Table Of Contents

What the Athletic Department Needs

Bringing back Coach Sorenson as requested

Tony Reardon anxiously paced back and forth inside of the coach’s office. It was strangely large and well-decorated, looking similar to something he expected from a therapist. One large loveseat, a coffee table, and a chair with an extra wide cushion were the only items in the room. There were also multiple pictures of championship victories, a few caps and balls hanging as mementos, an array of cabinets, and large windows overlooking the university. He wished literally anyone was here with him. His girlfriend, his advisor, even his mother! But he was completely alone, unprepared to face what he assumed was going to be the coach’s wrath.

As a lead writer for the university’s newspaper, Tony should’ve known better than to expose the article. He’d been in the business for almost four years now through high school and into college, so he could admit it was rather idiotic of him to let his segment leak. He had written an editorial about the recent declines in the university’s academic departments and its odd correlations with the climbing numbers in athletic enrollment. Somehow, while the average grades had been plummeting, the football, soccer, basketball, baseball, and hockey records had been exploding, with a new star player added to each team every week. Not only that, but the swimming team had expanded for the first time in 20 years, and there were now four golf teams instead of two. Somehow, all these events had to be connected with the academic slump, and that’s what Tony’s article was going to explore.

For the next month’s publication, he began researching the link between the fall of academia and the rise of physical activities. The chase had led him through a plethora of unexplained student disappearances, skyrocketing mid-semester registrations, and a barely-quantifiable amount of seemingly illegal activity. The most prominent example had been the creation of some cologne called “Heir,” a seemingly simple concoction invented by the new Assistant Football Coach Mark Richardson. Ever since the beginning of the rises and declines, there had been a huge amount of the chemical shipped to the university almost every day. Tony knew that this cologne had to be the answer he was looking for, but before he had a chance to investigate further, his article had been exposed to the faculty, including the head of the Athletic Department: Coach Sorenson.

And this was why Tony was cowering slightly as he waited for the coach to enter. What would he do to Tony, or with Tony? He had definitely gotten himself in way too deep, but there was no way he could escape now. Tony took a long breath and tried desperately to cool himself down. There was no way the coach would be able to harm him in any way. Tony was only a sophomore, not even 20. He was going to be fine, and he just had to keep telling himself that. He just had to get through this and then he’d be on his way.

Suddenly, the door from behind him opened. Tony quickly stood at full attention, almost as rigid as a soldier.

“Stand down,” Coach Sorenson chuckled. “Please, take a seat.”

Tony followed his instructions, nervously twitching as sat down on the white couch across from the coach’s massive chair. His eyes quivered as the giant of a man strolled past him. Tony assumed the coach had to be almost 6’5 (at least a foot taller than him) and even though he looked to be in his forties, he had to be in better shape than any other man above 25. Bulging biceps and triceps, juicy quads, and thick calves were all exposed as they strained the light blue compression shirt and tight, white mesh shorts. Not only that, but the two massive white Nike sneakers did nothing to hide the giant feet as they stomped their way around the other side of the table. Tony also unhappily noticed a massive cock swinging back and forth between the coach’s legs like a pendulum trying to break out.

As the coach sat down, Tony looked over his own body in dread. He’d dressed a little more professional for the situation as he was talking with the head of the Athletic Department. His plaid button-up was fairly flat, showcasing his lack of anything in his torso region. His khakis gave a similar performance as they loosely held onto his legs. His briefs hid any existence of his dick, which was currently sitting at about 3 inches soft. Barely tapping his small shoes quickly against the tile floor, Tony sunk a little further into the loveseat. His butt barely covered half a cushion as he brought his legs together, hoping to stop the shaking.

“To get right to business,” Coach Sorenson’s deep, melodic voice began. “We both know why you’re here in my office.”

“I’m so sorry!” Tony exclaimed, his tenor voice sounding wimpy and childish. “I had no intention of harming the Athletic Department’s reputation in any way at all. I swear, the article is just an editorial–opinions, not fact.”

“I understand.” Coach Sorenson leaned back into his chair and crossed his meaty arms. He pushed his legs out until they were far apart, the man-spreading showcasing who was in charge in the room. He seemed to be dwelling over a thought in his head.

“I promise, it will never be published if that is what you’d like.” Tony gulped at his own proposal, upset at what he was sacrificing.

“No, no,” Coach Sorenson started. “The article can still be salvaged.”

“Salvaged?” Tony questioned hesitantly.

“Well of course,” Coach Sorenson chuckled again, only this time it was a little more menacing. “But if you want to get this thing published, you’ll want both sides of the story.”

Tony pondered the idea for a moment. “What does that entail?”

“I know you’re a smart boy, Tony.” The emphasis on “boy” made it seem more like an insult. “I’ve seen your transcripts. Quite impressive really.”

“Thank you?” Tony was lost, not finding the point.

“You should know that the greatest editorials present sources from both sides. If you want to publish this article, you’re going to have someone in the Athletic Department. I would be willing to fill that responsibility.”

The two sat there in silence for a moment; Coach Sorenson waiting for Tony to take the bait.

“Alright,” Tony agreed. “Are there certain questions you’d like me to ask?”

“Well, first, I have a strange request for you.” The coach’s tone suddenly shifted from authoritative to friendly. “My son made a comment the other day about my body odor, and I’ve been quite self-conscious about it since.”

“I can’t smell anything,” Tony replied honestly, hoping to move forward quickly.

“I just want to make sure.” Coach Sorenson pushed his muscular body out of the chair, the giant frame once again showcasing its massive form as it ascended upwards. The coach then made his way over to the loveseat, taking a seat right next to the very uncomfortable Tony. Compared to the coach, the sophomore now looked even smaller than before.

“Can you smell me when I’m sitting right next to you?”

Tony, now even more intimidated then he had been the entire time, took a theatrical sniff before sputtering out a meek, “N-n-no.”

“Alright,” Coach Sorenson shifted over, getting close enough that his gigantic arms and legs were rubbing up against the beanstalks Tony called limbs. “How about now?”

“S-s-still n-nothing!” Tony squeaked. The coach smirked and casually raised his arms behind his head, stretching out his compression shirt and allowing tufts of wet armpit hair to spill out. Now Tony began to smell something pungent, repulsive, and… addicting. His eyes began to water from the stench as he gradually lost focus.

“Really?” Coach Sorenson insisted, slowly leaning one of his pits into Tony’s face. “Are you sure I don’t smell?”

With logic disappearing quickly, Tony decided this had to be a test. All he had to do was show his obedience to the coach and he would get to publish the article. Without a doubt in his idea, he confidently moved his nose right into a damp forest, the stench almost hitting him immediately. Although he now knew his answer, Tony didn’t stop sniffing. For some reason, he kept going. He had had three words to describe the flavor of the coach’s body odor before, but now the only one that came to mind was-

“Addicting, isn’t it?” The coach cooed, wrapping an arm around Tony and pushing his head in further. “Mark really made sure to make his cologne captivating, that way you’d have no chance of escaping.”

Tony should’ve been panicking; he should’ve been screaming and trying to escape. But he couldn’t, and not because he was being physically held down. He could slip out in seconds if he wanted too, but that was the problem: he didn’t want too.

“After I discovered your little essay, I had to assure your disappearance would be quick and much more hidden than the other students.”

Tony was too captivated in the tangles of pit hair to hear or understand what was going on.

“Although Heir probably would’ve worked, I decided it would be best to be extra cautious. Mark had informed me a few weeks ago that he had made a new detergent for his uncle, the CEO of TenHaken Industries. Apparently it was a success, as its main purpose was to give the employees a few extra decades.”

Tony, who was still feverishly sniffing, began to feel pulsing tingles race across his limbs. He twitched violently but continued to dedicate his attention to the pits at hand.

“So, in hopes that Tony Reardon would vanish from the university while also becoming an advocate for the Athletic Department,” Coach Sorenson smirked proudly. “I decided to mix Heir with Maturitatem, the aging scent that Mark made for his uncle.”

The coach pulled a small, empty cologne bottle out of his pocket. It had two labels on it: one that had been originally attached and one that had been taped on. Tony wasn’t able to see either, but he didn’t care. All he wanted to do was smell the coach’s greasy jungles of pit hair.

Lost in bliss, Tony didn’t notice how the tingling from before had now spread to every part of his body. With every passing second, it seemed to be expanding, pushing outwards as if it was begging for release. In its attempts to escape, the energy pulled at Tony’s mass like taffy, stretching out his limbs and torso as they were pulled further apart. Satisfied with how the process had begun, Coach Sorenson had to readjust his arm to make sure the larger Tony could fit under it. Once the stretching had stopped, the lanky boy now stood at 6’4, just under the coach. He now had to crouch a little with his feet planted firmly on the floor so he could keep inhaling the intoxicating scent.

Now that he was of proper height, the tingling began to focus on certain areas of improvement. The first were the arms, which immediately bloated outwards as mass began to develop. Thick, juicy muscles pushed outwards to create firm biceps, triceps, and forearms. Veins snaked their way downwards to process more flow of testosterone and other hormones. Tony’s hands, which were previously delicate enough to make a typewriter silent, ballooned out as extra flesh made each of his fingers into calloused sausages. They were now only meant to throw, grip, and squeeze.

The tingling then moved across the shoulders and into Tony’s torso. Straight, strong shoulder blades popped out as his chest began to inflate with each huff. Two sturdy pecs pushed against his shirt fiercely, causing the buttons to eventually fly off in random directions. After the pectorals had arrived, they were followed by a magnificent eight-pack that was sure to impress crowds. A hard, defined core helped Tony’s stature become more masculine, giving him a stronger alpha presence to compare to the coach’s.

With the torso improved, the tingling split into two. The first colony swam south, spreading across Tony’s extended legs. The twitching began much more as the Coach eagerly watched the khakis strain at the seams before ripping. As they slipped away–along with his briefs–two sets of gloriously crafted trunks were revealed. Beefy quads were taking in their first light just like the sculpted calves below. A pair of succulent buttocks had also appeared below, hoisting Tony up a little further into Coach Sorenson’s armpit. The sheer size of Tony’s legs forced him to subconsciously push them apart to allow room for his below-average pouch. Although Tony wasn’t a true man yet, his newly-permanent manspread said otherwise.

The tingling also made sure to target Tony’s feet, giving off a similar feeling as if they had fallen asleep. The two soles began to slowly pulse outwards, gaining mass and girth with each increasing centimeter. It wasn’t long before Tony’s shoes were simply destroyed, losing their shape as they were torn into multiple pieces. Coach Sorenson watched on proudly as he swiftly pushed the remains of all the destroyed clothing underneath the coffee table. With surprise, he noticed that Tony was still wearing socks. They had once been knee-high, but now rested right at the ankle, just barely managing to cover the Size 16 feet.

The second group of tingles had now moved upwards, quickly bringing along a flurry of changes as it zipped by. Tony’s neck grew outwards to support larger, broadening vocal chords, which now provided a grumbling bass voice similar in timbre to the coach’s. Tony’s head lengthened out to give him a wider, more prominent chin, allowing for a sharper jaw in return. His ears perked out a little more, along with giving him a bigger nose, wider lips, and piercing brown eyes to replace his shimmering blue ones. His hair also tidied itself up, pulling back up and flopping over as it now had a modern, but natural lift to it.

“Yeah, you’re looking real good,” Coach Sorenson murmured, shoving Tony a little deeper into his pit. “Now, let’s see the namesake of Heir…”

The tingling returned to its roaring presence across Tony’s body once more, except this time it felt more like itching. Sprouts of hair follicles began to explode forth from Tony’s skin, blooming all across his legs, chest, and pubes. Hefty tufts swirled around each other on Tony’s forearms and thighs, while dense forests now covered his calves, chest, and the tops of his feet. Tony’s upper arms were pushed out just slightly to make room for the emerging jungles of pit hair, which now filled in a space Tony had no idea existed before. His face also gained a rather gracious smattering of hair, as he now adorned an extended goatee that could grow back in less than 24 hours. A strong odor began to erupt out of Tony’s body too, a masculine funk coming from his pits and feet that demanded authority.

“…and of Maturitatem.”

Coach Sorenson hadn’t exactly known how much of the detergent to add, but he had assumed a few drops was enough when he had mixed it into the cologne. By the looks of it, he had put in the perfect amount, as the effects were rather minor but definitely noticeable. Tightening of muscles all across Tony’s body came first, followed by the tiniest of wrinkles and weathered skin. Tony’s hairline fell noticeably back, and his once full head of hair lost its youthful thickness. His marvelous eight pack thrusted forward into a powerful muscle gut, almost identical to the coach’s. Finally, Tony’s body hair became a little denser and coarser, adding a few more playful curls across his limbs.

“You’re looking much better,” Coach Sorenson commented as he slowly brought Tony out of his armpit. Tony was startled and bewildered, the smell of the coach’s pits still potent in his nose.

“Now, let’s get you changed into, well, something.” The coach quickly maneuvered his lumbering body across the room to a cabinet, opening it to pull out a set of clothes.

“I always have a few spare shirts and shorts,” Coach Sorenson began as he plodded back over to Tony. “And looking at you, I’d say we’re pretty close to the same size now.”

As Tony was still in a daze, the coach had to help him put on the clothes. First, he carefully placed a tight, gray compression shirt over Tony’s chest, struggling a little at the pecs but eventually making it over. Then, he proceeded to shimmy a pair of blue compression shorts up Tony’s bare lower body, not bothering to grab him any sort of underwear. The coach knew he would rather be commando in the end anyway. Coach Sorenson also grabbed a black baseball hat that had been hanging on the wall and placed it on Tony’s head, making sure to twist it. Although Tony now looked to be around 30, he could still rock a backwards cap.

“Alright,” Coach grunted as he collapsed back into the loveseat beside Tony, the two barely fitting now. “There’s just one more thing we have to do.”

“One… more thing?” Tony’s sonorous voice seemed lifeless. His head had just begun to clear up, but at such a tedious rate that even the simplest of thoughts were difficult to comprehend.

“Yes, I’m surprised you didn’t know that this process had two steps.” Coach Sorenson grinned, glistening in the warmth of his own arrogance.

“First, there’s the cologne, which you’ve already experienced.” The coach brought up one of his feet onto the coffee table. Tony nodded in response, still unable to think straight.

“And then,” Coach Sorenson yanked off one of his sneakers. “there’s the sole of the shoe. It’s specially designed to help you mentally process the transformation.”

“Wait… what?”

“Yeah,” the coach replied, nonchalantly shoving the sneaker into Tony’s face. “When I read your article, which wasn’t half bad might I add, I was surprised to find that you had missed a whole component of our project.”

Tony, who had finally started to make it out of the haze, was sucked right back in as he passionately inhaled the coach’s foot funk.

“But, it doesn’t matter anymore.” Coach Sorenson demeaningly patted Tony’s back. “In a few minutes, you’ll barely be able to read an article, let alone write one. You’ll be just what the Athletic Department needs.”

