A Gamer's Dream

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Taller and stronger

--- Originally posted by unknown before 2018-08-29 ---

Anonymous asked: Can you help me become a much stronger and taller person? I'm really weak with my muscles and I want to be better

Stronger? Taller? Sure I can.

You see, first, we have to change your mentality a bit. Sure, your muscles might not be too strong right now, but we have to be careful with using words that hold such strong negative connotations. Like: "weak"

If you want a stronger, more built body, your mind has to be just as strong.

So I'm going to boost your confidence a bit, plus add in some extra knowledge about how to properly diet and exercise to maintain your new body. Consider it your lucky day as my first customer on the World Wide Web. I can't always be this generous.

Now, I'm going to need you to close your eyes and imagine with me:

Your height is by far the easiest thing to change. Let's shoot you to, hmm, just under 6 feet. Picture your legs stretching oh so slowly. Feel the tissues and fibers of your muscles pulling up and away from the ground.

See? That wasn't too bad. I doubt you felt a thing.

Now, your strength.

I want you to picture your ideal physique. How strong do you want to be? How big do you want to look? Feel the heat beneath your skin as your imagination begins to grow, and, in turn, so do those muscles.

Your arms and legs begin to swell far greater than your wildest dreams. Your chest and shoulders expand outwards, creating an intimidating and admirable silhouette.

Hmm, some callouses on those hands huh? Nice touch. I mean, it makes sense with how jacked you look. You're looking great.

And I'm going to have to stop you there, before you get a little carried away with yourself.

I've never let someone change themselves, so, I gotta learn how far I can push those limits. But, like I said, it's your lucky day as my first online customer.

I hope you enjoy your new bod - I know I definitely do. Take care of it, cause I don't offer any returns or touch-ups without a tremendous cost, and trust me, no one wants to see what that is.

Another favorite

Jock

“Can you tell me your name?”

“Max?” His voice was slow and unsure. I wasn’t surprised.

“That doesn’t seem right, does it?”

“No,” he confessed.

“You look like a Jock to me.”

He hummed in agreement, eyes still glazed over.

“What do you do, Jock?”

“I work on com–” He broke off, frowning as he struggled with his words. “I work on computers.”

“No, that’s not right. What do you do, Jock?”

There was a slight pause before a dumb smile began to cross over his face. “Flex,” he grunted.

“Where are we, Jock?”

“The gym.”

“What’s so special about the gym, Jock?”

“I flex here,” he responded, eagerly lifting his arms to flex his massive guns. “I get bigger.” 

It was hilarious to think that just a few minutes ago those mountainous biceps had been half the size. Then again he’d been twice as intelligent then too so this really was a trade up for both of us. I hadn’t even realized my magic was possible of changing another person this much but I guess the amulet I bought really does amplify my magic like the store owner said. And here I was thinking he had been trying to con me out of some money!

“Who do you belong to, Jock?”

Another pause. His arms dropped to his side and he frowned. “No-one?” he replied slowly, sounding more unsure of himself than ever.

“You don’t really believe that, do you, Jock?”

“No… sir.”

“Who do you belong to, Jock?”

“You sir!” he barked in response, frown dropping into a dumb smile. Such a brainless brawny beauty and he was all mine. I could already think of a number of things I was going to do with him now that he was under my control but why not take it slow first of all and really take a look at what I now own?

“Go on, Jock. Pick up those weights and show me what you can do. Prove what a big man you are!”

The moment Jock’s hands wrapped around those weights he lost the last remaining bits of himself. Gone was Max, the computer techie from my office who had deemed himself too good looking to go on a date with me. Now he’s a lumbering mindless jock who wants nothing more than to please me any way he possibly can. Don’t worry, it’s not all bad for him - I’m pretty sure he’s going to love every moment of it from now on!

