Twink Tf - Tumblr Posts

In the heart of bustling Austin, Texas, where the twang of southern drawls blends with the eclectic rhythm of city life, there was Chad Dalton, a buff wannabe bodybuilder, and personal trainer. At twenty-eight, he stood tall at 6’5” with a physique sculpted by years of relentless training and the grit of his rural upbringing. A former college football star turned gym trainer, Chad's presence in the fitness world was as commanding as his massive 269-pound frame.

Raised in a tight-knit southern community, Chad had brought with him not just his imposing stature but also an accent that marked him as unmistakably Texan. He wore it proudly, knowing well how it charmed the ladies or at least he believed it did. His alpha male demeanor and penchant for straight talk. The fact was Chad was a fucking douchebag.

Days were regimented with protein shakes and weightlifting sessions, a routine instilled by his former coach who had driven him to victory against their fiercest rivals. Now, Chad found himself in the role training others in the gym where his own legend grew. But mostly he liked to belittled the gay men in gym for their weak bodies. His impressive gains and bulging biceps made him a sight to behold, drawing admiration and envy alike from those around him.

And now here he was training people in this fancy gym instead of playing ball for some big-time team like everyone expected him to do after graduation. But screw them! Chad knew what was best for himself—and that meant staying single and focusing solely on improving himself physically so that no woman could resist his charm (or at least not for long).

Chad harbored views that were far from politically correct. His online rants against what he called "PC culture" and his dismissive remarks about "SJW chicks" were a stark contrast to the charismatic trainer who effortlessly charmed women at the gym.

One fateful evening, Chad found himself at a gay bar. It wasn’t the men he sought there, but rather the women—easy targets, he thought, like shooting fish in a barrel.

As Chad leaned casually against the bar, his eyes scanning the room for his next conquest, he spotted Samantha. With her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders and a figure that turned heads, she stood out even in the dimly lit bar. Determined to make an impression, Chad sauntered over with his characteristic confidence.

"Hey there, gorgeous," he drawled in his deep southern accent, flashing a grin that he knew had won over countless women before.

Samantha, however, gave him a skeptical look, her eyebrow raised as she sipped her cocktail. "Oh, hey," she replied coolly, clearly unimpressed. "You're quite the charmer, aren't you?"

Chad chuckled, undeterred by her lukewarm reception. "Can't help it when I see a beautiful lady like yourself," he replied, leaning in a bit closer.

She sighed, her annoyance thinly veiled. "Look, Chad, right?" Samantha asked, crossing her arms. "I'm not really into the whole 'gym bro' thing. All my friends here," she gestured subtly to the crowd around them, "they're all gay. I'm not sure you're their type."

Chad blinked, momentarily taken aback. "Oh, come on now, I'm just having a good time," he protested, trying to charm his way back into her good graces. "I'm sure we can find some common ground."

Samantha smirked, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "You know what, Chad? You seem like you could use another drink. Let me get you one," she said smoothly, turning to walk towards the bar.

Chad grinned broadly, thinking he was making progress. "Sure thing, sweetheart. I'll take whatever you're having," he called after her, watching as she ordered two drinks from the bartender.

Little did Chad know, Samantha was more than just a pretty face. As she whispered a quick incantation over one of the drinks, a sly smile played on her lips. And incantation that would turn Chad in the most stereotypical gay guy at the bar, at least what Chad would believe to be a stereotype. "By the power of three, by the might of me, transform this man into what he truly would hate to be. Make him gay as a rainbow flag flying high, with a love for glitter and all things shiny. Let his voice be like honeyed whispers in the night, his body lean and toned with just enough muscle tight. Give him confidence that knows no bounds, charm that turns heads around. May he become the stereotype he makes fun of so much, fill him with gay lust."

She slid both drinks across the bar towards Chad, who eagerly picked up the one she had touched.

"Here you go," Samantha said sweetly, handing him the glass.

Chad lifted the drink to his lips, taking a long sip and smacking his lips appreciatively. "Thanks, Samantha. So, tell me more about yourself," he prompted, trying to keep the conversation flowing.

But as the last drop of the enchanted drink slid down his throat, Chad began to feel a strange sensation. His muscles seemed to relax, and a warmth spread through his body. Confused, he looked around the bar, suddenly aware of the vibrant energy and the laughter of the patrons around him.

As Chad continued to sip his drink, unaware of Samantha's magical intervention, a strange sensation began to creep over him. At first, he felt a light-headedness, as if a fog had settled in his brain, making his thoughts feel like they were wrapped in cotton candy. Samantha watched with concealed amusement as Chad's voice started to rise in pitch, a puzzled look crossing his face.

"So, Samantha, I was saying," Chad began, his words coming out in a higher, more melodious tone than before, "what do you do for fun around here?"

Samantha nodded along, her smile widening as Chad's once towering presence seemed to shrink before her eyes. His shoulders relaxed, and his posture subtly changed, losing some of its imposing stature. Chad's height diminished gradually, inch by inch, until he stood at a more modest 5 foot 5, a far cry from his former 6 foot 5.

Chad blinked, feeling disoriented as he looked down at himself, noticing the sudden change in perspective. "Whoa," he muttered, his voice now distinctly softer and more delicate, was there a bit of a lisp even? "Something theels... different."

Samantha chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling mischievously as she observed the transformation taking place. "Looks like that drink had a bit of a kick, huh?" she teased lightly, handing Chad a napkin as he nearly stumbled against the bar, feeling off balance in his suddenly smaller frame.

Chad glanced around nervously, suddenly aware of the curious glances from other patrons in the bar. "What... what's happening to me?" he asked, his voice tinged with a mix of confusion and a hint of panic.

Samantha leaned in closer, her tone reassuring yet tinged with amusement. "Relax, Chad. It's just a little magic," she explained cryptically, watching as Chad's features softened, his muscles seeming to lose some of their bulk.

As the reality of his transformation settled in, Chad realized with growing alarm that he was not only physically shrinking but also beginning to adopt mannerisms that felt foreign to him. He clasped his hands together nervously, noticing the delicate shape of his fingers and the way his shoulders seemed to naturally curve inward.

"I... I feel different," Chad murmured, his voice now almost musical in its softness. "What did you do to me?"

Samantha chuckled again, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. "Let's just say, you're about to see the world from a whole new perspective," she replied cryptically, gesturing for Chad to follow her as she led him towards the dance floor, where the rhythm of the music seemed to beckon him with a newfound allure.

As Chad tentatively took her hand and joined the dance, his movements were now graceful and fluid, a stark contrast to his former swaggering gait. Samantha watched with satisfaction, knowing that her playful spell had set in motion a transformation that would challenge Chad's perceptions of himself and those around him in ways he never expected.

As the music pulsed through the club, Chad's body moved with a new grace and ease that he had never experienced before. His movements were lithe and fluid, every step and sway feeling strangely natural yet unfamiliar. Gone were the bulky muscles honed from years of football practice and intense weightlifting sessions. Now, all he seemed to crave was the rhythmic beat of the dance floor.

With each passing moment, Chad felt lighter, as if a weight he hadn't realized he'd been carrying was lifting from his shoulders. The transformation was subtle at first, imperceptible to anyone but himself and Samantha, who watched with quiet amusement from the sidelines.

Chad's once prominent biceps and pecs began to shrink, the defined contours softening into a leaner, more slender form. His legs, once thick with muscle, now became toned and sleek, perfect for the agile movements of dancing. Abs that were once chiseled began to flatten slightly, a faint hint of definition remaining as his body reshaped itself.

But the most astonishing change was happening to Chad's face. Lines that had etched themselves from years of determined focus and occasional scowls smoothed away, replaced by a youthful glow that seemed to emanate from within. His features softened, his jawline becoming less angular, and his eyes sparkled with a newfound warmth and openness.

As his body continued to transform, Chad felt a curious sensation—a sensation of time rewinding. Memories of grueling football practices and weightlifting routines began to fade, replaced by a simpler desire for movement and joy. He felt a lightness of being, as if shedding layers of his former self to reveal a truer essence beneath.

And as the minutes passed, Chad's age seemed to rewind as well. From 27... to 26... to 25... and down, down, down until he settled at 21, the age where life had seemed full of possibilities and freedom, unburdened by the expectations he had once carried.

Samantha watched with satisfaction as Chad, now transformed into a young man with a twinkish charm that suited him far better than his former alpha persona, grinned back at her with a newfound radiance. His once cold demeanor had melted away, replaced by a warmth and kindness that drew people to him effortlessly.

"Wow," Chad murmured, running a hand through his newly tousled hair, feeling the lightness of his transformed body. "I... I feel different. Younger. Free."

Samantha nodded, her eyes gleaming with amusement and pride. "You look great," she said simply, knowing that Chad's journey was far from over but that this night had marked a profound shift in his life.

And as Chad embraced his new self, dancing under the lights with a joy and abandon he had never known, he realized that sometimes, a little magic was all it took to uncover who you were truly meant to be.

As Chad danced under the pulsing lights of the club, a transformation deeper than his physical appearance was taking hold. The music seemed to seep into his soul, stirring emotions and memories that felt simultaneously foreign and strangely familiar. With each beat, the memories of his rigorous gym routines, football practices, and the once cherished protein shakes faded like distant echoes.

He couldn't recall the details of his workouts or the names of his former teammates. The competitive drive that had fueled his athletic pursuits now seemed distant and irrelevant. Instead, a newfound appreciation for artistic expression blossomed within him, sparked by the melodies that enveloped him on the dance floor.

Chad's conservative edge softened and dissolved under the influence of the music. Ideas and beliefs he had staunchly defended began to shift, replaced by a liberal openness to new experiences and perspectives. He found himself drawn to conversations about social justice, equality, and inclusivity—topics that had never held his interest before.

As the night wore on, Chad's interests continued to evolve. He discovered a deep love for musical theatre and showtunes, melodies that spoke to emotions he had never fully explored. Memories of his college years resurfaced, reminding him of the acting classes he had once taken, the stage he had once tread upon with dreams of performing.

"I used to love acting," Chad murmured to Samantha between songs, his voice soft and introspective. "I remember now... I wanted to be an actor."

Samantha smiled knowingly, her eyes reflecting pride in Chad's newfound self-discovery. "You've always had a flair for drama," she teased gently, watching as Chad's face lit up with a childlike enthusiasm.

"Yeah," Chad nodded, a spark of excitement igniting in his eyes. "I'm going to be totes hungover for classes."

As Chad continued to dance, the rhythm of the music intertwined with his shifting identity. Memories of his former self, Chad the alpha gym bro, seemed to dissolve like mist in the vibrant lights of the club. Instead, a new persona emerged—a carefree and effervescent spirit that Chad had never known before.

"Sammmyyy!" Chad exclaimed with a giggle, his voice tinged with a playful lilt as he twirled around Samantha, who watched with a mixture of amusement and awe. "You're, like, my fag hag now, right? I totes don't wanna ditch you, but like, I'm here to snag the cutest boys tonight. It's Pride, for gosh sakes!"

Samantha laughed, her eyes twinkling with affection for the transformed Chad, now Gabriel—or Gabby, as everyone called him. She nodded along as Gabby spoke in cute little TikTok lingo, his speech peppered with heart emojis and playful hashtags.

As the night progressed, Gabby's transformation continued. His once sturdy frame morphed into something more lithe and youthful, clad in tight booty shorts and a crop top that accentuated his newly slender physique. His hair, once meticulously styled, now tumbled into a tousled mess of blonde locks that framed his youthful face.

Gone was the crude and brash language of Chad, replaced by the sweet and endearing chatter of a cute and somewhat vapid himbo. Gabby flitted from group to group, flashing bright smiles and striking poses for selfies, his newfound charm drawing admirers like moths to a flame.

"OMG, you guys are so cute!" Gabby squealed, snapping a series of selfies with a group of fellow partygoers. "Let's get this on TikTok, like, ASAP!"

Samantha watched with pride as Gabby embraced his new identity with unabashed enthusiasm. It was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, allowing him to embrace the freedom and joy of being his true self—a persona that shimmered with positivity and a zest for life.

As a rising TikTok star, Gabby had amassed a following drawn to his infectious energy and charming personality. His videos were a mix of dance challenges, lip-sync performances, and heartfelt messages about self-love and acceptance. With a knack for engaging storytelling and an unapologetic love for all things fabulous, Gabby's feed was a vibrant reflection of his newfound identity.

In addition to his social media success, Gabby was pursuing a degree in Theatre, where his natural talent for performance shone brightly. He could captivate an audience with his singing voice, whether it was belting out a Broadway ballad or charming patrons in a cozy bar with his favorite showtune.

Gabby woke up the next morning, his body still sore from the night before. Hungover as fuck. He glanced over at the muscular otter sleeping soundly beside him, a smile tugging at his lips as he took in their intertwined limbs and sweat-dampened skin.

As the first light of morning filtered through the curtains, Gabby stirred, slowly becoming aware of the warm, solid presence beside him. His eyes fluttered open, and he turned his head to see a man lying next to him, the sheets barely covering his muscular, hairy chest. Gabby blinked, trying to piece together the events of the night before and struggling to recall the man's name.

Sensing Gabby's movement, the man beside him opened his eyes and smiled warmly. "Good morning. I'm Brad, by the way."

Gabby’s heart skipped a beat as he took in the sight of Brad. He had a rugged handsomeness that seemed almost sculpted—strong jawline, perfectly tousled dark hair, and a five o'clock shadow that gave him an effortlessly masculine appeal. His deep brown eyes were filled with an inviting warmth that made Gabby’s pulse quicken.

Brad’s body was a marvel to behold. His broad shoulders and expansive chest tapered down to a well-defined abdomen. Each muscle seemed to be meticulously chiseled, and his skin bore a healthy tan that spoke of time spent outdoors. The light dusting of hair on his chest added to his raw, primal allure.

Gabby couldn’t tear his eyes away from Brad’s pecs, which were impressive and inviting. His gaze lingered, tracing the lines of Brad’s muscles, and he felt a surge of desire. Brad noticed Gabby’s stare and grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He gave Gabby a slow, deliberate wink and began to flex, his muscles rippling under his skin.

Without warning, Brad pulled Gabby close, their bodies pressing together, and captured Gabby’s lips in a passionate kiss. The intensity of the kiss made Gabby’s head spin, and he melted into Brad’s embrace, his hands roaming over the hard planes of Brad’s back. Brad’s strong arms wrapped around him, holding him firmly yet tenderly.

Gabby’s mind raced, filled with the overwhelming attraction he felt for Brad. Every touch, every movement only heightened his desire. Brad’s kisses trailed from Gabby’s lips to his neck, making him shiver with anticipation.

"I can’t wait to go again," Brad murmured against Gabby’s skin, his voice a low, husky whisper that sent shivers down Gabby’s spine.

Gabby could hardly breathe, his heart pounding in his chest. The morning sun bathed them in a soft glow, and for a moment, the world outside ceased to exist.

Gabby couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement as he gazed upon Brad's muscular form. He was everything Gabby had ever fantasized about in a partner—strong, confident, and undeniably sexy.

"Wait," he said softly before leaning in for a passionate kiss that left Gabby reeling with desire. When they finally broke apart, Brad looked deep into Gabby's eyes and said simply: "I want you."

Without another word, they tumbled over and over in bed together. Hands roamed freely over each other's skin while lips locked hungrily together in fiery kisses that left both men breathless yet yearning for more. As Brad reached down to stroke his hard cock against Gabby's ass cheek teasingly through his briefs—a silent invitation accepted without hesitation—Gabby felt himself melting into pure bliss under this newfound lover's touch...

Gabby gasped as Brad's fingers traced a path down his spine, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through his body. He couldn't help but moan softly in response to the sensation, arching his back slightly to give Brad better access.

Brad chuckled softly against Gabby's neck before leaning in for another passionate kiss that left both men breathless yet yearning for more. As their tongues danced together teasingly within the confines of their mouths, Gabby felt himself growing increasingly horny and horny—a feeling only heightened when Brad finally pulled away with a wicked grin on his face.

"Ready?" he asked playfully before reaching over to grab a condom from the bedside table without waiting for an answer; clearly implying that he was going to take what he wanted regardless if Gabby was prepared or not…

Gabby nodded eagerly, his heart racing with anticipation as Brad rolled the condom onto his already-hard cock. Without further ado, he positioned himself behind Gabby and slowly pushed into him in one smooth motion.

Gabby let out a soft moan of pleasure at the sensation of being filled so completely by someone else for the first time; it was both exhilarating and terrifying all at once—a heady mix of emotions that left him reeling with desire for more. As Brad began to move within him slowly yet deliberately, Gabby couldn't help but wrap his arms around Brad's shoulders tightly while arching his back slightly off the bed in response to each thrust; their bodies becoming one fluid motion as they lost themselves entirely within this moment together…

Their passionate lovemaking continued well into the afternoon, fueled by an undeniable chemistry that seemed to ignite between them from the very beginning. As Brad's movements grew more urgent and primal with each passing minute, Gabby found himself matching his rhythm perfectly—lost in a haze of pleasure as he surrendered completely to this newfound connection between them.

Finally, after what felt like hours but could only have been minutes in reality, Brad let out a loud cry before collapsing onto Gabby's sweat-dampened skin. For his part, Gabby couldn't help realize he was now nothing but a horny, slutty twink and he loved it. Time to make a Grindr profile.

Fatal shortcut

You know those days. The traffic is murder. You can't go another inch. Your destination is within reach, but it will take you three green lights and at least 20 minutes to cover the last 100 meters. Bloody hell! Honk the horn? It's no use… But now carefully pull onto the green lane, then cut across the high school parking lot and you're there. Why do you have your baby, the Mercedes G-Class, after all? I put on the turn signal, the car takes the sidewalk like nothing, carefully into the parking lot, look left and right and…… BANG! Damn it, the Mustang has clearly taken my right of way. This is guaranteed to take longer than 20 minutes… The two morons in the car look like they only have their heads to wear football helmets and pour beer through their mouths. The typical stereotypical football college jock bros. The day just keeps getting better…

"Yo, Chuck! Bro, did you see what that punk did there?" "Sure, Brad! He definitely took your right of way." I try to protest. But I'm way too caught off guard when the guy, who is obviously Chuck, stands up in front of me. God knows I'm not small. I'm a well-trained, muscular six foot two. But Chuck is easily ten centimetres and at least 20 kilograms taller than me… He grabs my balls. Damn it, I want to punch him, but Brad's already got me from behind. And Brad is barely smaller than Chuck. "There you go, you little faggot!" Chuck hisses at me. "Are you lying in wait for your wankers in the parking lot again? But this time is the last time!" He spits in my face and his grip on my balls tightens. Brad turns my head in his direction and spits again. Then the two of them get into their car, put it in reverse. And disappear.

