ben stood with them, but unlike the rest, he wasn’t smiling as he watched a pair of the impressionable Belgian blues obeying a command to fight one another for dominance. A towering Stephen sneered down at them as he watched, and laughed as the two wiry boys struck at one another.

The mirror clouded over again, then opened up to reveal a much taller and broader version of the two bulls as they sneered down at Ben with folded vascular arms. One raised an arm suddenly, holding a notebook high above Ben’s head, while the other played defense, blocking Ben’s every attempt to retrieve the item in question. Eventually, Ben got shoved to the floor, and his head slammed against a set of silver lockers. He stared dizzily up at the pair of bulls as they approached, and each planted a massive foot on his diminutive chest.

“Moo for us, bitch,” the first said as he hung the journal above Ben’s head.

“S … screw….” Ben gasped as the pressure increased on his rib cage.

“Wrong answer,” the second growled as he kicked Ben in the side. Ben cried out in pain, but grit his teeth. Yet even as his did so, his nostrils flared, and the two bulls sneered as they watched it.

“Yeah. Smell that, Taurus? You know what that is, don’t you?” the first one gloated.

“Now do as you’re told, little horn.”

“Obey!” they barked together.

The Ben in the mirror stiffened. His eyes suddenly became unfocused as he snorted, then lowed submissively, while the two bullies stared domineeringly at him.

“That’s my boys,” Stephen’s gruff voice cheered them along as he smacked a hand on either of the boys’ shoulders. They shuddered in pleasure, and joined the lowing as Stephen whispered in their ears. Then the image faded into the spiral again.

“They were brothers,” Ben said sadly as he shook his head. “I remember. I couldn’t do anything. Now … now they can’t stop trying to outdo each other and everyone else they meet. They love to make everyone feel like they’re less, all because of Stephen.” He bunched his hands into fists as his knuckles cracked, and his muscle mass increased. “They were my friends, and he turned them against each other, against me, made them into his personal thugs. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t … can’t … can’t….” He shook his head, trying to clear it, but the energies wouldn’t abate.

“Can’t what?” Restituere pressed.

“Can’t–.” Ben shuddered, and let out a deep moan of pleasure as a bulge began to press against the crotch of his pants, while his waist expanded. His horns surged outwards again, and began to curve as his brow ridge became more developed, causing the bone of his horns to push back slightly. His mouth went slack as the spirals in his eyes returned with a vengeance, spinning faster as the energies grew in their intensity.

His eyebrows grew in thicker and bushier as his hair darkened by another shade, and retreated further up the sides of his head to leave him without any sides to speak of. In the stead of the flat short texture ear taper with a part that his hair had become when he first entered the store, a spikier fauxhawk now sat comfortably between his horns. The extra hair had shifted to roll down the back of his neck, emphasizing the burgeoning trapezius and deltoid muscles with his broadening shoulders and swelling biceps. He shuddered again as his pecs suddenly popped outwards, gaining greater mass and firmness, while his nipples became more prominent. He bounced the muscles a couple of times as a tiny patch of slightly thicker fur grew in at the point where the two pectorals intersected.

A faint layer of stubble began to sprout over the lower parts of his jaw, giving him a rugged five o’clock shadow that merged with the short cropping on the sides of his head. A dusting of extra-long hairs began to appear along his shoulders and the outer parts of his biceps. “Can’t … think … straight,” he uttered slowly as his calves and thighs swelled and strained with his buttocks to emphasize every rapidly developing curve, while two smaller lumps began to carve themselves below his pectorals. His shoulders and chest heaved as he took breath after breath, while the ring continued to do its work.

Another spurt of growth rocked Ben’s frame as he shot up a whole foot in height. His pant legs burst apart as his muscles spasmed, and he widened his stance to make up for all the added mass, thrusting his chest outwards subconsciously as the ring expanded further, forcing his nostrils to widen with his muzzle.

“Stupid.”

“Worthless.”

“Runt!”

“Wimp!”

“Pansy!”

The insults echoed over and over from the mirror, and a low growl rumbled from Ben’s throat as his teeth began to clench together. His skull cracked as his horns practically exploded outwards, shifting to either side of his head as the brow ridge jutted forward, looking as though it were wrapping around where the horns would join together in a solid bar inside his skull, had that been scientifically possible. The brush that his eyebrows had now become expanded even further, growing to quadruple their original size, even as they and the rest of his hair darkened by another shade. The meat continued to pile on as the magic from the ring swirled around his head between his horns, seeping into his hair and fur. The hair along his back and head shortened even further in reaction, drawing closer to the center of his head, and leaving more short stubble in its place. He lowed softly as another shudder ran through his body, and the bulge in his pants doubled in size. The increased testosterone, combined with the effects of the ring’s magic, caused his chest, shoulder, and arm hair to thicken as ridges cut like streams down a valley to form a perfect eight pack in his abdominals.

“Is it over?” Restituere queried. The glow of the ring had significantly reduced, but it had yet to fully dissipate, and wisps of energies still clung to the young bull, molding him as his body grew another few inches.

A last spark dove into the depths of the mirror, and the smoke parted to reveal the gaping Ben from the most recent past. “Big bulls command. Big Bulls command. Big bulls command,” his projection repeated.

“Wanna lead. Grow to lead. Yes … Big bulls command. Must grow … must command,” Ben said gently as the spirals filled his eyes again. His pectorals swelled to relatively the same circumference as two soccer balls. His horns thickened at their bases, and extended outwards, curving skyward as tiny bolts of energy struck at his hair once more from the sharp tips. This time, there was no room for debate. A short cropped macho mohawk stretched back from just above the part between his prominent eyebrows. He furrowed his confused brow into a frustrated scowl as his cheek bones bulged outwards to emphasize the incredibly masculine features he had developed. His biceps had swollen larger than footballs, and his body hair thickened again, this time along his chin and between his chest as the two merged together. His heartrate surged, his muscles pulsed with power, and his mind filled with the instinctual haze that was common to all his species as the testosterone and pheromones he produced ran over all rational thought. A final glow from the ring restored his pants, changing them to that of a security guard, though his upper body remained bare. After all, what herd leader in his right mind would ever want to hide something so wonderful? No, he would leave it as an example to all the other calves.

“Um … Sir?” Restituere asked as he tapped Ben on the shoulder. The two were much closer in height now, though Restituere still had the advantage, thanks to the sheer volume of items he had to return.

Ben folded his arms, and rolled his eyes as he came back to reality, then snorted. “Restie, I already told you. I may be head of security, but that doesn’t mean I go for Sir. I only save that for my herd and disrespectful punks,” he stated gruffly. A golden star in a security badge appeared on a clip at his hip, along with a leather belt covered in dull stones. The one at the front glowed a mixture of red and gold within the image of a fox’s head.

“I see you found what you were looking for, Benjamin,” Omni’s voice echoed from the stone.

Benjamin stretched and grinned. “I never understood what everyone meant, until now, Sir.” He snorted again as the ring shrunk within his nasal passages, allowing him to breathe through his nose normally. Or was it his nasal passages that went through one last phase of growth? He wasn’t sure, but at this point, he didn’t care. His deeper voice rumbled smoothly as he spoke. “All this strength. It … it really does make a difference, doesn’t it?”

“In your culture? Yes, yes it does. I hope you don’t mind the extra memories that have been overlaid. I didn’t make the particular artifact you used, so I couldn’t exactly control the results.”

“Any of them false?” Ben pressed.

“Not a one. Every new memory you have is completely you, based on the new you that you desired to become. And the best part is you’ll be able to take that knowhow out into the world and take it by surprise. Who remembers and who doesn’t is unknown. It could be you’ll be able to control it, but I don’t know. You’ll have to experiment to find out, once you’re done with your shift. Now then, are you ready to fulfill your duty in service to me and my store?”

Instead of a usual affirmation, Ben struck a pose and let out a massive bellow.

Omni’s voice chuckled. “Yes, I do believe you’ll fit right in. If you encounter anyone you think would serve better as a fellow guard for their, shall we say, ‘community service,’ just bond them to a gemstone and think of the form that would best serve you at the time. The magic will take care of the rest. Otherwise, I think you have some unruly bullies to put back in their place, don’t you?”

Benjamin grinned. “Indeed, I do. Where are they now?”

“Still trying to break down my door. That Stephen really is obsessed with you, isn’t he?”

“I’ll give him something to obsess over,” Benjamin growled angrily as his fur darkened one last time to a rich mahogany. His nose ring pulsed as he was filled with the need to administer immediate chastisement. Of course, it helped that he still wanted to get back at Stephen, too. And with this new body, he’d definitely get that, and much more besides. “I’m on my way, Sir. Taurus out.”

His thicker, tufted tail twitched in anticipation as he waved a hasty farewell to the golem. New information about the store’s layout and the magical paths employees could use ran easily through his mind, and he took the fastest path he could find to that particular entrance to the store.

“Try again,” the red angus growled as he pointed to the stubborn door. Despite the many blows the trio had dealt to the wood, it still hadn’t so much as splintered.

“Uh, boss, shouldn’t we just … Idunno, let it go? It’s almost been an hour, and our shoulders’re getting sore,” Rob, the first of the two Belgian blues said in a vapid tone.

“We’re not done, until I say we’re done. Get it, peabrain?” Stephen flicked the bull between his brows. “You’re not here to think. You’re here to do what I say. You, and your brother,” he said as he rounded on Bert. The twin’s smug smirk quickly washed away under Stephen’s glower.

Bert averted his gaze as he looked to the ground, and muttered a, “Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Now smash that door in,” he commanded brusquely. The red angus took a step back, and folded his arms in anticipation. No matter what that door may have been made out of, everything had to give at some point. If they could warp metal, then they could certainly splinter a shabby old door.

The two Belgian blues looked to each other, nodded, then pawed the earth, before charging as fast as they could. They made contact, but this time, it didn’t feel like the hard wood from before. The two rubbed their shoulders briefly, before looking up, and up, and up.

“And just what do you two think you’re doing?”

Two thick, meaty hands seized on the twins’ shoulders, thrusting them back. The two brothers winced from the force of the grip as a giant of a bull stepped out into the daylight. His eyes narrowed as he took in the pair’s expressions, then looked at the red angus.

“Normally, I would try reason first,” the bull said as he approached Stephen, still dragging the pair behind him. He had to be standing at a good nine feet, at least. His broad frame and even more well-built muscles left little doubt as to the feats of strength he could accomplish, especially considering how easily he had just dealt with the two Belgian blues. “However, I know you three won’t listen to that.” He crashed the twins’ skulls together, knocking them out cold. Then he raced up, and grabbed Stephen by his mane, yanking the bull’s head back as he leveled one of his horns at Stephen’s neck. “So you listen to this, you little piece of shit,” he growled. “That shirt happened to be a parting gift from my mother, before she died. Those two flunkies of yours happened to be my friends. You took both of them from me, so now I’m going to take everything you hold dear from you.”

Stephen’s eyes widened in shock. “T-taurus,” he strained as his throat suddenly became dry. “How?”

Ben sneered as he shoved the bull down on the ground, and sat on top of him. “Let’s just say I came into my own, little horn. I’m the head of the herd now. And you? From now on, you’re going to do exactly as I say.” He punched the bull in the face, and a thrill of pleasure ran through him as he watched Stephen’s left eye start to swell. “Not so much fun when someone can fight back, is it, wimp?” This time, he gave a strong left hook to Stephen’s jaw. The loud crack indicated just how soundly the bone had been broken as tears began to flow down the sides of Stephen’s head.

“So here’s what we’re going to do,” Ben continued relentlessly. “I’m going to take you to the hospital, where we’re going to get your wounds treated. Afterwards, I’m going to go back to school, and let the others know I’m in charge now. Then I’m going to undo the little torture rewards program you set up at school, and give each of those bulls the chance to develop real strength, none of your BS shortcuts.”

A thrill of satisfaction ran through Ben as he watched Stephen’s eyes widen, and his breath began to catch. “Oh yes, I know about those steroids. And you can bet I’ll be letting the principle know, too. You’re either going to be expelled or severely demoted. And unlike the others, we’re going to make sure to keep you that way for a long time to come. What’s the old saying? Karma’s a bitch, if memory serves. You’re about to find out just how true that sentence is. Stay down, if you know what’s good for you, Stephen. You lost.”

Ben reached down to his belt, and pressed the stone on the front buckle. “You there, Sir?” he asked.

“Reading you loud and clear, Ben. You calm those troublemakers?”

“With ease, Sir. One of them’s been, hurt, though. Would you mind calling an ambulance?”