Absolute favorite. A brutal story written masterfully

End of Shift

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My life is over. I’ve been playing a high stakes game, and somehow landed on one side of the odds all the time, but my luck was bound to run out sooner or later. I guess I should be happy that it turned out to be later, but it sucks no less. I got sloppy. I was looking through the items near the cashier, as always, trying to mostly use reflective surfaces to see what was going on, as always. I need to be within 15 feet or latency becomes an issue. Some old lady still using the old wallet was buying KokaKola and a pack of Ziffs. This would be easy, as always. I discreetly pressed my watch as she was ready to make the purchase, activating my EM-swiper. I wouldn’t take much, a few credits more. She probably wouldn’t notice it, or think the store stiffed her, or think she bought two packs of Ziffs and lost one. I’m not stealing to get rich, just to get by.

As the EM-swiper went off a high pitched beeping starts behind me. I barely have time to turn my head enough to see the charging police officer, before he slams me into the side of a KokaKola fridge. Shit, I hadn’t done a survey pass through the store as I always do. I could barely register what he was screaming in my ear. “Drop it,” I realize, and let go of the magazine. He must have thought I had the EM-swiper in my hand. He told me to put my hands against the wall and performed a pat-down. It’s only him, so he must be off duty or not on a real patrol. He empties my pockets on the cashier table. Nothing of value, and certainly not something incriminating. I may not have been fortunate enough to afford academy, but I’m not stupid.

“You are detained under suspicion of committing proximity fraud. Do you understand?” he asks me in that commanding yet bored tone of a laborer having to recite corporate bullshit, only in his case it is in the pretense of justice. “Yes,” I answer him. He doesn’t have anything on me or he would have arrested me right away. Probably. “Put this on to acknowledge you’ve read the Citizen Rights Act and agree to an investigation in this matter.” He hands me a pair of handcuffs to put on. I hesitate for a second. He is behind me and in the way of the store exit. I can stall for time and tell him to recite the CRA, but that immediately counts against you, as it is your duty to know it. I have no choice but to put them on. It’s the latest model. I haven’t seen any up close before. Light, thin, all metal, no key hole. Probably opened remotely or only inside a police cell or some shit. I put them on.

“Turn around, pick up your stuff, and exit the store.” I do as told, turn around and begin to pick up my stuff and put them back where he took them. It’s an older police officer. None of them young, jacked up types. Perhaps he is one of the fair ones. But then I am the criminal, so what good would that do me? There’s a small, black duffle bag by his side. So he is on his way home. Perhaps he is tired. Perhaps I can shake him. Have Leo remove the shackles and then stay low for a fucking long time. Or this just doesn’t amount to anything more than a slap on the wrist. I walk towards the door, him behind me.

“Nice watch,” he says, pointing at my wrist as I reach or the door.

He knows. Unless I can get away now my life is over. All I can think of is the monstrosities the state churn out as punishment. Equal part labor force and sadism. I open the door as little as possible and as soon as I am through I dash down the block. I don’t dare look behind me, but I don’t hear him in pursuit. Halfway down the block I swerve into the alley that cuts across the building and out on the block on the other side. If I can cross that block and then down south I’m in the park and there are plenty of places to hide there.

My hands are not on fire. This surprises me as I look down on my hands, screaming in pain. There is a high pitched sound coming out of the handcuffs, like capacitors charging, but it is continuous. The pain emanating from my hands is something unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. My legs buckle. I know I need to move, somehow, somewhere. It’s just so difficult to think of anything but my hands that are not on fire. It would probably be a good idea to not scream my lungs out, but I don’t really have a choice in that.

Just as suddenly as it started it stops. I’m still writhing in pain, but my hands are not on fire in a much more comforting way. “The payment proxy is in your watch, is it not?” the policeman asks, standing a few steps away. I’m panting, I realize when I attempt to answer him. Panting and sweaty. I can’t manage to speak. I just nod my head.