I stand there a bit like an idiot. I'm far from being small or a faggot. And the last thing Chuck and Brad were to me were wank templates. I mean, I have nothing against gays… But thanks no, not for me… I'll take a look at the damage to the car. It's no big deal, the Mustang looked worse. I get back in the car, drive the last few meters into the underground car park, throw my keys to Stephen at reception and ask him to take the car to the garage. When I get off work later, I'd like to have it done. He puts his hand to his temple and says "Sir, aye, sir". Hehehe, I don't mind hierarchies being recognized.

"You little faggot"… I can't get that phrase out of my head. Shit, I'm really unfocused today. Maybe I just need a distraction. I go to the gym during my lunch break. Somehow I feel the need to look like anything but a faggot. I train bare-chested. Dressed only in compression shorts. Not really appreciated here. But I don't care today…

Shit, I'm not in top form here either… What I normally lift without any problems is all too heavy for me today. At least it's the cross trainer… Even though I'm not really the cardio type. When I get in the shower, my cock gets hard. Shit, that's embarrassing. But I also have to say that there's really only premium meat running around here today. And I'm one of them. Definitely one of them. Even the clean-shaven guy in front sees it that way. Clear body language. It doesn't take long before I'm leaning against the shower wall. And for the first time in my life I get fucked… And how! I can hear the angels singing. It feels so good as the stallion cums in my ass. To say goodbye, he gives me a kiss and a pat on the ass. And he says loudly to one of his buddies. "What a waste for such a submissive pig to have such a magnificent cock!"

The fuck was great, but apart from that I'm really not myself today. I feel like I've been missing the last year. For the life of me, I can't remember a lot of things that happened. It's like I wasn't there. I'm glad when Stephen calls me at around 5 p.m. to tell me that my car is back. I thank him, pack up my things and go down to reception. Stephen grins at me almost insolently and says that this service is an exception and that he now has something good on me. Completely confused, I say, "I'm fine, dude" and take my car keys. But there is no black G-Class in my parking lot. There's a baby blue Mercedes SLK, in good shape, freshly polished. But it must be 15 years old. I press the key. The doors open. What the fuck?

I just want to get home, this day is a disaster. As I park the embarrassing car and walk past the concierge, Michael calls after me, "Hey, Johnny boy, can you give Mrs. Smith from 2316 a lift?" I turn red. I walk back to the concierge desk. "So what, my name is Jonathan, but it's actually Mr. Hays to you. And why would I stop on the 23rd floor when I live on the 38th. Besides, I don't know Mrs. Smith." Michael grins at me with his one-million-dollar smile. "Rough day, John, uh, Mr. Hays? You might as well ask the old lady if her drain is still acting up. And before you try to break into the wrong apartment, I understand you live in 2304." He hands me a package. I drive up to the 23rd floor. I give her the package. She asks if I can plug in the new coffee machine straight away. "Of course, mom," I say. I ask if her drain is working again. She says it would be nice if I could have another look. I ask if she has any rubber gloves. She nods. I pull the dirt out of the blocked drain. She slips me a dollar. I go to 2304, open the door. And drop onto the bed. It's right next to the door. 2304 used to be the room for the lady's maid from apartment 2312. On the one hand, I feel very much at home. But on the other hand, I should be somewhere else. Somewhere with a view of Central Park. With more space. I pull out my cell phone and start working my way through Grindr. Maybe I just need someone to take me really hard again today

That was a night of really wild dreams. Really wild dreams. But obviously everything is fine now. I feel fit. My morning wood has never been better. I stroke my chest. Didn't it used to be hairy? I'm fantasizing again. What it would be like to be a real guy. Successful, at least 1.82 m. Well, I'm not going to grow any more. But maybe that's because of some Italian roots or something. That's where I got my hairy armpits and good beard growth. Shit, I'm still hard as nails. So routine like every morning: wank, jog, shower and then off to the office. I should be there at 07:00 so that the mail is distributed and the conference tables are all set before the Masters of the Universe arrive at the office. It's 07:05 when I walk in the door. Stephen grins and just says, "Subway?" "Don't ask, bro!" I reply, rolling my eyes. I didn't really need a bachelor's degree for my job. Jogging in the morning to stay in shape is more important. At the end of the day, I usually have 15K steps and 40 floors on my fitness tracker. And that's not usually the end of it. By the time I get home, Michael usually has a number of assistance activities for me. But hey, the address on the Upper Eastside sounds impressive, which I would never normally have been able to afford as a young professional. I'll even put up with the apartment on the first floor with a view of the backyard and the job as a temporary janitor.

Of course it's embarrassing to still live with my parents. But if I wanted to afford my own place, I'd probably have to move 200 miles away from Down Town. And I want to stay here. That's important to me. Also for financial reasons. The subway tickets alone would be too expensive if I had to travel further. I mean, the little bit of scholarship… And I don't earn much in the kitchen of the cafeteria. Stephen and Michael are good friends. If I didn't have them, I wouldn't make it. But they have good contacts. Stephen in the office, Michael at home. They always know someone who needs a massage with a happy ending. Or a greedy college boy face for a blowjob. The men are usually well-groomed. Too well-groomed, actually. That's why I always look forward to my part-time job as a trainer at the high school gym. If I'm lucky, I get to meet Brad and Chuck. I mean, they're not gay or anything. We never make eye contact. But I still get to blow them sometimes. Even though, of course, it's pathetic when you're a sophomore in college sucking high school seniors. But fuck, you won't find cheesier dicks with a more pronounced scent of musk and sweat anywhere!

Yo, have I even dropped my name yet? It's Janusz, 19 years young and repping as an exchange student up in the Big Apple. Just call me Jonny, keep it chill. Hailing straight outta a tiny village near Krakow, Poland, in case that detail tickles your pickle. Still wrapping my head around this English gig… But let me tell ya, my French game is on point, or so the bros claim. Thrilled to be out of the parental crib and living it up in this wild city. Dang, the possibilities here are endless! Senior year vibes, you know what I'm saying? And now that I joined the wrestling squad, it's like BOOM! More close body action in a week than I got in a year with the 'rents around! Truth bomb: I make most of my cash tagging along with my wingmen Brad and Chuck, the school heartthrobs. I'm like their trusty sidekick. It's lit! Hoping to snag an athletic scholarship next year, fingers crossed. Sure, these two golden boys ain't wrestlers (legends in the bedroom, though), but football studs. It'd be epic if we could keep the bromance alive in college. Purely platonic, of course. Or not… 🤷‍♂️

I really needed a story like this in these days

Born Proud on the 4th of July-500 Follower Story

Milo Higgins stood tall and broad-shouldered in his backyard, a picture of American pride and muscle. His olive-drab t-shirt strained against his chest, showcasing his rugged physique honed by years of military training. The yard was a sea of American flags fluttering in the summer breeze, interspersed with military memorabilia and a meticulously maintained home gym in one corner.

As the football game blared from the outdoor television, Milo hollered over his shoulder, "Suzie, bring me another beer and some wings!" His voice carried a gruff authority, a remnant of his military command style. He believed in traditional roles, firmly believing women belonged in the kitchen and that his word was law in his domain.

His routine was disciplined and intense. He woke at dawn for his military-style workouts: push-ups, pull-ups, and weights, all executed with a grim determination. His evenings were spent watching football, wrestling, and Fox News, occasionally barking orders to Suzie or grumbling about politics.

Today was special—a Fourth of July party for his military buddies and their families. The guests began to arrive, a mix of fellow servicemen and their children. Among them was Julio, Suzie's best gay friend and Milo's least favorite person on Earth. Julio, always impeccably dressed and effortlessly charming, greeted Suzie with a warm hug.

"Hey Suzie, you look amazing!" Julio said with a wide smile.

"Thanks, Julio! So glad you could make it," Suzie replied warmly. She turned to Milo, gesturing towards Julio. "Milo, this is Julio."

Milo glanced at Julio with thinly veiled disdain before muttering, "Hey," and quickly walking away towards the grill where he flipped a few burgers with unnecessary force.

Julio followed him, undeterred by Milo's cold reception. "Hey, Milo, happy Fourth! Thanks for having me over."

Milo grunted in response, not making eye contact as he adjusted the heat on the grill.

Julio persisted, maintaining his congenial demeanor. "You know, Suzie talks so highly of you. It's great to finally meet you."

Milo turned abruptly, fixing Julio with a steely glare. "Listen, Julio. I don't need you putting ideas in Suzie's head, you hear me? She's my wife, and what she thinks ain't your concern."

Julio raised his hands placatingly. "Hey, man, I'm just here to celebrate, like everyone else. No worries."

Milo's jaw clenched, his dislike for Julio simmering just below the surface. "Just watch yourself," he warned, before turning back to the grill, effectively ending the conversation.

Julio's face fell as Milo launched into a tirade, his words stinging like a slap. "Listen here, you little punk. I don't care what you think about me or my wife. Just keep your filthy mouth shut and stay away from her. You're nothing but a damn faggot, Julio! And your woke politics can go straight to hell. This country was built on traditional values, not your queer ideals. And don't even get me started on how much of a hypocrite you are. You come into our home acting like some kind of saint when really you just want to corrupt my wife with your perverted lifestyle."

He couldn't believe the man was so narrow-minded and hateful. Suzie had always spoken highly of him, but it seemed she was married to someone who couldn't accept the truth about people or their relationships.

As Julio tried to gather his thoughts, he glanced over at Suzie, hoping for some sort of support or understanding from her. But she just looked uncomfortable and embarrassed by her husband's outburst. It hurt Julio to see her like that; he knew how much she loved Milo despite his flaws.

Taking a deep breath, Julio decided it was time for action. He wouldn't let Milo get away with this kind of behavior without consequence—not if it meant hurting Suzie in the process.

Julio sighed inwardly but plastered on a smile as he rejoined Suzie and their friends, determined not to let Milo's hostility ruin the festive atmosphere.

Neither Milo nor Suzie knew that Julio practiced brujería, a tradition steeped in mysticism and rituals. Julio, despite his charming exterior, had a deep knowledge of spells and hexes passed down through generations of his family in Mexico. Among his abilities was the art of cursing objects, infusing them with intentions and consequences.

As the Fourth of July party continued, Julio spotted Milo at the grill, his usual stern expression etched on his face.

Julio, frustrated with Milo's dismissive attitude and simmering hostility towards him, decided to take matters into his own hands. He knew he had the power to influence outcomes through brujería, and with a mix of irritation and determination, he focused his energy on the bottle of beer in his hand. Under his breath, Julio muttered an incantation, his eyes briefly glowing with a faint, otherworldly light:

"Por los poderes de la luna y el fuego, Transformo esta cerveza en un maleficio. Que el odio y el desprecio de este hombre hacia los gays, Se vuelva en su contra como una maldición.

Con cada sorbo de esta bebida, Su masculinidad tóxica se desvanece. Se transformará en lo que más desprecia, Un estereotipo gay que lo abochornará."

With a subtle wave of his hand, Julio completed the enchantment and then approached Milo, offering the beer with an inscrutable smile.

"Hey, Milo," Julio greeted with a disarming smile, holding out the beer. "I brought this from my hometown in Mexico. It's one of the best beers you'll ever taste."

Milo looked at the bottle skeptically. "I don't know, Julio. I'm not really into Mexican beers. Today's about celebrating America, you know?"

Julio's eyes glinted momentarily as he maintained his pleasant demeanor. "Come on, just try it. It's a gesture of peace between us."

Milo hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. "Alright, fine. But just this once." He took the bottle from Julio's hand and popped the cap, taking a long swig.

As the cold beer flowed down his throat, Milo felt a strange sensation. He coughed suddenly, suds spilling over his lips and onto his shirt. Julio watched closely, concealing a small smile as he subtly chanted under his breath:

Milo wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, unaware of the subtle changes beginning to take place within him. A warmth spread through his chest, and an inexplicable feeling of lightness replaced his usual heaviness.

"What did you put in this beer, Julio?" Milo asked gruffly, his voice sounding slightly different, softer.

Julio chuckled lightly. "Just some magic from my homeland. Enjoy it."

Milo frowned, feeling strangely vulnerable yet oddly at ease. He glanced down at his beer-stained shirt and then back at Julio, who was still smiling warmly. The party continued around them, unaware of the subtle transformation unfolding within Milo Higgins, the patriotic soldier who suddenly found himself questioning the very ideals he had staunchly upheld.

Milo Higgins felt an intense heat surge through his body, as if an internal inferno had been ignited. It was a sensation unlike anything he had ever experienced—his muscles, once rippling and defined, now pulsed and trembled. His biceps, which had strained against his olive t-shirt, began to shrink, losing their mass and definition. His abs, once a symbol of his strength, softened and became less pronounced. Even his pecs, once proud and prominent, faded away under his shirt. His legs, accustomed to carrying his imposing frame, lost their bulk and power.

Panic gripped Milo as he felt himself getting weaker and weaker. He looked down at his hands, which seemed smaller and more delicate. He felt a strange sensation of shrinking, inch by inch. At 6'3", he had always towered over others with a commanding presence. Now, as he shrunk, inch by inch, fear washed over him. At 5'4", he looked around in horror at the people around him, who suddenly seemed taller and more imposing.

The beer can slipped from his weakening grip, clattering to the ground. Milo stumbled towards Julio, his voice trembling with fear and confusion. "Wha… what did you do to me, you freak?" His Adam's apple shrank, and his voice emerged with a distinct effeminate lisp, each syllable peppered with uncertainty. "Wha's wrong with my voice?"

Julio met Milo's panicked gaze with a coy, sinister smile. "Oh, nothin' Miley," he replied casually, drawing out Milo's new name with deliberate playfulness. "Just thought you needed a taste of your own medicine."

Milo's hands shook as he touched his softer, smaller features, a mixture of disbelief and horror etched across his face. His mind raced with questions and fears about what had happened to him. The once imposing soldier now stood before Julio, diminished and vulnerable, his identity and masculinity in flux.

Milo screamed, "No, no, no! You have to thtop thith! Where are my muthtcles? What'th happening to me?"

Julio smiled maliciously. "Hush now, little guy. You won't have to worry much longer. The mental changes will soon make you exactly what you hate—exactly what you made fun of in the past. Now, I'm not sure what exactly you'll become. Your own mind will take you down that row. But it seems like you think---or thought, that all gay men are whiny, short effeminate little twinks. How fun" But the time you're doing you'll be---" He leaned in close and whispered menacingly, "The perfect gay."

Milo tried desperately to resist but couldn't shake the feeling that his own mind was taking him down a path he never wanted to go on. The changes were becoming more apparent, he realized that Julio had been right all along—he was becoming everything he had once despised.

As Milo Higgins stood there, his mind began to undergo an even more profound change. It was as if a bright light bulb in his head, not that it was ever very bright to begin with, was gradually dimming. The thoughts and memories that once defined him—anger, resentment, and a rigid adherence to stereotypes—started to shift and rearrange themselves.

Milo's face contorted in confusion and fear as Julio spoke. "Twinks? What the hell are you talking about?"

"You know, Milo. The young, slender gay men who act very feminine and are often seen as objects of desire by older men." Julio grinned maliciously. "It seems like your own mind is going to turn you into the very thing you despise most."

Milo stared at Julio in horror, his body trembling with fear and uncertainty. He couldn't believe what was happening to him—or that he was even considering becoming something he had always despised so much.

Gone were the memories of military service, where he had prided himself on his strength and loyalty to his country. The camaraderie of college football days faded into the background, replaced by new memories and experiences that began to flood his consciousness.

Instead, Milo found himself recalling moments of activism and protest, standing up against unjust wars and marching alongside women and LGBTQ+ communities for their rights. He remembered the exhilaration of going to school for art, where creativity and expression took precedence over conformity. Acting in community theater brought him a sense of fulfillment he had never felt before, a stage where he could explore different identities and emotions.

Singing show tunes with his bestie Suzie and Julio replaced nights out with his former buddies, where they would rate women and boast about conquests. Drag race, musical theatre,

As Milo's mind rewired itself, he began to feel a newfound openness and acceptance. The rigid boundaries of his previous beliefs dissolved, replaced by a curiosity and empathy for others. He felt a stirring of attraction towards Julio, mixed with admiration for the confidence and courage it took to confront him.

As Milo's mind rewired itself, he began to feel a newfound openness and acceptance. The rigid boundaries of his previous beliefs dissolved, replaced by a curiosity and empathy for others. He felt a stirring of attraction towards Julio, mixed with admiration for the confidence and courage it took to confront him.

Milo's head spun as he noticed all the men around him—their muscles straining against their shirts, sweat glistening off their hot bodies. His straight self seemed to dissolve before his eyes; women suddenly seemed icky and gross compared to these strong, virile men. A lust built up within him as an emptiness crept throughout his big bubble butt—he needed to be filled by one of these sexy straight men!

The straight men around them began teasing Milo playfully now that they realized how turned on he was by them. They called him names like "sissy" and "faggot," laughing with Julio as they watched Milo blush in embarrassment. But the embarrassment only seemed to turn Milo on further; his dick started to get hard, leaking precum as he watched the muscular military men flirt with him shamelessly.

Julio quickly grabbed Milo's hand. Julio's touch on Milo's hand was electric, sending a jolt through Milo's body as he blinked in confusion. Suddenly, they were no longer in Milo's familiar Patriotic Pad of the Patriarchy. The surroundings shifted around them, and Milo's eyes widened in disbelief as American flags morphed into rainbow flags that fluttered proudly in the air.

They found themselves in the midst of a bustling gay nightclub, pulsating with vibrant music and colorful lights. Milo stood there, momentarily stunned, as the atmosphere enveloped him. The air was alive with laughter, dancing bodies, and an undeniable sense of freedom.

For a moment, Milo's thoughts flickered to Suzie, his blonde wife, and the plans they had for the Fourth of July party. But those thoughts quickly dissolved amidst the energy of the nightclub. He felt a surge of excitement and liberation that he had never experienced before.

As Milo looked around, he noticed people of all shapes, sizes, and genders embracing who they were without fear or shame. He saw barely dressed twunks with their abs on display; cute twinks flirting shamelessly with muscle bears; daddies in leather trying to score with hot muscular men in jockstraps. A lust burned within him—a horniness that couldn't be contained any longer. He always thought gay men were just horny sexual deviants looking for sex at every turn...and that's exactly what he was becoming.

He started to move with the music, his body swaying instinctively to the beat. A smile tugged at his lips as he let go of inhibitions he never knew he had. His movements became fluid, graceful, and filled with a newfound confidence.

Milo's demeanor shifted dramatically. He felt a surge of expressiveness and flamboyance bubbling up from within. His voice, once gruff and commanding, softened into a melodious lilt as he engaged in conversations filled with laughter and camaraderie.

Gone was the rigid masculinity and narrow-mindedness. In its place, Milo embraced his love for theatre and the arts with an enthusiasm that surprised even himself. He found joy in discussing plays, musicals, and the latest performances in town. His gestures became animated, his laughter infectious as he connected with others who shared his passions.