“I believe that can be arranged.” Omni’s voice chuckled over the line. “Nicely handled. A little rough, in my opinion, but you have the right to pull your own style of enforcement. Just a warning, though, Benjamin. I let you do what you will, but you will have to face whatever consequences arise from your actions. If a legal suit comes from this, I can’t guarantee protection.”

Ben laughed. “Please. Stephen’s too proud. If he takes me to court, every bull in the county will know the fact I beat him and his two flunkies without breaking a sweat. His reputation will be ruined.” He casually thrust an elbow backwards to smash into the red angus’ nose, causing a gush of blood to follow as Stephen fell back onto his rear, and snapped his tail on the ground. Ben shook his head, and clicked his tongue chidingly. “Some of them just won’t learn.”

“I can’t say I don’t feel a little pleasure at seeing a bully get his just deserts, but next time, do try to keep it less physical, won’t you?”

“I can’t exactly make any promises there, Sir.” Ben laughed, and he could imagine the smile pulling back on the kitsune’s face as he listened in.

“No, I suppose you can’t, can you? Just make sure to remember where you came from. I’d rather not see you become the very thing you just defeated.”

“Understood, Sir. Would you mind getting Rob and Bert back home? I can deal with them when school starts tomorrow.”

“My pleasure, Ben. Welcome to Omnistore, a branch of Real Change Incorporated. Consider this a sign-on bonus.”

Ben snorted as a surge of pleasure ran through his body, and he felt a swelling in his crotch as a tsunami of hormones washed over him. So distracted was he by the sensation that he hardly noticed or cared as he straightened his back, and struck a smart salute. “It’s a pleasure to serve, Sir.”

Omni chuckled. “Oh, believe me, I know. Keep up the good work, and I might give you a few extra bonuses from time to time.”

Ben let out a dominant grunt, followed by a heavy snort, a flex, and a dazed smile. “Looking forward to it, Sir. Taurus out.”

[1] National Anthropomorphic Football League - Since humans are often at a distinct disadvantage when facing off against anthros, a separate league was created specifically for the anthropomorphic community to participate in the sport. While the NFL is still popular, the NAFL draws the greater fan base, thanks to the enhanced abilities the animal traits of the players grant. This league allows new ways to play within the traditional rules of the game that both surprise and excite the fanbase. Likewise, competitive leagues for anthros were established in other sports as well.

Boy, looks like nose rings are risky business!  @rubberskunkadditionally made this little bull guy into a big grump, and I came in with the colors.

Clocking Out

Manny sighed as he input the last data from the computer for today’s sales. The department store was finally ready to close down. The long haul was over, and boy did he feel its effects. Still, they’d come out with a good profit this week, and the boss paid him well for his computing skills. Having a photographic memory certainly helped. That, and his model build. Men and women alike took one look at his garb and asked for fashion advice. Whether to flirt or out of a legitimate desire to improve their appearance, Manny didn’t know. He didn’t really care either. All that mattered was the bottom line. So what if someone wanted to flirt with him? He checked his watch. Ten minutes under time. It was a new record. He smiled as his vascular arms bunched and tensed with each fluid step he took toward the alarm system. A rectangular impression sat on the lower corner of the interface. He strode forward and jutted his left pectoral at the slot, clicking the black-and-silver badge neatly into place. He really had no idea why the company thought it was such a good idea to stick a key card in a place so-- A jolt passed through his system as his eyes went blank. “Unit 001 clocking out,” he said in a low monotone. Flickers of light emanated from the point of connection as he stood perfectly still and waited. Finally, the system let out a loud chirp and 001 disengaged. Its data port flickered as it processed its new instructions. 001 strode purposefully to the back room, where extra mannequins and stock were stored. An empty woman’s torso stood just a few feet to his side as he shoved one hand artfully into his left pocket. The face of the watch he wore on his wrist glinted in the blaring lights.He tilted his head and rested a hand on top, as if he were about to scratch. His biceps popped as the green shirt clung tightly to his frame. The sheen had grown brighter on his face as he stared into a mirror and watched his hair retract into his skull.The veins along his arms depressed as skin became pale and glossy. The softer appearance of his pectorals firmed and pushed out against the top of the shirt, while the lower end of his torso expanded to hug neatly against the sides of his shirt and show off a chiseled six pack. And chiseled was becoming more accurate by the moment. Keen features became less and less distinct as eyelids merged with eyes and color faded to reveal little more than slight depressions against an amorphous face. A few seconds later, even those were gone, and a smooth ovular shape with more defined curves to simulate a jaw line were all that remained of the former employee. The other mannequin jerked to life, strolling over with creaking joints. It lifted the shirt on 001 and tapped its back. A panel popped open and it pulled to reveal a charging cable. It strode to the nearest outlet and plugged 001 in, then resumed its position.The store owner smiled as he looked through the security feeds to watch the robot as it dropped its persona and resumed its true function. “All right, I’m convinced,” he said to a shadowy counterpart. “How much?” White teeth bore themselves in a grin. “Let’s discuss that....”

@davidphysique_

Big Dick's Cock Emporium

(I know long time no post, but I missed it so I’m back haha)

I had been hired by a company called Big Dick’s and I thought it was a guys name.  Little did I know that it was a company for augmenting guy’s cocks using other guys as the material.  This bear paid for me to be his cock and to make it larger. They brought both of us into a room and after I signed the contract, they injected me with a strange substance.  It made me instantly get hard and my asshole became extremely loose.  This guy pulled out his little cock and rubbed it until it got hard.  He then proceeded to fuck me.  I was shocked at how good it felt.  I wasn’t gay but I could see why gay guys liked this. But something felt…off.  The more he fucked me the less he was pulling out.  And then, I felt a pulling sensation on my skin. It started to get weird.  My legs went numb and I couldn’t move them.  My skin on them started getting wrinkly and grew curly hairs on them.  I could feel something round moving in them.  I started to cough up a salty, sweet gooey liquid which collected on my chin and started to run down my chest.  My back started to arch to the side and my head started looking straight up.  I felt a weird skin growing under my neck.  It started to cover my face as it got harder to see.  It’s like some pink sheets were pulled over my face as my mouth felt like it had moved sideways. The man had been rubbing me the whole time but suddenly it felt like he was just grasping me.  Then, I realized.  He was turning me into his cock.  I heard the guy at the company telling him he needed to stop.  I wasn’t allowed to ejaculate.  But he kept stroking me faster.  I felt shivers all over my new cock body as I felt myself tense up and a gooey liquid shot out of my new piss slit. After that, it got hard to think about anything but piss, cum and pre-cum.  I actually like being a cock.  The process doesn’t erase you completely.  I can still feel and think but no one can talk to me or hear me.  My host got me a Prince Albert which hurt at first but now feels amazing.  For some reason, I love being a cock.  Join me!

Booted

I didn't think that I would get the most itchy and wiggly speedos when we agreed with the guys about our deal.. Damn. It sucks that I can't talk to them. These merge speedos are of course very comfortable .... I would even say too comfortable.... but their wiggles makes me hard again. Okay... Seems like I need to blow some steam in toilet or sauna and add one more cumstain to them.

Red: - Hank! We didn't agree that you would wear us 24/7 during this month. We tried very hard to merge ourselves into your snug, nice and comfortable pair, and we are glad that you appreciated it, but we have our own plans and our own lives. Can you hear me?? You must turn back all three of us to human form every day. We can't be your swimsuit every day. Please! That's why we are wiggling. This is only way to get your attention. I can't hold anymore, please don't cum on us again!

White: I don't know why are you so angry to our wearer, Red. You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to be one-third of your master's racing swimsuit. Being a swimsuit is not only about showing off during training and racing. It also helps him in such things as being underwear, cocksleeve and cumrag. I love our new life and don't want to turn back.

Cyan: It seems to me that Red is indignant because he gets most of all the liquids from the owner. We are on the sides, White, that's why we are almost anytime clean and freshy. How I wish I could trade places with Red! I don't want to miss all fun. Maybe we should merge completely into one being? Our owner is a nice person who take care of us everytime.

Twenty minutes later, Hank came out of the closet. He straightened his cock through his swimming trunks, made sure that the new stain was not visible from the outside and went towards the pool. He fucking loved this pair and was thinking about leaving it at the end of the month. It's more useful than three worthless friends..

I found your friends turns out they were in the bottem of my dirty clothes hamper the whole time, serves me right for transforming while drunk but its been over a week now so i can't turn them back. You can keep them if you want otherwise I'm just going to add them back into rotation with my other socks.

"How the hell did you undo the transformation" Adam asked as you tried to get your now restored body to move. Months of being trapped as his slide had made it espicaly hard, your body no longer use to being able to move on its own, it haveing become accustom to all movement comeing from being attached to Adam's foot.

"I'm surprised you you still have some fight left in you" he said smerking as he walked closer towards your prone body.

Looking up from your back you watched helpless as he held his socked foot high above you, the worn sock looked alot worse in then it did a few month's ago now haveing the clear outline of Adam's foot imprinted in its fibers.

"Your not going to abandon your friend's are you, after all the time you have spent together" he said wriggleing his thick toes inside the trasformed sock that had once been your best friend.

"All four of you need to accept that you belong too my feet now, no more of this tranforming when my back is turned" he smiled and started to lower his socked foot towards you, it slowly filling your vision as your body started to surge with transformation energy.

"That's it don't fight it, accept what you we're allways meant to be"

You knew Adam was right, it was so hard to keep fighting it and you had used up so much strength transforming back into a human, it would be a lot less tireing if you just let go.....

Adam watched happly as you shrunk back down to match his size 12 feet, your body shifting under his as his socked foot pressed down on top of you, filling your mind with the familiar sensation of being worn.

"That's it allmost done" Adam said as your arms wrapped permanently around his foot in a tight embrace as a nike logo emerged from the fusion of former limbs.

"Their we go nice and snugg right where your belong" he said shifting his emence weight forward through your body and into the hard unforgiving ground below, silencing whatever complex thoughts we're left in your mind, your only desire to protect and cushion his feet forever.

You sure its been over two weeks now and you are getting stupider each time i wear you and you went that bright to begin with. Who knew absorbing all the manly workout sweat would melt your brain down into a submissive mess so easily.  

<Mmmmmmm>

I can’t wait to turn you back and see how much of a sub ive turned you into.