“The state vs. item RK-220553 finds the defendant guilty to breach of contract with the state, executed by judicial AI 5” he reads off his handheld screen. I’m confused to what just happened. “No trial?” I manage to wheeze out. “You entered into a cooperation contract when you put on the handcuffs, as you are aware of as you claimed to know the Citizens Rights Act. Disobedience at that point allows for immediate trial by AI as long as no forensic work is needed.” He sounded like the same bored cop as he was in the store, reciting memorized text for the thousandth time.

I struggle to get up on my feet. Not only am I shaky, but having my hands locked together makes it surprisingly difficult to get up. “You know, this is bad timing,” the cop starts. “I was on my way home and don’t have all the standard gear. It’s supposed to be a swift punishment, for deterrence, but there is really only one thing I can do.” Why is he so apologetic? He opens the bag and pulls out a fucking tactical human transformer. I’ve never even seen one in person before. He turns it on, selects something on the screen, and points the device towards me. “No, I can…”

This time I am on fire, if only so briefly. There is a blinding light, a pulse of heat, and the smell of burnt plastic. As the transient heat subsides it keeps falling colder and colder. I’m naked. All my clothes have been singed from my body. My watch is gone. My shoes are gone. Underwear gone. And, I realize, my hair is gone. The cop keeps punching in selections in the menus of the devices. I manage to get up on my feet. “Stay on the ground,” he tells me. Not so much as an order, but as an advice. I sit down again and he trains the device on me.

I don’t know how to describe it. It’s not pain exactly. There is something about rewriting the code and cellular structure of your body while your brain is engaged that makes it give up in disbelief. “This can’t be what’s actually happening,” it thinks and gives you completely nonsense sensory interpretations. But it also gives up on all other tasks. Time becomes irrelevant. Critical thinking put on hold. When the device stops you are utterly confused for seconds. Possibly by design, but it makes sense that you can’t rewire the brain in flight without some glitches.

“I want you to stand up,” the cop says in a firm voice. “Who?” I ask, still dazed, just to make sure. “You. Get up on both feet. Take this.” He throws an orange bundle to me, and I feebly grasp for it but my one arm yanks the chain to the cuff of the other arm. The bundle brushes by and lands on the ground next to me. He looks disappointed, more at himself for thinking it would work than on me for not catching it.

I look down at my hand and see something orange in my grip, but it is not the orange that interests my but the grip. My arms, thin from lack of food and nimble from grabbing P2 storage modules out of vendor racks. are enormous. Big, well defined muscles with popped veins going up and around them. They look longer than before and even the hands are larger than they used to be. I can see that not only my arms are different. My chest is all lean and strong-looking as well, the legs have these weird lines showing different groups of muscles under the skin, and I can almost bet that the ground is further down than it used to be. Orange! I’m holding something orange in my hand.

“I only have an emergency kit with me, so not very many options for you I’m afraid. If you had come with me I think they would have found some better use for you, but as I said, I didn’t have much to chose from beside himbot,” the cop said while putting some beat-up looking boots from his bag next to me. He grabs the chain between my cuffs, and both of them pop open instantly, and he folds them up and begins to place them back into the cuff holder in his belt.

There was something he said that was important. Like, really important. I feel cobwebs like I had just been awakened from a deep sleep. “Put on the jock,” he tells me, and again I am confused, but of a different kind. It’s like I urgently need to know what he means, somehow. “You’re holding them in your hand.” I again look down at my hand and see the orange piece of cloth, which obviously is what he meant. I flip it around in my hands and finds it to be an orange jockstrap with a generous pouch. Looking down I also see the reason for that, since my dick and balls are large. Much larger than I remember them to be. I don’t want to keep him waiting, so as quickly as I can manage, with my balance a bit off, I manage to place one leg in each loop and pull up the jockstrap. It neatly collects everything in front into a large orange ball.

Himbot! That’s what he had said. It’s like the government robots but human. What was the I and M now again? Wait, those are just mindless sacks of muscles roaming around doing whatever menial task is available.