Milo's eyes sparkled with a mixture of wonder and excitement as he realized he was becoming the very stereotype he once dismissed—a cute, bubbly, theatre-loving, liberal twink. As Milo looked down at himself, he gasped in disbelief. His attire had transformed into cute booty shorts that accentuated his toned legs and a colorful tank top that hugged his newly slender frame. His face seemed to lose any hint of sharpness, aging backwards in time. The years dissolved before his eyes, smoothing out wrinkles and refining features into something more youthful and boyishly charming. His hair darkened and grew unruly, framing his face in a way that accentuated its newfound softness. His once rugged face seemed to soften before his eyes, losing any harsh edges as if time itself was rewinding.

His blonde hair darkened to a rich brown and grew unruly, framing his face in tousled curls that added to his youthful appearance. Milo's features became smoother, his jawline more delicate, and a deep brown tan spread across his skin, giving him a radiant glow.

In this moment of transformation, Milo's old name seemed to evaporate into the air, replaced by a new name that echoed through his consciousness—Ishaq. A deep, bronzed tan spread across Milo's skin, giving him a healthy glow that seemed to radiate from within. Memories flooded Ishaq's mind—days of arriving in America as an immigrant, navigating a new culture with broken English and a charming lisp.

Ishaq was proud of his Middle Eastern heritage, and his newfound identity as a cute, bubbly, theatre-loving, liberal twink felt both exhilarating and liberating. He embraced his sexuality and his cultural roots with equal fervor, a proud expression of who he was meant to be.

Beside him, Julio danced with infectious energy, their movements synchronized in perfect harmony. Ishaq wore a cute and flashy outfit that shimmered under the nightclub lights—a sequined jacket adorned with colorful patterns, fitted jeans that hugged his curves, and stylish sneakers that completed his ensemble.

In the midst of the music and laughter, Ishaq reveled in the freedom to express himself authentically. He twirled and spun with Julio, their laughter ringing out like a chorus of acceptance and love. For Ishaq, this moment was not just about embracing his new identity—it was about celebrating life, love, and the beauty of being true to oneself.

The nightclub throbbed with pulsing lights and a bass-heavy beat as Julio and Ishaq moved gracefully across the dance floor. Ishaq's outfit, adorned with sequins that caught the strobe lights, shimmered with every step he took. His Middle Eastern accent and gentle lisp were evident as he spoke passionately to Julio.

Ishaq leaned in close over the music, his eyes bright with excitement. "Oh, Julio, darling, do you thee how fabulouth thith night ith? The vibe, the freedom... it'th all tho ex-hil-arating!"

Julio grinned, matching Ishaq's enthusiasm. "You're right, Ishaq! You always bring such energy to the club. By the way, who's your ultimate drag queen from Drag Race?"

Ishaq's face lit up, his hands gesturing animatedly. "Oh, hon-they, it hath to be Sasha Velour! Thhe's tho creative and revolutionary, and her lip thyncheth are pure art!"

As they danced, the DJ seamlessly transitioned into a playlist of pop hits. Suddenly, the familiar beats of Beyoncé's "Single Ladies" filled the air. Ishaq gasped in excitement and turned to Julio, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Oh my God, Julio, thith ith my jam!"

Ishaq pulled Julio closer, their bodies moving effortlessly together to the infectious rhythm. In the midst of the pulsating music and swirling lights, Ishaq gazed deeply into Julio's eyes. "Julio, you know what? I can't help but thay it... you're the cuteth thing I've ever theen."

As the night progresses, Julio and Ishaq's flirtation escalates into something more. They begin to make out passionately, their tongues dancing in each other's mouths. Ishaq whimpers and begs Julio to take him, his eyes filled with desire. Julio smirks, knowing he has complete control over the situation.

Without hesitation, they rush towards the bathroom where they lock themselves inside. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoes through the walls as they lose themselves in their lustful desires. Ishaq moans loudly as Julio takes him from behind, pounding into his tight hole with unbridled force. He screams out "Yassss daddy!" begging for more of this rough treatment from his new lover.

When they finally reach climax together it's like an explosion - both men crying out in ecstasy at being so deeply connected physically and emotionally at this moment in time . After coming down off their high, Julio tosses a wad of cash at an exhausted looking but satisfied Ishaq saying "You were worth every penny boy ,I'll be sure tell my friends about your services." With that said, Ishaq forgets about being friends with Julio anymore .He was just another gay whore now who happened to have given him pleasure earlier tonight .

Economic Hockey Boys Part Two: The Gradual Takeover

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This story has been in the making for a while, and I kind of quit in the middle of it for months. I couldn’t find an ending or the right direction. I hope you all enjoy this version; I think I started over at least two times.

part one here: https://hardwriterdeluxe.tumblr.com/post/727576341242920960/economic-hockey-boys

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Alex’s plan was meticulous, calculated to usurp Max's place both on the team and in the social hierarchy. It began subtly, with Alex hanging around Max more often, always conveniently there to assist or "help" whenever Max needed it. He started emitting a new, strong smell with a musk that seemed to dominate the air around him. The scent was potent, masculine, and it slowly began to take hold in the locker room.

At first, Max didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. He was too focused on maintaining his status as captain and the team's star player. But the others started to change in their behavior. They began looking to Alex for guidance, respecting his opinions more and more, while Max found it increasingly difficult to command the same respect.

One evening, after a particularly intense practice, Alex approached Max in the locker room. The space was filled with the pungent scent of sweat and Alex’s overpowering musk. Max was exhausted, sitting on the bench, wiping his face with a towel. Alex, freshly showered but still emanating that musk, sat beside him, a smirk playing on his lips.

“You okay, Max?” Alex asked, his tone laced with a mix of concern and something else—something that made Max uneasy.

“Yeah, just tired,” Max replied, trying to muster his usual confidence.

“Maybe you should take it easy,” Alex suggested, lifting his arm to adjust his jersey, exposing his pit. The musk hit Max like a wave, making him feel dizzy and disoriented. “You’ve been pushing yourself pretty hard.”

Max nodded, unable to shake the feeling of Alex’s dominance growing stronger with each passing day. The musk seemed to cling to him, invading his senses even after he left the locker room.

Over the next few weeks, the transformation began in earnest. Max started to lose weight, his muscular frame slowly wasting away. His once-bulging biceps shrank, his pecs flattened, and his six-pack abs softened into a smooth, slender torso. His legs, once powerful and thick, became thin and frail. His skin lost its healthy tan, turning pale and almost translucent. His face softened, his jawline losing its sharpness and becoming more delicate and androgynous.

The changes weren’t just physical. Max’s confidence waned as he found it harder to assert himself. The team, too, started to notice but couldn’t quite put their finger on what was happening. Alex, on the other hand, grew more robust. His muscles became more defined, his presence more commanding. He had started taking Max's place not just in performance but in the hearts and minds of their teammates.

Max’s clothes began to change as well. His gear, once snug and highlighting his athletic build, became loose and baggy. His jersey, bearing the captain's insignia, was replaced with a simple tracksuit labeled "WATER BOY" on the back. His locker, once prominently positioned among the team's stars, vanished, leaving him with a small, inconspicuous cubby near the entrance.

“Hey, Maxie, can you grab us some water?” one of the players called out one day. Max looked up, realizing with a start that he had been demoted to a mere water boy. The name "Maxie" stuck, a cruel reminder of his new position. His memories of leading the team, of scoring goals and celebrating victories, began to blur, replaced by feelings of awe towards Alex and secret crushes on the more manly players.

The team quickly took advantage of Maxie's new role. They would make fun of him, teasing him mercilessly. "Hey, Maxie the Service Boy, clean out my locker!" they'd jeer, throwing smelly gear at him, the odor overwhelming his senses. The once-proud captain was now an easy target for their taunts, his weakened state making him unable to fight back.

One evening, after a particularly grueling practice, the team decided to play a prank on Maxie. At Alex's suggestion, they locked him into a locker filled with reeking gear, the pungent smell of sweat and musk suffocating him. Maxie banged on the door, pleading to be let out, but the boys just laughed and walked away.

Finally, Alex came to "rescue" him. He opened the locker, a look of mock concern on his face. "Having fun, Maxie?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Maxie stumbled out, his eyes watering from the stench. "Please, Alex, I can't take this anymore," he begged, his voice trembling.

Alex's smirk widened as he grabbed Maxie by the collar and pulled him close. "You'll do whatever I say, won't you, Maxie?" he whispered, his breath hot against Maxie's ear.

Maxie nodded, unable to resist the overpowering musk emanating from Alex's body. Alex pushed him down to the floor, standing over him in nothing but his musky socks, jockstrap, and pits reeking from practice. "Show me how much you appreciate your new role," he commanded.

Maxie, his mind clouded by the intoxicating scent, obeyed without question. He serviced Alex, his actions driven by a mix of submission and a strange, overwhelming desire. Alex watched with satisfaction, knowing that he had completely dominated and owned Maxie, at least within the confines of the locker room.

From that night on, Maxie was Alex’s toy, a secret shared between the two of them. The team continued to win, celebrating their new captain and hero, Alex, while Maxie's presence faded into the background. In the quiet moments, away from prying eyes, Maxie and Alex found solace in each other, their bond growing stronger with each passing day. Alex had successfully stolen Max’s life, and in doing so, they had found an unexpected connection that neither had anticipated.

Hope you all liked it, comment down below!

I'm totally interested in the Nissan Sentra! It may not be the fanciest car on the lot, but it reminds me of the first car I was (or, my parents) ever able to afford when I first got my license nearly two decades ago. Call it the nostalgia factor, but that's the one I'll choose!

Oh wow! Look who just got their first car ever as a birthday gift for your sweet 20 🎂! after failing their drivers test twice like a typical bottom driver.

I mean, I don’t really know why you’d lie and say you got your first car two decades ago, but twinks aren’t really meant to be smart, nor are they known to be the best drivers, but I’m sure you’ll take care of it. It’s a small, compact and very cute car ! Just like you actually, it fits you very well. What I’m sure though is that it won’t smell the best inside, you do have some pretty bad gas and foot smell issues, but that’s totally fine, a cute little air freshener could help it all. Drive safe and go pick up your friends to go to starbies now!

Identity ;

Name : James

Age : Just freshly turned 20 ! Happy birthday, some people say your teenage years are over yet I still see you scrolling on TikTok all day, hanging out to Starbucks with your friends and sometimes skipping showers and brushing your teeth, and all the birthday cake you ate is definitely gonna do wonders to your gas…

IQ : 87, youre under average but still not so dumb. You can hold good conversations and be very sweet and understanding of others.

Personality : Fun, very nice and empathetic, a bit flamboyant and overall cute and friendly! It’s a pleasure to be around you, although you can get a little judgy with your friends, it’s just for fun!

Sexuality : 100% Homosexual. No questions here.

Body :

Body type : Twinky and skinny

Overall attractiveness : 10/10, or should I say overall cuteness! So adorable and cute.

Package size : 3 inches active, 1 inch soft. Although it isn’t big, you won’t really need it so it’s fine. At least it fits comfortably in your pants.

Rear end size : Small, a little flat but still cute and soft ! Your pants just don’t even cover it, it isn’t visible at all, which is kinda adorable as well!

Overall B.O : 6.5/10, You can definetly get a little sweaty when it’s hot as you live in Florida, and your dove deodorants don’t always hide the smell. Your pits can smell a bit like a sharp and salty sweat, while your feet will smell like melted butter. I’d say you smelliest area is definetly your feet, without speaking about your gas of course.

Gassiness : 9/10, Those Florida fast-foods you’re eating definetly have an effect on your gas…you fart a lot and can’t really control it. Thankfully they’re all mostly quiet puffs, but they still do smell of musty scrambled eggs and sulfur. You are embarrassed each time you let one out, but you also love the sensation of the hot steamy air escaping your little buns, and somewhat love to smell your own gas when you’re home alone. That’s just your little secret though.

Muscles : You’re quite bony, but it’s just so adorable and perfectly fits your friendly vibe, and I wouldn’t change that for anything!!

Getting them to put on the KOK jockstraps was way to easy, it always is with college Jock's. They are all almost always in some sport. And whereas some would find the underwear too GAY , making jokes about easy access they'd all begrudgingly wear them if they were free, and some of these men would never even check them enough to see if they were clean.

You might be wondering what the two hot men did to warrant me getting involved, what warranted me spending my energy on them. The answer I caught them Jaywalking!

Okay sue me I like to make jokes. No Jason and Tyler here apparently we're picking on someone in Chest Society and Debate club and Thad, my vice president wanted me to get involved. Out of all the members in the frat that big loveable oaf rarely asked for anything so I said why not. I pulled a few strings, cashed in a favor with a cousin who knew a guy who could easily shape shift and they replaced the old, distended, musky fabric jockstraps with newer cleaner KOK Jocks. I'd be saving Jason and Tyler's old possessions for a rainy day!

The boys went into their lockers before practice and pulled out their workout gear, not even batting an eye at the change in garments. They talked the game, upcoming frat parties I had no clue we're going on and about one of their current girlfriends as they undressed. I was saving more then that nerd, I think I was saving that girl from a terrible relationship with how he talked about her.

They pulled up the new clean underwear through their compared to the rest of their bodies pathetic legs (don't skip leg day guys), both feeling just the tiniest spark, just enough to be mistaken for static shock, dance around their waist and send chills up their spine. They put on tight tank tops and loose shorts making some comment about not wanting to give one of their teammates a show, if you can't see me my eyes are rolling. But the plan was done and set in motion.

Those jocks went through their drills working up a sweaty their shirts staining faster then they were used to, as their legs carried them through cardio. Their bodies which were normally so heavy would feel like lead doing all of this. Today though it was like they were lighter then air. Every drill seemed to make them go quicker.

Jason, who used to be six foot nothing, wall of muscle found himself loving the warmth and sweat pouring off of him as he focused all his efforts on the track in front of him. He couldn't believe he ever hated running laps, I mean in his loose tank top and sleek torso it's like he was made for it. He had no idea that the longer he was wearing that jock, the more mass was sliding and rearranging itself in him, some lost forever a his feet raced against his friend.

Tyler on the other hand had started to feel weird like there was something off. But everytime he started to get close to the answer his ass and giant thighs would swallow more of his tiny short shorts causing him to wobble and increase the distance between him and his friend. God he wishes he was as lean as Jace he thought but Ty knew he got way more attention with his much bubblier cheeks!

Before they knew it drills were over and the locker rooms were closed so they had to go back to their apartment, sweaty, musky and both super horny. Their small cocks trapped in the confines of the Twinks KOK Jocks I gave them.

They'd find it basically impossible to get off or cum unless someone fucked them or pulled those jockstraps off and luckily for Thad he'd get to make that choice. For being such a good man.

I told him what to expect when he got their, the loud begging and moaning from the closed unlocked door. The side of two moaning twinks fingering themselves as their lips grew. The last thing I'd said was just a simple warning, if he got them to cum three times for him while still wearing them they'd be even more permanent then they already were.

To say the least, Thad had two new holes to call his by the end of the night.

I feel really bad for my grandpa as he spent so much of his youth working. I want him to experience what it's like to be a modern day twink.

I blinked and suddenly Grandpa was a young twink staring at me, the proper boomer was now sexy sporting a nose ring now. Plump lips as the granpa of old quickly disappeared, which actually changed my life as well since now he was no longer my grandpa. I turned around and within seconds I changed as well.

My body bulked up, my ass expanded as my wardrobe changed. I slapped my ass as I felt the changes go deeper as I lit up a smoke, staring at my new boi.

Fuck I was gorgeous now but of course I was I was a fuckin Dom compared to this twink ass.

Look at him, obsessed with my smell. Fuck he's got me so hard.

His ass was mine now, fuck can't believe this needy twink used to be my grandpa. Fuck so glad grandma married a better man, to help my genes become so superior to him.

I do know he's one hell of a good sub twink. Fuck hope he enjoys his changes just as much as I am.

Live Reenactment

Me when this was supposed to be posted yesterday. Was chugging along well until I got hit in the head with a migraine because my body responds to any weather changes like a demon being doused with holy water. Anyway, hope y'all have fun reading this!

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Bradley blinks.

"You're into role play? That's not all that weird."

Parker wipes his mouth and laughs. Cleans it of Bradley's spit. He didn't expect Parker to be such a good kisser.

"Well it's not really role-play. How do I explain this? We kind of ... become the roles."

Bradley nods as if he understands. This sounds like some hyper-specific fetish but who cares? At least Parker's honest about it.

"Okay, sure."

Parker raises an eyebrow.

"Are you sure?"

"Dude you're like the most interesting person I've slept with." Bradley shrugs. Parker really isn't, but Parker is the first person in a very, very long time who has shown any remote interest in Bradley that he's afraid of letting him vanish into the ether of Grindr again. "I'm okay with it."

"Okay. Okay."

"So what do I have to do?"

Parker takes a big gulp of air. Lets it out. Bradley can feel the air current travel over to him, and its warmth surprises him, seems to blanket his body.

"Okay, all you gotta do now is just pretend you're loading laundry."

Bradley's feet, seemingly of their own will, walk over to the laundry machine and he gets down on his hands and knees, opens the door. What the fuck!?

"Let me know if you ever want to stop."

Before Bradley can say anything or ask a question, the horniness he was feeling earlier, lightened up a little bit since this whole roleplay talk, hits him like a brick wall. His mouth falls open and he moans into the washing machine, the sound coming out louder and more lewd than he'd wanted.

Or even expecting.

It's like something has seized him, an iron fist of hormones that makes his brain swim. He clutches onto the washing machine as his cock shoots straight out, practically feeling like it's going to fly off, and makes a huge tent in his sweatpants. Sweat pours out of him in buckets as his body heats like he's inside of an oven. He hears Parker moan behind him and Bradley looks over his shoulder and what looks like Parker's chest swelling, huge nipples pressing against his flannel as the buttons across his shirt strain as hair comes out from between the distressed shirt.

"Oh god, this feels so good!"

The deepening of Parker's voice into something gruff - older sounding too - makes Bradley tremble. Not in fear but in pure arousal, cock standing up harder and dripping in his pants, staining his underwear. He sighs in confused pleasure as his hole starts twitching and puckering. A need growing inside of it. The sensation makes his brain spin even faster. He'd never experienced a need for a cock in him. Never felt his hole pucker like this, like it's a hungry mouth looking for something big and fat to split it.

His clothes feel looser on his frame, almost like they're growing too big for him. The sudden arching of his back makes him moan and lose his grip on the washing machine, as he thrusts his ass out. His stomach bubbles and gurgles as he looks down, lifts his damp shirt and sees his small gut violently suck inwards. If the sensation of all his stubborn belly fat sucking inwards and dissolving was like having an orgasm focused entirely on his stomach, then the feeling of all of his loose fat moving to his flat ass, landing there squarely and fattening up those cheeks is like being edged by expert hands.

"FuuUcKK!"