To the coach’s delight, Tony had now grabbed the gargantuan shoe and was holding it to his own nose. His frantic sniffing was quickly replacing his personalities, values, and morals; shifting them out with thoughts crafted for a team player. Years of academic clubs, races, and scholarships fell away into the abyss, only to be replaced with numerous sport outings of various kinds. His saxophone lessons had changed to baseball practices, his writing seminars had switched into working out in the gym, and his tutoring sessions had flipped from him being the tutor into him being the tutored.

An extra ten years were also added onto his mental plate, giving Tony a whole new history. For years after (somehow) graduating from the university with a Sports Education degree, he had worked as a personal trainer at a local gym, climbing the ranks until he had become the assistant manager. That’s when Coach had dropped by to check on him, with his true intent to offer him an assistant coaching position back at the university. Tony had agreed to an interview not only because it would put his degree to good use, but he’d also get to work with Coach again, and under him. Tony suddenly recalled all the late nights he spent with Coach, lots of one-on-one brojobs, handjobs, and of course, offering his hole whenever Coach needed it. And if Tony got to train his own team, he’d have a group of young boys at his sexual disposal. Just thinking about it made his cock spring to life.

Speaking of his cock, all the information that was being replaced had to move somewhere else, with the only available option being Tony’s balls. With all of his former intellect and memories now stored there, the once previously grape-sized testicles had now bloated into two ample tennis balls. In response to the new volume, Tony’s sack began to ferment the material, slowly dissolving it down and reconstructing into pure jock seed. As the new production began, testosterone dispersed throughout Tony’s pouch, affecting his dick instantly. It was already hard at 5 inches, but it hastily expanded forward into his shorts, becoming as thick as a beer can as it now stood at 9.5 inches.

As everything that made up Tony was now accumulated in Tony’s balls, Coach Sorenson knew it was time for the final step. He gently grabbed the man’s giant cock, gave a good, long squeeze, and let go. Tony in turn took a deep, heavy inhale of the coach’s shoe before exhaling slowly, allowing for a giant wet spot to appear on the front of his shorts. The coach then leisurely made his way back to his own chair, taking a seat and getting into position. Now given more space, the new man hiked up both of his legs arrogantly on the coffee table, spreading them as far apart as possible to take up as much space on the loveseat as he could. Although he knew Coach Sorenson would always be superior, he wanted to make it clear that he could be an alpha too.

“Thank you for coming in today, Tony. I’m glad we could get you here on such short notice.”

“Of course, bro,” Tony responded. “I’d do anything for you, Coach.”

“Good to know,” Coach Sorenson winked before continuing. “Because I know you’re not that bright, we can skip past the logistics and get right to the basics.”

“That’s sick! Thanks, Coach.” Tony gave a dull guffaw.

“Now, Tony,” Coach accentuated the name, chewing on it intently. “Tony isn’t a name that demands respect, authority, and masculinity, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know, Coach.”

“To be a coach, you know how important it is to give the right impression. You need to be an example to these boys, someone they can look up too.”

“Yeah, Coach.”

“I know you want my advice.  I am a good mentor.”

“Yes, Coach, you are a good mentor.”

“Professionally, I think you should introduce yourself as Anthony Renz.” The change inside Anthony’s head was instant

“Yes Coach,” he replied proudly.

“Try it on me.”

“Hello, my name is Anthony Renz.” Any existence of the name Tony Reardon ceased to exist as Anthony Renz came into place.

“Very good, Anthony.” Hearing Coach say it, as though it always had been, made Anthony cum just a little more inside his shorts.

“One other thing,” Coach Sorenson added.

“Yeah bro?”

“Are you missing anything?”

Anthony thought it was an odd question, but he decided to respond to it truthfully.

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

“Perfect,” Coach Sorenson replied. “Welcome to the team. Before you head out, let’s talk pay.”

Coach Sorenson proudly looked over his new Assistant Baseball Coach, happy that he’d gotten rid of a nuisance and filled a seat on his board. No one would come looking for Tony Reardon, but if they did, Coach Sorenson would know just what to do with them. Maybe Assistant Coach Renz would have some coworkers in the near future.

Ostello della Moda: Antonio

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

Walter climbed out of the stairs of the metro and squinted at the bright Milanese sunshine. He had been planning this trip with some friends for several months and was finally excited to begin backpacking through the Mediterranean. He was meeting his friends at a nearby hostel called "Ostello della moda" because they were all flying in separately. But once, they were all there, the real vacation would begin. They wanted to start in Milan, than off to Turin, through Tuscany, Florence, Rome, Naples, and if they had time, they might backtrack and go to Spain or Greece. Except for a few reservations, most of their trip would be planned as they went.

Walter walked past store fronts selling men's clothing. The fashions were brightly colored, trim and lean, and a blend of leisure and luxury. Toned men with beautiful men stared back from the images. He saw his reflection in the glass, with his backback pulling against his flabby man-boobs, and his untucked shirt with pit stains, and his undershirt and pants struggling to contain his bulging belly. He was wearing shorts and saw how pale his skin was. He kept walking and started to breathe heavily as the sun beat down on him. He wiped his forehead and wondered if his pale skin would get sunburnt this early in the trip. He walked past a group of young people chatting happily in Italian. They ignored him. Walter told himself that he would have to learn to love Italy. It was beautiful, but he just wondered how he would ever fit in. He looked like a tourist and knew almost know Italian.

He walked past more shops and restaurants and then finally saw the hostel. He rang the doorbell and the door opened with a short buzz. He stepped inside and saw that he was in a dining room filled with guests and with Italian pop music playing from the bar.

"Ciao!" said an athletic Italian man with a tight polo and tattoos on his tan forearms. The confused look that Walter returned indicated that he didn't understand Italian, so he continued in English. "Welcome ... checking in?"

"Yes," said Walter hoarsely. "Walter ... um ... it's under a friend's name..."

"Si, si" replied the man. "I am Nico. Please, set down your bag. Do you have your passport?" he asked.

"Yeah ... um ... it's in here." Walter fumbled through his bag and pulled out his American passport.

"Okay," Nico said. "I make scan and bring papers, you sit. Beer? Wine?"

"What?" Walter asked.

"Do you want beer or wine? It is included in the included. And food too. Please, relax, eat."

Walter's stomach growled at the mention of food, so he left his bags at the front desk and found the buffet line. He loaded up on some delicious looking pasta, appetizers, and little squares of pizza. He sat down and the bartender brought him tall glass of beer. Everyone in the bar was watching a soccer match on the TV, which Walter was glad of, because he didn't want anyone to take notice of him. After a few minutes, Nico came back with a few sheets of paper.

"Okay," he said, "Your room is ready. Just fill out and sign." Walter nodded. "And here is name tag," said Nico, handing him one of those stickers. "Antonio?" Walter said, "But my name is ..."

Nico interrupted, "For fun. Italian name for when you are here. Also, WIFI username."

"Oh," said Walter. He was confused but decided to just roll with whatever policies they had to any avoid trouble. He peeled off the sticker and placed it on his shirt.

The paper forms asked for him to write in his "Italian" name, some contact info, and then the terms and conditions. It was written in Italian, and he tried to translate it, but failed to understand some of the paragraphs. He was staying in Room 234, Bunk A -- hence "Antonio." He assumed that his friends were staying in the same room, but there was no mention of them. He was the first to arrive, and was going to meet with Dylan and Tyler tonight, then pickup John and Neil in the morning from the train station.

He signed the papers and finished his beer. It was such a relaxed environment and the atmosphere (and alcohol) seemed to help him relax. He went up and got some more food and tried to connect to the WIFI. He typed in the user name into the WIFI security. It seemed to work, so he texted Dylan and Tyler, asking where they were. He got no answer back. He decided he wanted to check out the room, so he grabbed his backpack and went up to the room. The elevator wasn't working, so he dragged himself up the steps, which started to make him feel light-headed. When he finally made it to the room, he was sweating and panting. In side the room along the left wall were five bunks, labelled A,B,C,D, and E. It looked like bunk C was taken, which was strange because he thought that he would be the first here. He looked at the luggage and it looked like maybe it could be someone from his group, but didn't want to dig through someone else's stuff. He tossed his bag on his bunk and immediately felt drowsy.

"Probably the beer," he said as he walked towards the bathroom. The room was hot and humid, and he felt like his head was swimming. He felt sick to his stomach and dived towards the toilet. He started to throw up, which made him feel better. After a minute or two of emptying himself, he noticed that body seemed tense and shaky. He pulled off his shirt and he felt thinner and lighter. His chest was covered in dark hairs, which were normally light brown like his hair. He walked over to the mirror and saw that his hair had darkened and that his chin had short stubble. He ran to his bag outside, still half-naked to look for his towel and some clothes -- he needed to take a shower after all this sweating. Maybe he was hallucinating and needed to shower and sleep. He opened his bag and pulled out some clothes on top.

"What the fuck?" he said. There was some bright colored tank tops, tight shorts, colored slacks, and accessories in his bag. "These aren't my clothes?" But he had no time to worry about that. He grabbed a few things and felt his gut writhe in pain as he ran back to the bathroom. He wondered if he would throw up again. But instead, his stomach tightened into a six-pack of abs. His arms and torso tensed up and he saw biceps and pecs emerge. He took off his shorts and underwear and saw that his legs and crotch had lost their flabbiness. He turned on the shower and lathered up, using some fragrant shower gel that was by the sink. The water relaxed him, and as it flowed over his body, it felt like his old body was being eroded away and replaced with the lean and swarthy body of someone completely new. He stepped out of the shower and dried off. He slipped on a pair of tight red shorts and a designer tank top. He heard the door to his room open and walked out.

"Hi," said a chubby man with blonde hair, "I'm Dylan ... I mean ... 'Bruno,'" he corrected as he pointed to his name tag.

"Ciao! Antonio," he replied without hesitation. He continued in broken English. "Eh, welcome to room ... eh, I go out ... eh ... downstairs?"

"Sure," said Dylan. "Have you seen someone named Walter?"

"Ooh-alter?" replied Antonio. "No." He grabbed his phone and walked out of the door to give Dylan some privacy. He checked his messages on the stairs. He had texted "I am here at the hostel. Where are you two?" "Is this Walter?" Dylan had replied. "Just arrived," he added. He had another message from someone that used Tyler's cell number, "Room 234, Bunk C -- Cristofano." He reached the bottom of the stairs and saw someone familiar at the bar.

"Cristo!" Antonio shouted as he gave the man a hug. They chatted rapidly in Italian, as if they had known each other for years.

Can u do like one with a dorky geek being forced against his will to be turned into a jock and become like the star quarterback for the team like me

“You see, the problem with modern society is that, suddenly, all the emphasis has shifted from physicality and physical endeavours to cerebral enterprises and the furtherance of technology.  Societally speaking, that can only lead to a slow downfall of everything we, the human race, have ever built.  We have to get back to basics!”  On each word of the last sentence, the man banged the meat of his palm on the desk in front of him, emphasizing each point.  His gaze, however, never wavered from the array of students sitting in front of him.  His eyes swept the room, as if daring anyone to disagree with him.  He held the menace in his teeth, playing the silence out, and suddenly relaxed, shifting entirely into another mode, that of easy-going, affable Coach.  “But the pendulum swings, boys, the pendulum always swings.  One extreme to the other, and boy, when it comes,” he chuckled, swaying his head and clicking his tongue, “it’s gonna come hard.” 

The bell sang its saw-song through the air, jarring everyone from their respective trances.  Matthew snorted, turning to his friend.  “Are you kidding me?  One logical fallacy after another.  And that pseudo-social science he was spouting?  Did you even hear that?  Why did we even have him in class today?  What was that supposed to teach us?”

Sanjay shook his head.  “Which one do you want me to answer first?”

“Any.  None.  It doesn’t matter.  Just doesn’t make any sense.  Why have the coach of the football team lecture us on how intelligence and critical thought and technological know-how is actually, you know, in disguise, the downfall of human civilization!  Oh, yeah, let’s prize barbarity and tout physical achievement as opposed to …”

Honestly, Sanjay tuned him out.  Sure, Matthew was his friend.  Yeah, he was smart.  Probably one of the smartest kids in the school, but he had a demanding, needy persona that was just sometimes hard to bear.  He could be arrogant, almost preening, constantly displaying his prodigious vocabulary and scorning anyone who didn’t reach his impossible standards.  Still, better to have him on your side, Sanjay reasoned, than not.

“So, yeah.”  Matthew tossed his hair back from his eyes.  He’d been letting it grow long, some rebellion thing.  “Wanna watch foreign films tonight?”

“Uh,” God, again?  He had a passion for subtitles that bordered on the pathological.  Sometimes, he’d even quote the French when the appropriate time arrived.  “I can’t, tonight.  Family … thing.”

“Oh.  Okay.  Well, a toût a l’heure, mon ami!”

“Seeya,” Sanjay moved off into the hallway throng.  “Weirdo.”

o

The faint, overlapping sound of calls and cries, short and shouted, that echoed from the field.  Some grunting.  Matthew hated that, in order to walk home, he had to follow the small sidewalk around the back side of the school and around a fairly large chunk of the football field.  He usually had his earbuds in, and today was no exception, with Einstürzende Neubaten playing (and only because of the name) in his ears.  He tapped his hands idly against his thighs as he walked, tapping out a badly-timed beat to the song he was listening to.  His eyes he kept firmly fixed ahead.  He refused to look at the game in progress, or the training, or whatever.  Can’t deny that his eyes did flick to the left, but he didn’t turn his head, so that doesn’t count.  Or so he reasoned.

Out of all the sports, Matthew hated football the worst.  He could make concessions for “real” football, or soccer, if he was pressed, but American football, the NFL, all of it, just left a bad taste in his mouth.  Stupid celebrity body-glorifying inane banal moronic and, on one occasion, mentally retarded, were all words that came out of his mouth whenever confronted with the topic.  Team sports on a whole repelled him: the whole notion of conforming to a set, of being reduced to a function, caused him to shiver way down deep inside his skinny body.  He was furiously proud of his body, liked that he could slip in and out of places unnoticed.  He wore mostly blacks and grays for the same reason.

Of course, he was bullied.  What kid isn’t?  Matthew is no idiot.  He’s read books, seen movies, he knows.  The bully does it because the bully feels like he’s inferior in some way, is over-compensating.  Yeah, he knows the “why,” but the “what” keeps happening.  Physical threats.  He’s been tripped, kicked, spat at.  He does not let himself break to the bullies.  He knows that he is superior to them, and one day, they’ll be pumping his gas.  The knowledge of this certain future is enough to glaze and harden the sneer on his face whenever he runs into them.  

He looked up just in time, swerving to miss the outstretched hands of one of his classmates.  He didn’t even have time to notice which one it was.  All he saw was a wide grin and the palms of the hands, and the world yawed above him, sky to treetops to treetrunks to dead leaves on the ground, and he was falling, poorly, ungainly and akimbo, ass over teakettle, and rolling, crashing through various underbrush, skinning his palms on ill-placed rocks, the world became a splatter of color on a palette, and then turned to gray fuzz as he came to a halt.

“Whoa, kid, kid, holy fucking …”  Someone had rushed to his side, but Matthew couldn’t tell who it was.  His eyes were unfocused, his ears were slamming loud carillons of hiss and bells, he throbbed, nearly all over.  He thought, well, nothing’s broken, and remembered relief.  He cracked his mouth and a strange noise flopped out, like a broken bassoon.  “Are you OK?  Did you just fall?”