Four Game Penalty

Gronk stretched out his long legs, something he normally couldn't do in taxis. He was surprised that his ride from the airport wasn't the car service they usually used, but he was actually loving the ride. The car was swankier than what he was used to, almost limo-style with all leather-interiors, tons of room (important for a guy his size, who wasn't accustomed to being comfortable in most public places) and a mini-fridge full of pricy-looking mineral water. He sipped from one of the fancy blue bottles and made eye contact with the driver. Gronk wasn't the kind of celebrity who needed the divider up; he was a man of the people, and he went out of his way to be good to his fans. Plus, something about the driver made him feel even more at ease. He had on mirrored shades and a nice tux, gripped the wheel with gloved hands; maybe that was it. He kind of had a nice smell too. That was a weird thought, Gronk reflected, but it was true. Whatever the guy had on for cologne, it made Gronk's head feel good. At a red light the driver made eye contact with him that lasted more than a second. Somebody behind them honked--he missed the green by a few seconds--and Gronk chuckled to himself. "You a fan?" Gronk said, leaning forward. "Uh, why yes..." the driver said shyly, "very much. I am a great admirer." He had a weird accent that Gronk couldn't place. "Great to meet you," Gronk said, extending a hand across the partition. "Vidrak," the driver introduced himself with the handshake. "I have noticed you and your team have had an exciting year. One of triumph, but sadly one of controversy too." Gronk chuckled, rolled his eyes and leaned back in his seat, hands folded behind his head. "Yeah, well, you can see all that bullshit all over the news twenty-four seven--everybody dragging Tom's name through the mud. I'm kinda done talking about all that stuff." But after a beat, Gronk did talk about that stuff: "Thing is, whether or not Tom did anything--which they can't prove--how can anybody tell me that punching your wife in an elevator is worth less of a penalty than deflating a goddamned football?" "True," Vidrak said. "It must be difficult to watch your leader go through such hardship." "Y'know, honestly, I wish I could take the punishment for him," Gronk said. The air felt weird for a second, charged, like a shag carpet in the winter. "Truly?" Vidrak said, staring at Gronk now, eyes off the road. "Yeah, man, absolutely. That just goes to show what kind of guy Tom is, how his teammates all feel about him. It's just a damned shame. I just wish the punishment fit the crime, you know?" "Certainly," Vidrak said as they pulled up to Gronk's hotel room. This time something was definitely up--Gronk's skin felt tingly, his hair real sensitive. He felt a sharp sting, like a spark, in his right buttcheek, but it faded pretty quickly. "Yo, Vidrak, I think there's something up with your A/C or something, pal. Might want to get it checked out." "Certainly, Mr. Gronkowski. I apologize if your ride wasn't satisfactory." "Oh, the ride was great," Gronk replied. "Thanks for everything." Vidrak bowed his head, his sunglasses sliding down his nose slightly, and Gronk got a look at his eyes for the first time. They were weird--kinda shiny, like a dragonfly's wing, and they looked almost purple. They shook hands again and Gronk headed into the hotel. Up in the room, Gronk stripped down to his boxer-briefs, clicking on the TV: ESPNews. His first impulse was to change the channel to avoid more nauseating coverage of the Tom Brady scandal, but he was surprised that for once, they weren't ripping it to pieces. He grabbed a beer from the hotel mini-fridge and relaxed his big frame on the couch. Twenty minutes passed and, for once since the Deflategate scandal had started, he could actually watch ESPN without his blood pressure firing up. "Hunh," Gronk said, finishing his beer. "Maybe they've finally gotten the fuck over it." In the shower, he lathered up his muscles and his big dick. The sting in his right buttcheek came back suddenly, and he reached down to rub it. He was shocked when his fingers found a little bump. He poked at it, wondering if it was a zit or something, but when he looked down he saw what looked like a little black stem sticking out of his ass. "...the fuck?!" he mumbled, trying to grip whatever it was and pull it out. But it wouldn't budge. He twisted around to get a good look at it and saw that it was a quarter-inch long and looked like it was made of plastic--and it seemed to be embedded in his skin! His fingers twisted it and it came off like it had been threaded on. It almost reminded him of a tire valve stem. And when it came off, he was shocked by a blast of pressurized air escaping from the tube underneath--the tube coming out of his own ass! After the shock, Gronk was overcome by a wave of dizziness. He leaned against the side of the shower, trying to clear his head, listening to the loud hiss of the air escaping behind him. He felt sick inside and he ached from top to bottom, down to his bones, but he was Rob Gronkowski. No matter how bad he felt he could ignore it, ignore the prickly feeling crawling across his skin, and take charge of the situation. Whatever it was, the escaping air had to be stopped, so Gronk jammed the little black cap back on and twisted it until the sound ended. It took him a few minutes after the sound had stopped to feel like himself again. He shut off the water and stepped out of the tub as his head started to clear. He was shocked at what he saw. First of all, everything in the bathroom looked HUGE. His head only barely cleared the sink, and the shower behind him looked twice as huge as when he'd first gotten into it. The angle of the showerhead pointed way above the top of his head now! He could only see his face in the mirror, and while it looked vaguely like him, it looked so much smaller, without his solid jaw and chiseled features, like an underfed cousin. His knees got weak as he looked down at himself and saw that his body had practically shriveled up. All of his muscles were gone! His body was thin--scrawny, even--and he'd lost all of his mass. He had to sit down. Gronk stumbled to the toilet and sat on it, overwhelmed by the fact that his feet didn't touch the ground anymore. He had to be about five feet tall now, if that, and he looked like his weight was cut in half. He wasn't even this small when he was a kid; maybe when he was a really little kid, but he'd been the biggest since middle school! And still, that little valve stem stuck out of his behind like it was now a part of him. It took a few minutes to work it all out: all that air was escaping from inside him, and now he was small... Like he'd been deflated. Deflategate wasn't in the news. He wondered if it was even a thing at all anymore. His mind flashed back to the shiny purple eyes of Vidrak, and the things he'd willing said to the strange man: he'd wished he could take the penalty, wished the punishment fit the crime. "I'm gonna be deflated for four games?" he asked out loud, his gut clenching as he realized that this seemed to be exactly what had happened. He wasn't used to feeling panicked, feeling unsure of himself, but he was wallowing in those feelings now. But that was bullshit. He may have been smaller, but he was still Gronk. He could figure this out. He just had to take control, be proactive. He may have been a fraction of his former self but he could still man up enough to get out of this! He hopped off the toilet and grabbed his boxer-briefs. It was like a punch in the gut when he pulled them up and realized how absurdly huge they were compared to his tiny body now. None of his clothes would fit him anymore. They were all sized for somebody twice his current size! Hanging from the door was a hotel-issue bathrobe. It was sized for an average person, and while it would've barely covered his old body, it would fit him now. (Actually, it was a little long. He kept tripping over it.) Out in the hotel room he picked up his phone. Who could he call? His mom? Tom? Belicheck? And tell them what? Some fucked up genie granted his wish and now he was a skinny midget for the first four games of the season? A knock at the door shocked him. (Why was he so damned jumpy now? "Get it together, Gronk!" he thought to himself.) "Mr. Gronkowski? I'm Roger, I'm the hotel manager. I've got some complimentary gifts to help you enjoy your stay." Gronk heard the click of the door-lock engaging and saw the door swinging open. He sprinted to it and slammed it shut. It was way more of a struggle to push against a casually entering average guy than he would ever be okay with. "I'm good!" Gronk said, shocked at how high-pitched his voice now was. He cleared his throat and tried to speak deeper, but his vocal cords must have deflated too. "I'm all set! Just not feeling great. Come back later!" Then it occurred to him: if he could be deflated... couldn't he be inflated too? He had an idea. He tied the belt on his robe as tightly as he could, grabbed his wallet, and cautiously peered out his door, careful to escape the hotel without running into anybody. On the street, he got a couple looks--after all, he was wearing a white bathrobe--but most people just walked by, their lines-of-sight several inches above the top of little Gronk's head. Catching a cab was nearly impossible. He wasn't used to being ignored like this! At the hardware store, he grabbed an air compressor and stood in line. It felt terrible to be invisible in public like this, barely acknowledged by people he was used to admiring and adoring him, but another part of him was actually thankful nobody recognized him. He'd be the laughing stock of the NFL if the public found out that big Rob Gronkowski had shrunk to a five-foot-nothing pipsqueak. Luckily the cashier ignored the name on his credit card. Behind him, he was noticed a young guy wearing a Patriots jersey, number 87. Gronk's eyes were at the young guy's waist. Finally back at the hotel, Gronk set up the compressor in the bathroom. It cranked on with a load roar and he carefully twisted off the cap to his creepy new valve stem and plugged the compressor into it. After a moment, he felt something. His skin tingled all over again but it didn't hurt like before. It actually felt good. He watched in the mirror as his head slowly started to rise. He ran his hands over his body as his muscles filled back out again, thankful to watch his arms blow back up and his abs knot across his stomach. After about ten minutes, he was back at his normal size, happy to recognize himself in the mirror again. "Yeah Gronk!" he said, relieved to hear his voice was back to its familiar octave. He went to unhook the compressor, but then paused for a moment. His muscles were still filling, his limbs still getting longer. With a sly grin he realized that maybe he could take this freaky situation and make it work for him. He kept blowing up, growing past his old height of 6'6" by just an inch, then a few inches. His muscles kept filling out too--soon he was a massive seven foot tall beast! He flexed his new cannons, felt up his gigantic body. He looked like a pale Hulk now, but still with his sexy Gronk face on a much blockier head. He had to weigh about 350 now--no, maybe even 400! He was going to dominate the NFL, one-handing guys out of his way with ease. As his head approached the ceiling, he estimated his new height about 7'2" tall, and figured that much more would be overkill. He reached for the cap to his valve stem with his new thick, over-muscled hands, but he couldn't pinch it between his fingers. They were too big. He tried to pick it up with the pinkies from each hand, but he just sort of rolled it around the sink. "Damn," he said, surprised by the deep bovine roar of his voice at this size. "Guess I gotta let a little air out first." He yanked the hose out of his ass, but he was surprised when the escaping air, ten times more intense than the first time, blew him forward, into the sink. He watched with horror as the little black cap circled around and around the sink and then went down the drain with a gentle plunk. Panicking, he pawed at the hole, unable to get even his pinky down the little hole. "Maybe if I get a little smaller," he thought anxiously, but something was different this time. The air was blasting furiously out of him now, but instead of shrinking, like he had before, his hands start to flatten out. In the mirror he watched, helplessly, as his face started to slowly collapse in on itself like a soda can. His legs felt like warm noodles and he found himself sinking to the floor. He flailed, but it was like he no longer had bones. His arms smooshed against the sides of the sink as he tried to grab hold of something. No matter how he struggled, he still ended up collapsing against the floor, pooling into a flattened out pile, like he was skin-colored rubber in the shape of Rob Gronkowski. He tried to yell for help but his voice was just a high-pitched squeak. Then the sound of the escaping air stopped and he found himself staring blankly up at the ceiling, unable to move an inch or make a sound. The compressor continued to roar as the hose swung back in forth, just a couple feet away from Gronk's valve stem, and there was nothing he could do to bridge that distance. "Housekeeping!" asked the maid as she stepped cautiously into the room. There was something loud, a buzzing machine in the bathroom, but after a few calls it didn't seem that anyone was home. She tiptoed quietly in, then went to the bathroom to investigate the strange noise. Someone had left one of those machines you use to fill bike tires running, hissing as it sprayed air at nothing. Why would anyone bring something like that to a hotel bathroom? Even more shocking was a pile of tan rubber gathered in a wrinkled pile on the floor. When she examined it further she saw it had a surprisingly realistic face--two eyes staring blankly out, a mouth frozen in an O of surprise--painted on it. She knew a celebrity was renting the room, some famous athlete, and she'd always heard that rich people did strange things with their money. Who was she to judge this guy for having a blow-up doll? On the floor Gronk screamed silently, thankful that someone had finally come in after what had seemed like an eternity trapped motionless on the floor. "Just inflate me again!" he thought, wishing there was some way to move or make a sound to let her know that he was a person... he was Gronk! He wasn't a thing! But Gronk's hopes sank as the housekeeper shut off the compressor and unplugged it, coiling up the hose. Then she reached down and picked him up, holding him in front of her face. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror--a life-sized, completely deflated rubber Gronk doll. Then she began took him by the top of his head and started rolling him up. The sensation was maddening. Even though he was completely deflated and hollow, every inch of him was incredibly sensitive, and the feeling of being coiled into a tube of himself threatened to overload his mind. "No!" he thought. "I'm a man! I'm Gronk! I'm Gronk!" But as she rolled his eyes and ears up, he couldn't see or hear so well anymore. He felt himself being carried, then set on some flat surface. No matter how hard his mind screamed, he was completely helpless. It was going to be a very long four games.

Troy’s Ex

[send me pics! cast this story!]

Troy hurried to finish the one drink he’d agreed to have with his ex, Barry, after which he planned on cutting off communication for good. He glanced down, unable to face Barry’s intense grey eyes which had been fixated on him, sizing him up, since he’d walked through the door. Barry motioned toward the bartender, snapping him out of his glass-polishing trance.

“We’ll have another round,” Barry said.

Troy shook his head. “Honestly, I really can only have the one.”

“But we’ve barely talked. I want to hear all about your life since we parted ways.”

“I really have to get going before Dylan starts to worry,” Troy said. He focused on the ice cubes clinking around in the bottom of his glass, afraid to see the look on Barry’s face when he mentioned his new boyfriend.

“Ah, yes,” Barry said, leaning in, his voice getting low. “The new boyfriend. I saw him in your Facebook pictures. He’s quite a large man, a weightlifter or something, right?”

“Powerlifter,” Troy said, clearing his throat, “and he owns his own--”

“I told you, when we were together,” Barry said, turning Troy to face him with one finger, “that I loved you, and also that when I love something, it is forever. Is that not true?”

Troy was silent. His stomach was clenched so tightly he had started to shake. Barry was a slight man, much smaller than Troy, but there was a gravity to him that Troy couldn’t ever face. He struggled to find the words to tell Barry what he’d come here to say, but he lacked the courage to speak them.

“When I let you go,” Barry said, yanking the empty glass from Troy’s hand and replacing it with the fresh Tito’s and Cran the bartender had poured, “it was to let you know how empty your life was without me. I know you know it, and this little charade with your big muscleman… You can’t even maintain it. Once a month I get lonely messages from you late at night, knocks on my door followed by sex that I’m sure you’ve never told your big gorilla about…”

“All that’s over,” Troy blurted out. “I came to let you know I couldn’t do it anymore. I want a life with Dylan. It’s nice and normal and… I don’t love you anymore.” Troy tried to still his shivering lip.