“Himbot?” I ask him. “Yes, you are a himbot,” the cop answered. “Put on the shirt.”

I immediately grabbed the orange bundle from the ground I assumed to be the shirt. To my delight I was right and with just a few tries I managed to get it on me. It isn’t a real shirt, but one of those without arms, whatever they are called. Quite a lot of skin showed. The shoulders were bare, as were the sides and the nipples unless you positioned the strings just right. Stringers! It’s called a stringers, or something close to it. I feel so tired thinking of words.

“And the boots”

I grab one of the boots. There is something missing, but I’m not sure what it is. I has something to do with the small holes, I think. Well, the large hole is missing a foot, so I put one in it. Then I put the other foot in the other boot, and looked at the cop to see if he approved. He looks about the same. Good enough I hope.

“Face me and raise your hands” I comply immediately. He is pointing the large gun at me again. I don’t like it, but I must do what he says. He presses a few buttons and then there is a sharp headache.

“Who are you?” “Himbot 220553.” “What is your assignment?” “Walk along path 228-red responding to requests.” “What types of requests?” “Any type of requests.”

Product Placement: Free wax and hair Removal

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

The hurtful words stuck in Ashley's mind all afternoon. She had overheard two of her classmates laughing about her "girl-stache." In her freshman year of college, she assumed bullying was behind her -- something that only happened to high schoolers, but she was wrong, there will always be bullies. Ashley looked in the mirror and saw the fine brown hairs on her upper lip. She had always been hairy for a girl, but couldn't understand why it was such a big deal!

A few days later, she was browsing on her computer when a pop-up add offered a "Free wax and hair removal!" She had done some research before, and apparently her computer knew that was looking for this, so she clicked on the add and read about a skin product that would remove unwanted body hair. She ordered a bottle...regretting it a little, but hoping she could sneak it past her roommate, Kailey, who was one of those "girly-girls" -- blonde, always wearing pink, with perky breasts and a bubble-gum cheery attitude. It annoyed Ashley, who had much darker tastes, but she wanted to fit in so she hid her real passions.

--

The package arrived and Ashley hid it in her backpack before Kailey would notice. When the coast was clear, she grabbed her shower bag, backpack, and towel and headed to the showers on her floor. She claimed one of the showers in the corner and read the instructions.

"Place product anywhere on body to remove unwanted hair. After a few minutes, rinse in warm water."

The chemical smelled harsh, but Ashley rubbed it on her upper lip and waited a few minutes. She felt the chemical burning her nostrils, but powered through the awful smell. She rinsed her head in the shower and decided to see if anything had changed. She walked over to the mirror, but still saw dark strands of hair. She looked closer, and it looked like the hairs had grown longer and thicker.

"Shit!" she said as she grabbed the bottle. She read the instructions again.

"WARNING: Hair may darken at first, apply a second time until hair looks natural."

"Looks natural?" Ashley thought to herself. Would it ever completely disappear? She walked back to the showers and rubbed the chemical onto her face again. This time, she added a little more and spread it out over her chin and cheeks -- she might as well take care of any unwanted hair. The chemical didn't sting as much this time. In fact, it sort of reminded her of an aftershave that her dad used to wear.

She hopped into the shower and rinsed off the chemical. The suds drained down her body, and she felt a burning sensation in her groin.

"Fuck," she said. She hoped that the chemical would give her a rash. She started rubbing her crotch and felt her breasts becoming sensitive and raw. She dried off and wrapped the towel around her body to look in the mirror again. Thankfully, no other girls were using the shower.

When she looked in the mirror, her jaw dropped. Her mustache had thickened again, and this time there was stubble on her chin and sideburns. She felt her breasts burning and saw that her chest was flatter. Some girls were laughing in the hallway, so Ashley quickly dodged into one of the shower stalls again. She set down the towel and saw that her body was transforming. She was losing body fat and gaining muscle. Her breasts became tight pecs, her waist narrowed and her abs became chiseled. She could feel her shoulders broadening. She felt her crotch throbbing and saw that she had a small dick and two testes. When she touched them, blood rushed and filled her new cock until it was erect.