“Stupid … question,” Matthew said, and passed out.

o

He woke up at home.  In his own bed.  His posters on the wall, his strange Russian propaganda posters, his vintage movie posters.  He still throbs all over.  That part wasn’t a dream.  This is, however, that weird murky space between waking up and really waking up.  Surfacing, sort of, through the shallows.  He remembered … falling.  He remembered … being pushed!  His head is like an anvil factory.  Jabs of clanging pain twinned to his heartbeat.  He groaned, and ground his hand, hard, into his left eye.  The pain did not abate.  He rolled over, the sheets followed, and he untangled himself, with some amount of confusion.  There was a slightly heavy … slightly wet smell in the air, almost as if someone drenched in cologne had been there recently.  It wasn’t entirely unpleasant, Matthew thought murkily, then shook his head violently.  No!  It was awful!  It smelled like a locker room.  How the fuck did he get home?  He reached for his phone, which was where he always kept it, on the night stand next to his bed.  He thumbed it open.  No missed calls.  No new text messages.  The time was 10:30pm., on whatever day.  He idly thought he might have amnesia.  It was dark, and he could hear the crickets sawing feverishly away outside his window.  He felt a stab of hunger, and slowly swung his legs out of bed. 

The anodyne glow of the big-screen television was near-blinding as Matthew limped down the stairs.  Weird, he thought.  No one in this house is usually awake at this hour.  He moved closer to inspect.  No one on the couch.  Not a sign that anyone had been there, actually.  It was all very Roanoke.  He half-expected to find “CROATOAN” carved into the coffee table.  It gave him a little, dull chill.  As he moved closer, the sound of the television grew louder, and the picture seemed to clear, resolving from white noise to figures, moving back and forth on the screen.  The white noise resolved into the sound of … an audience?  Matthew squinted at the screen, came even closer, outstretched a finger to prod at its surface, delicately.  Then he backed up, shaking his head, chortling.  “C’mon,” he said out loud, the sound of his voice flat in the living room.  “Don’t be a moron.” 

It was a game on the television.  A football game.  NFL, from the looks of it.  Uniforms … orange and white and orange and black.  The, uh … Broncos and the Browns.  Right.  That’s a lot of orange.  I didn’t even know we got this channel.  What channel?  Oh, ESPN, right.  The football’s pretty fucking elusive, doesn’t seem like anyone can get a handle on - oh, there we go.  That guy’s running.  He’s got the ball.  Feels like something’s going to happen.  Oh, hey, this guy’s coming out of the, no, no, he’s gonna make it he’s - oh.  Nope.  That guy jumped on top of him and he wasn’t close to the end zone.

Matthew felt a strange sense of disappointment, almost deflation.  He cracked his neck to one side and frowned a little.  The players were reassembling.  Some of them look kinda goofy.  The uniforms are kinda cool.  I mean, sorta.  It’s like armor, or something.  Representing … uh, like, houses, or … hey, they’re playing again. 

He found his muscles tightening, his hands forming into fists, as the football was snapped into play.  His eyes watched it as it described its arc over the field, soaring, spiralling, toward the eager and outstretched hands of – and

“INTERCEPTION!” 

Matthew snapped back to himself with all the force of a comet smashing into Siberia.  He blinked, blinked again, and then shook his head.  Was that something rattling around up there?  Jesus, he must’ve hit hard.  He should get some more sleep.  Was he just watching football? 

And … was there a moment there, just a moment, where he … kinda enjoyed it?

o

“Day 2,” Sanjay mimed a gun at his temple, lazing back in his chair.  The windows were open, and a light breeze sashayed in.  “Seriously, though?  Mandated physical education in the form of indoctrination?  Not sure that’s what they had in mind, but … hey, it’s gettin me out of class, right?”

“Yeah,” Matthew mumbled.  He was still kind of out of it, bruised up and scraped pretty badly, but with no lasting injuries.  “Sorry,” he said.  “I must’ve really rattled my brains in that fall.  Shit…”  He dropped his pencil and fumbled around under the desk for it.  “I’ve been so clumsy, today, too…”

“Maybe you got a concussion or something, man.  You should check in with the nurse.”

“Naw, it’s … I slept, last night, so, I don’t think it’s a, uh, you know.  That.  Man, this headache.  I keep taking all this aspirin.”  He shook out a pill from a plain white bottle.  “Don’t know if it’s actually helping, or what.”

Sanjay cocked his head at his friend and shrugged.  “Suit yourself.  Your funeral.  And I wouldn’t take so much advil, man.  Five, at the most.”

The door to the room slammed shut, and the coach walked in.  He never wore street clothes, or, if he did, his street clothes were the same as his regular clothes: basketball shorts and t-shirt, sneakers and socks.  He was a younger man, probably in his early 30s, with a corded, muscular body and a commanding presence lightened only by an aloof affability.  “Welcome back,” he said, and the room immediately quieted.  His eyes swept the room again, much in the same manner as before, as if surveying a course of meats.  “I - “ he stopped as his eyes fell on Matthew.  “Matt,” he said.  “Hope you’re feeling better.“

“It’s Matthew,” he said clearly.  “And yeah, I’m fine.  No thanks to the guy who shoved me.  And I will find out who that is,” he added venomously.  “And when I do, you can be sure I’ll be taking it to the proper author - uh - “

The coach seemed expectant, then shook his head and continued.  “Well, recent drama aside.  We’re here today to talk about the benefits of fitness, and how being physically fit is important in all ways, and, in some ways, how it is the most important.  Your brain won’t function if your body isn’t fed, right?  And we feed our bodies by giving it nutrition and exercising it just like we would a machine.  Sometimes … those machines need a tune-up.  I bet most of you here need a tune-up or two.”

“Not me, Coach!’  Brody piped up.  Matthew’s eyes skated over to him.  He was the QB.  He was just over six-foot and weighed twice what Matthew did.  He sat in his desk and possessed it of a gawky adolescent superiority.  His voice was deep and his face was shadowed around 5 o’clock.  “I’m runnin’ on all cylinders.”  He lifted his arms and flexed.  Most of the class groaned, some of the girls looked sideways, and a paper ball or two was tossed.

“Yeah, well, simmer down there, Bro.  It is true, Brody is at his peak physical form for his body type and his age.  That’s something you can all aspire to.”

Matthew felt dizzy.  The top of his scalp itched.  His throat itched, felt swollen.  He glanced at the back of his hand.  He watched it detachedly as it rose of its own accord, sleepily at first, then erect as a flagpole, fingers straight, unmoving.  “Yes, uh, Matthew?”

His words sounded, to his own ears, as if they had been dredged out of him.  “How do we .. uh, do that?”

The coach stared at him for a minute, inscrutably.  “Good question, Matt.”  Matthew let the name go, almost like a bullet in slow motion past his ear, creating auditory ripples in through his ear and passing through his brain - “Well, we can work out, we can play a sport and join a team - shameless plug, football team still needs some good bodies, signup sheet’s outside the door - but there’s lots of different ways to achieve your physical potential.

“You really don’t look so good,” Sanjay commented.  “And what was that all about?”

“Nothin,” Matthew said.  He felt drunk.  “I, uh, it’s fine.” 

The class continued, and Matthew sat there, silently, eyes fixed ahead.  The buzz and pound in his head continued.  It was almost as if the dream he’d had about watching football on the television was still playing, projected on the inside wall of his skull, and he was hearing it from far away.

o

The bell announced in its shrill, strident way, the end of class.  Matthew filed out with the rest, past the coach as he was erasing the whiteboard.  “Matt,” he heard, and he stopped.  “I just wanted to … are you OK?”

“Yeah,” he heard himself say.  “I’m good.”

“Well, you had a nasty spill.  You said someone pushed you.  You hit your head and you scraped yourself up, but nothing was broken.  We used your phone and called your roommate and they came and picked you up.”

“Oh,” Matthew said.  “It’s Matthew, you know.”

“What?”

“You keep, uh, callin me Matt.”

“Well, I guess it’s just easier.  Just a nickname.  What’s so wrong with Matt?”

“It’s, uh.  It’s not my, uh.  Yeah.  Whatever.  Look, I - “

“Want to sign up for the football team.”

“… Huh?”

“I’m joking.  What’s up?”

“I, that question I asked.  Maybe I should, you know.  Work out.  So I don’t, you know, ‘fall,’ anymore.”

“Hey, Matt, that’s a great idea!  Not to mention it’ll really help build up your confidence.  Who couldn’t use some of that, huh?”

“Right,” he agreed, a little uncertain why.  A weird molten surge of … something, was starting to heat up in his stomach.  “Yeah.”

The coach dropped his big hand on Matthew’s shoulder and grinned.  “I’m so glad you want to do this, Matt.  I really think it’ll do you wonders.  How about I take you down to the gym for your free period and show you the ropes?”

“My - how did you know I have a, next?  I didn’t -”

“I get all your schedules.  C’mon, I’ll show you and I promise, you won’t be able to stop once you start.  It really is addicting.”

“Yeah, right,” Matthew mumbled, but was already being ushered to follow by the coach’s arm and hand.  Before he knew it, they were walking down the hallway, out through into the dazzling sunlight, and then back inside via two metal doors with arrowslit-like windows, metal wiring.  The gym.  The echoes began almost immediately.  Basketball sneakers against the floor with their skreek skreeking, rubber on lacquer.  The clang and repeated thud of weights against racks.  A pumping soundtrack, fading in and out. 

“You’ll be right at home,” the coach said.  “Trust me.”

I doubt it, thought Matthew, but Matt’s face was grinning, and Matt’s mouth was saying, “Awesome, Coach.”

o

“So, how’s the recruiting stage going?”

“Great.  Aspirin was a great way to hide it.  No one knows.”

“And after a minor, accidental, spill, pain relief … is somewhat necessary, wouldn’t you say?”

“Brody is a good QB.  He’ll do whatever I tell him to, even if it does include a little … hooliganism. ”

“How about your white whale?”

“Oh, Matt’s doing amazing.  You know, you wouldn’t believe it, but the kid’s twice his size.  We’ll have him on the football team for this coming season, and he’s gonna make a hell of a QB after Brody graduates.  Isn’t even a trace left of who he was.”

“We want to thank you for allowing us to test our new drug out on your student body, as it were, Coach.”

“Well, I understand the need for a return to the fundamentals of society.  If that comes at the expense of some brain cells, well, so be it.”

“Quite right.  Excellent work.  I assume you’ll be having another winning season?”

“Year after year.  Year after year.”

Drawn

--- Originally posted on 2024-06-29 by breedertfs ---

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

I find myself getting drawn to your stories more and more often, it's scary! It's like I go into a trance anytime I'm horny and find my way to your blog

It’s almost like that’s my goal, bro.

All guys need a strong, masculine presence in their life. Someone who will guide them and mold them, and I can tell this is attracting you. Do you want someone to talk about what a big, powerful, bad mannered straight man you are? Did your parents fail to set you down the path that now excites you to no end? It’s not your fault, it’s not even theirs.

Sometimes, life isn’t able to give us the tools to become the men we want so badly to be. Maybe you’re a little heavier than the average, maybe you’re too delicate, but something in your upbringing has set you apart from the men that are making you shove your hand down your shorts, stroking your shaft to mental image of musk and muscle and douchebag behavior.

If it sounds so appealing, that’s because your deeper being is begging you to realize this is what you want. It makes you so hard, huh? When I describe a thin guy’s shoulders spreading outwards, broad and strong with bouncing pecs. Beefy arms, tree trunk legs, thick beards reeking of dried pussy juice. The men I specialize in are a special breed, the elite. Of course you’re attracted to them, of course your little brain goes fuzzy and dizzy when you start to jerk it to the idea of a fag becoming a conservative, straight man.

Your cock throbs in your hand, each jerk like a flash in your mind, urging you to look through the illusion you’ve created and see the truth. You get so turned on by these stories because you wish it would happen to you, as if these changes need any magic. Imagine a beautiful woman cupping her fat tits, her slender fingers squeezing her nipples, her body jiggling and shivering with pleasure.

If the idea of sliding your fat cock between her boobs excites you, thrusting until your seed coats her bimbo face, then I’m sorry to tell you, my friend: you’re a straight man. And your body, your former values, are clouding your former rationality and urging you to recognize the kind of man you should allow yourself to become. Just stop taking everything so seriously, allow your thoughts to slow, stop worrying about manners and woke views.

Just think about those huge tits, bro. Think about a squirting pussy, imagine your thick tongue sliding up and down her folds, plunging into her. Imagine your strong hands on her tiny waist, your own stubble on your chiseled jaw growing slick with sweat and juices. Lick your lip, listen to yourself growl, your voice is low and powerful and so demanding. This isn’t a story, this isn’t a wish gone wrong, this is a human male realizing how badly he wants to be a traditional man. No more holding in your farts or belches, no more caring about people’a opinions, no more seeing this woman as anything more than a sex toy to blow your load into. She’s not wife material, brah, but that doesn’t mean she’s not ready to be a mother. Women should know your place like you know yours.

Your bones crack and shift, your expression turns to a sneer, your smile is always so cocky. You are thick with muscle, a cloud of body odor lingering around your glorious muscles, and your fat nine incher is already oozing pre. This is the life you want, the version of you that you want so desperately to take the steering wheel. So let him, bro, let that lustful trance take you where you need to go. Hit the gym, change your political opinions, accept that your cock wants to be deep inside a warm, wet cunt.

Don’t wait for magic, my bro.

There’s nothing more magical than a man who knows his place: and you’re never going to forget where you stand. At the top of the ladder, biceps flexed and your grin smug. Lesser men will wish to be like you, fags are gonna jerk it to your pictures. You just focus on the finer things in life. Sports, cigars, letting your nasty habits be heard and smelled.

Like pulling that blonde bimbo closer, your huge cock thrusting inside her slick folds, her silicone filled tits jiggling from the force. She moans, and you echo the sound with a low growl. You’ll never need to stroke your cock again to my stories — knowing you’ll never run out of fresh, tight pussy to ruin.

Let the trance win, brother. Let the better version of you free.

Super hot story! Great for a first attempt at inanimate TF.

Not In The Exhibit Brochure

It was a hot summer day and the city was filled with people coming to be a part of one of the biggest fantasy conventions in the country. Video games, board games, tabletop RPGs, LARP, movies, TV shows, theater shows, even musicals. If one fancied themselves a fan of a franchise that existed in any of these forms, they could be found spending a sunny August weekend in the convention center.

Mark meandered between countless people in the Second Pavilion, getting tired having spent the last five hours walking around the convention area, being asked for pictures and catching up with his friends. This year he came wearing a full cosplay of one of the characters from his favorite first person shooter. He put on a tactical vest, helmet with a full headset, a tactical belt with a bunch of accessories and camo pants. In his hands he was bearing a perfect replica of the most famous gun from the game.

He spent a long time perfecting the costume, both by searching for just the right gear and by spending hours in the gym. Now his broad and thick shoulders, football-sized biceps and veiny forearms were visible for all attendees, which garnered Mark a lot of attention, which he enjoyed.