Barry leaned back on his barstool and gently stroked his chin, a look of smug certainty on his face. “If you want freedom to go play house with your big muscle toy,” he said, flicking his eyebrows, “you’ll have to buy it from me. There is a hotel around the corner. You spend one hour with me and I will grant you the freedom you claim you want so badly.”

“But… it’s Dylan’s birthday. I have to be home…” Troy’s voice was half the volume he’d wanted, and it cracked a little at the end. He’d never had power in front of Barry, and certainly didn’t now. “And I promised myself I wouldn’t do that anymore.”

Barry exhaled loudly. “This is your final chance; text that oversized child and tell him you’re going to be late, then spend your final evening with me, or… I will have to go to further lengths to prove that you belong to me. You know what I am capable of.”

Troy shivered. During his time with Barry he’d witnessed things he’d never dreamt of, things that made him question everything he’d believed. Why had he agreed to come see Barry again? Why hadn’t he just ended things over the phone?

Troy’s phone vibrated on the bar. Dylan’s name popped up: “Where u at babe?”

Barry clucked his ton. “Time’s up. I’m rescinding the offer. You made your choice.”

Troy waited for the other shoe to drop. “But… what does that mean?”

“It means go home to your little domestic charade. I can’t stand to look at you for the moment.”

Troy hated how this had gone but he jumped on his chance to get out. At the door, he turned to say goodbye, then changed his mind.

“For the moment!” emphasized Barry, who turned his back.

Troy headed out the door. He drove blindly, desperate to put distance between himself and his ex. After he was sure he was safe (although he never felt truly out of Barry’s presence) he sat down and tried to calm his racing heart. He texted Dylan to tell him he’d be right home, throwing three hearts at the end for good measure.

Troy could smell Dylan as soon as he walked in the door. His boyfriend had no doubt just returned from the gym, his body throwing off clouds of sweat and male hormones. He breathed in the delicious musk, thankful to be safely home again. “You home babe?”

“In here,” Dylan growled from their bedroom. “I found your birthday gift. Couldn’t wait to open it. I tried it on.”

At that, Troy hurried to the door and threw it open. Dylan stood proudly in front of their friend, the dense muscles of his torso squeezed sensually by the harness Troy had bought him. Dylan was 6’5” and nearly 300 dense pounds, covered in hair with a huge burly beard Troy loved to grab handfuls of while Dylan fucked him. Just the sight of him there, unshowered, muscles full and wrapped exquisitely in bands of leather, made Troy weak in the knees. His body was bloated from the massive weights he’d just deadlifted, his impossibly wide and rippling back flowing up into traps that swallowed his neck, legs so thick he had to waddle, thick arms bulging as he crossed them across the shelf of his chest over his firm keg-belly.

“Get over here,” Dylan ordered, and Troy was naked three steps later. He leapt at his lover, who easily hoisted him up and latched on for a kiss as Troy wrapped his legs around him, humping emphatically as he kissed with anxious desperation. Dylan turned around and tossed Troy, who had a larger-than-average gym-built body but was barely a wisp next to Dylan’s bulk, down on the bed.

Dylan was on top of him in a moment, pinning him in the bed, flicking his tongue and using his beard to tease and tickle. Troy felt all 300 pounds on top of him, felt surrounded by his lover’s mass, breathed nothing but his smell, and felt lost in ecstasy, overwhelmed by the moment.

He didn’t even hear the bedroom door open.

“Stop right there, my large fellow,” said a voice that tore Troy from his rapture. It couldn’t be, he thought--Barry wouldn’t come to their house, would he? Yanked from his lusty haze, Troy panicked, reassured only slightly by the idea that his gigantic boyfriend was there to keep them both safe.

But Dylan’s gaze was blank and frozen, his face locked from the moment Barry had spoken. He didn’t seem to be breathing; the thumping heartbeat Troy had felt pounding against him moments before had ceased.

“The metaphor’s a little on the nose,” Barry said, “but it seems you’ve gotten yourself trapped by this excessively large human being.”

Troy couldn’t move an inch; Dylan was frozen, and because of that, Troy was pinned to the bed, unable to wriggle at all. He felt claustrophobic, and worse, he had no idea what else Barry had in store for him. He felt even more helpless that he couldn’t even see Barry; all he could see was Dylan’s hauntingly time-stopped face.

“In case you’re wondering, it’s the harness,” Barry said. Troy could hear his footsteps pacing in half-circles around the bed. “Before our little get-together today I made a stop by here to take a look at this life you made. A few runes carved into this sexy little leather number you got for the big lug, plus an anointing with some oils, and now your beloved is completely in my power.”

“Please, Barry,” Troy begged. “Please leave him alone. I’ll do anything, I promise.”

“You’ll do anything anyway,” Barry said. “You’re mine. You always have been. And now I’ve claimed this elephantine lad as well. He certainly is impressive, if you were a big game hunter.” Troy heard the clap of Barry’s hand slapping Dylan’s massive glutes. “So much unnecessary muscle mass. Must cost a fortune to feed him. And all so he can lift heavy things for a living. You can’t love someone like this. He’s nothing more than an over-sized sex-doll to you.”

Troy felt a moment of relief as Dylan’s mass seemed to move again; it was replaced again by fear as he saw Dylan’s live-again face suddenly contort into a look of pure surprise, his mouth in a cartoonish ‘O.’ Dylan’s weight seemed to fade as the sound of expanding rubber filled the air. Warm flesh was replaced by cold plastic, facial features and nipples and hair and the harness all suddenly became painted-on decorations, Dylan’s mouth now a vacant circular crevice. Dylan’s weight was almost entirely gone, but any feeling of freedom was overwhelmed by the sight of his boyfriend turning into an unliving thing.

With one hand Barry grabbed the Dylan-doll by the shoulder and tossed it at the wall. It floated awkwardly, barely making noise as it bounced off the wall and across the floor. “Not quite as intimidating as he was before I got here, is he?” Barry said, his arms crossed. He stood up the inflatable giant; it was still over a foot taller than him. He bopped it in its face with a playful fist, laughing as it flopped away like it was nothing.

Troy lay on the bed, afraid to move. He had no idea how to debate with his ex, how to get him to turn Dylan back into flesh, and he knew the wrong word would only make things worse.

“Look at this!” Barry said, pointing at the large sex toy’s backside. It was still round and ample as it had been as flesh, but now a bit blockier in shape and lined with crinkly seams. In its center was a port identical to the mouth-hole. Barry playfully fingered it, Then his hands wandered over to the cartoonishly shaped phallis on the front, giving it a few wags, then up to the waist where he thumbed the air-nozzle that had sprouted there. “Again with the spot-on metaphors, but your boyfriend really is nothing more than a lot of air. Suppose I let it all out, rolled him up and set him in a closet. He can still see, hear and feel, you know. All of this plastic ‘skin’ is now tremendously sensitive.” He stroked the inflated “cock” a few more times. “Goodness that must be overwhelming.”

“Barry, turn him back,” Troy begged. The bedroom door was still open; for a moment, knowing what Barry was capable of, he considered making a run for it, but there was no way he could leave Dylan to whatever Barry had in mind.

“You have always lacked imagination and whimsy,” Barry said, setting the Dylan doll upright and leaning it against the wall. “All right, let him be flesh again.” The plastic’s odd skin-tone darkened back into Dylan’s tan, his beard and harness emerging from the plastic as the humanesque shape resolidified into the powerlifter’s massive bulk. He breathed again in one desperate gasp and grabbed the wall to hold himself from collapsing. His chest heaved and his eyes looked around in shock.

“Oh my God, thank you,” Troy said. He ran to Dylan, throwing his arms around him.

“Hold him there, big man,” Barry said, and Dylan’s loving embrace suddenly tightened, his hands clasping tight around Troy’s arms.

“The fuck are you doing?” Dylan said. “Babe, I… I can’t move!” Troy was trapped in his lover’s hold.

“Of course you can,” Barry said as he approached them. “But only when I say, as I say.” Something cold and metal clicked around Troy’s neck. “There we are. Now that you’re collared, I don’t have to worry about you trying to run. And just so you know, my large friend, he considered it for a moment there, almost left you there with me too.”

“Shut your fucking mouth!” Dylan shouted.

“No, you shut yours!” Barry said. Dylan’s teeth clacked shut, his lips squeezed together. His face contorted but his mouth remained close, muffling him and preventing him to do anything other than groan. It sounded like he was wearing a ball-gag. Troy sobbed into his lover’s huge heaving chest, full of regret.

“Let Troy go,” Barry commanded, and Dylan did so. “Now, Troy, you remember that collar, don’t you? Go sit on the bed like a good boy while I deal with this big beast here.” Troy felt a familiar tingle spread across his chin as his body operated on its own. Before he realized it was sitting on the bed, hands crossed on his lap.

“Now,” Barry said, “big fellow, you can speak only in response to my questions and only in pure honesty. Do you know who I am?”

Dylan’s lips came apart: “You’re Troy’s abusive piece-of-shit ex-boyfriend, you looney motherfucker!” Then his mouth closed again. His eyes scanned the room nervously, the only piece of him able to move. Troy whimpered.

“And do you know how many times your beloved has made love to me since you the two of you have been together?”

“None?” Dylan said. He didn’t sound sure, and Barry’s smile grew slowly.

“Troy, tell Dylan the correct answer,” Barry commanded.

“Seven times,” Troy said. “Babe, I’m sorry. I can’t… I can’t do anything…”

“What do you say now, of your precious Troy, hmm? What do you want to do now that you know the truth?” Barry taunted.

“I want… I want to smash your scrawny little ass… and sweep the pieces out the front door…” Dylan said resolutely, sneering when he again lost the ability to speak.

“How loyal. Like a dog, aren’t you?”

Then Dylan barked. He looked surprised that he had done it, seemed to struggle against barking again, but failed. “Roof! Roof-roof-rooooo!” He growled through gritted teeth. Barry snickered.

“That’s exactly what you’ll be to me, big fellow. My pet dog. He’ll be a nice pet, won’t he Troy?”

“No, Barry, you can’t,” Troy protested.

Barry inspected Dylan’s huge frame, tracing a finger idly along Dylan’s huge solid gut, over the bulges in his huge arms, down the cleavage between his meaty pecs, along the length of the six flaccid inches hanging between his legs atop two lemon-sized balls. “You’re right, I certainly can’t keep an animal this size. No, I’ve always preferred my dogs to be lap-sized.”

A gentle slurping sound, like the end of a milkshake, filled the air. Dylan’s big body began to slowly compress, his muscles reversing development as his size began to evaporate from his frame. His eyes went their widest then as the room seemed to grow around him and he was overwhelmed by a mindblowing sensation. All of the hair on his body seemed to retract into little wisps and then nothing, his beard the last to go. Troy kept expecting it to stop, but still Dylan lost size, his harnessing remaining tight to his frame as it dwindled, until he was barely four feet tall, his body a narrow wisp of pale flesh. His huge swinging dick was now a little nub, a little slip of nearly empty scrotum clinging tightly underneath.

“Much better,” Barry said, looking down on the man who’d towered over him before. “Now we can crate train him. Speak, doggie!” Barry burst into giggles at the high-pitched yelps that came from the reduced little man.

Dylan looked terrified, both at the helium nature of his voice and at his own helplessness, now by far the tiniest man in the room (a feeling he’d practically never had in his life).

“I’m guessing,” Barry said, licking his lips, “that you’ve always been on the receiving end of this gargantuan man’s sex, am I correct?” Barry reached up and stroked Dylan behind the head. Dylan leaned into the touch and whimpered, and seemed surprised to be doing so. “And I’m sure nobody has ever been man enough to top this big old beast, am I right?”

Barry merely motioned--that was all it took--and Troy’s body, operating on its own, got to its feet. Meanwhile, Dylan fell forward to all fours, arching his back and looking behind him with wide, worried eyes. Barry snapped his fingers and Troy’s dick was instantly rock hard, and he thrust into what was left of his giant boyfriend without any lube or restraint.

Barry sat back and watched as Troy pounded on the tiny man his boyfriend had become. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t protest, but the worst part of it all was… he loved it. His entire body was rocked by waves of pleasure with each thrust, and from the little Dylan’s wild-eyed glaze and the dollops of drool swinging from his jaw, he was in the same situation.

“You know, watching you right now, I really do see that you were right: you’re not meant to be with me. You’re not my equal. You’re meant for this little lap dog. You’re perfectly matched, and I think you should look the part.”