His voice swerves and cracks an octave or two higher. His once smooth voice sounds softer, twinkier.....

His flattening stomach loses its sparse coating of body hair. The new smooth skin feels foreign to his softening fingers, the thinning, shrinking digits sending sparks of pleasure up and down his spine. Holy fuck it's so sensitive.

"Damn, you sound sexy."

Parker grunts and growls a little as buttons fly off his shirt and land next to Bradley. Bradley looks away from his shrinking stomach, biting his lip as one of his hands starts teasing his sensitive, swollen cockhead. God his body feels like one big erogenous zone, like he's just sprouted nipples everywhere. More buttons land on the floor next to him and Bradley turns in time to see the final heave of Parker's massive pecs mount on his chest. They're huge with massive pegs for nipples on the front of his tit-flesh. His body is coated with dark, dense hair that swirls through the center of his tits and down his gyrating stomach, which is smoothing out and expanding and stretching as he's....growing taller!?

Or...is he?

"Am I shrinking?"

His shirt becomes entirely too big for him as another wave of fat and muscle expands Bradley's ass into a huge bubble that shakes through the fabric of his sweatpants. His twinky voice makes his cock spit out more pre into the palm of his hand that's still working his cock like a joystick.

"God you sound so hot!"

Bradley sees large, imposing abs press against Parker's rougher looking skin. Parker is grabbing his own cock and humping his hand, while the other tweaks his nipples as his biceps bloat and strain the sleeve of his shirt, his deep, resonant moans making Bradley quiver like the voice is fucking him.

Bradley strips off his damp shirt. The need in his asshole, deep in his body, makes him run a finger along his cavernous ass crack, making him shiver and moan and his cock jump in his sweatpants, and he feels all the hair down there basically receding into nothingness. When his finger crests his puckering hole - a light coating of hairs crowning the fleshy entrance - he wails in pleasure as his finger sinks right inside of it. His brain feels like hormonal soup right now as he fingerfucks himself. Cock going wild against his hand. He shoves his middle finger all the way down past the second knuckle as his index finger circles the pit of his asshole making him twitch and sigh.

"Yeah keep moaning like that baby."

More fat moves from his small manboobs and goes into his ass, some of it converted into muscle. He can feel his ass cheeks expanding around his fingers, fattening and pressing them together and making them go deeper into his ass, the need he'd just developed barely even satisfied. He whimpers and shakes like he's freezing cold as his index finger falls into his greedy ass. So deep. Rhythmically going in and out of his fattening ass.

His torso is so small now. He looks down and barely recognizes the tanning skin that's gracing his small torso. His girth and wideness has been siphoned into his ass and now growing thighs, whatever fat can't fit just flowing downwards as the excess fat in his thighs is dissolved and tightened into thin, athletic muscle to hold his big ass high and perky. He's whining and whimpering like he's in pain, but the sensation across his entire body is just so good it's blinding. His nipples are so hard and pointy that it's like his chest hasn't even gotten smaller. He takes his other hand off his cock and begins tweaking and pulling on his nipples. Taking his hand out of his ass and taking off his loosening sweatpants and briefs which are sliding off his thinning legs, waist sucking inwards while his hips pop outwards.

"Damn your ass looks good baby."

Bradley thrusts his ass out again as his thighs finish bloating and thinning, the smooth pillars of twink flesh enticing and milky, the tan stopping right at his ass giving him a tan line for the century.

"Does - does it?"

His voice is so high and breathy, his throat and Adam's apple thinning. Small abs imprint themselves on his flat stomach as Bradley squirms around, his stomach tightening and flexing as his strong core makes itself apparent against his skin. He turns and sees Parker playing with his nipples as his bulge bloats larger in his straining khakis, the button popped off and gone somewhere, the base of his cock curling with salt and pepper hairs visible through the soaked fabric of his underwear. Parker's cock snakes larger and his balls fill up, bloating larger and making Parker bellow with pleasure. Pre just oozing out of his cock like a broken water main. He smells Parker from here, the scent of a man who'd just gotten back from a hard workout, his thicker, older body coated with erotic sweat. He moves his hand off his chest and body and back to his cock.

"God you should smell my pits!"

Bradley can imagine it. He whimpers again as his own pit hair thins out, and his smell is still present - a musk underneath all that sweat and hormones - but it's definitely not as pungent as Parker.

Parker's smell makes Bradley's own cock twitch and he feels something at the base of it. His 6 incher stiff as a board against his hand, leaking all inside of his dryer with his pre. His abs finish pressing against the skin as he yells out in pleasure at his thinning calves. His feet slim down in his socks, the big size 11s shrinking to size 9s. His feet pop and pleasurably sink in, the loose fabric around his smaller feet being clenched between his curling toes. The shrinking of his feet caused another jolt at the base of his penis. He looks down and feels and sees the engorged length of his cock sucking inwards, the bulbous head going lower into his abdomen, feeling smaller but no less stiff in his smaller hand, the final shrinkage making his hands soft and smooth. The pubes above his cock turn blonde and get thicker, sprouting like a forest above his smaller cock. It smells like most of his lost stink is focused on his pubes, as the musk there is stronger but still lighter compared to..his old body and Parker behind him, moaning and groaning into his own pit. The shrinking feels like his cock is being sucked off from behind by the skin its sinking into. His cock spits out thick pre and it's like the worst edging session of his life. It feels incredible, unbelievable actually, but worst because he's so close to cumming but it's like his body is continually denying him the orgasm.

"I can't - I can't take anymore!"

Small pecs mount themselves behind his swollen nipples, the lost mass in his cock sliding upwards with some of it bloating his ass out further and the rest filling in the space of his pecs. The muscle expands and contracts, stretching his nipples even further and almost making him bump his head - the hair in top of it turning blonde and shaggier - on top of the washer.

"You want to stop babe."

Stop?

"I just need to cum."

The fat around his biceps melts away and is replaced with toned, thin muscle. His back and shoulders broaden with muscle, this fat, like that in his biceps, slides easily into his ass and still fattening pecs.

His cock slips further away from his hand, now down to 4.5 inches, as he takes both hands - one off his cock and the other out of his ass - and begins groping and squeezing his small pecs. He's twerking that fat ass of his for Parker, whose hair is graying and receding, whose body is putting on the last few pounds of muscle. Parker growls pleasurably as his cock stops growing.

He can feel the fat roll around in his ass, the recoil making them clap together and Bradley's eyes to cross. His face collapses as his jawline and cheekbones become more chiseled and pronounced, the small amount of fat resting comfortably in his chest and thighs, perking them up further. Bradley feels a small spurt of cum fire out of the engorged tip of his 4 inch weiner. Smaller, but hard as steel. His balls aren't any smaller and in fact, they feel strangely heavier. His cock is still oozing pre, thickened with his cum that pumps out of him as his patchy facial hair recedes into his face, his lips bloat into proper, fat dick sucking lips sending sparks of pleasure into Bradley's overloaded brain.

Bradley grabs onto the washing machine and tries to steady himself. His legs quake underneath him as his cock drips and twitches, pulsing. Its small length is a little shocking but what's more shocking is how sensitive it is. He's scared to touch it. Because if he touches it, he's going to shoot cum everywhere in this washing machine. And as he steadies himself, off balance because of how light he feels, so used to the bulk of his old body and not this thin, lighter body, he cries out and collapses again, his arms giving out from the sensation of Parker's big meaty hands on his equally meaty ass.

"You need to cum babe?"

Parker kneads the soft cheeks, Bradley's hole winking at him as he does so. Bradley can't even form sentences. A babble of horny sounds and moans and words maybe come out of his mouth from the sensation of his big ass being fondled roughly. A spank across one of his cheeks makes Bradley burp up more cum out of his cock. But it's still not the full brunt of the orgasm his still overheating body denies him.

"P - Please, Daddy I need it."

Bradley works his ass against Parker's cock, the thick organ sliding between those plump cheeks.

Parker's massive cock - 10 inches! And so thick! - bounces above Bradley's ass crack as pre from Parker's mushroom head drips into his awaiting hole. Parker rubs Bradley's smaller torso, big rough fingers brushing against his swollen nipples. It gets him hornier hearing Bradley repeat the line from the porno.

He can feel Bradley shake from underneath him, the poor guy being mindfucked by so many hormones and lust that his brain is probably soup. Doesn't help that his cock has been ready to blow for the whole thirty minutes of the transformation. Parker let himself cum quite a bit inside of his stretched out briefs but that's only because he's had enough practice shifting and morphing to know how to let off steam.

Only if he knew how to do it for someone else.

He says his line: "You want Daddy's cock?"

Bradley looks behind him and nods, biting his lip, eyes practically begging for it.

So he wastes no time plunging his huge cock inside of Bradley's eagerly awaiting hole.

"FUCK!"

When Parker's cock enters him, all ten thick inches, Bradley sees stars. His brain lights up like a fuse and then blows. The sensation of being fucked by Parker is indescribable and he turns boneless as Parker hauls of him out of the washing machine and starts fucking him slow and hard, stimulating Bradley's sensitive, now hyperactive prostate with his massive cock. His rough hands tweak Bradley's nipple making him scream louder in pleasure. He's been screaming, probably, the sounds coming out of him are unlike any Bradley has ever made. So lusty, so satisfied. This is the best sex Bradley has ever had. Immaculate backshots from the best dick he's ever had in his entire life. After five expert pumps, Bradley cums violently, the orgasm that had been denied for him for so long ripping through him like a blade.

In the midst of this screamingly good orgasm, Parker hoists him up by his torso, and begins making out with him. Parker's scruffy beard feeling unimaginably good against Bradley's smooth cheeks, his rough Daddy lips making Bradley buck and cum harder, Parker's cock deep inside of him. There's a puddle of cum on the floor now as Parker breathily moans in Bradley's ear, which he nibbles and makes Bradley squirm.

"I can't hold it baby. MMPH, FUCK!"

The load he dumps into Bradley is huge. It makes Bradley cum one final time and collapse onto the cum-stained floor as he feels Parker's cock flex and dump load after load into him. Parker's big arms wrap around his body as he collapses into Bradley, bringing the two of them flat on the floor and cuddling with Parker's arms wrapped tightly around Bradley, his massive cock softening and flopping out of Bradley's hole. Bradley's cock finally softens and nestles into the bush of pubes at its base as his balls finally feel empty. The need of his hole seems to have listened into a dull buzz in the back of his mind. Parker's dense, heady smell feels like a warm blanket.

"That was amazing." Parker kisses Bradley's neck as Bradley pants, struggling to catch his breath. The fog in Bradley's mind seems to have lifted enough for him to get a few thoughts in before the rest are popped like bubbles. "How was it for you?"

"Amazing." He rubs Parker's bigger, hairer arm, looping his smaller fingers between Parker's bigger ones. "Hey, when - hah - when do we turn back? Do we turn back?"

Parker shrugs.

"Eventually."

Eventually.

Huh.

Eventually is a long time. It could be tomorrow. Next week. Next month. Next year. Now that he thinks of it, he has quite a lot of sick days stored up at work......

"Why don't we take a nap and we can go for round two?"

Parker's cock slowly engorges with blood, pushing against Bradley's soft cheeks and hole. Bradley's cock jumps to attention. The need in his hole crawls slowly to the forefront of his mind.

Eventually is a long time.

And Bradley knows that he's about to fill it - and get filled - for all the time he has in the world.

Someone Unexpected

"Fort Stonepeak was a small town in the middle of the Appalachian Mountains. With a population of only a few thousand, most people made their livelihoods by serving the farmers that worked just outside the city boundary or as members of the lively tourism industry that flourished in the region due to its fresh air, majestic mountain peaks, and clear blue rivers. Maybe that's why I came here? I did need some space after my breakup, but it hasn't worked. All I've done is sit in this hotel under this dim light on a creaky bed and feel sad for myself. Jesus, I need to do something. Maybe I will go to the bar tonight, and then I can at least drink my problems away. So after a shower, I looked in the mirror, put a shirt on, and got going.

Walking into the bar, spots flashed before my eyes as the bright lights flashed. I hadn't been expecting them; it gave the bar much more of a rave atmosphere than I had expected, but when in Rome, trudging to the bar, I had to practically scream over the music just to get a whiskey. Looking around, I saw couples dancing. Great! I thought, Now I get to mope with a headache, but just as I thought that, a clink noise sounded next to me. Looking over, a gay, twunkish-looking farm boy sat next to me. "I hope you don't mind me sitting here; there are not many seats around." His chuckle filled me with a giddy feeling as he laughed. "No worries, I'm not waiting for anyone," I replied, putting my hand out for a handshake. He had a much firmer grip than I thought.

The next few days, I went to hang out with John and began to learn more about him—about his family, friends, and, most importantly, his sexuality. It was another night of meeting at the same bar when John finally dropped the bomb. "I know you are gay; I am too, so I was wondering if you wanted to..." John trailed off. I was shocked as all hell. I had had my fair share of exchanges with other guys, and sure, a lot of them wanted me badly, but none had ever been this blunt. "Sure," I said, winking, "I can give you a good time," and before I knew it, we were heading over to my small hotel.

Leading John back to my apartment, I was full of joy. There was a strut in my step as I led him, and I had to slow down to stop myself from rushing too quickly. Once we got to my room, I held the door open for him and followed him in. The door shut with a bang, and I saw his shoulders tightening. Before he turned to me, "We're going to the bedroom now," he told me. I was shocked. Just a minute ago, he had been following me and gleefully talking about the starry sky and how he couldn't wait to do the deed with me. Now here, he was acting like he was in charge. I was going to talk to him about that, but then I felt the will to fight him on it leave my body as he stared at me, and like a defeated puppy, I followed him to my own bedroom, where he got me to sit down. Looking at me, I could feel his eyes undressing me before he finally seemed to be focused on my face. "I know you want me, but I want to hear it from you," he said. Still in shock at the situation, I stayed quiet, but soon waves of pleasure began to radiate through me. I looked to see where they were coming from, and his hand was massaging my crotch. "What do you want?" he asked me, and as I moaned, I only managed to whisper "you." Smiling at me, John pulled off my shirt and pants and pulled me into a kiss. I could feel his tongue invade my mouth, and I knew this was my last chance to assert that I was in charge here, so I fought back, but it was futile as he continued to slowly pressure my pouch, and finally I submitted, and his tongue began to explore my mouth. This is when I felt the first change begin. I felt inside my pants that my boxers were changing, the fabric changing to be less coarse, perhaps nylon, and shrinking down until my goods were held in a pair of briefs. looking down at them. John grinned; he said, "You look good on me," and I could feel my cheeks go hot as I blushed.

He proceeded to push me down and start kissing what felt like every inch of my body. As he did, my muscles began to shrink and my broad shoulders narrowed, but I still had a muscular frame, just a swimmer build rather than the body I had worked for at the gym, and before long, John was pulling down my pants and staring at my 9-inch. I looked at him with begging eyes as he began to suck me off, wave after wave of pleasure as I neared closer and closer, and right before I came, he moved back to kissing me and finished off my transformation as he gave me a hand job. Ribbons of cum flew out, leaving me with a reduced size. Putting his fingers covered in my own product into my mouth, my neurons fired. My brain was rewired; I was a bottom through and through, and John was certainly my boyfriend, and every night we would make love. That was how it was.

a few months later, and I've finally moved in with him. Of course, I do all the cooking and cleaning at home while he works the farm. Every night, I get to enjoy his hot, sweaty body. I think I hear him coming now. I don't think I've ever been so happy as when I see him after a long day.

Trouble at the Bachelor Party

“Dude! This is sick!”

“Bro, you’re telling me.” Liam replied, as him and his two friends explored the penthouse.

It was fully decked out. A massive flatscreen in the living room, a fully stocked bar, a beautiful view of the beach. It was everything Liam could’ve wanted. Initially, when his soon to be father-in-law offered his penthouse for the bachelor party, Liam was shocked. Mr. Reynolds often used phrases like “irresponsible”, “waste of time”, and “not good enough for my daughter” when talking about Liam. And he wasn’t afraid to let Liam know too.

“Dude! There’s a flatscreen in each bedroom too!” Chris shouted from down the hall, “Fuck, you were right. This guy’s loaded!”

It was true. Liam was marrying the heiress of a massive tech company. And Mr. Reynonds was certainly loaded. But despite his reassurances that he loved Susie, not their money, the older man viewed him suspiciously. Liam came from a pretty humble background and the world of upper class living wasn’t something he was used to. But perhaps letting them use his penthouse was Mr. Reynolds’s way of showing acceptance.

“Okay boys.” Liam said, “We have a few days here. Let’s make ‘em count.” He tossed Jeremy and Chris each a beer. After a quick toast to what was going to be the most incredible bachelor party on Earth, they downed their beers.

________________

“Lookin’ good.” Liam chuckled as he inspected himself in the mirror, “Can’t believe you’re actually getting hitched.” He flexed his bicep, “Sorry ladies, I’m off the market. Oof, I’ll have to practice that line a bit.” He grinned.

Leaving the bathroom, he found Jeremy sipping a beer on the couch. He was shirtless, wearing a pair of blue swim trunks. His dark brown hair was well styled, and his face clean shaven. He had that bo-next- door look that caused the ladies to swoon.

“Yo Jeremy, what’s up?”

“Not much, just texting Sarah.” He replied, “I forgot to let her know I got here safe and she’s pissed.”

“Oh shit dude.” Liam patted his friend on the back, “I feel for you.” Sarah could be scary when she was angry, but otherwise she was a solid 10. Liam looked forward to the day Jeremy proposed.

“All good.” Jeremy sighed, “Where the fuck is Chris?” Liam shrugged, “He kept me up all fucking night. Fucker must’ve been horny. I’ve never heard anyone moan so loud in my life.”

“Not even Sarah?” Jeremy didn’t seem amused.

“Seriously, we need to get him a girlfriend or something.”

Liam chuckled, “I guess I slept through it.”

“Lucky you.” The door to Chris's room suddenly opened and both men turned.

“Hey boys, sorry to keep you waiting!” The sing songy voice threw them both off, and Liam’s jaw dropped when he saw Chris. His muscles were proudly on display as always. But it was the tight speedo showing off his impressive bulge that shocked him, “Oh, is something wrong?” His voice carried a breathy sultriness, which was unusual for their bro.  

“Dude, I’m not one to judge, but don’t you think that’s a bit risqué?” Jeremy asked, raising an eyebrow, “What would Jesus say?” It was well known Chris was religious. In fact, Liam and Chris had met at their college’s church.

Chris shrugged and ran a hand through his curly light brown hair, “Oh this? You like?” He grinned and did a quick pose, “Come on boys, we’re burning daylight!” He said, sauntering towards the door.

________________

The walk to the beach was uncomfortable. Chris walked ahead of his two buddies at an unusually fast pace, his firm ass jiggling with each step. Liam didn’t even know where to begin. What the fuck had gotten into Chris? Usually they’d have to drag him to parties and give him pep talks to boost his confidence. But now? He was certainly turning heads.