It was exhausting, however. The temperature inside the convention center got uncomfortably high at times, so he decided to take a break. He fold the few friends who joined him during the day that he was leaving for a while to take in some relatively fresh air, then pushed his way through the crowds until he got to the exit.

Thanks to the fact that the center was basically in the middle of the city he didn't have to go far to get to a park and relax, then find a place to eat and just take a walk through the city.

Mark was aware that many businesses and institutions had various perks for the convention ticket holders, to keep the attendees in the city for longer and spread the economic effects of the convention. He was reminded of this fact just as he was walking by the giant building of the art museum. His curiosity was piqued and he checked if he would get a discount of a ticket. It turned out he could walk in for free, the only requirement was to show his pass at the entrance.

What Mark saw after getting through a quick but awkward security check truly amazed him. He slowly walked from one part of the building to the next, taking his time to watch every piece, all displayed in a well air-conditioned space, which was a nice bonus. The museum had a bunch of different special exhibits currently open to the public and they were all pretty stunning, each in its own way.

Finally, Mark made his way to a part of the museum furthest away from the entrance where he saw a recent collection of sculptures from a local artist. Each statue was an extremely realistic depiction of a person, and they were supposed to collectively represent modern society. There were athletes mid-run, businessmen in the middle of walking in between offices, chefs tasting their newest creations, it was all incredible to watch, every sculpture most likely taking weeks or months to complete. Mark stood in the middle of the room as he looked around and every time he managed to find a new detail in one of the statues. While his eyes were jumping from one piece to another, inspecting every curve and small detail, he was unaware of just how much time has passed since he entered this space.

And then he tried to move.

Mark heard his phone buzz loudly in his pocket. It was probably one of his friends wanting to check up on him. He tried to move his hand to take the phone and answer the call, but it wouldn't move. Neither would his head. Or any part of his body. He was immediately alarmed. Mark tried as hard as he could to get any element within his human form to move even an inch, but it didn't work. His whole body was suddenly completely stationary and he could not control its movements, because he couldn't cause any movements. He started to panic and hoped someone would notice that he wasn't well. There were a lot of people at the museum so it would be just a matter of time before one of them came to this room and noticed a guy in a military cosplay was standing weirdly still.

Except this did not happen. Visitors just passed by him with no interest in the person standing frozen in the middle of the room. As Mark looked with his unmovable eyes at the tourists wandering around the space right in front of him he felt like he was losing the track of time. Was it a minute ago that he realized he couldn't move? No it mus have been almost an hour by then. Nah, it couldn't be.

Then Mark realized something horrifying. Not only was no one coming up to help him, they began to stop in front of him and just look at him, as if he was just another...

Did he turn into a fucking statue?! That terrifying thought seeped deep into his mind wreaking havoc along the way. How could this have happened? Magic? But magic wasn't real! That was impossible, this was a dream, for sure! He tried to move his body even a little bit, but again he failed every time. He desperately tried to force his hand to move so that he could pinch himself and wake up from this terrifying nightmare. But no part of his arm changed position, not even an inch.

A larger group of tourists, mostly retirees, led by a young woman slowly moved through the exhibition space and passed by Mark, who continued to struggle and try to move.

"Huh, the guide didn't say anything about this one. Did that lovely lady talk about this soldier, Harold?" An elderly couple stopped in front of Mark and they stood there and admired him for a moment.

"No, Mary, I'm pretty sure I'd remember" The man, Harold, took a step closer towards the statue.

"Harold!" The woman shouted at him. "You can't walk up too close to the sculptures dear."

"Oh, calm down" Harold responded, slightly annoyed at his wife's comment. "I'm in an art museum so don't tell me to not look at the art." The older man stood just a few steps away from Mark. "There's no plaque or rope or anything, this is a free country, Mary!" He was a few inches shorter than Mark, so he couldn't clearly see everything but it seemed he was just looking at Mark's gear.

"Look.The artist - that Gary what's-his-name - knew what he was doing with this one. I recognize all that gear this man is wearing. Nice work." Harold's tone of voice suggested he was weirdly pleased with the statue that used to be Mark. "This is what a real man's supposed to look like. Not some sissy sitting behind the desk all day."

"Of course Harold, of course" The woman walked up to her husband and put her arm around him, then started gently pushing him towards the other statues.

Mark's brain struggled to comprehend what he had just witnessed. He had really turned into a statue! People thought he was a part of the exhibit! How could this have happened? He couldn't come up with any even remotely plausible explanation for what he was experiencing. He then thought that his only hope would be his friends - they knew he was downtown, maybe some would guess that he used the opportunity to get into the art museum for free, which would lead them to the place where Mark was currently stranded.

The group of retirees came back, walked next to Mark and was about to leave the room when the tour guide looked at him and murmured to herself.

"This statue was not a part of the exhibit. How did it get here?" She grabbed her phone and quickly led her group towards the rest of the museum.

Mark again realized he couldn't tell how much time had passed since any of the recent events. It was as if his internal clock had stopped working, ran out of batteries. This whole experience was so confusing that he had issues fully registering everything. He tried counting in his head, but got lost after 20, maybe? The only thing he was sure of, for now, was that the day had not yet ended, but he could not tell what part of the day it was, as the whole museum was constantly lit with this slightly weird diffused lighting.

Three people suddenly came into view and stood some distance away from Mark, clearly looking at him. He couldn't hear the conversation they were having because of the noise from surrounding visitors, but he could clearly see that they were all agitated, talking over each other and aggressively pointing at themselves and Mark. As he looked closer he realized they were all museum employees, meaning they were probably debating what to do with a statue which has suddenly appeared within the premises of the musem they worked for, a rather uncommon occurrence.

Not long after they left Mark's view and he was once again stuck in this feeling ot timelessness. Tourists stopped in front of him every now and then, looked at him for a moment and moved on, while he stood still, holding the gun in his hands as if ready to fight, and yet incapable of it because of some indescribable force.

The employees from before came back, one of them holding in their hands a metal stand of come kind. It had something written on it at the top, but Mark couldn't see what it was. What he could see was the employee putting the stand in front of him and them all looking at it.

"That will have to do for now" One of them said. This time they were standing closer and Mark was able to hear what they were saying.

"Yeah, I won't be able to make a proper one until tomorrow."

"Okay, but it has to be there by Monday afternoon, otherwise we're fucked. Jesus Christ, still'can't believe this happened."

"No time for moaning, Jacob. We have work to do." Another one replied. They all nodded their heads, took one last look at the stand and quickly left the scene.

Mark thought about what he had just witnessed, and it took him a moment to understand - this was a stand with information about the statue, which meant him. It was the same kind as dozens more throughout the museum that visitors could look at for further information that was meant to enrich their experiences. This was meant to hide the fact that he was not here just mere hours, or minutes, or days, or-- he was certainly not here when the exhibition was opened. That fact was probably what had made them so angry and confused before - from their perspective a random statue of a soldier randomly appeared in the museum.

His mind immediately asked one question - I wonder what did they write on there? What was his title, his author, his artistic description or statement? Wait, his author? That was a strange line of thought, Mark realized.

I am Uncontrolled Power.

Wait, what was that? Who said that? Where was that deep voice coming from?

I was created by Greg Duchaime Arreman.

Was there someone standing behind him?

I am meant to represent unchecked aggression and power of the Military Industrial Complex.

Wait a second, what this voice inside his head?

I am the physical manifestation of toxic masculinity and bravado.

Holy fuck, this was a voice inside his head. Was this... what they had written about him on this stand?

Fuck yeah, I'm an alpha who follows orders and crushes any sign of disloyalty.

The voice was talking to Mark. Shit, the voice was talking to him! What the fuck?

You scum, get ready to experience the primal, animalistic force of a toxic man! I'm gonna crush you!

Mark wanted to sigh loudly, but of course he couldn't. Great, the museum employees with their great art wisdom made him a stereotypical aggressive soldier. Obedient muscle. The armored tool of American imperialism. And this soldier character seemed to have appeared inside his head.

I am here to blindly follow orders, enforce them and show everyone what masculinity really means!

If Mark could have rolled his eyes, he would. He was stuck, like an NPC frozen mid-frame, standing in the middle of an art museum, possibly forever. And from now on he would represent toxic masculinity, aggression and military prowess.

Whoever stands in my way will be violently crushed with the power of the American Military and my primal force! Toxic and proud, that's who I am!

Barbarian Dungeon

Written by cinaedefuri as commission piece for yuan99.

Originally posted on 06-02-2022

Have received permission from author to repost.

---

Chapter 1

No one who had ever ventured into the dungeon came back out. But the High Paladin Roland thought that he could best the dungeon and find out what was at the end of it. The dungeon had been around for generations, and legend had it that it was a breeding ground for barbarians. Occasionally, muffled moans could be heard coming from it, but the people in the villages close to the dungeon had scant other information to go off of.

Roland employed two more men in his party, technically three. However, Damian was just their supply boy. He had a sword to fight with and knew how to swing it, but other than that, he didn't add much to the party except carrying their gear. The other two members were Grand Wizard Yuan and Archpriest Lux. Although the three men had similar skill sets, Roland thought they were different enough to easily traverse the dungeon.

The four of them soon arrived at the dungeon and entered. Roland naturally went in first. He was 53 years old, but didn't look like it, being quite muscular for his age, and strong enough to carry his heavy armor. He had fought in many wars over the years and rose up to the rank of High Paladin thanks to his skills, not because his father was some influential figure in the community. His armor was a silvery white color, an expensive one to create, and it had gold trim, with actual gold flakes flecked all around it.

However, Roland was quite stubborn, and believed that his way was always the best way to do things because of his experience. While he wasn't outright mean to Yuan and Lux, he would be considered a bit arrogant in his dealings with them, especially as he saw himself superior to them in every way. Damian was a bit of a different story, as Roland constantly called him weak and inexperienced, while Lux and Yuan were only called weak. He loved to show off his skills whenever he could and was always first to the fight, even in this dungeon. As the self-proclaimed leader of the group, Roland had brought the team to the dungeon in the first place, as his desire to be better than everyone else led him to not heed the advice of many of his fellow paladins and not risk venturing into the Barbarian's Dungeon.

In stark contrast to Roland was Yuan, who was only 18 years old. However, he had an incredible knack for magic, and as soon as he could start doing it, he was winning competitions and battles left and right throughout the land. His intelligence wasn't just limited to magic, though. However, since magic wasn't physical at all, and learning all of the elements meant reading books more than fighting battles, Yuan was on the skinny side as well. He was also a bit of a loner, since during the time when most young men were making friends, he was off fighting magic battles. He also clashed with Roland often since the older man didn't want to take the advice of anybody, especially not a younger man. Yuan usually did know what he was talking about, but men like Roland just never seemed to listen to him.

He was also a loner because he was painfully shy, only getting through his initial conversations with Roland because of his high rank in the community. He was also a bit prudish and did not want to show off his skinny body at all. He had a few different mage robes on, actually causing him to look slightly muscular, when that was certainly not the case at all. His party mates, as well as most others in their society, saw Yuan as cold and serious, but that was because he was a bit awkward socially and what he thought of as "fun" wasn't what most people thought of as fun. He and Damian were actually good friends, being born only a few days apart from one another.

Lux split the difference between the two men. He was 30 and had blond hair, along with pale white skin. He rarely talked, having the ability to fully converse if needed, though, and he liked to stay to the side, only taking part in the action when it was absolutely necessary. Much like Yuan, he was quite awkward socially, which some construed as mean, even though that was far from the case. However, since he was an archpriest, Lux hated anything and everything that he saw as impure. He disliked men going shirtless, which was quite common for many people in their society who could barely afford food for their family after working all day. He never drank alcohol and didn't partake in any drugs unless explicitly told to by a healer. He was even more prudish than Yuan, with more robes than him and two pairs of pants under those robes as well.

Finally, Damian was an orphan, his mom dying in childbirth and his dad killed in one of the many wars. The people who took him put him to work as a farmer, which he enjoyed doing, but was excited for the thrill of exploring a dungeon. He didn't know what path he wanted to take in life, but he knew that he didn't want to remain a farmer for the rest of his life. He was wearing a simple shirt and pants that his adopted parents gave to him after it no longer fit one of the other children on the farm. He was also wearing underwear that would be called boxers in the far future.

The four men in the party were walking down a long hallway in the dungeon. Roland had already bested some creatures with some help from Yuan and Lux. Damian didn't have a map in any of the supplies they were carrying, but the hallway seemed to be straight for quite some time. As Roland took a step forward, he suddenly disappeared from sight. Poor Yuan didn't realize that Roland had disappeared until it was too late, and while it was a bit of a struggle trying to escape from the portal, he disappeared too. Both Lux and Damian had tried to pull him out, but ended up falling into the portal as well. All four men woke up in separate dungeons, each magically created to make the best trial for them.

Chapter 2

Roland continued to walk forward for a few more steps before he realized he couldn't hear his men behind him, and he was in an entirely different place. "What is the meaning of this!?" he said out loud, and turned around. Unfortunately, there was a wall just a few feet away, and despite pressing seemingly every part of it, it didn't budge. Roland would have to go the other way, where there were a bunch of men ready to fight him. All of them looked quite young, around Yuan or Damian's age, but they were much more muscular than them.

He approached the first young man, and surprisingly, all of them did not attack him at once. "At least these barbarians know the rules of war," Roland said to himself, as he took out his sword and began to fight. He thought that it would be a quick and easy battle, since he had decades of experience over these men. However, the battle was not as easy as he thought it was going to be, and he soon found himself on the ground, defeated by someone who could easily be his grandson.

"You were just lucky today, boy. I will defeat the rest of you," Roland proclaimed, as the next young man took his place in front of Roland, who had gotten up and recovered from his defeat. What he didn't notice was that because of his loss, some physical changes had started to take place. His skin started to get a bit more tan, and while his muscles didn't shrink, they stayed in proportion to his body, which was getting smaller and younger too. He then clashed swords with the next young barbarian.

He still had all of his knowledge of fighting and of the wars he had fought in, but despite his best efforts, it was clearly no use. He had lost yet another battle to a young barbarian that he was shocked even knew what to do with a sword like the one he was holding. "I will prevail!" Roland defiantly stated. "You men will not best me, do you understand!" The physical changes continued to occur, with every loss turning him more and more into the barbarians that he was fighting. Surprisingly, Roland didn't notice the changes that were happening, even when their effects were much more apparent to him. He knew that he was struggling a bit more than he normally did, but didn't think it was because he had gotten much smaller, for example.

It was after about twelve barbarians were now standing off to the side, having defeated Roland, that the physical transformations were complete. His skin was now the same color as the other men in the room, a dark ruddy tan color, and despite having the same amount of muscle of his body, he was struggling to support his armor now because of his smaller frame and younger body. It did actually give him the appearance of bigger muscles than what he had before, though. He was physically 18 now, but he was still acting like the 53-year-old High Paladin. As he got up to fight the next barbarian, he had a different aura around him. Roland could sense that he was the leader of this group of men.