Troy was only vaguely aware of Barry’s words over his own brain-shattering ecstasy. Sure enough, as Barry commanded, Troy’s body began to reduce too. He never stopped fucking little Dylan as he shrank, his muscles draining away with the same soft slurping sound until he was as short and scrawny as the shrimp he was fucking. Or, that is, trying to fuck: by the end, Troy’s dick had also shrunk to a nearly useless nub, and he rubbed it ineffectively against Dylan’s now-gaping hole, struggling to get the right friction he needed to push him over the edge to his desperately-sought release.

“No, little Troy,” Barry said pulling the two little men apart. Each was now a foot shorter than Barry. Even their combined strength in these tiny forms was nothing to him now. Troy panted, desperate for an orgasm that wasn’t coming. “See, it’s just as I worried. Big Dylan here,” he said, affixing a leash to tiny Dylan’s harness, “walked around convinced of his own power, confused about his role as a powerful top, with you, his bottom, but in reality you’re both a matched pair.” Barry clipped a leash onto Troy’s collar and yanked the two of them toward the door. They followed on all fours. “Two weak little pups is all you are. Now your outsides match your insides, and I assure you, you’ll be happier for it. For as long as I allow you to be, that is.”

Troy looked around at their house as they were led helplessly out the front door. Little Dylan looked back, and licked Troy’s cheek and whimpered. “That’s enough,” Barry said, yanking them apart.

Outside Barry led them to his van in the driveway. He loaded each of the tiny men into a dog crate, clipping them shut. Troy sadly slumped to the floor, listening to Dylan scratch pathetically at the walls of his cage. “Now, Dylan, settle down. If you think this is bad, you have no idea how creative I can get. After we get home and I get you two settled in, you’ll be begging to return to this form.”

Alexey was exactly as the catalog had promised--unbelievably huge and muscular, stuffed into a tight blue shirt, an adorable baby-face crowning the body of a titan. Jim’s heart leapt at the sight of him--Alexey smiled as he approached and offered a beefy hand, but the guy’s unbelievable size was intimidating as hell. Jim, a slight redhead at just over five feet, tried to keep his hands steady as Alexey patted his shoulder--he felt like a child next to this giant!

“We will have fun, I promise,” Alexey carefully pronounced with a thick accent. “What would you like to do first? Walk along ze beach?”

Jim could barely contain his excitement. “Let’s go back to my hotel room!”

Alexey sighed, his huge bulk swelling as he inhaled, then deflating quickly. He looked around anxiously. “I could take my shirt off, we could dance at a bar…”

 “No!” Jim protested. “Hotel room!” Alexey’s size was terrifying but Jim had paid good money for this opportunity.

 Back at the hotel room, Jim poured a glass of champagne while Alexey arranged his things. “So, how did you get like this?”

 “Lots of training and discipline,” Alexey said, puffing up and surveying his wide body from edge to edge.

 “No, I mean…” Jim walked behind Alexey and yanked up the blue shirt to reveal a small metal panel--a small keypad, a dial, and a little screen flashing inscrutable data. “Like this.”

 Alexey signed again. “I… did not understand the contract I was signing.”

 “Well, I’ve read the manual, let’s get this going!” Jim said. “Flex for me!” Jim had a seat and sipped from his glass.

Alexey hit a double biceps pose, then spread his lats. His massive chest stood out like a big meat shelf.

 Jim wasn’t satisfied. “No,” he protested. “Take your shirt off!”

 Alexey was reluctant but did what he was told. He hoisted up his shirt with one hand, needing help from Jim to pull it up over the bulk of his torso (which thrilled Jim to no end). Jim had a seat, breathing deeply from the warm and lightly sweaty garment while Alexey hit some mandatory pose.

“Turn around!” Jim screeched. “Show me your back!”

 Alexey seemed to know where this was going, but obliged anyway. He hit a back double bi, spread his lats wide--but then Jim leapt to his feet and tapped on the keypad above Alexey’s waist. “555 freezes the body, but leaves your head intact, right?”

 Alexey, frozen in place from the neck down, nodded. “Yes.”

 “This is amazing!” Jim said, stripping Alexey naked and taking the time to explore Alexey’s body, his fingers digging into every muscle, probing every inch of the massive Eastern European. “You’re so big... You can get as big as you want now that you had this installed right?” Jim tapped the edge of the keypad with his fingernail--tink tink tink, against the metal.

 “Well… I was very big before it was installed…”

 “But if I remember correctly… 1472, then the star key…” Jim hit the buttons as he said them aloud.

 “Hey, wait, don’t just…” Alexey’s protests fell on deaf ears as the process began: slowly, with the sound of an inflating balloon, Alexey began to rise up, his body remaining proportionate but growing in all directions. No longer afraid of this man who was completely in his power, Jim dropped his pants and starting jerking his dick as he rubbed his hand over the expanding man. Alexey’s face seemed to panic as he rose up and away, seven feet tall, then eight, larger than any human who would ever live, approaching the ceiling with no way of stopping himself.

 “You’re gonna burst through the ceiling!” Jim gasped breathlessly, now straddling Alexey’s inhumanly gigantic leg like it was an unsaddled horse.

 “Yes, I am--please, the reset button…”

 Jim groaned, his whole body went rigid, and he came--just as Alexey’s head touched the ceiling and pressed into it.

 “Okay, okay,” Jim said breathlessly. Let’s take care of this…” He hit the flashing red RESET button and Alexey’s body snapped back to its starting (but still massively muscled) size.

 “Thank you, now please--” Alexey began, still facing away from Jim but struggling to see what was going on behind him.

 “I believe 6-1-1-pound sign causes expansion with no height increase, right?” Jim punched the corresponding code and Alexey’s back immediately started to swell, his arms inflating like tires, his legs spreading apart--mass pouring onto his frame without an inch of height added.

 “Holy shit…” Jim said, sinking to his knees and inspecting the gargantuan ass that was still inflating before him. He dug his face in, tasted its musky depths, licked from top to bottom as Alexey moaned and struggled.

 “Unh… please, be careful… ohhh…” Alexey moaned. Jim could barely hear him from the warmth of Alexey’s ass. Jim emerged and pressed the reset button again. “I guess it wouldn’t be any fun if you got so big your bones started breaking.”

“Yes, please, now… the code to let me move again is--”

 “Y’know, I could shrink you down to the size of my dick, you know. I’d love to see a big guy like you wrestling with my cock like it’s a contender.”

 Alexey’s eyes fell. “Yes, you could.”

 “I’ve studied the whole damned manual, Alexey. I wanted to get my money’s worth. See, I’ve got this interesting little kink… I mean, it’s one thing to fuck you… God, it’s a damned dream come true… but you wanna know what my fantasy is?”

 Alexey’s brow furrowed. He seemed afraid to ask.

“Code 9-9-1-4-9-star,” Jim said confidently. He’d been waiting for this moment. Alexey’s eyes went wide--he had no idea what this setting would do--and his mouth suddenly formed an O-shape. Movement returned to his limbs for just a moment--but then he froze again. His whole body took on a plastic sheen. Suddenly the features of his body lost their details. His face was painted on. He maintained much of his size, but now he had the puffy shape of an inflatable doll.

 Jim fingered the doll’s open mouth hole, played with the same opening between the seams of its blocky rubber ass. “I’ve dreamed of fucking a living blow-up doll for my whole life, Alexey,” he whispered into its drawn-on ear. “Let’s see how many time I have to fuck you before I get it out of my system completely.”

Becoming His Prince Charming

“Look at that adorable face, he’s trying so hard to understand…” Drew thought, his face turning into a slight grin upon his most recent revelation. When Drew first suggested a trip to Disneyland, Michael jumped at the idea to go to the “Happiest Place on Earth” with his boyfriend of three years. However, Michael was completely unaware of the fact that the Drew he was talking to wasn’t his real boyfriend. 

After a few days of exploring the park, the faux Drew finally revealed the fact that Michael’s real boyfriend wasn’t in control of his body anymore. Understandably, Michael’s face contorted and formed a look of confusion as he asked what Drew was speaking about. Both wanting to toy with his new beau and be open and honest, the imposter soon began to detail what had happened in the last month.

Two weeks prior, Michael had been having an interesting couple days at work. Despite only starting about two months ago, there was a sudden whirlwind of drama at his job that was only increasing in intensity every week. Although he was originally flattered by the fact that someone at his workplace had a crush on him, those feelings soon turned sour the longer he was at his job. Originally, there was just office gossip about Noah, the rail-thin blonde nerd that worked in IT. However, those deep puppy dog eyes that his coworker used to give him began to cause intense worry for Michael. He’d come back to his desk after the weekend and find mysterious gift-wrapped packages waiting for him. By the third humongous basket, it was clear that Noah was completely unaware of the fact of Michael’s boyfriend. Both wanting the shifty eyed looks that his other coworkers were giving him to stop and prevent Noah from further embarrassing himself, Michael asked to speak to the dorky man in private to explain the situation. Upon telling him that he was flattered but in a relationship, Michael grew incredibly nervous as the nerd’s face began to grow redder and redder by the second. “You may have him now, but I’ll be with you one day…” Noah ominously said before stomping off in a fit of rage. 

Childishly, Michael had thought that this was the end of the situation, however, this only caused Noah to lash out more. Salacious rumors about Michael and his boyfriend soon began to spread around the water cooler, threatening to harm his reputation in the company. To rant about his annoyance, Michael informed his boyfriend about the creepy co-worker and the trouble he’s been facing at work. While Drew had a calm exterior while talking to his partner, his blood was boiling underneath. He was pissed that his boyfriend had to deal with that creep and that the asshole was attempting to jeopardize his position at the company. Although Michael was ranting in a way of processing and trying to move on from the event, Drew was beginning to figure out a way to remedy this situation and protect his boyfriend.

It didn’t take much searching before Drew was able to find Noah’s social media profiles late that night. With his boyfriend silently sleeping to his side, Drew struck up a conversation with the creep and demanded to meet with him. To his surprise, the nerd immediately agreed and told him where to meet the next day. Growing up, Drew was raised to face his problems head-on, so the thought of speaking directly to the man and telling him to leave his boyfriend alone seemed like the best idea to fix the drama. Unfortunately for Drew, Noah had some more nefarious plans in mind for their meeting.

The next day, Drew headed out to meet with the strange co-worker, although he kept this meeting a secret from his boyfriend. Walking out, he informed Michael that he was going out for a late-night workout at the local gym and quickly headed out. Drew jumped into his car and immediately drove to the designated meeting place. 

Upon his arrival, Drew stepped out of the car and took note of the strange surroundings. Eerily, almost every house on the block was abandoned and surrounded in the pitch black of night due to the lack of any working streetlights. The only source of light came from the house that he was currently parked in front of, with a bright lamp in the window inviting him into the house for the confrontation he demanded. 

Trying not to seem scared, Drew paced towards the front door. However, upon attempting to knock on the door, he was denied the opportunity as a burst of wind forced open the door. Moving into the house, he stared into the living room and caught sight of the blonde-haired frail man waiting for him on the couch.

“Well, hello there” the man said, his thin and frail voice perfectly working with his small frame. Despite the creepiness of the scene, Drew was not fazed by the situation at all. “Hello to you too, you fucking creep” he responded, crossing his arms to try and seem strong on behalf of his boyfriend. However, the man was not intimidated in the slightest, instead chuckling to Drew’s confusion. “Coming in strong huh? It’s no real use though, you’re in my home now. I have the advantage…” the man said with a smile, which caused Drew to ball his hands into fists at the man’s cockiness. “This may be your home, but I have no problem beating your ass in it…” Drew said as he began to move towards the dweeb and teach him a lesson. However, Drew looked down in shock as he found his feet firmly remaining in place despite every attempt to move. Grabbing his legs and attempting to pull them up and away from whatever sticky substance he must have stepped into, Noah chuckled with each failed attempt to grow closer to him.

“Stuck huh? I can’t say I didn’t warn you.. I do have the home field advantage here Drew” Noah responded, which caused Drew to finally stop his struggles for the time being and look up. “What do you mean asshole?” Drew responded, now growing increasingly filled with rage. “This house is enchanted to prevent anyone from hurting me. In fact, I can control everything that happens here today” Noah matter-of-factly stated, causing Drew to look at him in confusion. “That’s the power of magic, dumb ass” Noah continued, chuckling as Drew’s fists clenched once more after hearing his cursing. “As soon as you passed through the threshold of the doorway, you became completely under my control. You’re quite literally my bitch now Drew…”

“Magic isn’t real, that’s just some bullshit used for Disney films and fairytales…” Drew responded, which made Noah jump up to his feet. “Oh really, if magic isn’t real… how can I do this?” Noah said as a devilish smirk spread across his face. As Drew watched the man, his eyes grew wide as the dweeb’s body changed before his eyes. At first, the changes started small, with the nerd gaining several inches of height to now stare eye-level with Drew. As soon as this occurred, Drew gasped in shock as the man’s skin began to quickly change. The pasty pale complexion began to tan before his eyes, growing darker and darker until the man’s skin matched the light brown hue of Drew’s own complexion. 