"Maybe if I apply one more time, it will go away?!" panicked Ashley as she slathered the chemical over her transformation body and stepped into the shower. The chemical seemed to burn all over her body, tightening her skin over top new muscles and smoothing them out. She washed away the product and saw a shiny, male body emerge. She was still hairy on her arms, legs, armpits, and crotch, but her chest, back, and ass were smooth. The longer she stayed in the shower, but more comfortable she felt being a man. Her body was like a sexy popstar, and she felt confident in her new sexuality.

But how would she get out of the bathroom without anyone seeing. Guys were not supposed to use this bathroom! And what about clothes!

She wrapped the towel around her waist -- she didn't have breasts to cover up anymore anyway! She strode past the mirrors where two girls were putting on makeup. They looked up and smiled, scanning her muscular torso. She caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror -- she had a thin black beard and her hair was tousled. The two girls giggled as she walked out.

When she opened the door of her room, she was shocked to see Kailey sitting at her computer. She slammed the door behind.

"Hey Ashley," said Kailey without looking up. But she soon did a double take.

"Who the fuck?! Why are you in here!" Kailey shouted.

"Kailey, it's me -- Ashley! Something happened in the bathroom ... I can't really explain... but you have to help me!"

"Ashley ... you look ... I mean ... sexy!"

Ashley wasn't expecting this reaction, but something about being a guy made her take a risk, drop the towel, and flex a little. She was starting to feel more and more confident in this new body.

"Thanks!" Ashley's voice was lower and more manly. Kailey's hands went to her mouth in excitement. "I go by Ashton now," as soon as she said this, Ashley felt her mind go blank. She had completed her transformation.

Kailey walked over to Ashton and touched his chest. She locked the door behind him and pulled him towards the bed.

"Let's use the bottom bunk ... my roommate's not around," said Kailey before she pulled off her shirt and dropped her skirt to the floor.

They fucked for a few minutes before Ashton rolled off the bed and looked around the room for his clothes. He wasn't sure where anything was, but grabbed a pair of athletic shorts and a t-shirt. He would have to buy some new clothes. He walked across campus towards the guy's dorm. Surely, he could find something in the laundry room. He would enroll the next day, and no one would know the difference. As long as he looked like this, he could get anything he wanted.

I request some pretty interesting changes. I like to have the body of a porn star with a nice cock and balls to go with my buff bod.

A porn star, huh?

Well, I guess I could manage that. I’m curious though, why a porn star? Is it cause you like sex? People looking at you? People getting off to you and your body? Do you want all that attention? To have the power to make guys wet just by looking at you?

Yeah, that’s it isn’t it? I can see it in your eyes. The way they’re glossing over from just hearing me say all these facts that you know have always been true but you’ve tried so hard to keep bottled up your whole life. 

I see you groping yourself, feeling your modest package between your fingers. I bet you want that to be bigger huh? Fuller? Longer? Thicker? Yeah, I heard about that one time your junk split the front of your briefs because you bought the wrong size before. I guess that’s why they say the only thing more swollen than your ego is your groin.

And you want a “buff bod” to go along with that enhanced package too? Just to further amplify the sex appeal dripping from your very being? That can easily be arranged. Big tits, thick arms, thicker legs. Shoulders that fill nearly every door frame you walk through. The power that radiates from your body is pretty damn infectious huh? No wonder they call your work almost hypnotic.

You’re kind of a little young to be a big, buff porn star though. I mean, especially one with such a huge reputation of making guys bust within minutes of watching your videos. What are you actually? 33? 37? What’s that? You can’t remember? Aww, c’mon you big lug, use your head and think for a minute! 