"I may have lost all of my battles against your troops, but I will win this one and win the war!" he triumphantly stated, although he was getting a bit impatient. The battles that he lost had taken a while, and he still didn't know where the other members of his party were. He wanted to get this over with and find them. It never crossed the leader's mind that this was a test of some kind, especially since the leader would be the thirteenth barbarian that he had fought in a dungeon named after them.

"Isn't it obvious, Roland? You don't have the strength or the power to best any of my barbarians, let alone me! You don't deserve to wear your armor anymore." The leader then struck Roland's armor with his sword, with him not questioning how he knew his name. Roland tried to block it, but swinging the sword and lugging all of the armor around was proving to be a bit more difficult now. He was shocked when the sword caused part of his armor to break off.

"No, not my armor!" he whined, but it was no use. With every strike, more and more of his armor fell to the ground until he was left standing there in just his underwear, which happened to be a loincloth. The barbarian leader then placed his sword on the ground, and put his hands behind his head, exposing his pits. His fellow barbarians did the same, and soon the smell of their musk began to waft through the air. Roland had gotten used to the smell of musk, being a paladin for so many years, but what he didn't realize was that this musk had magical powers as well.

It was dumbing him down with every breath he took, causing him to lose his memories of his battles and how to hold a sword, how to be a leader and how to make a backroom deal for your gold-flecked armor. As his intelligence dropped, the musk was also making him more humble. It was a few minutes later when the mental transformation was complete as well, and Roland no longer thought of himself as "Roland." He was now Ral.

Ral was 18 years old and was considered a barbarian youth, in training to become a full-fledged member of the tribe. He still had his loincloth on, but that was the only thing he had on. He hadn't proven his worth yet, which would allow him to get equipment like boots and harnesses. Despite his ability to use a sword being erased by the barbarians' musk, it was actually replaced with the ability to use an axe in combat, which was quite different from using a sword, despite some similarities. Instead of looking down at the members of his party, he instead looked up to them, wanting to be just like them. After all of the transformations were complete, the barbarian leader moved aside and showed Ral a door at the other end of the room. He walked through it, and waited in the antechamber for the other members of his party to arrive before walking through the door just a few steps away.

Chapter 3

Yuan tumbled into his dungeon, as he was trying to save Roland from whatever was happening to him. Thankfully, he didn't tumble too far, or he would have fallen into a pit of lava. "What happened?" Yuan thought to himself, knowing that there had to be some kind of magical explanation for this. He cast a spell to get rid of the lava. He waved his staff, and nothing happened. He tried again, and still, the lava bubbled and was a crimson red, not the water he was hoping it would turn into.

"Your magic doesn't work here," said a voice from above. Yuan looked up and saw a barbarian youth on one of the many towers sticking out from the lava. He was wearing nothing but a loincloth, and was quite muscular. "However, if you can reach me, then you will be freed from this dungeon and you will be able to use your magic again." The barbarian then expertly hopped to the next tower as Yuan figured out where the closest tower to the edge was. The first couple ones he could walk on, or take a step and land squarely in the middle.

Unfortunately, the next towers were all a bit too far away even for someone as limber as Yuan was. The many clothes that he wore certainly were not helping matters, and he didn't want to take any off. He decided to just take a leap of faith and jump to the next tower, since it was thankfully level with his platform, just a far distance away. As he had feared, his robes and underwear didn't allow him much room, and so he fell into the lava. He expected to be burned and preemptively cried out in pain, but instead he felt his body hit the floor.

"You have failed the first test," the barbarian said, from across the room. "Even though the lava wasn't completely real, it did have some effects." Yuan looked down, and was shocked by what he saw. Not all of his clothes were gone, but most of them were. He only had one layer left on, a thin layer that left little coverage. He instinctively covered himself up with his hands, even though everything sexual was still covered and was in no danger of slipping out. "You can still catch me and get your magic back. It's even less of a challenge than it was before!"

The barbarian ran away again, and Yuan tried to chase after him. Unfortunately, he wasn't too keen on letting his hands down, and he didn't want the barbarian to see his cock flopping around. That meant he was awkwardly moving forward, barely moving an inch with each step. Naturally, he was never going to catch up with the barbarian that way, and the barbarian had other plans for Yuan. Some plants appeared in Yuan's way, looking kind of like a venus fly trap. He was able to push them out of the way with his body, but the plants retaliated at him, spitting some kind of acid at him.

Much like the lava, the acid wasn't truly acid; Yuan's skin was left unscathed. However, it did still have some effects. Most of Yuan's shirt was burned off, and the parts that did remain changed as part of the effects of the acid. The cotton seemingly became leather, even Yuan not understanding how the process actually worked, unless the plant was magic as well. The shirt was also burnt in such a way that it ended up becoming a leather harness on him. However, it was a bit too big and barely stayed on his body as he continued to try and catch the barbarian.

His pants were also sprayed on by another plant that had popped up only a few feet away from the other one. Yuan's body still wasn't hurt, but this time around, his pants were completely burnt off, leaving him in just the harness and his underwear. As he had feared, his underwear changed as well, but he could see why a new plant was needed. Instead of being cotton, the underwear was now made out of fur, and enough of the underwear had burnt off as well that it could accurately be described as a loincloth now. Covering himself up now was no use.

"Please, let me use my magic and let me cover up again!" Yuan whined.

"It's quite simple, adventurer. All you need to do is reach me, and then you will escape and your magic will be restored. And since you don't need to worry about covering up anymore, I can make this a bit more fun again!" The barbarian spread his arms wide and the dungeon changed once more. This time, it turned into more of a maze, with three distinct paths starting where Yuan was standing. The barbarian's voice could still be heard loud and clear at the end of whichever path he was on. "I'll be waiting for you at the end!"

Yuan decided to take the middle path first. All three of them looked exactly the same, and he wasn't sure how he was going to remember which path he had taken already. However, all three paths had the same fruit at the start of it. Yuan could take a bite and then spit it out to mark his path. He found it a bit gross, but that was his best option right now with his lack of magic. He picked up the fruit at the start of the middle path and took a bite. He got ready to spit it out, but instead swallowed it.

It was the best thing he had ever tasted in his life! As he took another step forward, he took another bite of the fruit. While he didn't spit any of it out, he quickly realized that once he backtracked, the fruit on the other two paths would be waiting for him as well. Of course, the fruit was its own kind of trap, although it didn't seem like it at first. Its addictive qualities were causing some changes in Yuan, noticeable changes. With every bite that he took, he gained a bit more muscle.

The harness on his chest was starting to get tighter and tighter, and the skinny wizard was now gaining abs for the first time in his life! His arms and legs were getting bigger and bigger as well, and even his ass was gaining a bit more muscle. Despite the addictive qualities, the fruit didn't do anything to mask its changes to the eater. Eventually, Yuan did notice that he had been gaining muscle unnaturally fast, and for someone as smart as him, he quickly realized that it was the fruit. He threw it down the path and turned around, hoping that this path wasn't the one that led to the barbarian.

However, against all of his better judgment, he found himself running to pick up the fruit again and took another bite, even after it had been on the maze floor again. Yuan knew that it was wrong and that this was a trap now, but there was nothing he could do about it. He did stop walking through the maze, eating and gaining muscle in just one spot now. By the time the fruit was finished, the harness and loincloth were even tighter on Yuan's body and he rivaled the size that Roland was now, if not much bigger.

The walls of the maze retreated, and Yuan noticed that each path he could have taken would have led him to the same point. So the fruit really was a trap. "I see someone really enjoyed the fruit that I laid out for you. You couldn't put it down, right? Well, it'll help you catch me much easier now, so I'll have to make it a bit more of a challenge again." His arms were spread out once more and the towers from before returned, only this time, slime was on the ground underneath them. "Come and catch me," the barbarian taunted, as he jumped to the next tower.

Yuan was ready this time, as despite the loincloth being tight, it still provided a lot of freedom. He was easily able to bound from tower to tower, and he was catching up to the barbarian quickly. However, it couldn't be too easy for the muscular grand wizard to catch up to the barbarian, so Yuan watched in horror as the tower that he was jumping towards retreated back into the slime. There was no way that he could reach another tower in time, so he fell into the slime, and unlike the lava, he actually fell into it. It did have a similar effect to the lava, weirdly enough.

Instead of clothes, though, it was Yuan's hair that was removed. The slime seemed to collect the hair on top of his head and all over his body. Surprisingly, Yuan had been quite hairy, which even the barbarian was shocked by when his clothes were being torn to shreds. The barbarian himself only had some hair on the top of his head, and he watched as Yuan struggled in the slime until all of his hair was completely removed. As the dungeon became flat again and devoid of slime, Yuan had a glow about him now, almost like he was permanently covered in oil, thanks to the slime.

"Well, you're certainly looking good now, adventurer. But I have a few more tricks up my sleeve." The barbarian didn't actually have any sleeves, and the dungeon didn't change too much this time around. The only difference was that some spots were now brightly illuminated by the light outside, or some other source of light. The chase was on again, and Yuan was smart enough to not step into the sunlight, of course. He bobbed and weaved and was once again catching up to the barbarian. He expected his foe to play dirty again, but since he had no magic and didn't use his staff offensively and the barbarian was too far away for combat, he couldn't stop him.

Yuan soon found himself in the middle of a bright spot he knew was not there a second ago. No matter which way he ran, it was only getting bigger and bigger. The trap, of course, had a secondary effect, and Yuan watched as his skin darkened. Unlike with some of the other men who stayed out in the light too long, his skin was not turning red. Instead, it was turning Black, like some of the men in the local tribes. His skin was a deep Black color now, almost ebony by the time the sun spot closed and the barbarian laughed. "You have been quite the worthy adversary, adventurer," the barbarian noted. "So, you just have one final test to pass before you can complete the dungeon and you can have your magic back."

He moved his hand to the side, and a table with two vials of liquid appeared on it. Before he even said anything, Yuan knew that it was going to be a trap. "You're going to say one of these contains my magical essence, while the other one is going to be a trap. However, I know they're both going to be traps. You're not going to fool me, barbarian!"

"I see you are a very smart adventurer. You have a truth spell in your arsenal, do you not? Here, as a sign of good faith, I'll allow just enough magic for you to cast that spell." Yuan then felt a light tingle in his body, the same he had felt when he first started practicing magic. He didn't want to waste it on trying to get out of here by other means, so he cast the truth spell on the barbarian.

"The spell is now in effect."

"The left vial contains your magical essence, adventurer. The right one is the trap." Yuan smirked as he uncorked the left vial and swallowed the solution. He expected to feel the tingling sensation in full force again, but instead, he dropped to his knees, his head in serious pain. "You really thought your magic would work in this dungeon, adventurer? We know of your kind and made sure you thought you had your magic back. As you correctly assumed, both of them were traps!" The pain was so severe Yuan couldn't do anything else but remain on his knees as the effects of the trap took effect.

One of them was a drop in intelligence. Yuan was the smartest one in the group before, but now he had become the dumbest. However, his ability to use magic was not completely removed. He now had the ability to use the same magic that this barbarian had, since he was becoming a barbarian himself. He called himself a shaman now, not a grand wizard. His name didn't change, and he now knew that the oil that seemed to constantly be on his body was his source of mana, his power, and for someone like him, the oil was an innate substance that he secreted.

Additionally, Yuan found himself much more horny now. In addition to becoming a shaman, he was also a barbarian breeder. All of the good men in the barbarian tribe carried that title, as they were blessed with large cocks and were all quite horny. They were the ones who helped the tribe to grow. The barbarian then showed the new Black barbarian the door that led out of the dungeon. Yuan walked through it and arrived at the antechamber just seconds after Ral did. Both men were not shocked by the dramatic changes to the other's appearance.

Chapter 4

"GAAAAAHHHH!" Lux screamed, as he fell through the portal and into a different dungeon than his fellow adventurers. However, calling it a dungeon would be a bit of a stretch. While Lux clearly wasn't outside the dungeon yet, it was like he had stumbled upon a small encampment of barbarians just lounging around and living their lives. Unfortunately for Lux, these men were doing everything that he disliked. For starters, absolutely none of the men in here had shirts on. "Where are your shirts?" he asked one of the barbarians, and before bothering to get an answer, he cast a spell.

Even though he was mostly a healer, he did know several other spells, including one that would make clothing appear. However, he tried casting it a couple times, but to no avail. Another barbarian stood up, this one wearing nothing but a small pair of briefs with his bulge quite prominent. "Your magic does not work here, adventurer. But ours continues to do so." Lux was a bit puzzled by what the barbarian meant. He could barely look at him because of how obscene he was. That meant he was looking down at his clothes, and watched as two layers of his clothes suddenly disappeared.

"What's the meaning of this!?" he screamed out, and to his surprise, the barbarian talked back, although he avoided answering the question.

"Your challenge is quite simple, adventurer. All you need to do is remain here for one hour. After exactly one hour, the door to leave the dungeon will open up, and you will be free to go. It would be best if you kept an open mind throughout the hour, though. Your thoughts will curse you during this time period. The time begins now." A sundial then appeared in the group of barbarians, with clear lines marked for the start and the end of the hour.

"Oh, this will be so easy," Lux said to himself, as he sat down and began to wait. For the first couple of minutes, he thought about his life before stepping foot in the dungeon and the stories he would tell when he was able to leave. However, it didn't help that no matter where he looked, the barbarians were shirtless, and some were in tight loincloths or briefs that left very little to the imagination. He knew he shouldn't think about how indecent they were, and while he dared not say it out loud, he couldn't help but to think about it and grimace at the barbarians.

He soon felt a cool breeze on his chest, his nipples especially bearing the brunt of it. As he had feared, the curse was very real, and now he had no shirt on. Some of the barbarians laughed and snickered in his direction, but Lux didn't react, although he really wanted to. He didn't want to become one of those people. Unfortunately, in trying not to think about it, it only made things worse. Being shirtless was one thing, but some men were practically naked in the loincloths they were wearing. He knew what would happen if he thought about them, but if they would just cover up!

Seconds after thinking that, Lux cursed himself as he too was wearing a loincloth now. It was white with some blue gems towards the top, and actually covered a fair amount of his groin, all things considered. He despised the clothes he was now wearing, but knew that most of his temptations were gone, and the rest of the hour would be smooth sailing. However, it wasn't just their dress that Lux found impure. Nearly all of the barbarians in this camp were drinking alcohol. Of course, Lux could simply see that they were drinking that, and nothing would happen. He really did try not to think about how bad it was for them and all of the terrible effects it would have on their lives.

But even a kid was drinking it! He didn't speak up still, but he couldn't help but think of how messed up that was. There were no obvious outward changes after he thought about drinking alcohol, but now he had a strong desire to drink some. In fact, it was so strong, he walked over to the leader of the group and asked him for some. "Hmm, I didn't know that archpriests like you drank alcohol. But here, I have a special drink just for you." Lux accepted it, and it smelled like alcohol at least. It also vaguely tasted of it from the few drops he had accidentally drunk whenever there was a bar fight at a tavern he was staying at and a drink had been thrown in his direction.

As a result, he didn't suspect anything was amiss as he chugged the drink, craving the alcohol now. He didn't get drunk, and in fact, this was mild alcohol anyways, meaning that even the young barbarian kid wouldn't get drunk as fast. But this alcohol was imbued with something else. As he got his own pitcher of alcohol and a cup to bring over to the area where he had been waiting, Lux didn't notice that his muscles had begun to grow. He had very lean muscles that were usually hidden under layers of clothing, and only exposed now thanks to these barbarians.