“Wait, guys! Did you see that?” Chris asked, turning to his friends and waving excitedly, “That guy over there was totally checking me out!”

“Um, so what?” Jeremy asked, “Why do you care?”

“Do you think I should go after him? He was totally cute. And that ass- just wow.” Liam and Jeremy’s eyes widened, “What?”

“Are you gay?” Liam asked bluntly.

Chris placed a hand to his chin and shrugged, “Like totally! Since like forever probably.”

“Makes sense.” Jeremy said, “Repressed religious guys. It’s a thing.” But Liam was still having a somewhat hard time believing it. Was all their prior bro talk really a lie?

“Oh! He’s getting away!” Chris whined, “I’ll catch up with you later!” He blew them each a kiss and briskly walked over to the man from earlier, leaving Liam shook.

________________

Hours went by without hearing from Chris, and Liam’s mood tanked. Jeremy tried to cheer him up back at the penthouse. Beers and the big game on a flatscreen. Should’ve been perfect. But it wasn’t. Liam knew that Chris being gay shouldn’t matter. Good for him, right?

“Oh my god, that was incredible.” Chris said, gasping as he entered the penthouse, “How are my two besties doing?”

“Would’ve liked you around.” Liam replied, “It’s my bachelor party after all.”

Chris dramatically placed a hand to his sweaty chest, “Sue me for having fun!” His voice cracked and he headed towards his room, “If anyone needs me, I’ll be in my room.”

Liam didn’t reply. Sure, Chris is gay. Fine. But acting like a stereotypically fruity drama queen? That didn’t make sense to him. He turned to Jeremy.

“Look, its late and I’m tired. The game sucks anyway.” He said, “I’m off to bed.”

“Same bro. Gotta be up early for our tee time anyway.”

They went to their respective bedrooms. Once there, Jeremy sighed. He hated seeing his friend like this, but what could he do? Talk to Chris maybe? He'd try to salvage this party. But when he finally got comfortable in bed, the TV suddenly turned on. He was greeted by static.

“Weird.” He mumbled. He tried to turn it off with the remote, but failed. Sighing, he got out of bed to turn it off. But as he got closer, he could hear a voice. It was soft, but forceful.

“You are a gay slut. You like to fuck men.”

Jeremy raised an eyebrow, “What the fuck?” He whispered. But the voice only got louder.

“You are a gay slut. Your dick only gets hard for men.” Jeremy felt woozy as the voice reverberated in his head.

“No, I’m straight... I like...” He moaned loudly as the voice drowned out his thoughts. At this point, the screen was flashing various scenes of gay porn and Jeremy’s dick started to swell, “No... fuck...” He breathed out, “I-I... ughhh.” He tried to imagine tits and his nights with Sarah. But these thoughts were instead swapped out with images of juicy, jiggling bubble butts and twerking men.   

“You are a dominant top. You only fuck men.”

“I-I’m a gay slut?” Jeremy questioned, “I only like to fuck men?” That didn't sound right. Right? He never...

"You're a dominant top. Twinks are lucky to ride your dick."

His eyes became half lidded and vacant as the words created his new reality.

“I’m a dominant top. Twinks are lucky to ride this cock." He said confidently, "I am a gay slut.”

Soon, the room filled with his pleasure-filled moans, his new reality taking hold over him.

________________

When Liam entered the living room the next morning, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Jeremy was aggressively caressing Chris’s face, as the two made out on the couch with their erect dicks on full display.

“What the fuck?” Liam gasped as the two men turned towards him.

“Oh Liam! Good morning!” Chris sang, ending his kiss with Jeremy.

“Fuck, just who we were waiting for.” Jeremy commented in a lower, more gravelly voice, “We have something for you.”

“No, this is fucked. What the fuck?” Liam fumed, “What about Sarah? What were you thinking?”

Jeremy shrugged, “I only like fucking men.”

Liam shook his head, “No way, fuck that.” He replied, taking a step back.

“Oh goodness, you’re upset!” Chris whined, “No Liam baby, its okay. Here, watch this.”

Before Liam could say anything, Chris turned on the TV. Static filled his field of vision. But then he heard it. Faint at first, but present nonetheless.

“You are a gay slut.” It said, and Liam grabbed his head.

“What the fuck?” He cursed, stumbling slightly.

The voice was echoing from within his head. Desperately, he moved towards the TV, wanting to shut it off. But Jeremy grabbed his arm firmly and forced him to sit between them. Liam tried to fight back, to get away from his two friends, but he felt so disoriented. The voice continued.

“You are a gay slut. You like taking cock.” It said.

Liam yelped as a needle entered his skin. He looked down to see Chris dump the contents of a syringe into his arm.

“Wh-what was that?” Liam slurred.

“Don’t worry, cutie. Just listen to the voice.” He giggled.

Liam groaned as the voice got louder and louder, “You are a gay slut. A slutty bottom. You love taking cock.”

Liam looked down and watched as his body hair started to disappear. The light dusting of chest and belly hairs disappeared, leaving him smooth. At the same time, the scruff that framed his face vanished. He looked over to Jeremy, who smirked at this new development.

“Oh look at that! It’s totally working!” Chris giggled.

“No shit. Reynolds must’ve given us the good stuff.” Jeremy remarked, slowly massaging his cock.

“The good stuff?” Liam slurred, his voice cracking, “Like, what are you talking about?”

“Good because I was getting bored.” Chris sighed, “I mean, Jeremy baby, you’re an expert kisser, but like, I need a hole.” Jeremy nodded in agreement.

“A hole?” Liam whispered.

He let out a pained moan as his body temperature suddenly spiked. Sweat poured from him as his musculature vanished. His hard earned muscles atrophied before his terrified eyes. His arms became thin and lean, while his juicy pecs rapidly deflated. In a matter of minutes, years of workouts and optimal dieting were undone, leaving Liam slim and fragile.

“Wow, he’s so light now.” Jeremy chuckled as he man-handled his friend onto his lap. Liam yelped at the sensation of Jeremy’s erect cock grinding against his hole.

“Oh and he’s gotten shorter too! What a cutie.” Chris cooed.

“Ah, ass is still bony though.” Jeremy commented, giving it a firm squeeze.

But Liam barely registered any of this. Instead, his thoughts were filled with the words echoing from the TV. His eyes became half-lidded at this point and his resistance was fading.

“You’re just a bottom, a hole to be used by other men. You are a gay slut.” The words continued, “You like being used by other men. Your only pleasure is from getting fucked.”

“I-I’m straight... I like... I like tits.” His new feminine voice echoed through the apartment, “I’m a straight man.” Jeremy and Chris smirked, “I-I...” images of men getting fucked in all kinds of positions flashed on the TV, “Ohhhh I... I... I’m a...” Liam’s handsome face lost its masculine edge and his hair became lighter in color. At the same time, his cock started to shrink. Inch after inch lost, “Noooooo.... not my cock...” He moaned, tears now stinging at his eyes. His manhood, his masculinity. It was being stolen from him. And he was unable to stop it.

“Your only pleasure comes from your ass.”

Liam moaned again and this time his ass started to fill with jiggly fat. He could feel the extra padding build upon itself, his slim cheeks turning into mounds of soft flesh. And as Jeremy squeezed his ass again, pleasure filled his slim frame.

“Much better.” Jeremy remarked, his fingers massaging Liam’s hole, “Fuck, this is gonna feel so good.”

“Mhmm.” Chris replied, grabbing his own fistful of Liam’s juicy ass.

“Ohhhhhhhh yesssssss.” Liam slurred.

“So, what are you?” Jeremy asked.

“I-I’m...” Part of him didn’t want to say it. Didn’t want to acknowledge it. But as his lips plumped up into gorgeous cock suckers, and Jeremy’s teasing fingers penetrated him deeper, Liam was drowning in pleasure, “I...I...” The voice was so loud. It egged him on, beckoned him to admit his new truth, “I’m like a total gay slut! I love cock.” He turned his head to look at Jeremy, then Chris, “Please daddies, use me! I need your cocks!” He begged.

And his new lovers were happy to oblige.

________________

In the afterglow of sex, the three men sat panting heavily on the couch. Liam was curled up between his two lovers, still rubbing their dicks. Despite draining them each multiple times over, he needed more. But his horny thoughts were interrupted by a video call. He grabbed his phone and smiled.

“Hey Mr. Reynolds!” Liam slurred, “Like, we love your penthouse.”

Mr. Reynolds grinned, “I can tell.” His eyes sparkled with satisfaction, “Look at you Liam. My god. You turned out better than expected. The boys at the lab earned their salaries with this one.” Liam nodded along, not really understanding the implication, “How do you feel?”

“Like a total gay slut.” He grinned, “And I love it, like so much, Mr. Reynolds.”

“Well I’m glad to hear.” he chuckled, “And are your friends treating you well?” Liam adjusted the phone so the older man could see his two lovers, who were both fast asleep, “Well looks like you have two very satisfied customers.”

Liam grinned, “Like totally.” A sense of satisfaction filling him, “Oh! Like, can you let Susie know the wedding is off? I’m like, so sorry.”

“Of course, it would be my pleasure. She’ll understand.” Mr. Reynolds replied- mission accomplished, “Now, get back to your party. Enjoy the penthouse for as long as you want.”

Liam’s eyes lit up, “OMG thank you!” The call ended, “Did you hear that?” Liam asked, his two lovers stirring awake.

And so their party continued- and it would for days. Their lives forever changed, and them none the wiser to it. But if their pleasure filled moans were anything to judge by, they certainly weren’t complaining.

Taking control

Zach was relentlessly bullied by Jay, with zach being nerdy, a ginger, and one of the few asian people in the school made him an easy target. And Jay loved low hanging fruit.

As senior year rolled around Zach had concoted a special serum that would make anything he say real. Something he had always fantasied about.

Locking his car he swiftly made his way into the school, excited to try out the serum. Along the way he quickly downed it, the oozing blue liquid leaving a slightly sweet aftertaste.

"hey pipsqueak" jay said, looking over Zach.

"I see you havent changed much over the summer, still the same faggy nerd. Take a look at my gains fire crotch." He commanded as he flexed the impressive 20 pounds of muscle he had put on in a few months.

"don't talk to me like that jay"

As he said that Jay wanted to say something, but for some reason he couldnt insult him even if he tried.

"what... what the fuck did you do to me?" Jay said his voice slightly quivering.

"nothing you have to worry about, in fact you think that me changing you is normal. Everyone thinks my changes have always been reality, you couldnt tell anyone if you wanted"

A feeling came over Jay, relief. He smiled at Zach.

"hey sorry, I don't know what I was talking about earlier" his brash voice became very soft and inviting.

"Its okay Jay. Just remember that you're my bitch boy, my cunt. You can't talk to your superior that way."

How could he be so silly, why would he every say those things to his master? Mr. Zach treated him so nicely.

"I'm sorry sir! Please forgive me"

"It's okay, just dont let it happen again."

What a sight to be behold, a huge 6'6 bodybuilder bending to the will of a tiny 5'6 nerd.

"lets go into the janitors closet, I want some alone time with you"

"whatever you want sir!"

Although Jay's mind had been mostly rewritten, a part of him deep down was screaming this was wrong, although that voice was drowned out by the command to obey Zach.

Standing in the closet, zach made sure the door was locked as he got on his knees.

"over the next few minutes, your masculinity will drain into me and when you cum, you will cum your old life and memories."

Jay's eyes showed fear for a split second, followed by ecstacy as Zach brought down his sweats and started toying with his giant dick.

"lets say for fun, you can't cum until i let you" As the words left his mouth Jay felt his dick get harder, becoming fully erect at 14 inches. A supernatural force was keeping him from cumming as zach wrapped his mouth around the tip, playfully licking it as he slowly inched the huge dragon down.

As he bobbed, it felt easier to fit. Looking up he realized that Jay's Body wasen't as defined as it was a few seconds ago. His pecs not as big.

After a minute or so he was able to get to the base of his dick, although that was because it had grown considerably smaller.

Zach felt his own cock slide down his leg as it grew thicker and longer, straining against his denim jeans.

"wow... your... shoulders have gotten... so broad" Jay cooed as he put his arms on zach's shoulders. He felt his muscles ripple as they expanded.

Zach stopped as he got up, now eye level with Jay.

"Are you getting taller?" Jay said as he caressed Zach's growing lean torso. He took off his shirt, revealing a trail of abs leading down to his own throbbing member

"I sure am, soon ill be a lot taller than you little twink" he said as he brought his large hands up to jay's face, gently holding his jaw as their height difference became much more obvious.

"now go ahead and bend over for me"

Jay immediately showed his ass to him as it started to plump up. Jay looked behind him at the imposing figure slightly scared as this was his first time bottoming.

"don't worry baby, it won't hurt. You crave my dick, you worship it, it could never hurt you"

Zach said as his now footlong dick leaked precum. He spit on his hand and spread Jay's ass open with it. Jay gasped and moaned as his voice became higher.

Zach slowly started to put his dick in as he covered Jay's mouth so he wouldnt make any noise.

"ohhhh fuck your bussy feels so good" zach moaned in jay's ear as his dick got longer and thicker, Jay's dick getting shorter and shorter. Only 2 inches hard.

Zach's muscles filled out more as the last of Jay's masculinity slipped right out of him and into Zach's dick.

The sound of his giant balls slapping against jay's plump ass getting louder and quicker.

"you can cum in 3."

Zach reached around jay's slim waist and felt jay's micropenis, feeling it in his huge hand as he massaged it.

"2."

He let go of jay's mouth as he trailed his hand down his neck to one of his nipples. Massaging it sensually while rhythmically thrusting. Finding it hard to speak through his grunts.

"1."

They both moaned in unison as Jay squirt a small but strady stream of cum out of his inch long dick into Zach's hand as Zach came buckets into his ass. He quickly pulled out as he looked at his gleaming 20 inch thick as a soda can dick. It was completely covered in cum and not going down at all.

Jay turned around and looked at the giant hunk in front of him, zach licked jay's cum off his hand as jay started to wrap his perfect soft pillowly lips around zach's giant dick, cleaning it with his tongue. Zach grabbed jay's hair as he forced his head to the base of his dick.

As he did so he came another huge load, filling jay's stomach. As his cum guzzled down his giant shaft. Zach moaned, his voice deepening a few more octaves into a rich bass.

Jay unlatched himself, looking up at Zach, the once nerdy asian with his glasses still on, his muscles gleaming in the dim light. If he had to guess he was probably at least 6'9

"are you full now, slut?"

Zach started to feel himself start chubbing again, not taking his eyes off the tiny 5'3" twink in front of him.

"im so full daddy, thank you for the meal~" Jay cooed as he traced zach's huge pecs.

/ can you tell i like red heads

Queering The Ring

Two podcasters must throw together a new show in a week, despite their differences they enjoy wrestling. for drastically distinct reasons of course. How will developing this show together change the two of them forever? Role swap; Straight to gay Jock -> Twink Twink -> Wrestler

Wanted to do a wrestler TF but was immediately inspired to change it to a straight to gay roleswap haha! Enjoy an Alpha Asshole finding new euphoria and a twink podcaster finding new power in this vaguely wrestling themed story! -Occam

Monday

The network was cutting back and it was clear what two shows would be the first on the chopping block. Having single host podcasts was seen as a cost saving decision when they were first green lit. But as large as their personalities may be, they simply have not met the expected growth metrics for their series to survive unchanged. That brings us to this meeting where Tyler Brady, host of AlphaHour, and Joey Brooks, host of Queering With The Queen, have been summoned to discuss their continued employment at HCT.

“Are you kidding me!? No way in hell am I working with that asshole!” Joey shouts just loud enough to get his point across, ever a consummate podcaster leaning away from the table as if he were giving a microphone room to avoid feedback. For his part Tyler just leans back, hands behind his head and his pits exposed in the tank he decided to wear to work this morning, “Yeahh not sure ‘bout this either. I mean you saw how my audience reacted when I had a woman on yuh? Can’t imagine they’ll listen to an, uh.”  Avoiding anything outright derogatory, he gestures wordlessly to a man who anyone listening would peg as gay.

Neither of them had met the man in the suit before, but as he adjusts his tie he simply radiates authority. He clears his throat and both men are swiftly struck silent, they eye each other nervously. Opposites they may be, at the end of the day they have enough class consciousness to know exactly where talent falls at this network. Only a few rungs from the absolute bottom, they know that they had best learn to stick together. The quality of air in the room shifts as the man finally speaks up, “Your shows are canned, immediately.” There is a gasp and a grunt. “The network had enjoyed double dipping in culture war but the board has decided that there needs to be a shake-up. End both of your droll programs and have you host something to bring both of your audiences together.”

Despite the blatant absurdity of a suggestion that their audiences would play nice with a merger, neither man quite feels the ability to speak up, sure they would be struck back to silence with a single look from the man. He grins and stands as he continues, re-buttoning his pristine suit, “You both remain under contract for the foreseeable future and with the non-compete clause and all I am afraid your hands are quite tied. You have until Friday to return with a cohesive program.” His eyes narrow and his pupils seem to slit as he appraises the two men one final time, “Best of luck as the two of you adjust to your new project.” Not waiting for a response he exits and the stuffy heat that had filled the room with his words dissipates, leaving Tyler and Joey in a chilly boardroom.

Both men sigh as at least most of the tension held in their bodies releases with the suit’s departure. They eye each other with disdain more at the situation than at who they must now make their bed with. Bound together and less than thrilled they raid the floor's fridge and grab a bottle of champagne as they begin to brainstorm what show they could possibly make, “I mean fuuuuck. ‘S not like I’m homophobic, you know that bro. But my fans-” He crosses his thick arms, flexing them nervously as he finishes his glass before pouring himself another.

Joey’s head is in his hands as he wracks his brain for a way out. He really shouldn’t be surprised, obviously the network never really cared about substance or decency. I mean, they host both his show and Brady’s, with the number of predatory ad reads he’s done it is quite clear that profits are always the priority over ethics for both the network and, he’s loathe to admit, for himself. Rubbing his face he poses the all-important question, “What could possibly be the overlap between our audiences.” Tyler scratches his stubbled face and does his best to quiet a wine-tinged burp in his meaty fist as he struggles to think hard before promptly getting distracted.

His eyes light up as he thinks of something to talk about with the man he can barely recognize as a man, “Oh! You still keeping up with wrestling dude? Did you see that ladder match on Tuesday?” Joey promptly ignores the question, slamming his small hands on the table and shouting, “ God that’s it! Wrestling is the perfect common denominator! I mean it’s literally the only thing we end up talking about when we’re stuck in a room anyway right? It’s all macho and faggy at the same time!” Tyler looks immediately nervous at the man saying faggy. Having gone through a few rounds of sensitivity training during his time with the network, his surely steroid-riddled brian remembers that gays are allowed to say it, before shyly smiling as the substance of the twink’s words hit him, “Duuude you’re so right. Got a little brain in your airhead huhuh-” 

Joey blushes and holds his tongue, choosing not to make anything of the jock’s words which are rarely accompanied by even a single thought. They don’t even need to grow at the start, as long as they can bring their most of their respective audiences in for a few weeks they’ll be gucci. He tongues his cheek as he’s again lost in thought thinking of everything to be done on the production side. Tyler starts scrawling his own ideas down for the show in handwriting so poor labeling it chicken scratch would be a compliment. 