No, no that head. Well, shit, I guess we can only have one head engorged at a time when you’re prepping for your next shoot. Yeah, you still need to get that scruff trimmed up a bit, your body greased up, and all those clothes off. How much time do you have until your shoot begins? 14 minutes…? 7:26 is an oddly specific time to have a shoot scheduled. Oh, it’s at 7:30? Well then you have 18 minutes to finish getting ready, you dork. 

What’s wrong? Your head feels weird? Don’t worry, dude. That’ll probably pass when you finish your shoot. It’s just the intelligence draining out a bit. I wouldn’t freak. I mean, when your a famous porn star, who needs smarts? Right?

Good luck with your film today! I’m sure you and your scene partner are going to have a ride neither of you will ever forget.

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!

He didn't realize it that the mask that his boyfriend give him already doused with special serum.

***

"Where's the mask I used when I came here?"

"Sorry babe, I don't see it," Bryan said as he tried his best to hide his smile. The mask is in his back pocket "Here, use mine, got this from someone in the street handing out free mask," offered Bryan

"Black, totally not your color,"

"Well, that's why I give it to you,"

"Okay then. Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow for dinner?"

"Of course babe, see you,"

They kissed and then Mark walked out from the apartment, he put on the black mask and Bryan can see that his posture instantly straightened

Along his way home, Mark changed even more. His arms swole as his biceps and triceps exploded. His once soft palm turned rough, courtesy of the workout regimen he put himself through. His polo became a little bit snug as his flat pecs turned muscular, the set of abs followed through to appear and at last, a visible cum gutter that leads to his now 7.5 inches dick with hairy balls. His complexion turned slightly darker, his shaggy blond hair went jet black and cropped while his baby blue eyes also turned black.

As Bryan flopped down to his bed after cleaning the kitchen, a message appear. It's a selfie from Marco, his boyfriend

"Thanks for the mask, babe. It looks good on me,"

Bryan just snickered as he whipped his dick out from his shorts, ready to jack off to the sight of his improved boyfriend

This Is The Future That Liberals Want

Jason swore loudly and had to resist the urge to throw his controller down, pissed that he kept dying cause of the game's stupid glitches (Also known as own mistakes). Still, he regained his composure, and smiled before saying

"Alright chat, we're gonna finish up this one and then we're gonna move on to another game. There should be a poll on top for what we do next"

Jason was a moderately successfully game streamer, averaging about 200 to 300 viewers a night, entirely based on his wit and skill. He knew for sure that they weren't coming for his looks, given his weedy, thin frame, overly pimpled face and large, nerdy glasses. Still, it was enough for him, and he was happy with the progress that he'd made.

As Jason got himself set up for the next game, he heard a shocking sound from above him. The victory theme from one of his favorite JRPGs was blaring through the speakers, and he came up, staring at the screen in shock. He knew what that sound meant. That meant someone had tipped him one thousand dollars, completely out of nowhere.

He looked in shock at the notification on the stream, seeing that it was from someone named JockBro69, with the simple message "Can't wait to get to know you better, cutie~"

Jason was completely stunned. Not only had someone actually redeemed the donation goal that he set as a joke (That being that whoever was stupid enough to tip 1000 dollars got to have a 15 minute private chat with him), it was also someone that he'd never seen in his chat before.

Thoroughly weirded out, but knowing that he had to honor his commitment, he sent the guy a quick private message.

"Dude, I don't know how to thank you enough! Guess I'll see ya pretty soon!"

With that, he sent the man his private zoom link, and said goodbye to the chat, who were still going wild over this turn of events, before pausing,the stream and hopping over to discord for the call.

Not two seconds after his stream stopped, he got a requested video call on discord from the guy, and he opened it up, giving a second for the video to load, but when it did, he was completely dumbfounded again. He was expecting the mysterious donator to be some fat, sweaty silicon valley nerd with too much and money on his hands, but instead what met him was possibly the hottest man he's ever seen, standing up and looking down at his webcam with a friendly expression.