But as the minutes of his waiting period passed, Lux was getting bigger and bigger, his muscles from his neck all the way down to his legs increasing in size. His pecs were no longer flat but jutted out from his body a fair amount, and their width also increased dramatically as well. Eight abs formed on his stomach, all clearly delineated and chiseled too. Both his hamstrings and his biceps looked like footballs had been inserted inside of them now, and his ass got much more pert as well. Even Lux's cock changed, growing in length and girth dramatically. The loincloth was now barely covering his groin.

He did eventually notice the changes, and thankfully, thinking about them didn't cause him to get even bigger, to become a muscle monster of sorts. He was still conflicted about the changes to his body and to his clothes, but he had to admit, being a muscular healer would probably have some positive side effects, even if he needed to get bigger robes to hide his new bulk. There was about a quarter of the time left between the two lines, and Lux wondered how he would explain all of these changes to the party when he encountered them again. However, the barbarians weren't done having fun with him. As the kids and younger members were moved back into the tents and other buildings, some of the other barbarians came out and started having sex right in the open. They were pretty loud too, but Lux knew that they were definitely testing him now, and so thought about anything else but the sex happening in front of him.

He even closed his eyes as well, but it wasn't long before all of the sound effects got to him, the slapping of balls against ass and the slurping of cocks, not to mention the moans and groans. "STOP!" he bellowed, but naturally, none of the barbarians did. He wondered what was going to happen to him now. This wasn't really a physical change, but more of a mental change. In addition to his addiction to alcohol, Lux loved having sex now. In fact, that was pretty much all he could think about. His libido went through the roof, and his cock got rock hard watching the sex happening in front of him. He hoped that he could join in, but it wouldn't be long before the door was open. His balls were now churning with copious amounts of cum as well.

Lux had turned into a barbarian pleasure giver, a distinctly different class than a breeder, although he was also a breeder as well. However, his class wasn't all about having sex; in fact, he was one of the many healers of the tribe. His cum had many medicinal properties now, and in addition to cumming on the wound, the afflicted could also swallow his cum or get bred by him to be healed as well. His blonde hair remained, but as part of the previous muscle growth, his skin had also gotten much more tan, slightly darker than Ral's skin now. Despite being a healer, he was still incredibly horny, barely able to think about anything other than having sex now, which he would do often when he wasn't healing.

The door to leave the dungeon then appeared a couple minutes later, but this time around, something, or more accurately, someone, was blocking it. It was not a barbarian, although it did have a humanoid appearance. Lux walked over to it, slightly turned on by it and also leaving the dungeon on autopilot. "Lux, it is my honor to bless you with the power of Pleasuriae," the god stated, as Lux was bathed in a white light tinted with gold. It only served to make him even more horny. Pleasuriae was the barbarian god of pleasure, and they blessed all pleasure givers with their gift. Lux soon stepped through the door and arrived in the antechamber, none of the three men noticing the changes in their fellow adventurers still.

Chapter 5

Damien, of course, wasn't much help in rescuing Yuan at all, and he tumbled in his dungeon even more strongly than Lux did. In sharp contrast to the dungeons of his fellow adventurers, Damien's dungeon could more accurately be described as a hallway, just like the one he had just been in. However, the walls were made out of an entirely different material, and there were recesses in the wall at equal increments for as long as the eye could see. Damien found that despite his tumbling, there was a wall almost directly behind where he was standing, so he had to walk forward.

He passed the first recesses and noticed a bust in it, the same one on both sides. He was quite shocked when they spoke to him, considering he didn't recognize who they were meant to represent. "Be blessed, young adventurer, with the clothes of a prince." Damien was a bit puzzled by what that meant, but as he looked down, his clothes were changing dramatically! His shirt had all but disappeared, being replaced with a leather harness. It would have shown off his pecs if he had any, but as it stood, it was a bit loose right now.

His pants seemed to shrink, eventually turning into a loincloth that covered his groin. It was quite small but still covered everything that it needed to. Additionally, he was given metal arm guards to protect his lower arms. While they were secure around his wrist, the guards were still a bit big and clattered around a bit as he walked forward. Damien was now wearing shoes for the first time in his life, fur boots appearing on his feet, high-quality and comfy fur boots. The clothing changes had all happened by the time that he had reached the next busts.

"Be blessed, young adventurer, with the pecs of a prince." Damien knew what was probably going to happen next, and so as he slowly stepped forward, he was looking down at his pecs. He had barely had any muscle definition before, but now his pecs were getting bigger and bigger by the second. It took a few seconds for them to reach their new size, and the supply boy now had pecs that he could easily lay some crops on to carry them around. His nipples grew in size to match his massive pecs too, and they got extremely sensitive, although Damien wouldn't know that for a bit. He soon reached the next one.

"Be blessed, young adventurer, with the abs and legs of a prince." He looked down and watched as eight distinct abs began forming on his stomach. Damien had been skinny enough to be able to feel his ab muscles for a few years now, but they had never gotten this chiseled before and he had only seen them pop out that far on a couple men. His legs also gained a lot more muscle and got quite toned, easily able to support his new massive frame.

"Be blessed, young adventurer, with the arms of a prince." Damien watched as his arms, especially his biceps, got bigger and bigger. Damien's biceps were his biggest muscle group before all of these transformations started to occur, thanks to being a supply boy and working on a farm for so long. However, that didn't stop his biceps, triceps, and other arm muscles from growing huge. In fact, his arms could no longer hang right by his side; his obliques and biceps made it so that he was forced to have a wider frame at all times.

"Be blessed, young adventurer, with the groin of a prince." Damien looked down and felt as his flaccid cock was getting longer and longer by the second. His loincloth didn't grow in size to match, so soon enough, his mushroom head was plainly visible as he walked, and he added a fair bit of girth as well. This was all still completely flaccid, and it wouldn't be long before he experienced an erection with his new cock. His ass was no longer flat, having gained a lot of muscle as he walked down the hallway. He now had what would eventually be called a bubble butt, and a big one at that.

"Be blessed, young adventurer, with the looks of a prince." He wasn't exactly sure what was meant by that, since he had just undergone quite a bit of magical muscle growth. There were no reflective surfaces in the hallway to show it off, but one change was to Damian's hair, making him blonde and growing it out rapidly to reach his shoulders. His face also got more angular and striking, and his eyes became a piercing blue color. He was also blessed with the perfect amount of armpit hair.

"Be blessed, young adventurer, with the weapon of a prince." This was not some kind of metaphorical weapon that would instead make his balls bigger or something. A war ax appeared in his hands, just slightly bigger than he was now, which was certainly saying something. It barely fit in the hallway as it was, but Damien knew exactly how to use the weapon now, despite Roland not trusting him with anything bigger than a scythe.

"Be blessed, young adventurer, with the libido of a prince." Damien didn't know what "libido" meant, but he did feel wave after wave of pleasure wash over him as his libido skyrocketed. His cock was getting hard at just the thought of having sex, and he was able to see just how massive his erect cock was now. He could see why they thought of him as a prince. Despite him being just as horny as Lux was now, Damien wasn't as focused on having sex, at least he would be soon after passing the next busts.

"Be blessed, young adventurer, with the leadership of a prince." Damien also wasn't sure what exactly would change because of that, but that solidified his mental changes. He now thought of himself as prince of the barbarians, and unlike the other roles given to his fellow adventurers, there was only one prince. He knew that he was both the leader of the small group of barbarians venturing the dungeon under him, and leader of all the barbarians. He was especially interested in his youngest party member, Ral.

Despite there only being a couple years' difference between the two of them, Ral still had a lot to learn, and Damien was going to take him under his wing. He would help Ral get as big as the other barbarians were, and naturally, sex was a huge part of his training as well. With his princely transformation complete, he stepped through the door at the end of the hallway and arrived at the antechamber. He didn't stop walking, Ral, Yuan, and Lux following suit behind him as they walked through the other door and into the barbarian utopia.

None of the four men had any memories of who they were before they stepped foot in the barbarians' dungeon. Ral had always thought that that was his name, and that he was a young recruit and not some grizzled war hero. Yuan's changes weren't too dramatic in some senses when compared to his fellow party members, but it would no longer bother him to be practically naked and dripping with oil with every step and he always thought that he had been a Black man. Lux had no memories of trying to fight and reverse the changes made to him. In fact, he was much too horny to remember what he did yesterday, let alone what he was like five or so years ago. Even Damien had no memory of who he used to be, even though all of his changes were positive.

"The prince has returned! The prince has returned!" announced the barbarians close to the dungeon as Damien and his party stepped out. Many of the barbarians came rushing over to the group, and it wasn't long before a muscular oiled man who looked quite similar to Yuan stepped forward and knelt in front of Damien.

"We are blessed of your safe return, Prince Damien. Your reward for traversing the dungeon and protecting it from outsiders will be ready shortly. Do you wish for your current party members to join you, or would you like to pick three other men?"

"Ral, Yuan, and Lux have all gone through a lot with me. They deserve to be rewarded as well."

"Very well, my prince. Please, follow me." Damien and his group, along with a group of shamans all walked over to one of the many temples the barbarians had erected. As soon as Ral entered, the door to the temple magically closed, barring any other barbarians from entering and partaking in the pleasure.

Chapter 6

The group then walked into the middle of the temple. Summoning lines were written on the floor, and there was enough open area for four men to stand. The shamans took their place outside of the lines, making sure that they would not offend the gods by accidentally partaking in the reward. Damien stripped first, knowing what had to be done, and he showed off his enormous cock to all of the shamans and his fellow party members. While cock size wasn't the reason he was made prince, if it is, he would still be the barbarian prince. Yuan and Lux both had impressive cocks as well, but they paled in comparison to Damien's. Even Ral's cock was bigger than the average male cock in the twenty-first century, but much smaller than all of the other party members'.

The lead shaman then began speaking. "We call upon the powers of Pleasuriae to reward Damien and his party members for successfully keeping our lands free of invaders!" The shamans then began chanting in a language all four new barbarians seemed to know innately, but was foreign to them just earlier that day. Pleasuriae came up often in the chants, and a minute or so later, the chants ended. The smells of musk and sex permeated the air, and Lux felt a familiar presence as Pleasuriae appeared again, this time overlooking all four of the men and the shamans who summoned them.

"Welcome, Prince Damien, and his fellow party members. It is my honor to reward you for successfully protecting our community once again. You will be blessed with insatiable horniness for twelve hours, even greater than the horniness Lux has coursing through his veins now. You will be able to cum immediately after cumming, and you will never tire until my blessing has passed. However, that is not all. There is one final challenge, and one of you will win it regardless.

"The barbarian who cums the most shall receive a special reward. They will be blessed permanently with the abilities given to you during this reward session. The cum does not need to land on a party member's body or inside of them; it simply needs to come out of your cock and it will be added to the total. I will be watching the orgy the entire time, and whoever is the winner at the end will feel the same way even after the reward has finished. And yes, even our breeder Lux is able to receive this reward."

With that, Pleasuriae disappeared from the dungeon, but not after the effects of his blessing took place. All four men immediately got rock hard within seconds, and all of them were looking at each other with lust in their eyes. However, even in their horned-up state, they still knew the hierarchy they had, and so Damien sat on the ground as Yuan and Lux took turns sucking on his cock. Ral sat off to the side, furiously stroking his cock as his prince was pleasured. None of the four men had had experience in gay sex before, but with their transformations into barbarians, it was now second nature to them.

Damien had ejaculated twice and Yuan and Lux had each done so once, jerking off as they were sucking their prince off, before Ral was finally allowed to have a turn. To show deference to his prince, he crawled over to him on his hands and knees before opening his mouth and sucking on Damien's cock. Damien was the most inexperienced out of the bunch, though, and in fact, his blowjob didn't last too long. Damien didn't even get to cum before pushing Ral off of his cock. "Show me your hole!" he bellowed, and the young barbarian-in-training did just that.

What Pleasuriae had neglected to mention was that their assholes were also self-lubricating during this blessed period, and that would remain for the winner as well. Although lube wouldn't be invented for thousands of years, the barbarians used spit and other similar liquids so that their anal sex would be easier. Despite the self-lubrication, Ral's asshole was still quite tight, only having recently started his sexual training. Taking his prince's behemoth cock was probably not the smartest choice right now, but he was too horny to care.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!" he moaned, as Damien pressed his cock up against Ral's hole before it finally slid in. Yuan and Lux were jerking off at first to the hot breeding happening in front of them, but soon realized that they could have some fun together. They were of equal standing in barbarian society, so they quickly decided that Lux would fuck Yuan first. Lux was probably the most horny barbarian in existence right now, and he desperately wanted to feel his cock inside of another barbarian's hole.

As for Damien and Ral, the prince was slowly pushing his cock deeper and deeper into Ral's hole. Thanks to the self-lubrication, it was much easier to get more and more of his cock inside, but he had just barely made it halfway before it started to get more and more difficult. He did love a challenge, though, filling up one of his fellow barbarians with his enormous cock. Ral was moaning and panting the entire time, and his body was covered in as much sweat as Yuan usually was as he took more and more of his prince's cock.

Meanwhile, Lux was fucking Yuan like a rabbit. Once he was inside Yuan, his desire to breed as part of his role in society just took over, and it was barely a minute, if that, between his cumshots. Yuan certainly didn't mind getting filled up by Lux's seed, and he was stroking his cock the entire time, getting the temple floor covered in his cum as his ass was getting filled by Lux's. Eventually, the two of them decided to swap when Yuan's hole was leaking out cum and there seemed to be no more room inside of his cavernous hole.

Damien was still taking his time breeding Ral, although the young barbarian had ejaculated a few times from the pleasurable sensations he was feeling with such a big cock inside of him. Both men moaned quite loudly as Damien's balls finally slapped against Ral's ass. The prince's cock was so big that it actually made a faint bulge on Ral's stomach, and once Damien was in all of the way, the fucking could really pick up in intensity. Sweat was dripping onto the floor and the smell of sex and musk was even stronger in the air as it didn't take long for Damien to deposit the first of many loads into Ral's hole.

As Damien was getting himself balls-deep, it was Yuan's turn to fuck. In addition to having a cock that never seemed to quit, Lux's hole was already pretty wide and had a permanent gape, even before the blessing and on top of the self-lubrication. As a result, it only took a few thrusts for Yuan to go balls-deep as well, and it actually made it easier to hit Lux's prostate as well, as Yuan was easily able to line up his cock. This caused both men to cum quite frequently, and Yuan too filled up Lux's hole, but it took quite a few more cumshots to do that.

Eventually, Damien tired of fucking Ral, although he didn't completely fill him up with his load yet. He and Yuan switched partners, as he loved fucking the breeders, and shamans were just a smidge about breeders in the hierarchy anyways. It wasn't difficult at all for Damien to fuck Lux, although quite a bit of Yuan's cum was still inside of his hole. However, that just provided some easier lubrication, and it wasn't long before Damien was dumping loads inside of Lux as well. A small puddle had started to form around where Damien was fucking thanks to the numerous loads that Ral and now Lux were pumping out.