Upon this change finishing up, the nerd’s body soon began to slightly grow muscular as it gained the same toned muscle that Drew had on his body. He wasn’t incredibly buff, but as the slight arch of a bicep emerged on Noah’s body, Drew understood what was going on. Noah was turning into him!

Underneath the layers of Noah’s clothing, his body was becoming the spitting image of Drew’s. His feet grew longer as he gained Drew’s size 13 feet, with his leg soon being adorned with the same birthmark that Drew had on his own leg. Moving up on his body, his crotch soon underwent its own changes, which was made clear to Drew as he watched the outline of a thicker and firmer dick begin to press against the confines of Noah’s pair of sweatpants.

His torso finished gaining the exact muscle on Drew’s body, which was then giving the cherry on top with the emergence of Drew’s modest body hair poking through the collar of Noah’s shirt. The final section of the unbelievable transformation progressed as Noah’s entire head began to reshape into the spitting image of Drew’s. As Drew’s features appeared on Noah’s face, the finishing touches of hair reinforced the end of the transformation. While Noah’s blond hair grew darker and drew into his scalp, his previously shaven face began to grow dotted with the appearance of Drew’s trimmed stubble.

With this completed, Drew was now completely staring at the spitting image of his body. Looking up towards Drew, the good-intentioned boyfriend was alarmed when a scowl appeared upon his duplicate’s face. “Well, do you believe me now?” Noah said, now with Drew’s deeper velvety voice coming out of his mouth. Attempting to flee, Drew thrashed in place, hoping to eventually get himself freed and away from this madman. However, his desperate attempts were of no use and only caused his doppelganger to laugh louder. “Why are you doing this?” Drew responded, trying to understand how and why this is happening to him.

“Well, I want to be with your boyfriend. I figured that he would tell you about me, and with the level of machismo I had heard Michael describe you as having, it wasn’t shocking that you reached out to most likely beat my ass. However, it’s unfortunate for you that my family has had a long history with the dark arts. I hadn’t really used it much, but I figured now was as good of an opportunity as ever to put that innate ability of mine to use.” Noah said, pacing around the stationary Drew whose face varied in different expressions throughout Noah’s detailing. “Well, what are you going to do now then?” Drew said, unsure what the warlock’s plan apparently was. “I’m going to become you Drew. I told you I want to be with your boyfriend, so if I can’t be with him as Noah, I might as well be with him as you…” Noah stated, causing Drew to gain a look of shock as he understood the threat of being completely replaced. 

“So, what about me then? I’m not going to let you get away with this! I’ll find a way to get revenge and stop you!” Drew sneered, instantly going into defense mode. 

“Oh I’m not worried, I have plans to make sure you’ll never get the chance…” Noah said, which caused Drew to cower in fear, his attempt at standing strong being completely shattered. 

Before Drew could respond, the man began to grow increasingly numb as his entire body lost the ability to move. Looking down, Drew watched in fear as he watched himself growing smaller and smaller, with his eyes having to constantly dart upwards towards his doppelganger. Looking down at his body, he could only stare in disbelief as his skin was growing several shades lighter and gaining a complexion that was even lighter than Noah’s previous complexion. Unable to move still, he could only cry out in fear as he begged for his humanity back. To further humiliate the man, Noah moved towards him and placed his hand on the top of Drew’s head, pushing down to help accelerate the changes. Now only a few inches off the ground, Drew took what would be his last human breath as he lost all of his humanity and slumped onto the floor. Noah moved over to him, looking down at the piece of fabric he had now become. To Drew’s surprise, his body shivered in pleasure as his former hands grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him to him. “Thank you Drew, I was in desperate need of a new jockstrap anyway.” Noah chuckled as he dropped his shorts and underwear. Upon this revelation, Drew grew incredibly afraid and grossed out about the concept of being wrapped around his own crotch and ass. However, every possible attempt to scream for help and freedom was completely muted and his pleas were unable to be heard by anyone. 

Sticking his legs through the new jockstrap, Noah pulled Drew up and allowed him to settle over his crotch and ass. Despite Drew’s anger and disgust, he couldn’t help but moan in pure ecstasy as he felt the innate warmness of a human body wrapped around him like a passionate hug. This hug soon grew more and more erotic as Drew could feel his own hardening manhood now beginning to press against his new fabric body. 

Despite the fact that Noah just put the rest of his clothes on and left the house, Drew was constantly stuck in an eternal moan as every possible movement sent shivers through every fiber of his being. As Noah got into Drew’s car and began to drive towards his and Michael’s apartment, Drew was losing more and more of his desires to gain his humanity back with each passing pothole and crack in the road sending earth-shattering shivers through him. 

As Noah exited the car and walked into his new apartment, a wide grin formed on his face as he heard the rumblings of someone else in the apartment. “Honey, I’m home” Noah said as he took off his shoes and began to pace into the bedroom. Before Michael could look up from his computer, Noah had brought him in for a passionate kiss that soon turned into something more. Drew was soon ripped off his old body and thrown on the floor near the corner of the room as he could hear the moans of his boyfriend and his old body showcasing a night of intense pleasure for the couple. 

Falling back into bed after their passionate love-making, Michael grew surprised by the new attentiveness that his boyfriend was focusing on him. He was staring at him with an intense set of puppy dog eyes that made his heart flutter and his dick throb. As they laid back engaging in small talk, Michael’s eyes widened upon the sudden suggestion from Noah to go on vacation. He immediately said yes upon his boyfriend’s suggestion of visiting Disneyland. Michael always had a soft spot for the films that defined his childhood, so the opportunity to travel the two hours to visit the theme park with his boyfriend seemed like a dream. It was no surprise then that the couple agreed to the idea and impulsively bought a three-day vacation at the park.

Two weeks later, Noah and Michael were in Disneyland, having the time of their lives as they rode every ride and fully immersed themselves into the magical world of Disney. To Noah’s amusement, Michael often brought up the concept of his job while they waited in the various lines. Throughout the several hours of rides, Noah was kept up to date about any workplace drama, Michael’s successful presentation, and the sudden disappearance of the weird workplace creep that had constantly bothered Michael. 

It was at this point that the fairytale life that Noah was imagining for him and Michael was starting to crack. Hearing Michael hurl so many insults about him left Noah feeling incredibly pissed off and eager to punish “his” boyfriend. Asking to take a break, Noah led Michael to a nice patch of grass in the park where they sat down. Upon looking into Michael’s eyes, Noah revealed his bombshell. “I’m not Drew, Michael…” 

Upon this revelation, Michael became confused with his boyfriend’s announcement, which caused him to ask for clarification. “I’m not Drew” his boyfriend calmly stated once more, which caused Michael to inquire for further details. It was at this point where “Drew'' began to reveal all of the several events that had transpired over the past couple weeks. Noah revealed every possible tidbit, detailing how he transformed into Drew and turned the real Drew into the jockstrap that was currently wrapped around his body. 

With this revelation mixed with the reminder of Noah going missing, Michael cried out in shock as he realized that this was truly real. Despite his pleas to turn his boyfriend back and give him back his life, Noah refused, which only angered Michael further to the point where he threatened to leave. However, Michael began to stop himself from running away upon Noah’s threat. “I mean, if you don’t want to be with me, I suppose I have no reason to stick around. I could also always destroy this precious jockstrap or donate it somewhere too…” Noah stated, with that continued smirk widening upon Michael’s immediate return to him. 

Demanding the real Drew back, Michael asks what it would take for him to get his real boyfriend back to his humanity. Noah, of course, stated that he enjoyed Drew’s body too much to give it up, which caused Michael to ask for any form of humanity if he agreed to remain in the relationship and be with “Drew”. After thinking it over for a bit, Noah agreed to these terms, stating that if Michael plays his cards right, he might be able to get his real boyfriend back. “Who knows, it could be fun to turn him back into a human and give us an option for a three-way…” Noah slyly said with a chuckle. 

With the terms of the deal set, Noah gave Michael a peck on the cheek, which caused him to frown in response. Even though Michael would forever hate Noah for what he did, he couldn’t deny the fact that he had a way of influencing him with the way he used those stolen lips of his. If he had to play along and be the ideal boyfriend to get his boyfriend back, Michael was determined to do it. Turning towards “Drew”, Michael pulled his boyfriend in for a long passionate kiss and hoped that one day soon, he’d be reunited with the real Drew…

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Repurposing Their Star Player

Having just signed an impressive new contract with the Arizona Cardinals, the defensive end superstar JJ Watt was understandably excited about the upcoming season. While he felt bad having to leave the Texans after playing on the team for over 10 years, JJ had to follow the money now that he was a married man looking to start a family. He was eager to give his wife and future children the best life possible, so when he saw that the contract would pay $60 million for just two years of work, the over-eager man didn’t even allow his lawyers to read it before he signed on the dotted line.

But this over-eagerness ended up to be JJ’s ultimate downfall as he found himself injured once again. While this wasn’t the first time messing up his hamstring, it was certainly the most painful it had ever been before. He felt like an idiot from over-extending at practice and trying to show off to his new players. JJ wasn’t the 20-year-old spring chicken he once was and now he had certainly been taught a lesson as the doctors told him he would not be allowed to play during the entire first season of his two-year contract. Of course, not only was he in pain and angry about the injury, he was also understandably nervous about what the injury meant in terms of his large payout. Would the team cut him and hire a younger (but less talented) defensive end? Would they still pay him but on the condition that he remained in peak health upon healing? As a result, the man was relieved to find that he had soon been beckoned by the entire coaching staff to meet early the next morning to discuss the clauses in his contract. Despite his nervousness, he was at least relieved to know that he would find out his answer soon, rather than having it ambiguously left in the air while he recovered.

Arriving into the Cardinals locker room the next morning, JJ couldn’t help but find the once-familiar location incredibly eerie as he sat on a bench. He was used to a lively locker room full of jock banter and enjoyable conversations, so to hear nothing besides the occasional dripping from a leaky shower faucet was nothing short of off-putting. Before he could think about it further though, the office door of head coach Kliff Kingsbury pulled open and jolted him up to a standing position. “Hey there JJ, c’mon in!” he said, a cold vacant expression displayed on his face. Due to this, JJ’s anxiety reached a crescendo as he took in his head coach’s demeanor as a bad omen. “No, there’s no way they would cut me,” JJ thought to himself as he sat up, “I was their biggest offseason signing! The coach has to realize that I’ve got way more left to give this team despite this idiotic injury...” With this thought process continuing to refute the insane assumptions in his head, JJ was able to shift his anxiety to a low simmer and prevent it from further bubbling up.

After grabbing his crutches, the player hobbled his way into the room as Kliff closed the door behind him and moved to his desk. Sitting across from the man that hypothetically the judge and the jury of his career right now, JJ tried his best to butter Kliff up and make it seem like he was truly scared about the consequences of his injury. He knew that he was at no real risk, but he still did his best to convince the coach by talking about how happy he was to be a part of the team and how eager he had been to be a part of the team this season before the injury. To JJ’s satisfaction, the man was quite receptive to his comments, calming stating how it was apparent how committed he was despite only being at a few practices.

Putting his hands onto the top of the desk, Kliff leaned in towards the man as he began to detail the issue at hand. “Clearly JJ, you’re passionate about being part of the team and the Arizona Cardinals are eager to keep you around,” the coach said, which caused JJ’s expressionless face to allow a small grin to manifest onto his face. “As you know from so many years in the league,  the coaching staff is able to cut injured players that aren’t able to play at all this season… but the Cardinals aren’t looking to do that. And I’m sure you’re not wanting us to drop you after such an extravagant wedding right?” Kliff said, his face breaking into a smile that seemed both authentic and phony to JJ. Not wanting to rock the boat though, JJ refused to say anything and just smiled back and nodded to the man.