"Fuck, bro! Its so good to finally fucking meet you, I've been such a big fan for a long time, and this is a really big deal for me~

The man had a deep, rumbling, pleasant voice, that shot straight down Jacob's spine and left him feeling strangely... inadequate. Like the fact that his voice wasn't as smooth or melodic as this guy's was his fault, and he should be ashamed of that fact. Still, this guy was pretty pleasant to look at, Jason had to admit. He wasn't gay, definitely not, but he could acknowledge when another guy simply looked good.

Jason scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, not entirely sure of what he should do or say. Still, this guy spent 1000 dollars on this meeting, so he had to try anyway.

"So, umm.... I see your username is jockbro69... What's your actual name thought? I don't think I've ever seen you in chat before..."

The other man actually laughed at this, before looking confused and saying

"What are you talking about bro? Its me, Ethan! I'm in your chat all the time! Man, I guess what they say about playing games so much is true, huh?"

At this statement, Jason actually went pale with shock. THIS was Ethan? This was the guy who's username used to be runningLink? Who was an active fan of the zelda series, constantly begged Jason to play them, and bemoaned the fact that no would date him? It just didn't seem right...

Still, Jason, ever the semi professional, continued on, pretending that he wasn't shocked at the news.

"Well, thanks for supporting me so much! Seriously, this means a lot to me... Ummm... so I guess tell me some of your favorite things about the channel then!"

The man laughed again, the sound coming out in a slow, dumb chuckle, before saying

"What's my favorite thing? Do I even have to say, bro? Its the amazing piece of eye candy I'm looking at right now. You're super hot, bro~"

At this, Jason was shocked, but he chuckled awkwardly while blushing, and said

"Really? I don't think I've ever heard a single person say that before. I guess I consider myself slightly below average..."

The guy looked confused at that, before pressing on

"Really, bro? You look super hot to me, you got those bright, blinding blue eyes that you can just get lost in~"

At this point, Jason knew the man was just messing with him. His eyes have always, and will always be a dark, muddy brown, hidden behind his massive frames. Jason was about to respond, when Ethan continued

"Yeah, and you got that super stylish haircut too, really makes you look super masculine~"

Now Jason was REALLY confused. The guy was right, he did always get complements on his eyes, the bright, shocking blue visible and striking even through his huge glasses. But his hair was always a long, unkempt greasy mess.

"Ethan, are you sure you're okay, you're not just seeing things? Cause I don't know what you're talking about"

Ethan ignored the comment, just continuing to press on

"And you've got that hot, manly face, with your strong jaw and amazing profile"

Jason was confused again. Sure, his stylish haircut did help him look much better, but his face had always been pretty androgynous, with hints of baby fat still present in his cheeks. Again, before he could interrupt, Ethan continued,

"And you've got that smooth smooth skin, that hot stubble, that sexy smirk of yours. You're the full package bro~"

Jason laughed at this. Ethan was clearly being way too complementary. Sure his face had a great shape to it, with strong cheekbones and a square jaw, but his skin was still acne marked as hell, his smile was crooked and awkward, and he'd never been able to grow any facial hair, no matter how much he tried.

"I really have no idea what you're talking about Ethan. Sure I've got some good features, but the overall package isn't much to write home about~"

Ethan smirked again, his eyes lighting up with humor, as if he knew something I didn't.

"Nah, bro, you're underselling yourself. Plus, you've got that body~"

"What about my body? I think its pretty average, though I guess I'm a bit on the skinny side..."

Jason looked down at himself, trying to contemplate what Ethan meant. Sure, he'd been blessed with an attractive, manly face, but it didn't change the fact that his body was still below average at best.

"Again, bro! Putting yourself down. You really think those massive logs you have for arms are below average?"

Jason looked down at his skinny arms, and said

"More like logs than twigs man, seriously."