As for Yuan, even his cock was still too big for Ral's hole, despite the prince opening it up a bit more. Ral's moans were the loudest in the temple as Yuan pushed his cock in deeper and deeper. However, thanks to the loads from his prince and the self-lubrication already, it didn't take as long before Yuan's balls slapped against Ral's ass as well. He spewed the first load out of his cock not even a minute later, and the puddle of cum around this area was even bigger and deeper even, all thanks to the insatiable horniness of Lux.

Eventually, Lux's hole was filled up with cum again, and it wasn't long before Yuan had done the same to Ral. Poor Ral was forced to remain a bottom as Yuan finally bottomed again, this time for his prince. Lux was excited to breed again, especially with an impressionable young man like Ral. Yuan knew that even though he was second-in-command in this group, he still had to defer to the prince, and besides, he wanted his prince's big fat juicy cock inside of him. He got on his hands and knees and pushed some of the cum out of his ass as the smell of musk and sex in the air got even stronger.

In fact, it was making the men so horny that Yuan started to lap up the cum on the temple floor as Damien began to breed him. The prince just chuckled as he fucked one of his shamans, his favorite shaman. He knew that it probably won't be long before Yuan joined the shamans on the outside of the circle, summoning the sex god and their blessing instead of partaking in it. However, he quickly turned his mind back to fucking, and it wasn't too long before he added his loads to Lux's.

Lux was having the time of his life breeding the young barbarian-in-training. Thanks to his standing as a breeder, his body had a different reaction to the tight and likely virile hole Ral possessed. Even after factoring in both blessings from Pleasuriae he had received, Lux was still even more horny than the other three men, since someone like Ral would have the best chance of reproducing and giving birth successfully as well. He deposited quite a few loads into Ral's hole, literally cumming within seconds of each other sometimes. Unfortunately, due to the combination between top and bottom, Ral's hole was filled within minutes, and the two of them stopped having sex and watched as Damien continued to breed Yuan.

Since Yuan's hole wasn't filled up with as much seed, especially after he had pushed some out, Damien could fuck him for quite some time. The puddle of cum was surprisingly so high that it covered Yuan's fingers now as Damien finally shot his last load into Yuan's hole, his cock slipping out as well because of all of the cum inside of it. But despite both bottoms being filled with cum right now, there was still quite a bit of time for the blessing, and they had only fucked doggy-style so far.

The four of them fucked in several different positions and they continued to suck each other as well, tasting just as much cum as had filled up their holes by the time the blessing was complete. They didn't just focus on anal and oral sex, though. There was some more worshiping involved, body worship and even musk worship as well. Damien naturally was worshiped the most, but even he took part in worshiping Yuan and Lux's sweaty, musky, muscular bodies as well. Ral was not worshiped during the blessing, but he did get turned on worshiping all three men above him in society, and also in height too. Just before it was set to complete, Pleasuriae appeared and lightly chuckled before speaking. There was a literal layer of cum plastered all over the temple floor, the party members had cummed so much. The smell of musk, sweat, and sex was so strong that it was quite noticeable even outside of the sealed temple walls, and all four men had cum leaking from the corners of their mouths, assholes, and cocks, not to mention dripping with sweat.

"It would appear as though that this has been a bountiful blessing. I hope all of you have enjoyed it, and I hope to see you, Yuan, here again soon, unfortunately not in the middle of the room again. But on a wholly unrelated note, it is, in fact, Yuan who had ejaculated the most during the blessing. He will continue to have the benefits of the blessing, which will likely help out with his magic. Thank you for this bountiful offering as well." Pleasuriae then slurped up the cum from the floor, swallowing every last drop as the blessing ceased.

Lux returned to a less horny state, but still hornier than Damien and Ral were right now. Yuan continued to feel the same way, although his mind wasn't as clouded by sex and horny thoughts as they had been, although it was still a lot of what he thought about. The four men then put their clothes back and the shamans opened the door to the temple so that they could all walk out. Yuan walked away with the other shamans, all of them glistening in the sunlight thanks to the oil on their bodies. Lux found himself drawn to the breeding tent, where men and women alike came to get bred and hopefully produce a younger barbarian. As for Ral, he soon found the other barbarian youth that were of age, and began training with them once more.

A barbarian with a scrying bowl rushed over to the prince, dressed a bit more conservatively than most barbarians, but not by much. "My prince, another party has entered the dungeon. When would you like the process to start?"

"I'd like to see the information we gathered first. I want to see what kinds of barbarians we're turning these four men into." Damien loved turning adventurers into barbarians, and their land was right next to a very gullible group of men who always seemed to want to prove their worth by successfully completing the Barbarian's Dungeon.

The Locker Room

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If only he knew...

Hotel Korea: Chapter Three

--- Originally posted on 2019-11-18 by dumb-and-jocked. ---

The Ignorant Passersby

Lee Hae-Jin looked at his watch anxiously, his bicep unintentionally flexing as he did. His workout gear stretched over his tight body as the seconds ticked away, counting down slowly. It had been almost a month since the first Hotel Korea had opened, and nearly a hundred more had been built since then, with even more being proposed in other cities. Lee’s idea had been a huge success, with more and more of the world’s population becoming Korean, but he still had more work to do.

One of his newest ideas for faster conversion was about to launch, and he had no idea how successful it would be. Lee had made sure that if it faltered, only he would be able to notice. Not everyone stayed at a hotel, so he had to find a way to change the everyday civilians. As the last second clicked away, his plan came to life. Lee looked out the window, hoping to see some sort of changes. His anxiousness quickly turned to glee.

— —

“I’ll be back in a second, bro!” Chandler said as he stomped his way to the restroom. He was lifting weights with another guy from his fraternity, Nathan, but had suddenly felt an urge to take a piss. Nathan waved him off as he ran into the men’s locker room. He looked in the mirror and was greeted by a fairly built white male, his blond hair slicked back with sweat. Although his face looked red, his Under Armour wife beater looked rather dry. Chandler grabbed his phone from his gym shorts and took a mirror selfie, the white wall behind him accenting his tanned skin.

Suddenly, Chandler felt a stirring in his bladder, a reminder to why he had come here in the first place. He rushed to a urinal and took out a heavy dick, one that was almost 6 inches and still soft. He began to piss and looked up towards posters on the wall, mindlessly reading about some concert from an unheard American band. He smirked, believing the Top 40 playlist he was listening to was much better.

As Chandler pissed away, he began to hear music playing through the vents. He focused his hearing in on the music and, after a few moments of thinking, determined that it wasn’t in English. He quickly figured out it was some K-pop boy band. It wasn’t his kind of music, or the gym’s for that matter, but he assumed there must have been some big party from the new Korean hotel down the street.

Chandler focused back on the posters, reading about the new boy band that was touring all the way from Korea. He suddenly became overjoyed as he remembered that they were his favorite band. As he finished, he tucked a smaller, yellow cock back into his gym shorts and walked back into the main area of the locker room. Each step he took slowly brought him lower until the 6’2 male was only about 175 centimeters. His arms and legs inflated and he suddenly rushed back into the stall, his dick now wanting to do more than just piss in the bathroom.

Chandler quickly closed the stall door behind him and sat on the ridge of the toilet, taking out his much smaller dick. Chandler didn’t notice the difference in length as he got hard, his cock much shorter than what it used to be hard. He moaned as he began to stroke, his once rough hands becoming small and soft with a lemony sheen. As he edged, his pecs began to fill out more, his pre-defined abs sharpening. He groaned as his shrunken balls began to churn, his hair growing out into black bangs on his head.

“신 이시여!” Chung-Hee shouted as he burst a load in the stall, the white cum sticking out on the black wall. He cleaned himself and walked out, his small, yellow feet moving quickly across the floor. He walked over to the sink and looked in the mirror, the K-pop still playing from the vents overhead and in his earbud. Chung-Hee was glad that Nam-Kyu had convinced him to come to the local Korean gym today. He was a little timid that it wasn’t going to be authentic, but the place seemed to be as if it had come straight out of his own South Korea itself. He smirked as he walked up to the mirror, his sexy Korean body looked incredible against the black wall. He brought up his phone and took a mirror selfie, making sure to hold a straight face. He was looking as 멋진 ever. He sent the picture to his boyfriend before running back into the gym.

— —

Officer Charleston sat in his car, surveying the land around him for any sort of disturbance. Right across the street from him was the Hotel Korea, a newer building that had been the center of multiple documented disappearances, as well as numerous other complaints. He had been dispatched there to see if there was any reason the department should be concerned, but as he lazily ate a bag of potato chips that rested on his large stomach, he couldn’t find anything that seemed out of place.

Officer Charleston watched strangers as he sat there, his floating eyes hiding behind a thick pair of sunglasses. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, just lots of random people around the busy street. He noticed the large Korean population that seemed to be spilling out of the hotel across the street, but he assumed that what the typical crowd for a chain targeted at a certain population. Officer Charleston scratched his bushy beard and placed the bag of chips next to him. He lined his large foot up to the brake and started the car.

Right as the car spurred to life, a blast of music began pounding from the building. Officer Charleston twitched from the sheer volume before turning off his car–this was obviously some sort of noise disturbance. He opened his door and shuffled out of the car, his large frame struggling slightly. The policeman strolled to a crosswalk and waited patiently, not realizing that as he stood there his foot tapped to the beat. He also didn’t realize that he was translating the Korean in his own head, beginning to understand every word.

A stoplight flashed red and the officer crossed with his fellow pedestrians. Each step brought the policeman closer to the earth, until he was barely 172 centimeters tall. His torso began to shrink as his stomach fell in on itself, the skin turning to a soft golden. His arms and legs plumped with definition, years of age being replaced with pounds of muscle. His shorter calves and forearms became solid as he made it to the other side of the street.

The policeman hummed along to the music as his thighs expanded inside of his pants. His hands became smaller as he adjusted his name badge, his name switching from the English phonetic system to Hangul. His feet also shrunk, now being able to slip comfortably into a pair of 250 mm boots.The yellowly tone overtook the rest of the officer’s body as his hair magically began to shed, all of it disappearing from the neck below. Even his beard fell away, revealing a sturdy jaw and the most flawless skin.

As a brown bob began to grow out on his head, the officer suddenly felt a sharp pain in his crotch. He rushed out to the side of the hotel behind a dumpster, pulling down pants to reveal a stubby, lemony cock begging for attention. He grabbed his cock and stroked it carefully, his whole hand not entirely fitting. He moaned quietly, its pitch rising as his Adam’s apple sunk in. He felt his balls tremble as he took in a harsh breath.

“커밍 해요!” Security Guard Choi howled as a small load poured into his hand. He sighed before wiping it on the side of his uniform. He was glad that he was able to sneak a session in during his shift at the Hotel Korea. They were fairly lenient on breaks, but sometimes a Korean man in his youth had to get in some extra time. The watchman turned the corner back around to the front of the building and noticed a car was abnormally parked on the street. It probably was just an accident, but he had to make sure that everything was perfect at the hotel. He strode over confidently: there was nothing a fine, young Korean like himself couldn’t deal with.

— —

John just needed a break. He wasn’t supposed to have his kid for the day, but his ex dropped him off a few days early. John hadn’t been able to take off work, so now he had to drag the 9-year-old around with him everywhere he went. It was completely agonizing. As they walked downtown, the kid had to see everything, point at everything, want everything. It was the worst when they passed the new hotel a few buildings back; there was way too much to look at. John eventually gave up, telling him to sit down outside and wait as he went into a brewery to get a drink. He knew it wasn’t the best idea, but he was about to explode.

John quickly ordered a strong scotch and took a seat. Getting closer to 50 everyday, he still couldn’t believe that he had a child so young. Wasn’t his sperm supposed to stop working at one point? The kid had put so much stress on his body, helping him gain weight and lose hair. The balding man sat there quietly as a glass was carefully placed in front of him. He grumbled before grabbing it, knowing he’d have to chug it. Why couldn’t the kid just grow up?

He grabbed the glass right as new song began. It wasn’t coming from the brewery, but instead from a distance away. John didn’t notice it at first, but he slowly began subconsciously focusing more and more on the music. It wasn’t in English, but John could feel himself slowly get more and more involved in the music. His gulping turned to sipping as he started fully investing his attention in the boy-band music.

As John casually drank his whiskey, he didn’t notice his clothes slowly becoming looser on his frame. His stomach was coated in a light tan as pounds shed themselves away, the hair falling with them. While abs and pecs appeared on his frame, round biceps and triceps also began to pop up around his thickening arms. While his body became more muscular, years of age began to disappear. His shoulders and hips were coated in a lemony shade as they widened and shrunk respectively.

As more of the beer disappeared from the cup, so did John’s height. He slowly diminished in his chair, losing 16 centimeters to his height. Although his legs had contracted, his thighs and quads had become enormous. His calves had also becoming thicker, but they had lost their body hair along with the rest of John’s body. The only hair that grew in was on his head, which now was a soft, full stark-black part. John’s feet compressed as the rest of the golden shade covered his body.

Putting his root beer glass down, John began palming his groin. It had become increasingly agitated as time went on. John knew he was in public, but he had to relieve his dick right now. He dug his hands into his pants and began furiously stroking; his cock became more sensitive from its decreasing length. Suddenly, John felt his pouch scrunch up in his hands, ready for action.

“달콤한 방출!” Joon-ho squealed in a high tone as a small wet patch appeared on the front of his shirt. Joon-ho groaned in delight as he resituated himself in the chair. He picked up the Korean coffee and took a sip, smiling at its deliciousness. He knew it was dumb to come to a brewery and not get alcohol, but he didn’t care for it that much. He was still basically a kid in his early twenties, so it never appealed to him.

Speaking of feeling like a kid, he had to go find his boyfriend. He didn’t have a daddy kink, but it was clear who was in charge and who wasn’t between the two of them. Before he’d run off to find his boyfriend, he’d have to finish off this drink first.

— —

Timothy hated the hotel that had opened near his apartment. He had been living there for almost ten years, and all that time he had assumed that nothing would ever be built in the hideous lot a little less than a block away. Then, out of nowhere, a giant hotel was built, with people flowing in and out everyday. The strange thing though, Timothy noticed that people of every size, race, and age went into the hotel, but only young, attractive Koreans came out. The 40-year-old man could sense something was wrong.

Luckily for Timothy, he had just come home from work early, his boss feeling extra kind today. He rushed home and ran upstairs to his bathroom to take a hot, long bath. He prepared all the materials necessary before stripping his suit down slowly, his furry chest and legs becoming exposed to the world. Timothy knew he wasn’t the most attractive of people, with his beer gut and clunky height, but at least was fairly average. Once he was naked, the middle-aged man got into the tub, laying down so his feet stuck out the other side. Timothy rubbed a wet hand onto his head, the short, graying hair meeting him. He laid there in silence for a couple of minutes.

Timothy’s eyes jerked open as he began to hear music bouncing around his bathroom walls. He focused his ears to figure out that it was coming from the hotel, realizing it was in some kind of Asian language. At first, he was completely annoyed, but as he listened to it more, he began to like it. What the boys were singing about became enticing to him, relaxing him once more into the tub before he fell asleep.