They spend the rest of the work day planning topics, segments, games, and guests. Whittling away the hours they are shocked at how much development they get done, sending off the barest bones of a show bible to their managers and the board they receive the go ahead order. Tyler and Joey promptly begin to celebrate, going for a chest bump and a hug respectively, which knocks the smaller man onto the floor. With a guffaw Tyler reaches down to help up his new partner and pats him on the back, shaking off the mildest case of motion sickness from his body being ragdolled in such a way.

Both men think about inviting the other out for a round of drinks to celebrate, though are immediately hesitant about bringing their new collaborator out to meet their respective crews. Neither is terribly excited about a compromise either, Tyler scared of being objectified at a gay bar as he does women anywhere, Joey uncomfortable going to a straight bar where every shout would put him on edge. Instead they just shake hands as business partners ought, recoiling as the smallest static shock goes between them. Promising to meet back tomorrow bright and early.

Neither man quite notices the edits made by the studio in their show’s description as they shut the door behind him. It almost seems like the wires were deliberately crossed? “Join ex-wrestler Joey Brooks and queer commentator Ty Brady as they tell you the ins and outs of America’s GayGreatest Spectator Sport!” Surely this would be met with laughter and shrugs anyway, after all it’s just some lines of show text. Easy enough to fix in the morning, and surely they will. That night rest finds them swiftly, after their marathon brainstorm session neither quite has the energy for a night on the town and by midnight both are asleep, and unaware of what eldritch changes are to be wrought upon them.

Tuesday

Tyler awakens into a world of lethargy. Every movement is a struggle as he rolls out of bed and his body burns with the effort from simple ambulation. He was planning on hitting the gym before going in today but that is out of the question as even the stretching feels a daunting process. He’s not at all happy about it either as he inspects his body, self-criticism abounds. Usually a beacon of masculinity and virility, the zealous maintenance of his body seems to have completely fallen to the wayside. Poking his tight abs he finds them thinner and almost doughy, lacking the firmness he has honed for years.

He runs to the bathroom with a gasp to inspect himself in full, tripping on his pajama pants as he sprints. His eyes widen in shock before he pulls them up and tightens them for the first time ever. After that they hang easily on his ass, seemingly the only body part unchanged. Checking his reflection he finds that self-criticism is far too accurate. Flexing his biceps he swears they aren’t peaking nearly as high as they should, leaning in close Tyler also notices there’s no need to trim his beard today. In fact, it almost looks like there’s less hair on his face than he went to bed with. As an alarm goes off summoning him to work as he promised Joey, he fearfully takes one last look at himself and gulps before throwing on the baggiest clothes he can and sprinting to the office. 

Elsewhere Joey is having quite the opposite morning. Absolutely brimming with energy, his heart beats heavy in his chest as it feels as if he’s been shot with adrenaline at the crack of dawn. Everything in his body cries out for him to get out of the apartment and go somewhere his mind can’t quite fathom. Somewhere he’s rarely tread before. He scratches at his shaved pubes and balks as he feels a bush of growth that he has not allowed to take hold in years as it begins a deliberate path up to his belly button. Looking down he’s even more shocked to find his midriff is completely exposed. The shirt he slept in must have shrunk in the dryer, or something. Nervously pulling the small top down he feels similar itches begin rising up anywhere hair is wont to take hold.

He ignores his pits and chest as he goes to start his morning routine, brushing his teeth and washing his face. He hesitates looking at the litany of cleansers and scrubs before thinking otherwise. Mindlessly puffing up  his chest as he thinks he doesn’t really need them right? Nor does he pay mind to the itchy stubble starting to peek out on his sideburns and chin, he just got laser so surely any prickles of a beard he feels are completely in his head. Much like Tyler he goes through his closet to find the largest clothes he could find, throwing on those of an ex much larger than himself. After that his alarm too sounds and he makes his way out the door, scratching his ass without thought as he does so.

Meeting once more the two chatter eagerly, happy to get their minds off of whatever disparate oddities their mornings held. The two get to work on the groundwork of their show with haste, frequently stealing glances at each other as something at the edge of their minds notices something off. Joey sees Tyler’s arms hanging limply in a large t-shirt and flexes his own biceps, unable to hold back a smirk as he feels them fill a shirt that he forgets should be far too large for himself. Tyler sees the shoddy stubble staining Joey’s face and grimaces judging the twink for giving up on looking clean and cute before shaking off his judgment, who’s he to talk right? He rubs his own face and tries not to acknowledge the anxiety brewing at his still smoother face.

Beyond the skin-deep incongruities, Tyler also finds himself increasingly interested in everything Joey has to say about the intricacies of queer culture. He is more absorbed than he could possibly have expected. After minutes of talking about gay life in town Joey almost worries he’s setting up his new partner for some one liner before looking up to see the man’s eyes in rapt attention, he jokes, “You’ve quite taken to all the gay stuff already huh? Don’t forget you’re the big guy here, only room for one queen here hah!” At his words Tyler laughs and playfully punches, shaking out of his stupor, “Hah, uh yeah- Guess it’s all the soy milk I’ve been having or uh, huh?” He freezes as the words fall flat, almost uncomfortable in his mouth as he tries to summon back his vile bro-y persona. Failing to do so he shivers as his usual self almost feels out of pocket.

Joey too feels something shift between as his eyes glaze over, “Yeah its all about the, uhh? Paradoxyness? Uhhh-” His voice deepened in the few seconds of groaning. The men’s eyes are locked on each other as their minds rapidly alter to accept the ongoing changes in each other. It’s not weird that Tyler can’t launch into an AlphaHour spiel anymore. It’s not weird that Joey seems almost a foot taller, his arms straining a jacket he should be drowning in. Shaking off their reverie the two men awaken at the sound of Tyler’s five o’clock alarm. “Oh shit it’s five already?” Joey holds his hand to his face, fighting back an urge to just loose a burp as Tyler did only yesterday.

Tyler feels the soreness of a body that has unknowably grown more compact, he leans back to stretch and has no ability to prevent the girlish moan that comes out. It’s impossible for either man to miss as  they accelerate their packing up in silence, launching into a sudden race to depart. Tyler’s face burns red with embarrassment and his eyes keep flickering back to Joey who is pointedly not meeting his gaze. He’s far too in his head anyway as he struggles to cover up the erection that immediately forced its way out in response to Tyler’s cry. Doing so he is fully unable to hide the prominent sweat stains in his pits as he quickly shrouds his groin with a tote bag before he sprints out the door, promising to see his co-host tomorrow. As soon as he’s gone Tyler wishes he had beckoned the man to stay, he should have apologized, or said something. He doesn’t know quite what, maybe he just wishes the man were still here? 

After biting his lip he notices his hands have drifted to his crotch. Blushing he quickly follows after Joey, though deliberately holding back so they won’t bump into each other. That night as soon as they cross the threshold into their apartments their bodies are barely able to make it to their beds before they are ushered into dreamless sleep. All energy remaining in the men goes into the improvement of their forms, becoming exactly who they must be in order to serve their brand.

Wednesday

Tyler awakens with a yawn, stretching performatively for an audience of no one. Thankfully he’s lacking the weariness from the previous morning. Fearful of peeking to see what further alterations have ruined his body he wipes his bleary eyes as he wanders to the restroom, letting his pants fall to the floor as he does so. His ass is perfectly framed in a jockstrap as he walks in a needlessly sultry manner, unaware as he replicates the exact steps of countless women that he’s had over throughout the years.

Before he’s able to look in the mirror at his fair smooth skin his hands reach to grab something that isn’t there, something that has never been there. Tyler tilts his head in confusion as he stares at his now uncalloused hand. Lifting said hand to inspect it for any hint as to his unconscious actions, he instinctively covers his palm with his fingers. Showing off his faultless manicured fingernails. With a gasp he decides to skip his morning routine and rush to find Joey with haste, sure that twink has something to do with this. He is unaware as his idea of a morning routine has completely shifted from an early bird workout to the ever waged war on keeping his pert face looking young and feminine. His sleeves hang limp and his sweatpants frame his ass as he races out the door, unaware as a clutter of serums, creams, and makeup appear on his bathroom counter.

Elsewhere, Joey gets out of bed even earlier than usual and stumbles blindly into the kitchen. His eyes barely open enough to see how his hands have bloated themselves into mitts as he pours a canned energy drink into his blender alongside hefty scoops of protein powder. Joey rubs his eyes and groans as he heres the machine whir, grimacing at the beard scratching at his arm, turning his attention to focus squarely on his new facial hair he smirks as he imagines ‘how fucking hot’ he must look. Protein mush made, he chugs it down in far too few boorish gulps, dripping it all over his pajamas and the forest of darkening hair on his chest, before losing the will to ever wear pajamas again, and releases a burp loud enough to vibrate the glass blender in his hand.

Then he’s off to the gym. Surging with energy he can’t hear his heavier footsteps over the high-octane workout playlist he must have made at some point. Up early enough that there’s few others at the gym it’s as if he’s in his own little world, barring the few times he nods at the other regulars who smile at him in return, as if they’ve met many times before. Joey doesn’t let his mind wander there though as there is nothing more important than keeping his body in its ultimate state. 

Eventually the Village People’s Macho Man starts up and his chest puffs up in both size and with pride, his biceps surge larger as the song continues, bursting larger with each in-time pump. Between deliberate grunts of exertion there is a sustained groan as he feels the song engrained upon his psyche. That’s his song. His song? Drive continues to rise in his chest and his sharp mind begins to dull as the chorus pumps into him. Joey fans his shirt to cool off and smirks as he smells his rising musk, turning to smell his pits he feels himself instantly start to chub before shamelessly realizing he forgot to bring deodorant. 

Lacking the wherewithal to realize that such action was so antithetical to the should-be twink’s modus operandi, Joey simply stretches and delights in the soreness and tension burning across his expanded body. Scratching at his pit before sniffing his hand and shivering, the man wonders if he can go to work in such a disheveled state before remembering that Tyler definitely has. Mind on Tyler, his cock briefly pulses which he takes as a lightbulb moment, maybe he’ll have some deodorant for me! The man gathers his only recently extant gym bag and wanders his sweaty body towards their studio.

Tyler and Joey bump into each other at the front entrance. They stare at each other in silence as their brains are again rewired. Now eye level with his co-host’s pecs Tyler can’t help but blush in admiration rather than jealously as he forgets how his own sculpted-form should look and instead just feels carnal desire for the man in front of him. Joey looks down at the man across from him for the first time, snatched waist, beautiful smooth skin, and an ass that’s crying out for him. His eyes half-glazed he bites his lip and goes to get the door for the smaller man. After a few seconds pause, and covering his nose to not be overwhelmed by the musk steaming from Joey’s now upraised arm, he strides inside. Only to stop with a moan as Joey slaps his ass.

Tyler whimpers and Joey gasps in disgust at his actions, “Fuck dude I’m so sorry!” Tyler reaches back to feel where he was slapped, already warmer than the surrounding area, sure to hold a perfect  imprint of Joey’s hand. He can’t even find the words to say as his mind is completely stuck between the impulses of a man who would never take that shit, and the almost completely dominant desires of a man who almost came on the spot. In the end he balances his lusts with the smallest shred of his past self crying out in emasculation, choking out an, “It’s fine, uh, dude.” His pitch still rises higher as the once prominent adam’s apple shrinks further into his neck. Joey clears his throat and apologizes fervently, “I’m so fucking sorry I don’t know what came over me. It’s like I’m an animal, my fucking co-” he cuts himself off as he feels his balls pulse and he decides to keep his mouth shut until he calms down. It must just be post workout hormones, unfortunately for him his body continues to burn with power and lust as he rides the elevator up to their tight studio.

One day left before the board decides if they’re in or out. The two men get started on some of the most important tasks ahead of them, prepping for their first recording session and ironing out the final details to send to their producers. Unfortunately for them neither of their minds are at 100%. It seems with every keypress they have to steal a glance of their co-host, biting lips and blushing red as they continually catch each other in the act. At one point Joey’s jock is so strained he runs to the bathroom to remove it where he sees his cock has grown monstrous, he fights back the urge to flex at himself and grimaces at the stains still spreading further and growing darker under his pits. Throwing his pants back on he hopes going commando won’t turn him on even more. Returning to the room Tyler can’t help but stare at the cock now snaking unguarded down his partner’s pant leg.

“Okay Ty. Clearly something’s up today, right?” Tyler tilts his head and purses his lips, arching his back as he stares wordlessly. Immediately accepting as Joey calls him Ty, it just feels right. The final vestiges of the host of AlphaHour crack and begin to fully dissipate. Joey groans and his voice cracks even deeper as he sees Ty poses like a professional provocateur, “Grgh- We should work from home the rest of the day and come back on our A-game tomorrow, yeah?” Ty nods quickly, while new hormones course through both of their minds and desires burn hotter than anything, he knows they’ve got more important things on the line than sex, “For sure ba-, uh, bro?” The word feels wrong on his tongue, “See you tomorrow then?” He puts out his hand and Joey fights the urge to pull him in for a kiss as his own hand completely encompasses the twink’s.

Leaving for their apartments, laptops in tow, the men head off in opposite directions before their minds grow foggy, for once not from lust but the changing of the world around them. Both arrive at a complex that they don’t quite remember, Ty races up the stairs while Joey leans against the wall waiting for the elevator, popping his pecs and watching himself in the reflection of the stainless steel doors. Both men exit into the third floor and find themselves face to face once more. Staring at each other in shock, the two men wander up to the doors to a suite that the both of them now strangely identify as home. Joey stills his hand, staring at his partner’s ass as Ty enters first and looks around, finding it alien and expected at the same time, possessions of his, Joey’s, and most concerning, things that are without a doubt shared between the two of them. He turns to look back at Joey in shock as the man shuts the entrance to their apartment behind himself and his eyes darken with desire that can now finally be fulfilled. Ty charges and hops into the titan’s arms as the truths of their new lives are immediately apparent, and the fulfillment of their long ignored desires is the most pressing thing in the world.

Thursday

Thursday they called out sick or rather, they would have, had they the capacity to focus on anything other than the discovery of their new selves. The discovery of their new lover. Feeling a completeness they never possibly could have understood before finding their inexorable other half in this apartment that they now share, and judging by appearances have shared for some years. While Ty and Joey find their new, may as well be marital, bed the two changed men also discover the abundance of bliss they shall enjoy evermore.

To accompany their new bodies, massive and petite to diametric degrees, the items and clothes they’ve accumulated over their lives apart begin to shift to fit their new stories. In most cases there’s little at all to be done, upon second thought what was once Tyler’s hoard of protein powder was of course Joey’s. The wrestler’s gotta stay diligent lest he lose his trademark titanic figure. And of course the organized trays upon trays of beauty miscellanea could never be Joey’s, the world’s lucky if the brute even remembers to wear deodorant, not that Ty minds of course.

Joey’s wardrobe grows as much as it can though will still frequently struggle to fit him in any fashion other than skin tight. Suits and sweaters thin and shift to shorts and singlets, the fanciest remaining pieces of clothing shift dazzling into his costume from the ring, gotta keep it ready to show off for fans after all. He’s got a few other cheap versions of the getup for whenever Ty’s in the mood. Speaking of Ty’s idly procured inventory of sleeveless shirts and boxers shift and sparkle into carefully composed outfits. Accessories array themselves throughout the closets of both men as Joey’s meager clothes are pushed into the corner to make room for his love’s impressive wardrobe.

 Finally giving in to what their bodies have been begging for, the two men dig far deeper into lusts that have only been previously explored by a single slap of Ty’s ass. Making out their minds are bombarded with countless memories of them doing just that over the years. They remember meeting outside of the ring and were immediately drawn to each other. Ty was a reporter, Joey “The Brute” Brooks was the star of the scene but he couldn’t draw his eyes off the thin man with a mic. He hadn’t thought he was gay, perhaps he wasn’t before that moment, but from then on he would not rest until he was to rest with that man.

Ty was everything that Tyler would have said he hated, but finding himself in the body of a man more feminine than even proto-Joey could have achieved, there was nothing but pleasure in his heart, changed as it may be. Initial horror as his body seemed to waste away became pride and understanding as his weight settled just right to attract the eyes of any man. While his past self was loud to be heard, brash out of insecurity, performatively ignorant. The new, true Ty was only as vocal as he needed to be to succeed, confident without trying, and clever enough to recognize everything he could be and work towards that end with grace and precision.

Each heavy breath and sweaty touch as they consummate their new beings resounds throughout them. Every move a reflection, an exaction, of every one that came before it. They buck and grind with the confidence of having done so in the very same fashion thousands of times before. Ty carefully cups Joey’s massive pec just so, fingers perfectly encompassing his hard nipple and the man guffaws as his mind goes blank. To return the favor he sits up and throws his arms around Ty, easily enveloping the whole of his body as he continues to bounce, the jungles of hair in Ty’s pits, arms and chest beyond sweaty as they tickle and cover him in the musk he so adores. Spit, sweat, and cum fly with a frequency that will surely leave them in quite the refractory period whenever they come to a pause. Enjoying themselves enough to make up for the years of unreality they have missed out on, that pause doesn’t come until the morning when their phones blare a bedlam they can barely make out over their own cacophony

“Oh shit we have to record today.”

Friday

“Well come on Macho Man you better get ready!” Ty shouts with a wink as he throws on a puffy robe and starts to prep his beat for the day. Joey gets a deadly serious expression as he pushes into the shower to quickly wash off the sex, “Ty you know you can’t call me that. The Fed’s so litigious.” Ty grins and giggles as he oft does, watching Ty sniff his pits and shrug. The giant hops out of the shower almost as soon as he hopped in. “Girl. It’s not like I’m wearing a wire, promise I’ll be on my best behavior today heehee!” Joey stands behind his lover and flexes in the mirror as he grinds up against Ty’s back. Promptly he is slapped away, “Keep it in your pants Joe! We need to hurry up and head out! We can’t be late for the big day!” He says before turning back to get his hair styled to perfection. 