"And what about your legs? You've spent so long working on em, you've got thighs and glutes to kill for~"

Jason laughed again

"I dunno man! Most people say the exact opposite. They say I spend too much time on arms and not enough on my torso and legs. What can I say though? I love having big, beefy arms."

"Of course you do, bro? Who wouldn't? Especially when right in between em, you got your big, pillowy chest, your sexy abs, and your super toned back~"

Jason was seriously starting to wonder if Ethan was on something. Anyone could clearly see from first glance that Jason's body was badly proportioned, his arms and legs being massive from months to years of work, while he neglected his back, pecs and ab muscles. Still, he thought he looked pretty alright honestly.

"And I especially love how you're not only super sexy, you know it and flaunt it~ I don't think I've ever seen you once wear a shirt. The most you'll wear is a necklace, and even then, not like that covers anything, bro~ Only makes you look sexier"

Now here Jason had to disagree. He knew that he had cultivated and developed an amazing body over his years of going to the gym, but that was all for his own personal satisfaction. He never flaunted it unnecessarily, especially not during a stream.

"And I love the fact that you're such a fucking bro, bro. Every other word out of your mouth is bro and dude, you can't go even five minutes without flexing and thinking of fucking, or going to the gym, or hanging out with your other hot bros. We all know that your brain is basically only good for working out and looking hot. No smart's up there. And you've got your deep, sexy voice, too. Makes it even hotter that you're a gay bro, just like me"

Jason HAD to laugh at that. What the guy was saying was just so ridiculous.

"What the hell are you talking about? Look, I know that I like to show off my sexy body a lot, but that doesn't mean I'm some kind of dumb jock. And I'm definitely straight, dude. Don't know why you'd think I'm gay"

Ethan pressed on, completely unabashed by Jason's last comments.

"But you know the best fucking part, bro? Its that power of yours. The fact that any weak ass nerd who looks at you and your huge fucking muscles grows into a hot, dumb bro like us within seconds~"

Jason was busy flexing, staring at his own bicep in awe, as if he was shocked by him impressive he was. He looked up at Ethan blearily, saying

"Sorry, bro, what'd you say? I guess I got a bit fucking distracted. Huhuhu. But who could blame me~"

"Nah, it was nothing bro. You don't need to worry about it. Now should head back to the stream?"

Jason gasped in excitement, having forgotten entirely about the fact that there was a whole stream audience full of lame ass nerds, just ready for him to make as sexy as he and Ethan were.

"You got it bro~ This is gonna be so fucking hot~"

Jason left the call, going back to the stream and restarting, glad to see that a full 300 people were still watching, even through the extended break. The second he turned his camera on, he could see that people were confused for some reason, saying a stranger broke into his house. How stupid could these people be? How did they not recognize him? Still, not like it would matter for long...

"Hey bros! How're we all fucking doing? Welcomes to today's stream..."

He trailed off, looking blankly at the camera, before saying

"You know what? Fuck video games! Who needs them when you can do this~"

And as his pecs bounced and bounced hypnotically, the chat slowly transitioned from messages like "What the fuck is happening?" or "Who is this dumb jock?" to "Fuck, bro! Your pecs look so fucking hot today!" and "Huhuhu, I love making my pecs bounce like Jace's~"

And so the stream continued, Jace showing everyone all the amazing things his body could do, while anyone that was watching, whether they wanted to or not, began to copy him exactly. And as the stream went on, the viewer count rose, and rose, and rose...

Breedertfs Story Index

This author also went by the following names:

Hogtfs

Shapedbydesire

Stories:

A Bad Wet Dream

A better ride

A better son

Arabian Nectar

Drawn

Better use of a twink

Born to Breed

Born to be a father

Chet

Don't be a queer, be a breeder

Frat Boy Fantasy

OnlyWishes

Put a sock in it

Set free

Shady Unit

Stop babe

Stud Pride

What You Desire

Taboo

That Wish Stinks

Thrift Shift: Camo Hat

This post will be updated this week as I reposted/reblogged more stories.