“So yes, if you’re looking to keep your contract intact and continue to receive those millions of dollars, you’re going to have to follow the rules of your contract down to the fine print! For example, there’s a clause on page 76 that states that contracts will only be fulfilled and payment will be received on the grounds that any injured players remain an active member of the team,” the coach said, his voice unwavering as he got right to the point for the new transfer player. To provide evidence of this clause, JJ was handed a copy of his contract and told to read over page 76 to acquaint himself with the specific rules of the contract. Skipping through the page full of text, JJ tried his best to try and comprehend what these rules meant exactly. Would I be required to do press interviews for the team or attend private events with the owners and any partner of the team? The possibilities were endless, so as his mind began to run through all of the possibilities, his mind was so preoccupied that he forgot to ask what exactly the contract wanted from him.

After taking a moment to allow him to read, the coach soon asked if JJ understood, which caused the player to simply nod his head in an attempt to be complacent. While he didn’t understand legal jargon and didn’t know what constituted being an “active” member of the team, JJ was just determined to do anything so he could continue to receive his salary.

“There are usually multiple options available, but right now we only have one position left: the uniform department. It’s not the most intensive work on your part, but it’s still a critical part of the team’s success!” Kliff said, looking directly into JJ’s eyes as he tries to wrap his head around it all. “So, what do you think? Will you join the uniform department and vow to remain an active member of the team no matter what?” the coach continued, reaching out his hand for a handshake.

Thinking it over, JJ didn’t really have many options. He needed to retain his salary and there was no way he wanted to get cut from the team either! “I mean, it’s the uniform department, the most intensive work I’d do would be to fold laundry and put it into each player’s locker…” JJ thought to himself as he made his mind up. “Absolutely Coach, I’m completely dedicated to the team!” JJ said as he reached his hand out and completed the handshake with his head coach.

But just as their hands connected to close the deal, a painful zap coursed through JJ’s thicker hand that caused him to pull back in shock. “Shit, that hurt!” JJ said, a slight chuckle escaping from his lips as he looked up at his coach. But the coach didn’t seem to find the zap humorous, instead leaning back in his office chair and looking intently at the football hunk.

Looking down at the hand that had been shocked, JJ looked down to verify that he was ok and that he wasn’t seriously injured from such a painful experience. However, as he stared at his right hand, he gasped as he saw that it was… paler. Instead of his tanned skin from having spent so much time working out in the hot Arizona sun, the hand had shifted to a color that was a pasty ghostly white. “Coach, what’s happening?” JJ asked, looking at the coach that was now deviously grinning. Did Coach poison me? What’s happening to my arm?

“I made it pretty obvious JJ, you’re joining the uniform department!” he said, a slight grin manifesting on his face that only added to JJ’s humiliation. What the hell could that mean? Watching as the bright white shade began to spread up his arms, he was in disbelief while observing the impossible occur. In awe, he stared as the thick hair that resided over his arms began to mesh with one another until it made a grid-like pattern. With that white color soon mixing in with this new change, it seriously looked as though his right arm was entirely made of fabric threaded using his hairy forearms. Holy shit, why does my arm look like fabric? Am I actually becoming a piece of clothing?!

“This isn’t what I thought you meant!” he cried out, staring in disbelief as he soon realized that he was actually transforming before his very own eyes. This soon became incredibly evident to the man as he could feel his body soon begin to shrink against the chair he was sitting in. Attempting to flee, JJ tried his best to spring up from the chair, but there was a newfound immobility that was beginning to run through his body. Unaware of the changes occurring throughout the rest of his body, the football player had no idea that his legs had lost their musculature and essentially became empty shells sans the thick pads that helped keep shape. Looking down at the legs he now possessed, he knew that there was no way that he’d be able to stand up. As the fabric mix of white and his leg hair continued to be created, he soon became aware of the fact that his legs were now completely dangling from the chair. It was truly clear to JJ Watt at this point: he was becoming a pair of football pants!

“Well, I guess you should have asked more questions then huh champ?” Kliff responded, his curt response being punctuated with a mad scientist style laugh that left JJ shivering.

“Why are you turning me into a pair of pants? Why couldn’t I just be some assistant while I recovered?” JJ inquired, desperate to know why the team had jumped to such extremes.

Sitting up from his chair, Kliff walked around his desk before leaning against the front of it. It was always amusing to watch his players undergo these changes, even more so when it was the bulky players such as JJ. Leaning his head down to the still-shrinking man, Kliff began to explain. “JJ, we’re desperate to be the best team we could possibly be. We had high hopes for this season, but since you had to showboat and get yourself taken out of commission for the year, we had to come up with something quick. Given that we had paid millions to secure you, we had extra initiative to make you useful to us in one way or another.” He said, looking down and staring at JJ’s changed form. By this point, the athlete’s arms had merged into his sides to provide the perfect shape for a set of hips to wear him. It was amusing to see the look of fear spread onto JJ’s face, especially as the bright red lining of the team’s colors emerged against the sides of what used to be his arms.

Despite JJ’s attempts at calling for help, the coach looked back up to stare into the man’s eyes as he continued to speak. “So, after reaching out and getting the assistance of our league connection Soul-Controller, he gave us the ability to make use of you. Although YOU may not be able to play this season, your agility and various other skills associated with the sport will continue to influence the team.” he said, looking over and chuckling as the look of shock and confusion spreads over JJ’s slowly devolving face.

By now, his eyebrows had evaporated from existence and his broad nose had shifted to become the roomier pouch for a teammate’s crotch, so all that remained of the human player was a pair of eyes and a set of lips. “Please stop-” the man groaned, his dry and hoarse voice finally giving out as he lost his ability to speak for the foreseeable future.

Paying this no mind, the coach had continued to divulge the magic that would be contained within the pair of pants that JJ Watt was quickly becoming. “You see, whoever wears you will suddenly gain the essence of JJ Watt’s football prowess until you’re taken off. While we were certainly upset to lose you on the defensive end of things, it’s going to work out extremely well for the offensive side. JJ Watt, you’re going to become Kyler’s new trusty pair of football pants!” the man said, a clear joy for taunting his former player that had become more fabric than human.

“While Kyler has been somewhat successful for the team, we have bigger aspirations for the kid. So, with your help for the rest of the season, we think that his skills will be boosted and help lead the Cardinals to more victories!” the coach said, completing his monologue as the final changes to JJ occurred. As the top of his head split apart to become a waistband of the new pair of pants, his eyes shifted to become an NFL logo on one side and a Nike symbol on the either. His lips shifted to the side and grew longer as they merged with the fabric to create a perfect zipper for Kyler to take the new JJ on and off.

With this change finishing up, the pair of pants lost any remaining air as they finally slumped and fell into the seat of the chair. Smirking, the coach grabbed onto JJ as he exited the office and made his way towards the locker room. Luckily, the transformation only took 5 minutes max, so the locker room remained completely empty. Heading over to Kyler’s locker, the coach quickly pulled out his regular pair of pants and threw the new JJ version into the room. Upon banging into the back of the metal locker, JJ’s fabric body shivered due to the cold sensation it emitted against his new form. “Thank you again for remaining an active member of the team JJ, I’ll turn you back at the end of the season!” Kliff said with a smile as he slammed the locker shut and sent the new version of JJ Watt into complete darkness.

Sitting there in the cold, JJ couldn’t believe what had happened to him. Not only was he tricked by his own coach, but now he was stuck as a fellow player’s football pants for the entire season! For what seemed like hours, JJ thought back to the situation at hand and scolded himself for not asking more questions. What would his wife think and what would the coach tell her as to where he went? However, just as he thought of this question, he overheard the office door of Kliff’s office once more and two voices began to continue speaking.

“Ok, Ryan, so you’ve got everything you need?” Kliff asked.

Promptly, the other man responded, saying “Yes Kliff, I have everything I need to become that Watt guy”.

“What the fuck!” JJ thought as he tried to put the puzzle pieces together. He knew that there was a Ryan in the coaching staff of the Cardinals, but the other voice speaking was talking much deeper than the man’s usual higher tone. Speaking of that voice, something about it seemed vaguely familiar despite the audio being slightly muffled due to the fact that JJ had no ears and was stuck in a locker. Suddenly it hit him, Ryan was now talking in the same deep voice that JJ had talked with for the past 32 years. His coach had gotten someone to take his place!

“Alright, sounds good man! Enjoy being stuck on bedrest all season!” Kliff said, which caused the new JJ Watt to eagerly say that it will be the perfect excuse to get JJ’s wife to join him for some fun. Upon the imposter finishing his joke, both men erupted into laughter that echoed through the empty locker room as they walked away and left JJ to stew in anger. He couldn’t believe that his coach had fucking sent someone to pretend to be him! The worst part was that he was unsure if his wife would even notice that anything was different.

After some more moments being stuck in the darkness, the locker room soon began to erupt into chatter that indicated that game day was finally getting started. Hearing the swinging of locker doors nearby opening, JJ cringed and felt uncomfortable thinking about Kyler being completely unaware that he was wearing his former teammate. This thought was soon interrupted though as the quarterback quickly ripped open the locker and pulled out the uniform within it.

Despite JJ’s original reservations about being manhandled by the quarterback, just a sliver of contact from the man had left JJ eager for more. He knew this was the effects of being a uniform rubbing off on him, but JJ was practically begging for more of that drug-like skin-to-skin contact. As Kyler finished changing into his jockstrap and jersey, JJ soon got his wish as he was pulled onto his new owner’s body and felt every inch of his empty body being filled with the man’s warm flesh. It was strange at first to know that he was being worn by a man, but all of that was pushed to the side as the immediate waves of intense pleasure rushed through JJ’s entire being.

While his mind could only compare the amount of pleasure to the thought of ten simultaneous orgasms rocking through every inch of his body, he knew that even that statement couldn’t compare to the indescribable feelings he was experiencing! It was as if he was undergoing an entirely brand new sexual discovery via his new identity as a pair of pants. Am I not as straight as I thought I was? Now wrapped around Kyler’s ass and thighs, JJ’s mind grew more demented as he fantasized about all of the ways Kyler look leave his mark on him. The thought of the man’s pre-cum leaking onto his fabric body after leading the team to victory was as much of a turn-on as the thought of being coated in the man’s sweat. Knowing the two extremes he could envisions in his mind, JJ quickly realized that he now had cravings that would surely never be fully satisfied. He was an eager piece of clothing, wanting nothing more than to experience every possible second of his new life wrapped around Kyler. While JJ was undergoing an entire identity shakeup, Kyler was none the wiser as he continued to get ready for the game and psych himself up for the upcoming game. After tying his cleats and now having his uniform complete, Kyler wasted no time rushing out onto the field to begin some warmups before kickoff.

For the next several hours, Kyler’s sweaty body was able to lead his team to a much-needed victory to start the season off on a high note. While he chalked up his impressive passes and play skills on a good night’s sleep and an intense training camp season, he was completely unaware that his success was due to the influence of JJ’s football knowledge.

Speaking of JJ, by the time the game had finished up, all of his few remaining fears about his new predicament had faded away. It felt incredible to be a piece of clothing, especially one belonging to an absolute hunk of a quarterback. JJ loved how his fabric body soaked up the man’s sweat and how great he felt wrapped around Kyler’s muscular legs and ass as he ran around the field and threw the ball to score touchdown after touchdown. After such an eventful and successful game, JJ’s disappointment and sadness was understandable as he was peeled off of Kyler’s ripe body and thrown in the team’s laundry basket to get washed. He mourned the loss of human contact and as he was thrown into the washer, he also mourned for the loss of the remnants of Kyler staining his body.

From just a few hours as a pair of pants, the former man had become incredibly dependent on his new owner, craving his sweat and movements. With each recurring game and spin cycle, JJ grew less worried about his former life as he gave into the new personality developing of that of a piece of clothing. Who cared about a wife when Kyler was his owner and gave him everything he could ever want? It was incredible to be a part of the offensive section of the team now, being at least partially responsible for the team’s continued success with each successful pass of Kyler’s. He guessed that his coach was right all along, he truly was an active part of the team now!

Like what you read? Please consider signing up for my Patreon to read more stories and support my work.

I was planning to dress up as a football player this year...but specifically someone like Baker Mayfield.

Alright, while I know you phrased this as if you just wanted to wear Baker’s uniform and turn into him, I must admit that I think I know what your true interests are. You see, you don’t want to become Baker Mayfield, you actually want to be worn by Baker. It’s a totally understandable request, especially since I myself have quite a bit of a crush on him. So don’t worry man, I’ll make sure you get exactly what you’re really hoping for. While this most likely would be perceived as a trick to most people, I know that this is the best possible treat that you could envision for yourself.

This quickly became obvious as you could feel every inch of your body becoming overcome with an intense tingling sensation. Knowing that you were receiving your special Halloween gift from me, you quickly made your way into a private area before eagerly waiting for the transformation to commence. 