 Joey scratches at his chest before squeezing into some gym clothes that leave little to the imagination. He feels like there was something special about today’s episode but is stumped as to what it is, they’ve recorded hundreds of episodes before haven’t they? Finishing up his look as his hair bleaches itself platinum blonde, Ty comes to a similar conclusion, though to him every one of their episodes is a carefully crafted masterpiece. Their following only continues to grow at any rate, Joey’s fanbase from his time as a champion brings in meatheads eager for a culture other than all that alpha-male shit and Ty’s mastery with the press and personal branding easily allowed him to bridge the gap into an influencer. AlphaHour and Queering W/ The Queen faded not so much into obscurity but non-existence as the pair’s new, only, show has surpassed expectations that the two men could never have dreamed of. Indeed, Queering the Ring is a show that has blown past what anyone possibly could have expected of it.

Walking down the street the men pass a billboard advertising an upcoming live show of theirs. Smiling at their massive faces plastered on the ad Joey throws his heavy arm on Ty’s shoulder and squeezes him in close, Ty fights back a grin as his eyes water, feeling his lithe body perfectly slit alongside the behemoth’s. It's as if the two were made to be together. He waves at his eyes and giggles, “Gotta keep it together now, we’ve got work to do yet.” Joey feels his cock stir and his mind is completely overrun by his balls as he wonders if they’ll have time to have some fun before they’ve gotta record, before pursing his lips and scratching at his beard realizing Ty's probably not going to let his look be besmirched before then. 

The two men are welcomed in by some suit they’re sure they’ve met before. His pristine smile glistens as it grows wide and ushers them into what they feel is just another day of their grind towards success together. Ty goes to get their booth set up for the recording, ensuring everything is ready to run smoothly while an aide gets Joey mic'd up. Once used to running a one man show, now that most of Joey’s brain has been converted into brawn that he must always effort to maintain it’s easy for everything else to fall by the wayside. He stirs protein powder into a mug of coffee brought to him by an aide who grimaces at the sight and curls his nose at the aura of odor around the giant. Joey kindly raises his caffeinated convocation at the man as he thankfully leaves the two of them to their work.

Joey takes a deliberately loud slurp and Ty scowls over his own mic at him. Joey shrugs with a grin and leans back in his chair, clearing his throat while Ty does a few vocal warm ups. After their final preparations the red light outside their booth flickers on and they begin their episode, running on instinct it goes off without a hitch. Suddenly it’s a no brainer as to what makes this episode so special, Joey begins the announcement in his deep clumsy fashion, “It’s uhhh, not a secret that we’ve been seeing each other since we started this show. But there’s been a recent, uhhh, development. Here babe I can tell you’re chomping at the bit so-” Given the go ahead his lover promptly cuts him off with a shrill shout, “We’re engaged!” Bands appear upon the fingers of both men and fullness surges in their hearts as they are officially bound together beyond that of roommates, cohosts, or even lovers. Never to experience loneliness again they are bound in law and by every shifted thread of reality that brought them together.

Together eternally more, their show shall continue to thrive, constantly ushered to new heights by the wit of Ty and the wandering gags of The Brute. Inseparable and finally whole, the pair enjoy all their new world has to offer, Joey with his perfect body and storied success and Ty with his finally pacified temper and a newfound understanding of himself and those around him. They may be larger than life personalities working for a less than scrupulous network, but at the end of the day they always have their love to come back to, and nothing could possibly dull the passion and plentitude they find within the arms of their other half.

I'm a lesbian and my gf wants to become my daddy and turn me into her emo twink. Can the wish master help?

You stood outside of the shop, hoping your wishes would be granted. Your girlfriend pushed away from you as suddenly her body began to change. You saw the flood of testosterone flood here body, it grew and grew fast, her body gained muscle and mass she began to age, a beard grew, instantly turning salt and pepper. her bod turning to a muscled dad bod as her pear white skin turned dark as she became African American. Tats covered her new manly body, a motorcycle sudden appeared under her as her massive ass and thighs straddled it. She finished taking on her new look as your Muscled, leather Daddy.

You tripped and fell back as your body started next, your 25 year old self began to loos age as you suddenly found your body become 18 again, you lost you tits and wide hips as you slim out.

First you became a skinny Emo twink, but suddenly your body transformed becoming your daddy's new perfect twink.

Your hair grew turning a bright pink as piercings covered your face, you body became a work of art as it became covered with daddy's favorite artwork. Your eyes became bright blue, your clothing quickly changed to match daddy's leather bad boy look.

Daddy grabbed your fat twink ass from behind, placed you on the bike and you rode off into the night off to enjoy you new kinky lifestyle.

Hey wishmaster, I’ve always been big and burly any chance I could restart as like a drama student twink?

You grab a coffee from our new shop inside the store. Your massive body and amazing beauty on display. You drink your coffee and as you sit there enjoying it you think about the wish you just made, wanting that youth and energy. Without noticing your body begins to shrink, loosing the burly look as your muscles and tats disappear. You slim out, your ass plumps up as you feel your new peach form, each expansion increasing your libido, your new cock growing harder with each thought. Your gruff face replaced by a baby face, pretty boy. Your hair becomes styled, your tips dyed, suddenly you open your eyes and staring back at you in the mirror behind the coffee bar was a total stranger.

Socked as you see the sexy young twink looking back at you, you quickly realize your life was being rewritten in your mind and around you.

You find you are 18 again, 100% gay and proudly out. You just began your freshman year as a drama student at the local college, the only thing remaining from your old life was your name.

Suddenly you feel your ass being grabbed and you turn to see your gorgeous boyfriend, who you kiss the look in your eyes say it's time to leave the shop and go back to your dorm to fuck each other for the rest of the day. Lucky, you!

Matt > Ollie

A few hours ago, I was the typical Jock, loved sports, and attention, but something was missing in my life. I was known as a lion because of my huge cock. It was so annoying as I was horny all tye tome and people could see them outline of it when I wore shorts. It was so easy to fuck people but I was bored of it.

This is where Ollie came in to help. He spoke to me about how he wished he was like me, and I ended up telling him how I would love to become a cute nerd twink like him. He was actually shocked hearing it. He asked me if I was willing to trade bodies with him, and I said yes! He showed me this weird device that has a node, and it meant to transfer our minds but leaving everything behind.

I sat there with the node on my head, and he pressed the device on. I felt my body froze as I was being extracted painfully, but out of the blue, I was sitting where Ollie was and saw my body in front moving.

I felt new knowledge about science, maths, everything, and lust for jocks? I felt my smaller cock get hard seeing Ollie in my body flexing. I looked at my new body, and it felt so tight and sexy! I was finally a cute nerdy twink!!! I was Ollie at last!! I remembered how I had OF and loved guys fucking me.

I spoke to Matt, and we both loved this swap, we felt love and decided to kiss. He agreed to collaborate with me, and the video went viral. Matt is now my dom top, and he sure satisfies me nightly. I love how he ruins my hole as he needs to keep his cock calm. We have fucked so any times at college and this was the best life ever.

Everyone respected our relationship, and we had so many threesomes as sometimes I wanted to top a fellow jock.

The device? I kept it hidden away as Matt and I agreed to steal ourselves fresh young bodies when we reached 40.

Singing a New Tune

Written for Occam's 2000 Follower Writing Challenge

“Babe, I love you.”

Jared smiled down at Julie, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. He had to imagine his girlfriend dreamed of this moment. A romantic kiss at a Tiffany Stabina concert as the star finished out her set with one of Julie’s favorite songs. A slow romantic song- one that Jared knew all too well from frequent replays in the car.  

“Anything for you babe.” He replied, holding her closely in his muscular arms, “I love you too.”

This certainly wasn’t his kind of music. And he didn’t understand the cult-like devotion to Tiffany. But seeing Julie this happy? Worth it. Still, he imagined the other straight dudes here were thinking similarly. In fact, he and the guy next to him shared several looks throughout the night. A silent comradery acknowledging they’d rather be elsewhere. And if they had been elsewhere, Jared would’ve asked the guy for his arm day routine.

“Alright babe, we ought to head out before...”

“To all my fans, I love you!” Tiffany called out, their cheers drowning Jared’s words, “You’ve all been with me from the beginning, and I am so grateful.” She placed a hand over her heart, “But you all know I’ve been criticized.” The fans all booed, “And they’ve come after you too.”

“A bit dramatic.” Jared chuckled, earning a glare from Julie.

“You wouldn’t get it.” She replied, “They go after he for everything.” The jock nodded, not wanting to risk ruining their perfect night, “But when she sings, it’s like she’s speaking directly to you. People just don’t get it.” Jared nodded. There were some things just not worth it.

“I wasn’t going to do this, but I have a new song for you all this evening!” The crowd erupted in screams and applause. Jared groaned, “They say I’m pandering? Then I’ll pander.” She continued, and the crowd got louder.

Jared knew there would be no way of getting Julie to leave now. And he silently dreaded the hours they’d be stuck in traffic. But as the song started and Tiffany’s words echoed through the stadium, his thoughts slowed.

“They say I only cater to a few.”

Jared felt lightheaded, the sound of the crowd growing distant.

“The gays and the girls, oh boo hoo.”

“Julie?” He whispered, but she didn’t respond, “Julie, please...” He felt sick. The world was spinning, everything becoming black, “Fuck, fuck, fuck...” He whispered. He couldn’t move. Was he dying? Was this it?

“But I won’t back down, I won’t apologize.” Jared looked up and saw her. Tiffany Stabina. Standing in front of him, “For making them feel alive.” She strutted towards the helpless jock.

“What...? How is this...?”

“I see you dancing in the dark, feeling completely torn apart.” She sang.

Jared yelped as he felt a cool breeze caress him. And to his horror, he realized he was nude. Butt naked in front of Tiffany Stabina no less. She grinned and approached him, circling his nude figure and wrapping her arms around him.

“Embrace your uniqueness, don’t hide.”

Jared gasped as she placed pressure on his shoulders. He felt the floor getting closer as he lost inch after inch of height. He now stood at eye level with the 5’6” popstar.

“Wait? What did you do to me?” He yelped.

“Now let my music take you for a ride.”

She ran a hand along his muscular arms. Her very touch sent a wave of pleasure straight to his dick, and he blushed as all 10 inches stood at attention. Tiffany smirked, but continued rubbing his biceps and triceps. Her sensual touch was intoxicated, and Jared watched helplessly as his proud muscles started to diminish. His biceps atrophied, followed quickly by his triceps. His slender arms giving off the appearance they hadn’t seen a gym in years. He tried to cry out, but Tiffany placed a finger to his lips, effectively silencing him. He could only watch as her hands roamed his impressive pecs. He had always been proud of his pecs, and he loved when Julie rested her head on his chest. But now, he could only watch as they flattened away.

“Wait...” He was able to force out. But Tiffany was relentless, and her hands roamed down his abs.

He shed a few tears as his abs vanished, leaving him with a flat, slender tummy. There was no way this could be happening. It had to be some type of acid trip or something. Jared kept trying to reassure himself, even as she moved to his legs and quickly destroyed his muscular thighs and calves, leaving his legs slender and dainty. His feet followed, and quickly diminished from size 13s to 9.5s in mere seconds.

“My music is my contagion, unapologetic. Now we’re gonna collide.” Tiffany continued, this time wrapping her hands around his cock, “My fans are my tribe, I won’t divide.”

Jared felt like the wind was knocked out of him from both the pain and pleasure from her touch. And he watched as she shrunk his proud member. The young jock always knew he was well endowed. And he knew how to use it too. But as he watched his dick shrink from its proud ten inches to a mere 3 inches hard, he felt his confidence diminish.

“We’ll rise together, side by side.”

Her hands made their way to his flat ass. He tried to crane his neck to see what she was about to do. But he didn’t need to see. He could immediately feel his ass expand in her hands, filling them with firm, yet jiggly fat and muscle. He let out a moan as she caressed his basketball-sized ass cheeks, and he nearly came when she gave one a firm slap.

“Pl-please stop...” He begged as she placed a hand over his neck, “You can't do thith...” His voice cracked and he winced, “What’th happening to my voithe? Why do I thound like thith?” He begged, his voice cracking, “No, thith doethn't thound right.” His voice settled a few octaves higher, his masculine tone now lost forever.

“So bring on the hate, let the critics rage. We’ll keep on dancing, it’s time to turn the page.”

As she continued to caress his now slender body, and grind against him, he felt off. His dick  softened, as her physicality became less appealing to him. Her bouncing boobs and thick lips didn’t seem to do it for him. Even her touch was losing its pleasure. And he realized in terror what was occurring.

“No, not thith!” He begged, “Come on, come, think of thomething.” He remembered the BJ Julie gave him last night, and even the lesbian porn he watched a few days ago. But his measly member stayed soft, “No... pleathe...”

He felt Tiffany’s hand on his head. His pleading eyes met hers, and he knew he’d find no mercy. His hair restyled itself, and he felt a piercing pain in his left earlobe, which suddenly adourned a diamond stud. But her touch was doing far more than making a few style alterations. In his mind, his memories were shifting. Showering after football practice? Changing in the locker room after a lifting session with his bros? Watching football with his family?

“Oh god...” He moaned, as his small dick hardened and his ass throbbed with need.

He didn’t play football. He got fucked by the quarterback in the shower after a game. He wasn’t lifting at the gym. He was doing cardio and sucking off the gym bros between their sets. He didn’t watch sports like football. He just sat and scrolled on his phone, reading up on the latest Tiffany Stabina gossip and scrolling his socials. And as his new reality cemented itself, Jared’s eyes lost their intelligent spark and became half-lidded, his brain filling with celebrity gossip and how to please guys.

“This contagion’s here to stay, and we’ll celebrate it every day.”

She kissed him on the cheek. And with that, Jared was back. The cheers of the crowd filling his ears, as Tiffany thanked her fans and left the stage. Jared smiled.

“Oh my god! That wath tho amathing!” He cheered, “Tiffany! I love you!” He yelled, “It wath like Tiffany thpoke to me.”

“You felt that way too?” Jared turned and came face to face with a man of similar build. Albeit with slightly bigger arms, “Tiffany, like, totally thpeakth for uth.” He grinned as Jared felt up his arms.

“Wait!” A voice called out behind him, “Did you see the guy I came here with?” Julie asked, looking around desperately, “I swear, he was right here. I...”

“Thorry thithter, I hope you find him!” Jared replied, turning his attention back to the guy.

“Tho weird, thome poor girl athked me about her boyfriend too.” The man replied, “Probably got drunk and left to watch football.”

“OMG tho lame.” Jared laughed. The two smiled at one another, “Tho, like...”

“Wanna go back to my place? I have her latetht album.” The man winked, and Jared shuddered as his ass throbbed with need.

“That thounds delightful.” Jared replied, pulling the man in closer, his smile widening as the man squeezed his ass, “Oh! But like firtht I totally need a thelfie! I want everyone to know I thupport Tiffany and Tiffany thupports me!” He cheered, capturing their kiss on camera and posting it to his socials.

Later that night, Jared and his lover explored one another’s new bodies. Jared gasping at the size of his lover’s cock, moaning as he felt a firm hand squeeze his ass. His moans would continue to fill the room that night. With each thrust of his new lover’s dick, Jared was in heaven. Unaware of his former life or the horror it would bring his former self to see him like this. Just another horny slut- another gay twink dedicated to Tiffany Stabina.

He was so sure when he got me into his room he had all the power. I mean look at those muscles, the silver chain, the tattoos, facial hair and just genuine confidence and swagger. Of course this masculine beefcake wanted to be in control because he was used to it. Oh how he was in for a shock, I was hungry and I was going to get what I came for.

It had been a long night, I hadn't scored anyone in a few days and I was desperate. None of my normals were around and people seemed to be more cautious this time of year with HALLOWS EVE so close. Even people who didn't believe in "ghost stories" or the "things that go bump in the night" kept their distance. So I went to another bar and had some bad luck till I ran across him. His name was Brett something, drunk beyond belief, his bros who didn't know he was playing for the other team had just left and I hadn't made any obvious signs of noticing him.

He circled me like prey before swaggering in next to my stool, taking up my personal space. He had started off with some stupid line, it was a neg "You know I don't normally go for Twinky Femmes, but DAMN your ass!" Whistling at the end. God my standards were low tonight. I giggled and blushed a little, enough to let him think I was disarmed. "Aww what's a tall handsome man like you doing alone at the bar!" I say, bringing the putrid decayed fruit drink to my plump lips. Long ago had the the sweet taste and fun of alcohol been taken from me.

Brett looked me up and down, my pale skin shimmering in the bars neon lights, my pink, mesh croptop barely covering my lithe, tone torso and my 3 inch inseam shorts clinging to my bubble butt so well it might as well had been painted on over the jockstrap I wore. He moved his hand to the top of my hair caressing one of my blonde curls as he said "I could say the same thing about the Sexy cute twink at the bar instead of the dance floor"

His hand traveled from my hair to the base of my neck where he could easily step closer and I'd be forced to not only see his flexing muscles, but also have to smell his musky scent. It made my nose flare and eyes dilate, maybe he was perfect for this after all!

"Well maybe I wanted to save my energy for a hunky man like you!" I say leaning into him, my head basically laying face first against his pecs and taking a whiff. I looked up at him, I could see that cocky smirk as his hand stayed right on me, firmly. His cock which at this point was straining against his denim pants was right at my stomach. I needed to seal the deal I was so close, as I looked up at him I made eye contact, and as I did mine FLASHED a beautiful gold and quickly Brett's did the same.

He didn't waste any time, he put his card down for the bar tender paying for my drinks before taking me home. My little CHARM sped up any interaction as long as the man was already interested and I don't know if could have waited any longer at that bar before needing him inside me.

So here we were in his room, after making out through his buildings elevator my teeth nibbling on his lips and slightly on his neck, hallway and through both doors of his apartment. Brett's face was already flush, he had already discarded his shirt on the living room, now he was ripping his pants off till he sat down, legs spread in just his boxers. His face so cocky so sure.

"Come on, no need to be scared, Brett Jr doesn't bite, suck it!" His voice sultry, not understanding the irony in the words.

"Trust me I want to SUCK you so bad! I also don't mind BITTING!" I say his smell, his body driving me wild. My feet thinking for me taking me in-between his legs, my hands gently massaging his chest as I feel my knees bend. My dick sucking lips meeting his, a moan of satisfaction and almost disappointment as they leave and travel down his jaw, then neck, collarbone and over his gorgeous chest then abs. His hands stripping me of my clothes the entire time. Grabbing at my flesh with comments thrown in about how he'd warm me right up since I felt so COLD

His cock was tenting his boxers so much he might as well have just called it a tent. The front of it is leaking, staining the plaid fabric forever. I was on my knees when I saw he tried to shove my face in but with another FLASH of gold his hand went lower and SLAPPED my gorgeous bubble butt.

I lowered his underwear, his meat slapping against his abs then my face, his prescum smearing across my lips as I began to kiss his cock head. My tongue licking around before sliding up and down his eager shaft, my eyes locking with his. Not a bad length, maybe 6 or 7 inches, I thought, surely it wouldnt last me as long as the others did but it would do something. His breathing was already heavy as one of my hands cupped his balls while the other moved up his leg to his abs then began to tweak his chest. His hands tried to move me further down his dick, trying to grab me by the back of the head grunting.