Tae-won squinted as he woke up, his nap being a little longer than intended. He slowly pulled himself up, his small body wholely underwater. He looked over his lemony, muscled body, his proudest features all displayed finely under the bubbles. He looked over himself as he felt his small cock rise, with the absence of hair making it look even more miniscule. In fact, Tae-won was completely hairless from the armpits down–and he completely loved it.

Tae-won brought a small hand to his dick, carefully bringing it to full mast with three fingers. He whimpered as he jerked away, his cock sensitive. The boy band played in the background as he kept pushing, his short but powerful legs scrunching up to his defined torso. Tae-won pushed his brown locks to the side as he began to stroke faster. As he got to the edge, he felt his balls scrunch up to push out a load.

“여기 온다!” Tae-won yelled as his shot a miniscule load into the tub. Once he took a few deep breaths, he regained himself and slowly got out of the tub. He grabbed his red jockstrap and tight shorts, placing both on as he dried himself off. Tae-won restyled his hair into the classic chestnut bob before running downstairs. He picked up his phone and saw that he had a little less than an hour before he began his shift at the Hotel Korea. He also noticed that he had received a text from his boyfriend a few minutes ago. He opened the message, finding a picture of the other incredibly attractive Korean at the gym. Tae-won smiled, noticing his boyfriend was wearing one of the wife beaters he had given him at their last anniversary.

“Looking good, Chung-Hee,” Tae-won muttered in Korean, responding back to the picture. He guided himself back to the staircase, his tight, yellowy abs glistened under the sunlight from a nearby window. He pulled up his phone and brought it to the mirror, going from the same straight face that his partner had. His lemony features looked delicious after his long wash. He shot the picture and sent it to his boyfriend before running back upstairs to his room to get his uniform on. He had a long shift ahead of him, but, luckily for him, he loved his workplace.

— —

Milo had been waiting for his friend for almost an hour. He was parked outside of his hotel, the new one that had just opened, and he still hadn’t gotten any word from Kayler. He should’ve been worried, but for as long as he could remember, Kayler was never really one to be prompt; however, this was getting absurd.

Both Kayler and Milo had been friends since kindergarten, and the two of them would graduate in a few months from the highschool a little ways out of the city. Kayler was at the hotel for an assignment, one in which the student would observe a different culture. Of course, the Hotel Korea was the perfect choice, but Milo hadn’t heard any word from Kayler. He was supposed to pick him up after three days at the front door, but as Milo fiddled with his large shirt over his lithe body, no one ever approached his car.

Out of the blue, loud music exploded from the building Milo was parked in front of. Milo ducked for cover, taking a few moments to realize that it was not some sort of explosion, but instead K-pop. Milo didn’t know what to think of it at first, but what the boy band was singing about was strangely alluring. Milo concentrated on the noise, grooming his bright red hair as he followed along. The longer he listened to it, the more he began to enjoy it.

As the song started its first refrain, Milo hadn’t noticed how his feet were no longer tapping the brake pedal. He subconsciously pulled his chair a few inches forward as his shirt began to fill out. The once loose shirt began to tighten around the pecs and abs that were popping up by the beat. His once miniscule arms bloated, becoming muscular and dense. His calves and thighs also expanded while an amber color began to blotch out the pale white.

By the second refrain, Milo’s shirt was now strained, his large torso and biceps making it seem like the seams would rip any moment. Milo’s pants were also threatening to tear, with a large bubble butt and tree-trunk legs pushing at the silky boundaries. Hair dwindled away all around Milo’s body except for on his head, which shortened into a black sports cut. A few years packed onto to Milo as he shifted into his early twenties, while his feet shrunk into a softer size of 245 mm.

As the rest of the golden tan covered his body, Milo grabbed his average size cock and began to stroke. It got hard instantly, but didn’t lengthen at all. His hard length was now the same as what he was as soft previously. Milo didn’t notice however, for he was too focused on how incredible the bridge of the song was. As the last refrain came around the corner, Milo felt his testicles tense quickly.

“너무 좋아!” Min-kyu cried as a spray of white cum covered his shirt. He sat there for a second, breathing irregularly before regaining consciousness. He hadn’t even realized he had an audience at the passenger door.

“여보세요?” The stranger asked, causing Min-kyu to jump. He turned to the window to see his boyfriend standing at the window, still on his shift as a security guard at the hotel.

“Choissi, you scared me!” Min-kyu said in Korean as the watchman entered the car.

“Well, I didn’t know I was late to the party,” he replied back before leaning over for a kiss. As the two embraced, Min-kyu suddenly felt a buzzing in his pocket. He took out his phone to see that he had a text from his friend Kun-woo. He put his phone down and continued with the security guard. If Min-kyu had waited this long, Kun-woo could too.

— —

Gunnar sat on the uncomfortable chair extremely bored. He couldn’t believe that his lousy father had just left him at the front of a furniture store while he went off to get a drink. He didn’t even like his father. The two never connected because Gunnar had spent most of his time with his mom. They never really spent time together, and when they did, it was just awkward and always ended in some sort of argument. It was like he wasn’t even related to the man, but he knew that he had to try to stay friendly.

Gunnar brought a small bag into his lap, looking through all the things that his father did let him get. It wasn’t much, the reusable bag was just as ordinary as they things they had purchased. There were some water bottles, gloves, and a new game for his console back at his other home, but otherwise the day had proved uneventful. His father wouldn’t let him go into any of the buildings he wanted to see, especially the new hotel that had just opened down the street. Gunnar took out the water bottle to take a drink, not knowing what else to do.

Without warning, music began blasting from down the street. Gunnar choked for a second on the water he had just opened, surprised. He took the plastic bottle out of his mouth and looked towards the hotel. He could almost see the soundwaves emitting from the building, the K-pop becoming strangely alluring.

Gunnar brought the juice bottle back to his mouth, beginning to enjoy the music as it played on. As he drank, his legs began to extend themselves, the new meaty thighs and calves pushing him to a staggering 178 centimeters. Gunnar subconsciously began to manspread as his body became wider, his torso filling in with strong abs and pecs. An amber tone flooded his pale skin while his eyes became a deep brown.

While Gunnar continued guzzling pop from the bottle, his arms and shoulders began to fill out. Years of time in the gym became evident as pounds of meat were added to the boys frame. Veins became visible while his hand became round and hard, the results of numerous callouses. His expanding quads caused his shorts to pull up, now looking more like short-shorts than their previous knee-length.

As Gunnar topped off the beer bottle, he began to feel a rumbling in his balls. He had no idea what was happening, but something was telling him in the back of his mind that he should stroke his small cock. He grabbed it, and, with a sudden feeling of elation, began pumping furiously. As he did, he didn’t notice his grunts slowly becoming deeper, or how he now had to blow black bangs out of his face. Right as the yellow color covered the last of the pale skin, Gunnar felt a final push in his groin.

“달콤한 서울!” Gun-woo grunted as his jizz landed on his Corona shirt. He quickly rubbed it in before grabbing the matching bag and looking through it for a back-up outfit. All he had was an empty glass bottle, a beer koozie, and a Korean porn film for his date tonight. His date! He had completely forgotten about it, and where his partner had walked off to.

As if on cue, his boyfriend walked out of a nearby coffee shop. A grin plastered itself on Gun-woo’s face.

You look adorable, boy,” Gun-woo remarked in Korean as his boyfriend walked over.

“You aren’t too bad either, old man,” the man replied back.

“Joon-ho, you know I’m only five years older than you,” Gun-woo snarked.

“You’re talent in bed says otherwise.” Joon-ho replied, licking his lips. Gun-woo smirked as he got up to leave with his boyfriend, knowing he had a fun night ahead of him.

— —

Lee Hae-jin sat at his desk, the new information charts flooding in from every other Hotel Korea. His plan had been a huge success, as apparent by the massive spikes of local Korean populations in each location. The music was an easy choice for conversion while still being untrackable, but the problem was how he would transfer the Korean genetic code through the melodies. He had to write a song that would transform its listeners.

After tedious research, he finally came to an idea: Don’t create music, create a band. He designed his own K-pop boy band, which he cleverly named KOREABOO. They would seem like any other boy band from South Korea, but they’d only produce Lee’s music. Their voices would make the melodies that would become hypnotic to new listeners. Their words would help produce the new Korean population faster.

Lee closed the laptop and chuckled to himself. It would only be so long before the entire world would be Korean, and, more importantly, under his control.

TS - #008 Cordypecs

A virus is not just DNA; a virus is also packaged up, covered over with a series of proteins in a nice, elegant, well-compacted form. 

- Francis Collins

An archaeologist begins to explore the ruins of an ancient Scottish castle that dates one of the many battles in the ‘War of the Craft’. His hand faltering and flitting over the stonework, he flinches somewhat as he feels something cold and damp, scared that somehow it may be blood or rot. Instead when he shines a light on the sticky white concoction, his eyes widen as a white dampness turns into what feels like white heat searing through his palm and travelling up his body.

Before he knows it, he’s bent down, hand wrapped around his cock as he can already feel the change happening. His bones shift as his back grows sending him to be over 6’ tall. His feet burst out of his boots. His own ass becomes thick as it grows. His once skinny and pale frame now broad and fair as he can feel muscle growing and growing in an endless wave of pleasure. By the time he cums on himself and feels his intelligence draining, he knows it’s too late, as for now he’s nothing more than a temporary victim of Cordypecs.

Morbus incrementum musculus otherwise more commonly known as Cordypecs is a virus that originated in the late 1400’s due to the actions of Sir Thomas. Having been transformed into an orc, Sir Thomas believed the affliction to be permanent and sought out [REDACTED] believing it to be a cure. During a heated discussion with The Craftsman, he was warned that his case was not permanent and that [REDACTED] wouldn’t cure him but only make his permanently become an orc and have disastrous consequences on both him and those around him. However Sir Thomas did not heed The Craftsman’s words and once he [REDACTED] he found himself shifting into an orc for the very last time as he became the first human-orc hybrid, containing the humanity and intelligence of his old self but the body and power of an orc.

He could barely control his body through the lust as he learned that he had a similar effect to the transformation that ensued for his squire, Gared. Only this time instead of making men more masculine (or at least their idea of masculinity). He also robbed them off their intelligence for the however long they lasted in their new forms. Eventually all men who were even transformed once by this method were soon able to find themselves transforming others and thus what was once a blessing was now viral, spreading from men to men across generations to come (no pun intended).

The virus has since been spreading around however it has weakened in the modern day era, now only leading people to last as long as a few hours in their new forms. Not much else is known about the virus other than it is only spread through semen and that it transforms men into their idea of an ideal man. This has changed throughout the ages, whereas men in the medieval period became knights, soon in the 50’s they became sexy businessmen that worked wonders on Wall Street and then greasers that enjoyed diners, leather, and all things motor in the 1960’s America and so on and so forth. 

Nowadays the ideal man to many varies and one can become anything from a male model, to celebrities, to a jocked out gym bro. Only time will tell what many men will soon become, and perhaps even you will soon become your ideal man.

One Fad Fits All: Cowboy Up

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

"Oh God, take a look at this shit," Cody said to me as he took a pair of black leather boots off the shelf and tossed them at me.

"I know right, who would wear this!" I said back.

Cody and I often went to the mall after school. We were just two good-for-nothings at home, and most of the time the skate park was overrun by much more hardcore punks then us. So we'd head over to the mall and talk shit with each other. Today, we walked into a store that sold a variety of men's clothing. We were wearing your basic high school freshman dark hoodies, loose-fit jeans, and skater shoes. Cody brushed hair away from his eyes because his bangs always got in the way. He picked up a big shiny belt buckle and held it in front of his crotch. I laughed out loud.

"This shit is so gay," he said. "I know, right?" I answered.

"Can I help you find anything?" said a young girl's voice. It startled us both.

"Nah, just screwin' around," I answered.

"All right," she said. "How about you try these on instead?" She handed me and Cody each a pair of blue jeans.

"No, we better go," I said.

"C'mon dude! It'll be funny," whispered Cody. I followed him and the girl back to the dressing rooms. We glanced at each other and Cody grabbed his crotch, suggesting something dirty about the girl helping us. I smiled back, trying not to laugh.

"Here you go," she said, pointing towards two adjacent rooms. When she left, Cody and I both busted out laughing.

"Dude, you have to try it on. I gotta see this," he said. "No, man. This is stupid," I said as I took off my shoes and dropped my pants. I pulled the bright blue denim over my skinny high-school legs. They were clearly too big for me. I look around the room and saw that the girl had left a big leather belt, so I used it to hold my jeans up.

"Oh, shit," I heard from the stall next to me. Suddenly, the room started to feel really warm and I could feel myself starting to sweat.

"You boys almost ready," I heard the girl say on the other side of the door.

"Yes, ma'am," Cody said in a polite Texas drawl -- but I only assumed he was joking. "Well, that's good," here I brought these for you. She slid a pair of leather boots under the door. I picked one of them up. It smelled like fresh hay and cow shit, like they had been worn for years. I reached to put them on but noticed that my jeans were no longer loose. Instead, they felt tightly fitted. I slipped into the boots and stood up. I felt inches taller but was still sweating like a pig.

"Hey, Cody, you all right over there? Sort of hot, ain't it?" I opened the door of the stall and saw Cody standing by the three-way mirror, but he looked completely different. He was a rugged six-foot-tall cowboy. His jeans were faded and worn. He put his hands in his pockets and I noticed how the belt buckle accentuated his bulging crotch. He had taken off his shirt and I could see smooth lean muscles on his upper body glistening with sweat.

"Howdy, stranger," he said when he noticed me. "Oh, shut up, Cody," I said. "What's going on. This isn't funny anymore." He walked over to me and pulled up my t-shirt. "You've changed too," he said. "What?" I pulled off my shirt and stepped in front of the mirror. Just like Cody, my skinny teenage body had matured. My pale flabby arms were tan and taught with muscles. My pecs flexed a little as I moved and my abs were rock-hard. My upper body was shaved smooth, but the skin was tan, tough and leathery, like I had worked outside bareback for months.

"Where's your buckle," Cody said. He knelt down and fastened the big silver buckle he had found in the store earlier. I could feel my cock stir and press against my jeans.

"You guys look great!" We both looked up and saw the girl walk in with two cowboy hats -- one black and one white. She walked over and put the white one on my head and the black one on Cody. We said nothing, but as she walked away, I tipped my hat, winked, and said, "Thank you, ma'am" in the same droll voice as Cody used earlier.

I turned to look at myself in the mirror again, amazed at this transformation, but then saw Cody walk up behind me and nibble my ear playfully.

"What was that for?" I asked in protest. But when I looked into his steely blue eyes and saw his five-o-clock shadow and his rugged body, I moved in for a kiss. Within seconds, we were up against the mirror, making out with an infinite series of reflections of ourselves. Our sweaty shirtless bodies pressed against each other. Everything that we were before that kiss was wiped from our memory and when we walked out of the mall later, I could resist putting my hand on Cody's ass as he held a shopping bag full of worn denim, chaps, flannel, chewing tobacco, jean jackets, and leather boots.