Luckily, it didn’t take long for your wish to come true as you found your vision growing closer to ground as your limbs and body began to painlessly contort under my will. As your arms bent backwards and connected with each other by your hands connecting and fingers interlocking to turn into an elastic waistband, it didn’t take much for you to realize what you were becoming. You were turning into Baker’s newest jockstrap…

As your legs suddenly jerked behind you to connect into the loops that would snuggly wrap around Baker’s perky ass cheeks, you couldn’t help but have a wide expression of joy on your face as your inanimate dreams were coming true. Even as your head awkwardly pushed into your still-shrinking torso, you took the entire transformation in stride as your body thinned and skin shifted into a light fabric that would soon cradle Baker’s cock and balls.

Although you lost your eyes, ears, mouth, and nose during the shift into the jockstrap’s pouch, it quickly became aware to you that you still had control of all of your senses as reality altered around you and you soon found yourself resting on the cold concrete bench of the Panthers’ locker room. The smell of musky athletes left you on the verge of orgasm, but no such relief would come due to your new circumstances. While it was nice in the sense of edging through the continued experiences of becoming Baker’s jockstrap, this quickly backfired as you soon found yourself held up by the man himself. As he eagerly thanked his coach for the brand new jockstrap, you couldn’t help but mentally moan and beg for Baker as he undressed and slowly put each leg through the loops before pulling it up along his hairy and muscular legs. Although there were only brief moments of contact where your fabric grazed along his warm flesh, it was enough to leave you shivering and begging for more.

While this was more than enough to bring you relief forever, the loudspeaker announcing that the Panthers had won led to another incredible surprise as you could taste the salty taste of the man’s pre-cum beginning to leak into your fabric. With no other option, you eagerly sapped up the sticky liquid and admired the incredible taste as you realized Baker’s intense excitement from winning would lead to an unintended present solely for you. 

Despite him undressing and changing into normal clothes for the post-game interviews that he’d have to do, you were relieved to know that Baker opted to keep you on as he pulled on a shirt and pants before heading out to talk to press. While you could hear him speak about the game and how strong he played, you found yourself moaning in delight as Baker’s hands couldn’t resist reaching down to adjust his still-firm manhood and thus gripping onto your fabric form. It was an absolute delight for you to get your dream come true, especially as you would soon find yourself being worn for every game as his lucky jockstrap. If every game was as successful for him and rewarding for you, you found yourself more than willing to accept your new purpose for the rest of your days…

Patreon Update (November '23 - April '24)

Hello there everyone! Whew, it’s been a WHILE since I did one of these update / personal posts (November if my eyes aren’t deceiving me)... This certainly wasn’t my intention or anything, it’s just that my personal life has been putting me through the ringer nonstop since that last post! In addition to leaving my last job and needing to find a new one, I’ve been struggling with other stressors like severe mental health issues in addition to illness. To make matters even MORE stressful, the lease was up at my boyfriend and I’s apartment and we’ve been spending the past two months just applying to different places and trying to get all of the specifics ironed out.

As May rolls around and we finally move into this new apartment / I get a new lighter work schedule, I’m hoping that everything in my personal life will settle down so I can focus on being more active both here and on my Patreon. With my Tumblr, I’m aiming to try and do two transformation stories per month (one new mini-story like the Selfish Top Bottom story and a normal full-length story pulled from my Patreon archive). As for my Patreon, I’ve got a lot of stuff in the works including a Star-Lord transformation, a bodysuit story, and a revamped / rewrite of Helping Out A Friend – a series I started on Tumblr in January 2021 but was never able to finish. For those who don’t recall, here’s a link to the series – which follows a nerd and a frat bro swapping bodies for a semester of college to help the jock pass his final courses before graduating. 

Now shifting gears from what’s going to be coming to Patreon in the near future, let’s take a moment to shine a light on the content that I’ve created and released since November 2023! 

Usually, this tier included photo captions, but as my writing grew longer over the years, I finally realized in March that I was making things too hard on myself. Rather than trying to force a condensed story to fit the confines of an image, it’s easier for me to just write as much as I want and use the image as a supplement (or even gifs now with this change). As a result, I decided to change this tier where patrons now receive mini-stories that range from a length anywhere to 150 to 1.6k words. 

March Mini-Stories

Getting Lucky (350 Words) - Upon finding a green and yellow jockstrap in his underwear drawer, a gay man heads to his nearby gay club to celebrate St Patrick's Day. On the way, his inner Irishman is unleashed. Life Of The Afterparty (300 Words) - In the midst of cleaning up the aftermath of a prestigious award show, an aspiring actor discovers an abandoned award that causes major changes. Ginger God (150 Words) - A meek and overweight college nerd decides to head to the gym on St Patrick's Day for the first time in hopes that no one will be there. Upon swiping his card for the first time, he becomes the ginger god of the gym.

April Mini-Stories

Chris Gets Collared (650 Words) - When his dog begins acting strangely, Chris Evans enlists the help of an animal whisperer who has a unique way of helping animals be heard… Father-Son Bonding (1.6k Words) - A gruff and athletic father struggles to connect with his reserved and nerdy teenage son. Upon an argument one night, the duo wake up the next morning to learn what life is like in the other's shoes. Reforming The Police (350 Words) - Rather than helping an underprivileged area, the police force instead severely mistreats its citizens and ignores genuine problems. As a result, the community decides to reform the police in their own unique way…

Whistling The Blues

After arriving home from work one evening, Adam finds a large gift-wrapped box on his doorstep. Unwrapping it reveals a silver athletic whistle, which instantly confuses the man. To add to the confusion, blowing into the metal piece causes an ear-shattering sound to ring out that not only causes him intense pain but somehow transports him into a coach's office with plaques and trophies listing his name. As he observes the décor in hopes of figuring out what's going on, his body and mind begin to transform to give him the athletic career and manly body he had always dreamed of having… Tags: Age Progression, Daddification, Man to DILF, Mental Changes, Muscle Growth, Reality Shift

Unleashing His Inner Daddy

Hopeless romantic Finn thought he had finally found the one when he met his co-worker Richard. Not only was the man incredibly kind and sweet, but he was also a total DILF! Despite their palpable chemistry together, their relationship had soured over the past few months due to Richard's refusal to top. On the verge of a breakup, a passionate plea magically allows Finn the chance to allow his body to match his status as the dom top in the relationship... Tags: Age Progression, Muscle Growth, Man to DILF

Unleashing His Inner Daddy II

After a passionate plea transforms the young twink Finn into the spitting image of his middle-aged DILF boyfriend Richard, the couple takes a moment to get reacquainted with each other and explore this bizarre new reality. Unfortunately for Richard though, sensually worshiping his own body via Finn allows him to not notice his own transformation into something much more submissive... Tags: Inanimate, Unintended Consequences

Watch What You Wish For

Eager to revamp his image into being a classy and sophisticated middle-aged man, Chris Pratt signs a partnership deal with a brand of luxury watches. Upon making his way to the owner's mansion to agree to the terms and do a press conference to announce the new collaboration, the actor suddenly finds himself body swapped where he's now the elderly billionaire CEO leading the press conference. Worst thing about it is that no matter how hard he tries, he can't tell anyone about what's happened to him! Tags: Body Swap, Celebrity, Middle-Aged To Elderly, Elderly To Middle-Aged

College Is Transformative: Family Weekend

Chase Richards was on top of the world. With an incredibly handsome and ripped body along with an extremely wealthy father, the college wrestler had never really encountered any problems in his 19 years of living. At least, until he was assigned Tyler as his roommate.  As the nerd and jock duo go from acquaintances to full-blown enemies, Chase struggles to comprehend why the nerd had books about spellcasting and transformations hidden under his bed... Tags: Male Transformation, Exposition Chapter

College Is Transformative: Family Weekend II

Upon finishing up wrestling practice after a fight with his roommate, Chase is shocked to find that his wealthy businessman father had shown up to surprise him for Family Weekend. As the duo head back to the dorm so Chase can change before they head to dinner, they have no way of knowing that Tyler was about to put his magical plan for transformational revenge into motion... Tags: Possession, Revenge

Henry's Beta Test

In a depressive rut, Henry is given a beta version of the Chronivac by his friend to try out. Upon getting it, he decides to test it out by trying out a few new bodies in hopes of finding love… Tags: Chronivac, Muscle Growth, Shapeshift

Henry's Beta Test II

Despite getting access to the Chronivac and thus gaining the ability to transform his body and mind in any way possible, Henry finds himself still unable to land the perfect boyfriend. As he becomes more and more desperate and depressed, the man wastes no time stooping to treacherous lows to find love… such as meeting up with his favorite thirst trap couple to take over one of their lives and cause that man to undergo an inanimate change! Tags: Chronivac, Identity Death, Inanimate, Mental Changes, Muscle Growth, Reality Shift, Revenge, Shapeshift

The Scent of An Alpha

Going to college was supposed to be a fresh start for meek nerd Charlie Owens, but this plan is quickly derailed when he finds himself roommates with a hunky jock similar to the ones who bullied him back in high school. To make matters worse, the young man finds himself incredibly attracted to the Latino stud. After returning home one day and finding that his roommate is gone, the nerd decides to take a used jockstrap for personal use. Unfortunately, the scent of an alpha is contagious, which means that the young nerd will find himself becoming more like his roommate before he can realize what's going on… Tags: Mental Changes, Muscle Growth, Nerd to Jock, Racial Change, Reality Shift

Austin Theory's #1 Supporter

Upon being picked out in a crowd at a WWE event, a young man finds himself picked to get a free meet and greet with his favorite wrestler - Austin Theory. Unfortunately for him though, Austin has a secret plan that the man has found himself the main target in. Not only does Austin have a kink for humiliating other men via taunting and flaunting his immense physique, but he also has a transformation desire that he's eager to test out on the young man… Tags: Inanimate, Dominance and Submission, Humiliation, Body Swap, Revenge

Tricked By His Tutor

After making his way home from wrestling practice, Nolan is surprised to find his math tutor Arthur randomly waiting for him on his doorstep. Thinking that the man is lonely and just wants a friend, the wrestler invites him in to watch TV, order pizza, and just relax. Unfortunately for the jock, Arthur has a trick up his sleeve (and around his finger) that will change both of their lives forever… Tags: Body Swap, Jock to Nerd, Nerd to Jock, Revenge

The Meet & Greet

After years of fate seeming desperate to prevent him from seeing his favorite musician, The Weeknd, live in concert, Noah Stevens was ecstatic to find himself able to get his hands on a front row ticket the night before a nearby show. Upon arriving at the stadium, the mid-20s fan is in disbelief upon learning that his front row ticket is actually a VIP ticket that includes a meet and greet with the musician. Although Noah couldn't imagine a greater gift, he has no idea what the universe has in store for the duo once they finally meet each other… Tags: Body Swap, Celebrity, Shapeshift, Racial Change

Big Dick's Cock Emporium

(I know long time no post, but I missed it so I'm back haha)

I had been hired by a company called Big Dick's and I thought it was a guys name.  Little did I know that it was a company for augmenting guy's cocks using other guys as the material.  This bear paid for me to be his cock and to make it larger. They brought both of us into a room and after I signed the contract, they injected me with a strange substance.  It made me instantly get hard and my asshole became extremely loose.  This guy pulled out his little cock and rubbed it until it got hard.  He then proceeded to fuck me.  I was shocked at how good it felt.  I wasn't gay but I could see why gay guys liked this. But something felt...off.  The more he fucked me the less he was pulling out.  And then, I felt a pulling sensation on my skin. It started to get weird.  My legs went numb and I couldn't move them.  My skin on them started getting wrinkly and grew curly hairs on them.  I could feel something round moving in them.  I started to cough up a salty, sweet gooey liquid which collected on my chin and started to run down my chest.  My back started to arch to the side and my head started looking straight up.  I felt a weird skin growing under my neck.  It started to cover my face as it got harder to see.  It's like some pink sheets were pulled over my face as my mouth felt like it had moved sideways. The man had been rubbing me the whole time but suddenly it felt like he was just grasping me.  Then, I realized.  He was turning me into his cock.  I heard the guy at the company telling him he needed to stop.  I wasn't allowed to ejaculate.  But he kept stroking me faster.  I felt shivers all over my new cock body as I felt myself tense up and a gooey liquid shot out of my new piss slit. After that, it got hard to think about anything but piss, cum and pre-cum.  I actually like being a cock.  The process doesn't erase you completely.  I can still feel and think but no one can talk to me or hear me.  My host got me a Prince Albert which hurt at first but now feels amazing.  For some reason, I love being a cock.  Join me!