His grunts were deep and heavy as I slowly slipped my lips up and down his shaft, never letting his fuckstick leave my lips, my hands working his body making him needier as he got to the back of my mouth and down my throat. As more and more of his precum entered me I could hear his grunts turn to whines. His leg muscles that framed my lithe body began to shake, as they tensed I could feel them shrink ever so slightly. His arms were flailing as his mountainous biceps began to shrink to toned hills. 

His balls were tightening/rising up as his pillowy pecs began to sink into his chest becoming flat as a board, his abs began to smooth over as his waist and shoulders narrowed. His eyes were wide as they stared at me in FEAR and PLEASURE, his face softening becoming oh so cute as he began to moan wildly. He was wailing, saying he was close and even though at this point he knew if he cum it was going to be the point of no return he begged for me to keep going.

His masculinity was all stored up in those delicious balls and as I deepthroated his cock, my face firmly planted at the base of his now clean shaven crotch, both of our eyes wide and glowing gold as he fired shot after shot. Each load shot directly down my throat and I could feel my body PULSE with it. My shoulders widened, my chest becoming beautiful pillowy pecs, my biceps and forearms bulging with strength as my hands became beefier, I could feel Brett’s cock getting smaller as my abs, hips and thighs filled out becoming so delicious looking anyone would want to take a BITE. Brett’s voice was where mine used to be, a high tenor as he mumbled insanity, and his ass began to grow, becoming so much more bubbly, filled with the perfect ratio of fat and muscle, his hole becoming needy as the last dros of his masculinity was DRAINED out of him.

I pulled off his inch nub, looking down at my new adonis form, smirking cockily as I stared at my new fledgling. His masculinity would only last me maybe a week or two before I would need to drain somebody else. I hope Brett was prepared for his life as a twink vampire, he was going to need to get used to a hunger far beyond what he knew as a mortal. Good thing he could easily wear my old clothes

CHAVTF Clothes Make the Man

Frederik liked walking through the rougher neighborhood between his office and home after work in the evening. It was a detour, but he loved the atmosphere—kind of trashy, lower-class, but definitely masculine. Real dudes stood outside corner pubs, drinking beers. Rowdy teens in tracksuits spat on the street in front of him, adjusting their junk like it was nothing. Frederik was almost 50. He had never dared to come out. His attempts at sex with women, and even one man, were pathetic. The closest he got to the men who turned him on was walking past them. He might have had a cool job and made decent money, but his life? It was miserable.

The shop window he stopped in front of had never caught his eye before. "CHAVTF" was the name. The display wasn’t exactly stylish—just old-school mannequins wearing Adidas tracksuits, Ben Sherman shirts, and Lonsdale tank tops. Clothes that his fantasies wore. He had to go inside. The only person there was the guy behind the counter, talking on the phone, and to Frederik's surprise, smoking inside. The shop smelled like smoke and sweaty men in cheap, synthetic tracksuits. Frederik didn’t get hard—he never really did anymore—but his underwear got damp from precum.

He stood by a rack of shiny synthetic clothing: T-shirts, shorts, tracksuits. One tracksuit practically called to him—a white and gray one, like some kind of snow camo. He checked for the largest size. XL. It was going to be tight, but he had to try it on. Grabbing the tracksuit and his laptop bag, he headed to the only fitting room he could find. The floor wasn’t particularly clean, and it took some effort to strip down and stand there in just his socks. He slipped into the tracksuit. No mirror in the changing room, though. He didn’t take off his polished black Oxfords, even if they didn’t match. He wasn’t about to walk through the shop in socks, and leaving his button-down shirt on under the jacket probably looked ridiculous. But he didn’t want the plastic fabric touching his bare skin.

He knew the tracksuit didn’t fit—it was way too tight. He needed a mirror. There was one outside. Of course, with his dress shoes and shirt, plus his bloated face and neatly parted hair, he looked totally ridiculous. Still, he wanted that tracksuit. He looked around for the shop assistant, who was glued to his phone. Frederik, with a dry throat, squeaked out, “Do you have this in a bigger size?” The guy barely glanced up, “Nah, mate, my bad, but like, we straight up don't even carry that brand. What you see is what we got.”

Frederik pointed to the rack where he’d found it. But now, instead of shiny plastic, there were boxing clothes and gloves. Cool leather gloves like the ones hooligans wear. What the hell? That wasn’t there before! Frederik wanted to get out of here. But the air in the shop made him feel light-headed. He looked for the fitting room again. Couldn’t find it. His breathing got heavy. The assistant came over, asking if everything was alright. “No,” Frederik replied, “nothing’s alright. Where’s the fitting room?”

The guy gave him a cheeky, almost lustful smile. “We don’t got any fitting rooms here, mate. You’d have to change somewhere between the racks.” And suddenly, Frederik felt the assistant’s hand on his nipple. He flinched. The guy grinned. “You don’t look like you mind getting changed in public.” Frederik jumped back in shock. The guy laughed. “Why so shy, bro? Maybe I should’ve introduced myself first. Name’s Dick.” He grabbed his crotch. “Name fits, too.”

Frederik stammered, trying to say he was flattered but just wanted to change back and leave. Dick looked at him like he didn’t get it. “Dude, I’ve been keeping an eye on you, and you’re still wearing what you came in with.”

Panic set in for Frederik. Where was the fitting room? Where were his clothes? He’d left them by the Adidas jackets, right? Now there was nothing. Where he’d placed the tracksuit and laptop bag, there was a backpack. He opened it. Someone else’s stuff—phone, wallet, gym gear. But also condoms, little brown bottles and cans labeled “Crisco.” Dick was suddenly behind him. “Yeah, that’s what you came in with, mate. And if you got Crisco, I’ve got some ideas on how we could use it.” His hand was under Frederik’s tracksuit again. It felt good. Frederik wanted to protest, but it felt really good. Dick’s hand slipped under his T-shirt, heading for his ass crack…

“Wait, stop!” Frederik jumped aside.

“Come on, princess. I could lock up and show you a good time. What’s your name, anyway?”

“Frederik,” he muttered, “and I don’t plan on getting anything from you.”

“Then why’d you show up dressed like a rent boy with a load of Crisco and poppers in your bag on a Friday night? You don’t look like you’re heading to a cooking class.”

Dick rummaged through the backpack, pulling out a pair of assless latex briefs and flashing Frederik’s driver’s license. “Frederick Miller,” he said, holding the photo next to Frederik’s face, “but real life’s way hotter than this pic.”

Frederik snatched the wallet back. Name? Correct. Birthday? Correct. Birth year? No, it wasn’t 2005—it was 1975! What the hell was going on? The photo showed a young man. He needed a mirror. Right now. There was one just ahead.

“Yo, Ricky, you alright?” Dick leaned over him. “You kinda zoned out. How much poppers you had tonight?”

Frederik stood up. The mirror showed a dude in a sleek snow camo tracksuit. But it was a size M, probably. The guy was slim and toned, with a trendy haircut and acne-prone skin. That wasn’t him. Hell no. But the guy in the mirror had a hard-on. And Frederik? He had an iron-hard, throbbing erection. Dick wrapped an arm around him. He was hard too—Frederik could feel it. Dick held a bottle under Frederik’s nose. “Relax and lean against the wall.” In a daze, Frederik obeyed. Dick pulled down his pants, muttering, “This might hurt a little.”

Whatever was in that bottle made Frederik hornier than ever. Bent over, hands pressed to the wall by the mirror, he saw a face that wasn’t his own. He felt Dick’s cock push into him. It hurt. God, it hurt. But it felt amazing. Dick fucked him hard, and Frederik’s cock bounced with each thrust. He wanted to jerk off, but needed his hands to keep from collapsing. His eyes rolled back as he felt Dick unload inside him. And Frederik came, too—harder than he ever had before. This wasn’t forced. This was pure, raw pleasure. And the mess on the mirror? Massive.

“Ricky, that was hot as always. Catch you later at the Ku-Bar for a drink and a fuck?” Frederik had no idea what Dick was talking about but nodded. Dick planted a deep kiss on him. Grabbing his backpack, Frederik stumbled out of CHAVTF—both freaked out and exhilarated. Once outside, he finally breathed in the fresh air.

According to ‘his’ identity card, he lived just a few streets away. A run-down house with an entrance full of graffiti. The front door key from ‘his’ rucksack fitted. But where did he live? He walked through the stairwell. He was met by a young Chav in a tracksuit, who greeted him with ‘Hi Ricky, back from the gym yet?’. Frederick greeted him back. Frederick secretly looked at the doorbells. Finally, on the fourth floor, he found a sign saying ‘Ricky/Morty/Liam’. Thank God, the key fitted. He was in a small flat in an old building, furnished cheaply but stylishly with bulky rubbish and Ikea furniture. He opened a door, behind which was a room with a bedroom, desk and wardrobe. Cramped but cosy. Ricky threw himself onto the bed. Sleep? Thinking? He involuntarily began to jerk off. ‘Ricky, you bastard, can't you wank in your own room?’ Suddenly a naked man with a towel around his shoulders stood in the doorway. Shit, it was obviously Morty or Liam. Anyway, he obviously knew Frederick. And Frederick's arse, which had been fucked for the second time today.

The weekend felt like a film to him. People greeted him all the time. He was constantly getting messages and calls on his mobile phone. He went on dates. Most of them ended in sex. He danced through two nights. Then he had sex. In the morning, he made coffee naked in the shared kitchen. And then he had sex afterwards. He was horny all the time. And it obviously met the taste of many men. Still, what the hell had happened? Who was he? Who was the Ricky Miller he was now? Definitely not the head of the Transportation Division at a bank in the City… It was Sunday evening. Morty and Liam were watching TV in the living room. They were probably watching porn, they were probably wanking again. The thought also gave Ricky a hard-on again. But he scrolled through his mobile phone. The weekend was as good as over. He would probably have to work tomorrow. His mobile phone was newer and more expensive than the one he had been using. But it was poorly maintained. There was a ‘Work’ entry. But no address. He dialled the number. An answering machine said ‘Welcome to Regulation. We are here for you Monday to Saturday from 11:00 to 19:00 and Sunday from 12:00 to 17:00. Outside of these hours, please visit regulation dot store.’ Frederick googled the address. And turned pale. At least he could sleep in tomorrow. It would probably be enough if he was in the shop at 10.00 am.

A month had passed. Ricky had settled into his new life. He liked his job at REGULATION. He liked his occasional jobs as a model or amateur actor in smaller porn productions. He got around well. This weekend he got to model for his favourite label again. Not much money. But at least a trip to Berlin.

He loved the things from TWINK X . But unfortunately a bit too expensive for his salary. Most of the guys he saw in the clothes were unfortunately too old and too fat for his taste. Well, he was usually able to earn some pocket money from them. And then it was enough for a pair of shorts or a T-shirt. The hot skinhead he had made eye contact with on the underground all the way to Nollendorfplatz was far from fat. Perhaps too muscular for Ricky's taste. But a hot guy. And the TWINK X jacket he was wearing was damn hot! Unusual for such an obvious top to be wearing something like that. But Ricky wasn't picky. The shoot had been exhausting. He almost didn't care who he was relieving stress with now.

Drink from A Stranger

My vision suddenly got blurry as soon as I spent the drink this stranger treated me, which is weird because I have high tolerance and the drink is not even that strong. The whole world around me seems spinning continuously as this huge man in his tight clothes said things that I can’t comprehend clearly. I only heard some words like “woozy”, “drained” and “good source of” as my headache grew stronger until I passed out.

The next morning I wake up in the bathroom floor, shirtless and somehow feeling so sick. Then I realize the shit that happened to my body, I LOST HELL A TON OF MY MUSCLE! And what the fuck with this stupid long hair with bang? I take a look in the mirror to confirm my fear and it’s confirmed right away that somehow I lost almost 15 years of my age or somewhere around that number and also my muscle drained drastically.

I slammed the bathroom door and shocked to see the guy that I met last night posing in front of the mirror

“How’s the hangover? Told you, you’re one hell of a good source of protein,” he said while staring at me with his cold stare, his arm and biceps tensed as he tightened his grip to the towel that he must be use to wipe off his sweat

“What did you do to me last night, asshole?”

“Well, only a simple trick of muscle draining. I know you’re hungry, what about if I replace the lost protein with something more tempting?” he said while suddenly drop his pants to the floor, revealing a thick 7” cock

I’m straight but I don’t know, like there’s some sort of energy or something that make me afraid to him, yet at the same time turned on too. I can only drool to such sight and then once again he smirked

“I knew you’re a fag,” and he sauntered me to force me kneel to the floor and suck his thick cock

31 Days of Derek Hale

Day 26: Twink

Info │ 01 │ 02 │ 03 │ 04 │ 05 │ 06 │ 07 │ 08 │ 09 │ 10 │ 11 │ 12 │ 13 │ 14 │ 15 │ 16 │ 17 │ 18 │ 19 │ 20 │ 21 │ 22 │ 23 │ 24 │ 25 │ 26

Derek bumped into some small, tiny guy. The little guy wore comically oversized clothes as he ran off, looking panicked and frightened. 

“Fuckin’ weirdo,” Derek snorted, readjusting his gym bag over his broad shoulder. 

The 6’3” alpha sauntered into the gym to workout. Normally, the muscled stud preferred to lift or perform bodyweight exercises at home where he wouldn’t have to deal with a lot of people. However, after renovating his house, he didn’t want to mess it up with his musk, so he’d opted to get a gym membership. After a few weeks of working out at one of the local gyms, Derek was surprised to discover that he actually liked to work out in public. There was something about being one of the bigger guys at the gyms that filled him with a sense of pride. Towering over the other men and easily out-muscling them only cemented his role as an alpha, and Derek could only smirk as he threw his weight around the gym.

After changing in the locker room, Derek strutted out onto the gym floor clad in only tight gym shorts that strained against his powerful thighs. His impressive chest muscles were on full display as he moved towards the weight pile. His chiseled, plump pecs illustrated sheer masculine power, and Derek frowned a bit when he realized that the gym was virtually empty.

“Guess the other guys just can’t keep up,” he hummed to himself, grabbing the heavier weights on the rack and performing bicep curls like it was second nature to him. His bowling ball-sized mounds flexed with power as he lifted, and Derek couldn’t help but admire his bulky form in the large mirror.

Derek was so caught up in working out that he barely noticed when another gym patron walked up to the weight pile, grabbing a weight that was a little heavier than Derek’s.

This other guy rivaled Derek’s size, both in height and musculature, much to the alpha’s annoyance. This other guy’s thick curly hair reached the same exact 6’3” height as did Derek; that fact bothering Derek for some inane reason. Plus, this other guy also worked out shirtless, showing off his pumped up muscles that exuded manly power. His chiseled pecs were just as rounded as Derek’s, and when he lifted his weight, his bicep bulged to the same exact size Derek’s had.

The other guy glanced towards Derek and nodded at the lighter weight in his grasp. “My girlfriend likes to use the smaller weights too,” he chuckled.

Derek bristled at the obvious attempt to make him look weaker than the unknown douchebag. He just clenched his jaw as he set the weight down, opting for an even larger one than the other guy’s. Gritting his teeth, he began to rack out several bicep curls.

The subtle way the other man’s eyes widened caused the alpha to smirk, loving how his bicep pumped up to an incredible size. The arm burned with lactate and he could vaguely make out the other guy muttering something under his breath, yet Derek was too focused on trying to look like the bigger man.

Derek’s muscles burned from his workout, the burning sensation seemingly spreading throughout the rest of his body from his arm. The immense weight in his hand steadily felt heavier by the second, Derek chalking it up to reaching muscle failure. He thought that it was odd that he’d reached it in under a minute since he could usually lift heavy amounts of weight for a substantiated amount of time.

Derek grunted as he attempted to perform one more rep, yet his arm started to shake and he ultimately dropped the weight, letting it clang loudly onto the floor. 

The guy chuckled again, and clapped Derek on the bare shoulder. “Don’t worry, Little Guy,” he teased, “there’s no shame in starting off with the smaller weights. We all gotta start somewhere, right?”

Derek swallowed down a growl and instead tried to glare threateningly at the other guy to get him to leave him alone… but he stopped when he stared directly at the dude’s chin. Earlier, Derek could’ve sworn that they’d stood eye to eye.

Derek’s eyes widened when he witnessed the other guy actually growing. As impossible as it seemed, the other gym goer sprouted up in height, his muscles also packing on some serious size. His pecs plumped out even more and his arms took on some more consider meat. 

“What the fuck?” Derek muttered, freezing when he heard his voice. It was void of any baritone, making his voice sound lighter and almost squeakier, as if it had shot up a few octaves. 

Then the horror slowly dawned on Derek that the other guy wasn’t just growing, but Derek was also shrinking.

Derek watched as his line of sight kept slipping lower and lower, until he was staring directly at the other man’s plump pecs. It didn’t stop there though, as all of Derek’s muscles began to deflate. 

“What the fuck’s happening to my muscles!?” Derek squeaked out in his smaller voice, holding his arms out in horror as his biceps steadily grew flatter.

Derek was helpless to do anything except watch as all of his hard-earned muscles grew flatter and near nonexistent. His arms shrank until they looked like unremarkable sticks, lacking any bulges whatsoever. His pumped up pectorals gradually flattened as they shrank against his chest, looking smaller and smaller until his entire torso was flat— lacking major pecs or even any abs. Even his legs thinned out as quads and calves deflated, growing smaller until Derek had little twigs to stand on.

To add insult to injury, Derek paled as he squirmed and felt an uncomfortable bagginess in the front of his boxers, the front of his shorts looking flat.

When he was finally done shrinking, Derek stared at his skinny body in shock and horror, estimating that he must’ve lost well over fifty pounds of pure muscle, and that he had to have stood at a measly 5’3” now.

“Wh-what did you do to me?” Derek roared, but his lighter voice didn’t hold any sort of threatening quality to it at all. In his frustration, he tried to charge forward and pummel the now larger man, but as he swung his tiny fists at the man’s massive bulk, the other guy didn’t seem phased.

The big gym bully just snickered. “Sorry, Little Man,” he scoffed, gently shoving Derek away, yet the incredible difference in strength sent the tiny alpha stumbling backwards until he fell on his tiny butt with a thud. “There’s only room here for one gym alpha.” 

To illustrate his point, the larger man lifted his powerful arms and flexed his massive biceps which flexed to the size of small melons, easily out sizing Derek’s tiny stick-like arms.

Out of humiliation, Derek took off, sprinting out of the gym in a frenzy, embarrassed at how there was a lack of dangling sensation between his legs. He hurried into his Camaro and nearly wailed as he had to readjust his seat closer to the wheel because his shortened legs couldn’t reach the pedals.

As the tiny man sped off, a large bodybuilder entered the gym, his large muscles oddly already starting to burn the second the stepped foot inside…